The Opposite of Wild Read online

  Liz tore her eyes away from the cookies and tried again. “How so?”

  The older woman glanced at her and pulled out another ruffled paper cup. “Actually, it was more like a fresh perspective.”

  Shake. Five more cookies piled into the center of the cookie circle. She peeked in the bag to make sure it was empty and tossed it in the trash.

  Liz’s eyes widened in dismay as she stared at the pile of cookies on the plate. That was an awful lot of cookies, and if she just had one, that left fourteen cookies for Mrs. O’Hare, which couldn’t be good for an elderly woman’s blood sugar.

  “Liz, I’m seventy-two years old, and someone upstairs”—she pointed to the ceiling—“thinks I’m not done on this great green Earth. I’m grabbing life by the balls and living it!”

  Liz’s mouth dropped open in shock. The teakettle whistled, and Mrs. O’Hare set about pouring tea. Did Mrs. O’Hare just say “grabbing life by the balls?”

  She worked for a casual tone. “Do you have any plans?”

  “I stole Ryan’s Harley and went for a ride. How’s that for a plan?” Mrs. O’Hare laughed and slapped her knee. “Felt the wind in my hair, girlie. That was a good time.” She frowned. “But now that Ryan heard about it, I suppose that bike will be locked up tighter than his detective files. Boy needs to lighten up.” She picked up the tray and carried it to the living room.

  Liz settled into a plush velvet chair and took a tiny bite of Milano cookie, determined to pace herself in light of the tempting cookie display, when Mrs. O’Hare continued, “Ryan thinks he can outsmart me with his fancy locks and security systems. I’ll just buy my own Harley. In pink!”

  The cookie lodged in Liz’s throat at her sudden gasp, which she covered quickly with a violent coughing fit. “Oh, well,” she finally managed. “I suppose you could.” Thank goodness I didn’t start with the hot tea. I probably would’ve spewed it all over this beautiful antique chair. “It sounds a little dangerous?” she ventured.

  “Well, look what happened in my Toyota! The thing spun around on the highway like a top.”

  “Yes, but you survived,” Liz pointed out reasonably. Clearly the poor woman was still in shock. Maybe she could be reasoned back into a more sedate lifestyle.

  Mrs. O’Hare’s blue eyes lit up, and she pointed her knobby finger at Liz. “Exactly! I survived. And for what? To rattle around in this house, knitting and watching TV until I die? No. I’m making plans. Big plans.”

  Liz felt the first lick of panic. This job might prove more difficult than she’d originally thought. Her memories of Mrs. O’Hare were of a sweet woman running herd over three rambunctious teen boys, demanding respect and attention in her gentle but firm voice.

  Liz set her teacup down. “Mrs. O’Hare, Ryan’s worried about you. He asked me to stop in every day to check in, help you out with whatever you need…what are you doing?”

  Mrs. O’Hare had grabbed her cell phone off the end table and punched a few buttons. She held up a finger for Liz to hold on. “Ryan,” she said in a voice of steel, “I do not need a babysitter. Whatever you told Liz you’d do for her, you can cancel because I’m sending her home. And, by the way, I’m buying my own hog.”

  Ryan never told her about the job! She could hear Ryan protesting loudly in the background before Mrs. O’Hare clicked the phone off with a dramatic punch of the button, her mouth in a grim line of determination.

  Liz shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What did he say?” Her voice came out shaky.

  “He said he’s coming over.”

  Liz’s stomach dropped, and she broke out in a sweat.

  “You don’t have to stay,” Mrs. O’Hare said. “This could get loud.”

  Liz briefly considered bolting, but she needed this job. And maybe Ryan would convince his grandmother that Liz was absolutely necessary. Maybe Rachel was right and he’d forgotten all about The Humiliation. He’d sounded casual and businesslike on the phone when they’d spoken a couple of days ago. Nothing to indicate he was remembering any hideous event from the past.

  “I’ll stay and finish my tea, thank you,” Liz said as if she were about to enjoy her last drink on earth before her execution.

  “Suit yourself. So tell me, how’s your love life?”

