The house was so quiet—unnaturally so; the only noise was the fridge humming quietly in the background. When was the last time she’d been home alone? Usually the moment she walked through the door, a dozen things demanded her attention. But tonight, there was nothing but peace and quiet.
Taking her wine and the phone, she went into the family room, kicking off her pumps along the way. She groaned with pleasure as her stocking feet sank into the thick white carpet. As she sat down in one of the matching chairs, she heard the crinkle of paper beneath her.
She pulled it out. It was one of Cody’s sketches. A drawing of a dog. For months he’d been barraging her and Phillip for a puppy. His hints had been none too subtle.
Just like all of the drawings he’d done lately, she hadn’t seen this one. She marveled once more at his talent, a skill he most definitely had not gotten from her. His artistic ability had come directly from his father.
When she and Phillip had first started dating, he’d given her all kinds of notes with what he called scribbles. Now, she saw them for what they truly were: art. His talent had blown her away. No matter how many times she’d tell him he had a true gift, he’d brush her praises aside and say that if he could become a doctor and heal people, that would be a true gift.
As their relationship had grown, she’d found notes and drawings from him everywhere: tucked in her college textbooks, hidden in the library where she’d worked to help pay her tuition, and then later, left on the pillow next to hers after a night of lovemaking.
She pushed all thoughts of Phillip aside and had her sister’s number halfway dialed before she realized how late it was. Cody would be fast asleep by now. She set the phone on the small antique table next to her. She couldn’t believe the whole day had passed without her talking to him. She’d tried calling during her one brief break but hadn’t gotten an answer. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she’d get in touch with him first thing in the morning.
She took a drink of wine and wondered how her sister was dealing with the needs of her thirteen-year-old nephew. If she knew her sister—and she did—she knew the day hadn’t gone smoothly. Jenny had never dealt with responsibility well. Or at all.
Even when she was little, Jenny had loved to fly high, never worrying about how far she’d eventually fall. And why should she? Always there had been someone to catch her. First their parents, then Steven. And now, just when it looked like she was about to crash, another savior had come to her rescue.
And what a rescuer he was. Anna considered herself a levelheaded person, but at her first glimpse of Jenny’s new partner, she’d seriously gotten light-headed. Phillip was a distinguished-looking man. Steven, Mr. All-American. Jared. Jared was . . . gorgeous. There was no other word to describe him.
Leave it to her sister to land not only a partner but one who looked like a god.
Jenny had no idea what sacrifice and hard work meant. She’d never had to learn. And Anna was beginning to fear that Cody was falling into the same trap. He’d always been an outstanding student, but lately his schoolwork was barely passable, his attitude even worse. He didn’t care about anything but drawing and baseball.
Anna looked down at his sketch once more. She knew she’d told Jenny she’d try to find someone else to watch Cody next weekend, but the more she thought about it, the more Anna realized that maybe what both Jenny and Cody needed was a sharp dose of reality. For Jenny to understand—even if only for a few days—what it meant to have to worry about someone other than herself. And for Cody to see what it was like to live in a house where disorder reigned. Maybe by spending a little time with his fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants aunt, he’d come to appreciate his mother a little more.
For the first time since she’d gotten home, Anna smiled.
Where in the hell was the bar in this town?
Twice, Jared had cruised down Main Street looking for the local honky-tonk. Twice, he’d had to endure reading Hidden Lake’s idiotic business names as he scanned the windows for a bright neon sign. But nowhere between John Dough’s Pizza, the Best Little Hairhouse in Town, HosPETal,