It's Never too Late - By Tara Taylor Quinn Page 0,51
felt something settle inside of her.
“Fair enough. I can’t, either.”
“What about Ella?”
“I haven’t heard from her.”
“Are you still texting her?”
“Not since you agreed to have dinner with me.”
“I’m not always going to be living next door to you, even if I keep going to Montford. This place is kind of expensive and...” No, she wasn’t going to weave a more tangled web than she absolutely had to.
“I have no idea what my future holds,” he told her. “And no money or time to date.”
“Okay. Good. No promises or commitment.”
“Just an understanding that we mean something to each other in the here and now.”
“Right.” Could she do this? Was it right?
She’d already shared more of her true self with Mark than she’d ever given to anyone else. He knew her deepest secrets.
Just not her surface one.
Surely that would be enough. If and when he found out the truth.
“So...not to be crude, but does the here and now include sex?” He hadn’t been kidding about that honesty.
She was so hot. Her body throbbed.
“We’re mature adults. With...natural...needs,” he added.
“Could we, um, take that under advisement?” Oh, hell, she was talking like a lawyer. Because she was one. Because he was talking about sex and Adele couldn’t have sex. Only Adrianna could.
“I’d advise us to go on another date,” Mark’s tone was low, sexy. He was half grinning.
“And see what happens?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night? I’m off at eight. We could meet right here. Have a late picnic...”
Her stomach filled with exquisite butterflies, and she nodded.
His gaze held hers.
They didn’t need to see what was going to happen. They both knew.
* * *
MARK WAS SITTING on a rock in the courtyard of the cactus jelly plant on Saturday, eating his lunch alongside his lab partner who sat, mostly silent, on another rock. There were tables. Mark just preferred the rocks—they seemed to fit with the mountains towering around them in the distance.
“So I tell Abe I’m going to work, and he starts to cry,” Jon said, breaking the silence that had allowed Mark to fantasize about the night ahead.
“Did you take him to Little Spirits?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you said he likes it there.”
“He loves it there. Except on Saturdays. He threw a fit last Saturday when I tried to drop him off for a couple of hours. But the woman who runs the program, Bonnie Nielson, is the greatest. She held him and he calmed down pretty quick. I’ve found most of the women in Shelter Valley are pretty phenomenal.”
“You got a girlfriend?” It wasn’t a topic they’d gotten around to in class.
“Nope. No time. No takers, either.
“Anyway, Abe’s crying, so I tell him I’m going to school and he stops. Instantly. Like how does a two-year-old know the difference between work and school? And why would he care?”
He had no idea. Hadn’t spent a lot of time around kids. “Maybe he just didn’t like the change,” he said, thinking that Addy would make a great mom someday. Kids needed someone soft-spoken and nurturing to guide them through the minefield of temptations and disappointments that were part and parcel of growing up.
“Yeah, maybe.” Jon bit into his second bologna sandwich and Mark went back to pretending that he wasn’t giving every single spare thought to his new neighbor.
The ring of his cell phone interrupted him this time. Dropping his sandwich back in the brown paper sack Nonnie had put it in while he’d been in the shower that morning—after he’d made the requisite bacon and eggs for breakfast—Mark pulled the phone from his belt clip, checking the caller ID as he did so.
He’d expected to see Nonnie’s number, but the screen displayed an Arizona area code. Nonnie’s pay-by-the-minute cell was still a West Virginia exchange. Addy’s was Colorado. “Hello?”
“Mark Heber?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“Shelter Valley EMT, Mr. Heber. I’m sorry to inform you that we have your grandmother...”
His phone beeped, signaling another incoming call. Briefly pulling the phone away from his ear, Mark checked to see who was calling him.
Addy.
“Where are you taking her?”
“She’s refusing to go anywhere, sir. But her blood pressure is dangerously low and—”
“Put her on,” Mark interrupted, his tone harsh.
“Markie-boy?” Not two seconds had passed.
“Go with them, Nonnie.”
“No, Markie-boy...” He heard short, quick breaths. “If I’m going to die...” More breaths. “I’m doin’ it right here....”
Standing in the direct sun, he stared at the mountains, his free hand clutched around his lunch bag. “You are not going to die, Nonnie. It’s not time. I’m not there. You go with them, do exactly as they say, and