  Liz grabbed a cookie, took a large bite, and pointed to her mouth while she chewed. Lots of chewing needed here. Can’t possibly talk about nonexistent love life.

  Mrs. O’Hare leaned back in her seat. “You might like my youngest, Shane. Nice boy. Sweet.”

  Liz swallowed and took a sip of tea. “Shane was always nice to me in school. But I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

  Undeterred, Mrs. O’Hare launched into a long, detailed history of Shane’s career, starting with his interest in helping her in the kitchen as a teenager and all the wonderful breads and desserts he’d prepared, through his time at the Culinary Institute of America, to his focus on gourmet ice cream, concluding with his recent addition of a coffee bar to Shane’s Scoops.

  Liz nodded politely and mmm-hmmed at what she hoped were all the appropriate places. She prayed Mrs. O’Hare wouldn’t actually follow through with any awkward matchmaking.

  Mrs. O’Hare sipped her tea and eyed Liz over the rim of her cup. “I have three grandsons in their thirties and zero great-grandbabies.”

  Liz sat tongue-tied, feeling more awkward by the minute.

  “How old are you, dear?” Mrs. O’Hare asked.

  “She’s twenty-nine,” a deep voice said from behind her. “In about two weeks, she’ll be thirty.”

  Liz jolted and slammed her shin into the coffee table, causing the teacups to rattle. He knows my birthday? She turned to see her employer standing in the entryway. She’d been expecting him, but even so, the effect in the small space was instantaneous. Heat flooded her body—embarrassment and her strange attraction for him battled for supremacy. You’d think The Humiliation would’ve killed that. Beet red won out.

  He closed the space between them. “Liz?” His eyes widened. “Liz Garner?”

  She jumped up. “Ryan, hello.”

  Chapter Four

  He shut his gaping mouth with a snap. She was unrecognizable from the last time he’d seen her. She was the same age as Shane, so she must have been thirteen that summer. She’d been round all over, her too-tight orange swimsuit had made her look like, well, an orange. Now, she was thin. He gave her a quick once-over from her small but perky rack down to her toes, lingering at her narrow waist and the curve of her hips. And her face looked so different—she had cheekbones, a dusting of freckles across her nose, blue eyes, full lips. Silky, smooth, blond hair. Damn, Liz Garner was beautiful.

  Except for the uptight librarian clothes. Her shirt was buttoned all the way to the top, and her beige pants had an ironed crease on each leg. He wondered if she ironed her underwear.

  “Stop your staring, Ryan,” Gran said with some amusement. “It’s rude.”

  His brain kicked back into gear. “Good to see you again, Liz,” he said, shaking her hand. He took the seat next to his grandmother on the sofa. “Gran.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Gran informed him.

  Like a splash of cold water, reality took hold again. “Liz is not a babysitter. She does elder care.”

  “I’m an elder care provider,” Liz chimed in.

  “I don’t need that either,” Gran said.

  “Gran, don’t be unreasonable. We’re worried about you. You have to admit, stealing my Harley is not something you would have done before the accident.”

  She lifted her chin. “Maybe I should have. Though I think there’s something wrong with it. I never got it to go more than ten miles per hour. You should take it into the shop, have them take a look at it.”

  Ryan rubbed his forehead. “You probably never got out of first gear. You have to…never mind.” He shot Liz a look. Help me out here.

  Liz sat up straighter, if that was possible. “Mrs. O’Hare, please. Ryan hoped th
at my visits might keep you safe, since I’m one of the safest people he knows—”

  “Just look at her.” He gestured toward Liz. “She’s like the opposite of wild.”

  Liz looked thoughtful and, strangely, a little sad. “I suppose I am.” She smiled at Gran and said the perfect thing, “I know you don’t need a babysitter. I can see that. But how about a friend? As a teacher, I have the summer free. What if we just spent some time together as friends?”

  Gran’s expression softened. “I’d like that. My best friend, Rita, died a few months back, and I’d love a friend I didn’t have to worry about keeling over at any moment.” She shook her head. “Damn depressing getting old, Liz. Don’t do it.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Ryan said, relieved.

