Carol Steward - Finding Her Home

She willed back the tears she wanted desperately to shed. “I’m not ready to let her go. Abuela practically raised me.”

“The doctor sounded hopeful.”

The elevator opened and they stepped into the cool air of the parking garage. “You really think he sounded positive, that she’s going to be okay?”

“I do.” Steve led the way to his truck. “Of course, you need to be realistic at the same time. She may not make a full recovery. But your grandmother is a strong woman who will get through this.”

Tori didn’t want to hear platitudes—from the doctor, a nurse or a good-looking, smooth-talking rancher who had probably never met her grandmother before. “Abuela is strong, and she won’t give up. I won’t let her.”

Steve opened the passenger-side door and helped her inside. “I don’t doubt it for a minute.”

She poured some of the broken granola into her mouth and crunched so loud she couldn’t hear herself think. “So what do you want for lunch? There are several fast-food places to choose from between here and my place.”

“I’d just as soon get you home. We can grab a bite there. You need to get back to your grandparents.”

She gave him the once-over. “You don’t look like the yogurt-and-fruit kind of guy—” Her door closed, cutting her off. Watching his confident stride take him around the truck, she felt like a teenager ogling a new kid at school. He opened the driver’s door and stepped up. “And that’s about all that’s in my fridge at the moment.”

“You’re right about that, but I can get something to eat when I run errands.” He started the truck and backed out, then gave her a choice of right or left when he reached the exit of the parking garage.

Tori pointed to the right.

“I’m very curious just what kind of guy you think I am.”

“Haven’t met a rancher yet who would turn down any sort of beef. Besides, that fruit and yogurt just didn’t look right on you. Turn left at the next light.”

He laughed. “You don’t say. So what would a man use to figure out what sort of woman you are?” He stopped at the red arrow and turned to her. One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

Before she could answer, the light changed and she had to give the final directions to her condo.

He pulled into the driveway and opened his door, then reached across the seat and took her briefcase. “Come out this side so the sprinkler doesn’t soak you to the skin.” Steve offered a hand as she slid across the seat and helped her maintain her balance on the way down to the ground.

“So, what’ll it be, Tori? Give me a chance to figure out what sort of woman you are.”

Tori felt herself blush. She hurried to put the key in the lock and stepped into the cool living room.

Was he flirting with her? Tori felt an odd sense of regret. One, that it had been so long since she’d had a man in her life that she had to stop and assess their conversation to answer her own question. And two, that she hadn’t even realized until just now exactly how long it had been since she’d been out on a date.

Whatever the case, she shrugged, unable to even think of one answer to his question. “If I’m going to wash our clothes, we’re going to have to take them off first.”

“I don’t believe I just said that!” Tori’s neatly manicured hand covered her face as she blushed a deeper shade of pink. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

Steve laughed. “That tells a lot about what kind of woman you are. It’s quite revealing.” He took the hospital scrubs from her clutches. Her thin face and high cheekbones glowed pink clear down to the V of her polo shirt. “And you thought you needed to eat. Looks like all you needed was someone to get your heart pounding again.”

Long, delicate fingers inched down her cheeks and those onyx eyes looked up at him. He could drown in her gaze.

Wished he could, anyway. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist giving you a bad time. Which way to the bathroom?”

“First door on the right. I think you’ll find everything you need. Towels and washcloths are in the cabinet. Help yourself. I’ll order pizza and salad, if that’s okay. I think it will arrive the quickest of anything. What kind do you like?”

“Deep-dish, supreme, everything but the kitchen sink.”

Tori grabbed half of a toasted bagel, which lay on a paper towel on the ceramic tile table near the door, and held it up. “See this—I had breakfast made.” She spread a little peanut butter on it, then took a small bite and reached for the phone, her pointer finger scanning a list nearby. “Drinks?” Tori punched in the numbers, said yes into the receiver and waited.

“Not when I’m driving.”

She tipped her head and gave him a stern look that he was certain had been perfected at school.

“Whatever cola they offer is fine. Do you need help getting up the stairs?” He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so young, so intrigued by a perfect stranger.

Now she was laughing, too. “Positive.”

His heart stopped and she recited her name into the phone, as if none of this mattered to her at all. It probably didn’t, he realized.

Even though they were both educators, it didn’t mean they shared the same interests outside of the classroom. He glanced around the room again, hoping he’d find some clue that they had something else in common. The room wasn’t simply neat, it was immaculate. One strike against him. It was more than he could manage to keep up with laundry. The furniture looked as if she’d just taken the plastic wrap off yesterday. There were no dishes in the drainer. None in the sink. Did she really live here?

Steve’s gaze roamed to Tori, suddenly aware that she was ordering their lunch. She looked to be at least a decade his junior. Surely such an intelligent and beautiful woman had the pick of the crop when it came to men.

Her cell phone rang, and she reached into her briefcase for it while completing her phone call with the pizza parlor.

Their age difference was like a thorn in his side, reminding him that he was no youngster. He had commitments, and his children’s needs were his first priority. He let himself dream, just for a minute, that there could be something between them. Lately it seemed like all the available women were fresh out of high school or looking for someone to take responsibility for her and a few kids. Just because his hair was graying didn’t mean he was over the hill. Close, but not quite. He disappeared before the thorn began to fester.

From down the hall he heard her voice and paused. Was she talking to him? “Sorry to bother you at work, Chase. How’re you today?”

He shook his head. Steve knew better than to think she had no ties. He closed the door a bit, unable to tune out her wonderful, low voice. “I’m sorry. I need to cancel dinner.”

There was a pause, then “I know it’s been months since we’ve met, but Abuela Sandoval had a stroke….” She paused, as if Chase had interrupted her. “Oh, sorry. Abuela is Spanish for grandma.”

Steve closed the door and stripped off his clothes. It had been a long morning, till he’d met her. And in little more than an hour, this would all be a memory. A very nice memory. Surely she visited her grandparents. Maybe he could casually suggest they get together next time she came to Segundo. Casual? Right. Thus far, you’ve been about as subtle as the 4:00 a.m. coal train rumbling through the valley.

After cleaning himself up, he waited in the living room, admiring her decorating taste, even if it was a bit too perfect. Southwest decor had been the rage a few years back. His wife had tried it, but Southwest just didn’t fit in their Baltimore suburb home. Here, the subdued colors were natural, blending well with the arched doorways and plastered walls. Out the living room window Tori had a view of the Rocky Mountains—Cheyenne Mountain, to be exact. Off the dining room, a view of desolate and flat plains.