Debbie Macomber - This Matter Of Marriage

“Forty-five dollars and thirteen cents,” she supplied.

“That includes your portion of the tip.”

Disgusted, Hallie picked up her purse. It wouldn’t do any good to argue. Luckily she had two twenties and, yes, a five, which she kept hidden for emergencies. The thirteen cents practically wiped her out.

With nothing more to say, they left soon afterward.

Hallie heard the car well before the valet drove it into view. She glanced at Marv, wondering if he’d ignore the clanking sound this time. He did.

Rather than point it out again, Hallie climbed inside and steeled herself for a long uncomfortable ride home. She wasn’t far from wrong. When they reached the interstate the engine noise had intensified until even Marv couldn’t miss it.

“What was that?” he demanded, as if she was somehow responsible for the racket.

“Your car?” She was unable to avoid the sarcasm.

“I know it’s the car.”

“There’s no need to worry,” she said, parroting his words, “your vehicle’s in perfect running order, remember?”

“Correct. Nothing could possibly be wrong.” Then he cursed and pulled off to the side of the freeway. Smoke rose from underneath the hood, billowing into the night.

“Oh, dear,” Hallie murmured. This didn’t look good. The way things were going, he’d probably make her pay for half the tow truck, too.

Marv slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“Me?” Of all the things he’d said, this was the limit. The final insult. “I have a few questions for you,” she snapped. “When was the last time this car had an oil change? A tune-up? Did you bother with antifreeze this winter?”

Marv leapt out of the car and slammed his door.

Hallie got out, too, shutting hers just as hard.

He glared at her over the top of the hood. “I don’t find your attempts at humor the least bit amusing.”

“The biggest joke of the night was my agreeing to go out with you!” The cold wind whipped past her and she tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat. Unfortunately, she’d worn a flimsy coat, more of a wrap, because its jade green went so well with her new dress. Her wool coat hung in the closet. The only thing she had to keep her warm was her anger—and so far, it was working.

“Until I met you, my vehicle was in perfect running order.”

“Are you suggesting I put a hex on it?”

“Maybe you did,” he growled.

Hallie seethed, crossing her arms. “You’re the rudest man I’ve ever met!”

His eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned. It wasn’t until then that she realized how deeply she’d insulted him. Marv obviously prided himself on his manners—opening the door, helping her on with her coat, those gestures so few men observed these days. Well, she’d take a normal man who let her open car doors over Marvin anytime!

“If that’s how you feel,” he said stiffly, “you can find your own way home.”

“Fine, I will.” She carelessly tossed out the words, slapped her silk scarf around her neck like Isadora Duncan and started walking, high heels and all.

This wasn’t the smart thing to do, Hallie soon realized. She was chilled to the bone, blinded by all the headlights flashing by and, dammit, one of her heels chose that moment to break off.

At least it wasn’t raining.

T he ringing woke Steve out of a sound sleep. He rolled over, thinking the incessant noise was his alarm. He hit the switch, but it did no good. Then he noticed the time. Eleven-thirty. What the hell?

He sat up and realized the irritating sound wasn’t his alarm clock but his doorbell. He grabbed his jeans and pulled them on as he hobbled into the living room. He had no idea who was calling on him so late at night—but the last person he expected was his next-door neighbor.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Hallie said, her eyes desperate in the pale porch light. A scruffy-looking fellow hovered behind her, and a taxi stood parked in her driveway. “Could I borrow twenty dollars?” she pleaded. He stared at her. “Just until tomorrow afternoon,” she added.

“Sure,” he said, and reached in his hip pocket for his wallet, extracting a bill.

“Thank you,” she breathed, then whirled around to give the taxi driver his money. “I told you you’d get paid!” she said fiercely.

“You can’t blame a guy for doubting. You wouldn’t be the first lady who tried to stiff me.”

“Well…thanks for bringing me home.”

The cabbie handed her a business card. “Sure, lady. Listen, the next time some guy dumps you on the freeway, give me a call and I’ll make sure you get home.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, sending an embarrassed glance in Steve’s direction. She waited until the driver had left before explaining. “Really, it’s not as bad as it looks.” Nervously she pushed a trembling hand through her tangled hair. “I’ll get the twenty dollars to you after work tomorrow afternoon. I…I quit carrying my credit cards and didn’t have my ATM card with me,” she explained, rushing the words. “It took all my cash to pay for my half of dinner.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I promise to have the money back by tomorrow. You have my word on that.”

He grinned. “I said not to worry about it.”

“At this point, it’s a matter of pride.” She turned away and limped toward her own condo. It took him a moment to realize the heel on one of her shoes had broken off.

“Hallie?” he called out, curiosity getting the better of him. “Do you want to come in for coffee and tell me what happened?”

She paused, and he knew she was tempted to accept. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a rain check on the coffee. I’m fine, really. It was just a date gone bad.”

“From Dateline?”

“No. I decided against…I didn’t sign up with them. This was a date arranged by a friend. A former friend.” She filled in a few of the details: the questions, the restaurant bill, the car. He listened sympathetically, nodding now and then, marveling at her ability to laugh at her situation.

“Don’t let it get you down,” he advised.

“I won’t,” she said, and although she looked disheveled and pitiful, she managed a weak smile. “It’d take more than a pudgy accountant to do that.”

“Good girl.” He waited until she was all the way inside her house before he closed his own door. Only then, did he allow himself to laugh. He had to hand it to Hallie McCarthy. The lady had grit.

“What’s so funny?” Todd asked Steve the following morning.

“What makes you think anything’s funny?” Steve leaned over a pile of metal shavings to avoid meeting his friend’s gaze. Todd was right; his mood had greatly improved. It was because of Hallie, he suspected. Every time he thought about her and that jerk accountant, he found himself grinning from ear to ear. No wonder he wasn’t eager to get back into the dating scene. It made far more sense to win back his ex-wife. He only hoped Mary Lynn met up with a few of Hallie’s rejects. Then maybe she’d realize he wasn’t so bad, after all.

“You’ve been wearing this silly grin all day.” Obviously Todd wasn’t about to let the subject drop.

“Would you rather I stormed around making unreasonable demands?”

“Nope,” Todd admitted. Then he shrugged. “You ready for lunch?”

“Sure.” Steve packed his own now, same as he had when he was married—which meant he picked up something at the deli on his way into work. He and Todd headed for the small room adjacent to his office, stopping to let Mrs. Applegate, his new secretary, know he was taking his lunch break. She was working out well. He’d found her through a business college. She was older, described as a displaced homemaker, whatever that meant. But Mrs. Applegate appreciated the job and worked hard.