  “Stop by tomorrow, Liz, we’ll go shopping.” She handed Liz her cell. “Put your number in my contacts.”

  Liz did as she was told and took Gran’s number too. She stood. “I’m going to get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for the tea.” She nodded at him and headed for the door.

  He watched her go, her tight, heart-shaped ass swaying as she walked away.

  “She’s changed, hasn’t she?” Gran asked after Liz stepped outside.

  Reluctantly, he turned back. “Yeah. I’ve got work.”

  He kissed her cheek and left, catching Liz sitting in her car, eyes closed, doing what looked like some kind of breathing exercise. He knocked on the driver’s side door.

  ~ ~ ~

  Liz nearly jumped out of her skin to see Ryan peering in the car at her when she’d been working so hard to get herself back under control. Her nerves couldn’t take many more encounters with him. “Yes?” she asked with what she hoped sounded like a normal, calm voice. He was close enough for her to see the stubble along his strong jaw.

  “Meditating?” He smiled, and it nearly took her breath away. It lit up his face, usually so serious. He looked so much like he had that summer, tousled caramel brown hair, sharp hazel eyes that didn’t miss a thing, long lashes, and cheekbones women would kill for. As a teenager, he’d been good looking, as a man, sin on a stick. A very well-muscled stick.

  “No, I was just…trying to remember where I put my car keys.” She made a show of digging around in her purse.

  “Did you try the ignition?”

  They both looked at the ignition, where the keys dangled. Her cheeks burned.

  “Found them!” She let out an embarrassingly high-pitched laugh and then coughed to cover it up.

  One corner of his mouth hitched up in a ghost of a smile. “Aren’t you hot with that shirt buttoned all the way up?”

  She resisted the urge to dab at the sweat forming on her upper lip. “I’m quite cool and comfortable. Well, I’d better be on my way.”

  She waited for him to step back from the car. He didn’t. Annoyed, she turned from him and discreetly patted her face with a tissue.

  “You were great with Gran, playing the friend angle,” he said. “I’ll still pay you, of course.”

  She cooled considerably. He was her employer, for a job she very much needed. Now she was really annoyed. If he’d been courteous enough to tell his grandmother ahead of time about this job, she could have avoided seeing him entirely.

  She spoke to his eyebrows. It was easier than meeting his eyes. “You know, you could’ve at least prepared her, then we wouldn’t have had to have this”—she fluttered her hands—“this awkward scene.”

  His eyebrows went up. “I knew she wouldn’t blow up in front of you. I had to do it that way. You still want the job?”

  She heaved a sigh and looked out the front window. “Yes. In a couple of months I’ll be raising a baby, and I really need the money.” She looked up at his silence, realizing suddenly that she had given Daisy’s secret away. He was looking at her flat stomach. “It’s more like a co-parenting situation,” she added.

  He nodded. “I heard Daisy’s pregnant. So you’re the co-parent?”

  She should have known news had gotten out in town. Daisy had never been a homebody. She’d gone out several times over the weekend to meet up with old friends from town. Her friends weren’t the quiet, stay-at-home type either.

  Liz nodded. “She’s living with me, and we’re raising the baby together.”

  He took a step back. “Okay.” He pulled a card out of his wallet. “Here’s my card. It has my work number. Let me give you my cell.”

  She searched her purse for a pen. “How did you know my birthday?”

  “Background check.”

  “Oh.” It wasn’t any special interest in me. She found a pen. His card said simply Ryan O’Hare, Private Investigator. As she wrote his number on the back, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of investigating he did. Maybe he helped the police with murder investigations. She knew he’d once worked in the high-crime area of Norhaven. Maybe he stopped blackmailers in their tracks, or broke up drug rings or crime rings, whatever it was called. It seemed a dangerous line of work.

  “Call me if anything crazy goes on with Gran,” he said, all business now. What a relief. “I’ll pay you every Friday.”

