Elena reached for a couple of puzzle pieces that had fallen on the floor. After replacing them into their box, she stretched and arched her back, her hands splayed on her hips, her breasts begging to be noticed.
And he’d noticed, all right, but he’d be damned if he wanted her to catch him at it.
“My dad tried to be fair with my mom so they could put it all behind them,” she added. “But she fought him on every possible issue, using me as a pawn and making my life miserable until I was in the sixth grade. In fact, even though I was only a kid, I felt sorry for him—and a bit guilty, although I know it hadn’t been my fault.”
Braden had struggled with guilt as a kid, too. And he’d been as much of a victim as anyone in his parents’ affair.
“You said it lasted until you were in the sixth grade,” he said. “Is that when she finally quit fighting him?”
“Only because she died.” Elena crossed her arms. “I swear she used to lie awake thinking of ways to create problems for him. And then she’d have to medicate herself to finally go to sleep. But one night, she took too many of her pills.”
“Suicide?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. That might have been her plan because she’d driven to the liquor store for a bottle of vodka. But on the way home, she lost control of her car and ran into a tree. She was probably just strung out on the meds, but who knows what she was thinking at the time. The police ruled it an accident.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Thanks. It was tough, but to be honest, I was torn between grief at losing her and relief that the fighting and misery were finally over.”
Braden’s parents hadn’t really fought, at least, not that he knew of. But their relationship had always been strained and tense, something he’d often thought was all because of him. If he hadn’t been conceived, they would have each gone their own way.
His mom wouldn’t have had to face the guilt she sometimes carried for being a “home wrecker,” either.
He suspected that was one reason she’d never gotten married—or really even dated before she recently ran into her old high school boyfriend at the hospital. Braden had asked her about it once, why she’d kept to herself and remained single, but she’d refused to discuss it.
Was it any wonder he wasn’t able to see romance as an end-all answer to life’s problems? That’s why he kept his relationships temporary and unencumbered. Well, for that reason and for a rather hurtful snub he’d received in high school by one of the cheerleaders.
But he wasn’t going to stew on any of that. Sometimes people got a raw deal in life, although he counted himself lucky in every other way.
“Now that the mess is cleaned up,” Elena said, “how about that Popsicle?”
“You bet.”
As they entered the kitchen, he said, “I realize things haven’t always been easy for you, but it sounds as if you’ve made the best of it.”
“I’ve been fortunate,” Elena admitted. “But it was still hard moving in with my dad and Laura. I’m so much older than the other kids. In fact, I still don’t feel as though I really fit in.”
Braden could certainly understand why she wouldn’t. He and his siblings had never been close, mostly because they’d had different mothers and had always lived apart, other than holidays and shared visits with Granny Rayburn on the Leaning R Ranch.
“It’s not fun being a half sibling. If you’re like me, you never felt as if you belonged in the same family.” Once the words rolled out, he wished he could reel them back. He didn’t like revealing any emotional vulnerability, although her raw self-disclosure had triggered him to lower his guard.
“Actually,” Elena said, “no one ever made that distinction about me. I’m always introduced as their daughter or as the other kids’ sister. And vice versa. So I don’t know why I feel that way.” She opened the freezer, removed the brightly colored box and opened it. Then she handed him a red Popsicle.
“Thanks.”
“I guess there’s another reason I never quite fit in...” She paused and bit down on her lower lip.
“What’s that?” he prodded.
She let out a soft sigh. “My mom was an artist, although as far as I know, she never did much with it. She was too busy feeling sorry for herself. But while I can’t really draw or paint, I inherited her creativity and eye for color and style.”
Braden tore open the wrapping, then tossed the paper in the trash. “That makes you different?”
“Yes, but...it’s complicated.” She opened up her Popsicle, too, and tossed the wrapping. Then she licked the orange treat.
Damn. The woman couldn’t even eat a kid’s snack without looking as sexy as hell and setting his hormones pumping.
As if not having a clue what she was doing to him, she continued. “Laura is a good cook and a great mom, but she’s not very artistic or creative. So her decorating skill leaves something to be desired. A couple of times, I rearranged things to make the house more appealing or the artwork better balanced. And I think it bothered her.”
“Did she say something about it?”
“Not the first time, which is why I didn’t think anything about doing it again. But this last time she got very quiet afterward. When I returned last week, I saw that she’d put things back the way they were.” Elena’s brow furrowed, and she worried her bottom lip. Then she said, “Maybe it offended her. Or it could remind her of my mother and all the grief she put them through. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being sensitive.” She shrugged. “Boy, listen to me going on and on about myself.”
As curious as Braden continued to be, he was a little relieved that she was done talking about her personal life. He’d never been comfortable with anyone expressing their emotions, or expecting him to talk about his own.
He took a seat at the kitchen table, and she followed suit. They sat quietly for a while, lost in their thoughts, but he couldn’t ignore the beautiful woman sitting across from him.
“So tell me your plans for the dress shop you intend to open,” he said.
“I’m going to call it The Attic. But it’ll be more than just a dress shop. I’m going to have a lot of other things for sale.”
Something told him she’d be a real success at whatever she chose to do. “What kind of other things?”
“Shoes; fun, quirky gifts; decorator items and things like that. Have you ever shopped at Anthropologie?”
He shook his head. It sounded like a college course to him.
She gave a little shrug. “Well, if you’re not familiar with that store, then it wasn’t a useful example. Not that I’m going to copy them by any means. The Attic will be unique. I’m going to place my own mark on it.” She began to brighten, those honey-brown eyes glimmering with building excitement. “I have big plans for it and have already done a lot of the footwork. I’ve found suppliers for the exact kind of merchandise I want to offer for sale. I’ll also be able to sell used treasures I purchase at estate sales. And best of all, when this all comes together for me, I can finally leave Brighton Valley behind.”
Brighton Valley?
Or her dad and stepmom?
He supposed it didn’t matter. “So why Houston and not Austin?”
“The store where I used to work is a little similar to what I plan for The Attic. Besides, Houston is only two hours away, so my dad and Laura won’t think I abandoned them completely.”