All these memories had come rushing back while she’d been applying mascara and stepping into a gentle spray of Chanel Nº 19. Her date with Andrew Haverman, attorney-at-law, never stood a chance.
Claire shook her head at herself.
“So, I hope we can go for a drink,” Andrew said as he signed the credit card slip. He slid a hopeful, very-interested smile at Claire.
Claire’s sister stood up, prompting her husband to do the same. “We have to get up pretty early tomorrow. You two go, though,” she added with her own hopeful smile, glancing from Claire to Andrew and back to Claire.
Don’t you dare mess this up! Claire could hear Della shouting telepathically to her. Get Matt Fielding out of your head this instant! I know you! GET. HIM. OUT! Andrew has a dog named Sully!
Despite the dog, despite everything, she couldn’t get Matt out of her head. As her date was pocketing his shiny gold credit card and receipt, she glanced around the restaurant, trying to think of an excuse. She didn’t want to go for a drink, extend the date. She didn’t want to see this man again, despite, despite, despite. Avoiding her sister’s narrowed stare, Claire kept looking around the restaurant, sending a smile to a former student at a table with her parents, another smile to a couple who’d adopted two kittens from Furever Paws a few weeks ago—and then her smile froze.
Claire felt her eyes widen as her gaze was caught on a very crooked strawberry-blond braid halfway down a little girl’s back. She’d seen a similarly hued braid—though a very tidy one—on Matt’s niece when she’d run into his sister and the girl a couple of months ago in the supermarket.
Oh God. Don’t let me look next to her and see Matt.
But there he was. Now staring at her. Glaring at her, actually.
Whoa there, guy.
But suddenly her date was standing up too, and so she had to. Her group would walk right past Matt’s table. There was no way she couldn’t say hello, if not to Matt, then to his sister.
Awk-ward.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Claire’s sister hiss-whispered in her ear as they headed toward the door—toward Matt’s table. “No wonder you’ve been so distracted!”
“Actually, I just noticed him a few seconds ago,” Claire admitted. If she’d known he was there this whole time, she would have excused herself to the restroom to hyperventilate.
“Claire!” Matt’s sister said with a surprised smile as they were about to pass.
Oh hell. Claire paused as her group moved on to the waiting area, collecting their coats from the racks. Her sister was furiously gesturing her over by tipping her head to the side, her mouth in a comical grimace.
“I hear I owe you a big thank-you, Claire!” Laura was saying. She sat across from Matt and next to her husband. “Matt mentioned he ran into you at Furever Paws and that you’re going to help Ellie choose a puppy tomorrow.”
Claire glanced at Matt, who was now sitting with a total lack of expression on his handsome face. Better than the glare? Not really.
“I’m so excited, I’m going to explode,” Ellie said, her hazel eyes shining. “Thank you for helping me! I can’t wait to see the puppies!”
Aww. Ellie was adorable and sweet. “My pleasure,” Claire said.
“Just remember the rules, Matt and Ellie,” Laura said, raising an eyebrow between the two. “Housetrained is a must. And the puppy must know basic commands before he walks into our home. Oh—and no bigger than medium-sized when fully grown.”
Uh-oh, Claire thought. She’d have her work cut out for her there. Did any of the puppies fit the bill? Certainly not the springer spaniel, who’d peed right on Claire’s foot this morning while she’d been fluffing her blanket. Though she was expected to be medium-sized. And the three other contenders were housetrained, but two would be huge, and a consistent “sit” was still beyond all of them, in spite of lots of training with high-value treats.
“Your date is waiting for you,” Matt practically growled, gesturing toward the door.
Her sister was still furiously head-gesturing for Claire to get the hell away from Matt Fielding and join the present and possible future—not be stuck in the past.
Awk-ward, she thought again as she smiled at everyone and dashed toward her group.
But as her date held the door open for her, she dared a glance back at Matt.
And he was looking right at her, his expression more readable now. He was angry-jealous!
He’d dumped her, remember? To live his own life on his terms.
“So, that nightcap?” her date asked, helping her into her coat.
Do not look over at Matt, she ordered herself, aware that he had to be watching right then.
“To be honest, I just saw a ghost,” she said, surprising herself with her candor. “I think I’d like to just call it a night.”
Her sister rolled her eyes and shook her head so imperceptibly that likely only Claire caught it.
Her date looked confused.
“An ex,” her brother-in-law explained to Andrew.
“Ah. I get it,” Andrew said. “Happened to me just last night while on another blind date, and crazy as it was, I ended up with the ex for the rest of the night.” A salacious expression lit his face. “One-time thing,” he rushed to say, seeming to realize he’d said too much.
At least Claire wouldn’t have to feel too bad about ditching him.
As they headed to her sister’s SUV, she could still see Matt’s face so clearly in her mind. How could she not be over him? How? Eighteen years later?
He was coming to the shelter tomorrow. She’d see him again. He had a purpose and so did she, and then he’d leave and that would be that.
Yeah, right.
Corporal McCabbers was telling Matt about his girlfriend back home; Penny was her name, with long red hair and green eyes. He and McCabbers sat in the back of the vehicle, headed for a broken-down US Army truck that they had to get running pronto.
Ten more days and I’m home, McCabbers was saying, and Matt envied his buddy’s ability to lose himself in his memories and hopes for the future—because his woman was still his woman. Matt had a string of hookups and failed off-base, short-term relationships. There’d been women over the years, but Claire Asher’s face was always the one he saw in his dreams, his fantasies.
And home? There’d been no home for almost two decades. Home was wherever Matt was.
“There’s the truck,” he heard the driver call.
He and McCabbers waited for their vehicle to stop, for the all-clear from the driver to duck out toward the truck under cover of night.
No sooner had their boots hit the dry, dusty ground than a burst of flame erupted before Matt’s eyes, the explosion throwing him back hard.
The pain in his left leg was unlike anything he’d felt before. “Fielding!” he heard McCabbers shouting. “Fielding!” And then he’d felt nothing at all.
Matt bolted up, a trickle of sweat running down his chest, his breath ragged and coming hard. He glanced around, and then closed his eyes.
He was home. His sister’s house.
Letting out a breath, he dropped back down on the soft sheets and pulled