  “Perfect, just drop it in the mail. I figure you have the address from the background check.” She pasted on a smile, trying to appear normal in light of the fact that he had possibly incriminating knowledge on her from the background check. She hoped her application for a marriage license with Craig wasn’t in the report. Or her long shopping record for organization systems from The Container Store. Or her many Internet searches for breeds of nonshedding dogs (she was waiting for the house with a yard before getting one). Or her long-time obsession with new cleaning products.

  He gave a curt nod, turned, and headed down the sidewalk toward his house. She exhaled slowly and reminded herself very firmly, as she watched his broad shoulders that tapered into a trim waist and very nice butt walk away, that even if The Humiliation had never happened, Ryan O’Hare would still not be in the running for her white picket fence fantasy of husband, kids, and nonshedding dog. Everyone in town knew he never got serious with anyone.

  She put the air conditioner on full blast to cool off the permanent blush she’d felt since his arrival in Mrs. O’Hare’s living room. After easing out of the driveway, she drove five miles over the speed limit, eager to get home and dance in the living room (curtains closed) with her Pink playlist. Dancing had been her stress relief for years. Then she remembered Daisy was there and she couldn’t dance freely. She didn’t want to trouble her sister over her new job anyway.

  When she unlocked the door to her apartment, her sister was sitting on the sofa, watching TV and munching on microwave popcorn. “How are you feeling, Daisy?”

  Her sister picked up the remote and pressed pause on her show. “I told Mom and Dad about the baby, but they already knew.”

  Liz nodded. “You know word spreads fast. And you do look—”

  “What? Huge? I look like a whale!” she cried, dropping the bag of popcorn on the coffee table.

  “No, no, you look beautiful.” She sat on the sofa with her sister and stroked her hair. I’ll clean up the spilled kernels in a minute. “What’d they say?”

  “They were very supportive,” Daisy said flatly. “Mom promised to babysit, and they said I could have my old room back.”

  A pang of loss went through Liz. She wanted Daisy and the baby here so they could raise the baby together. She didn’t want to miss a single moment.

  “I can’t go back there!” Daisy cried. “You should have seen their faces. They had this disappointed-but-ready-to-deal-with-it expression like they always have with me. They’ve probably been waiting for this to happen since high school.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Liz said gently, thrilled she’d still have the baby with her.

  Daisy turned off the TV and pushed off the sofa. “I’ve got a craving for grilled cheese. Are you hungry?”

  “Sure,” Liz said, just to be nice.

  “I’ll make us lunch.�
�

  “Sounds good.” She headed toward her bedroom and stopped. “Wash some of those organic strawberries too. The vitamin C and antioxidants are really important for the baby. Oh, and some of that spinach salad. The vitamin C in the strawberries will help your body absorb the iron in the spinach.”

  “Yes, Professor Pregnancy,” Daisy intoned.

  “If you read those pregnancy books I got you, you’d know all this stuff.” She’d stacked them on Daisy’s nightstand. She should have at least read one by now.

  Liz opened the door to her bedroom and locked it behind her. Forcing herself to ignore the mess—unmade bed, Daisy’s clothes on the floor and hanging on the treadmill, the empty glass on the nightstand—she grabbed her iPod and put the earbuds in place.

  And danced like a wild woman.

  ~ ~ ~

  Liz had just settled on the sofa with her pillow and blanket that night to watch some HGTV before bed when her cell rang. She picked it up. Ryan. Her heart started pounding for no good reason.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh…hey, Liz. I dialed by mistake when I pulled up your number to add to my contacts.”

  Liz gripped the phone in silence.

  “It’s Ryan.”

  “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll let you go.”

  “Wait.”

  She swallowed hard. Did he find out something hideously embarrassing in the background check? I can explain. I just like things neat. And the Craig thing is best left unspoken.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “I should warn you…”

  Omigod, he found my neurotic cleaning tendencies out! Or is this about The Humiliation? Gah! Why did I agree to work for him? She gripped the phone tighter.

  He went on. “Gran hasn’t been her usual self since the accident. Like she’s been eating Snickers for breakfast, skipping her cholesterol pills, and…”

  “And what?”

  “She stole my Harley and took it for a ride.”

  “Oh, that. She told me about it.” She relaxed a little, feeling more on solid ground here.