When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek #1)(69)
Author: Brenda Novak

She was surprised she didn’t mind mentioning that to him, although it was something she generally kept to herself. She supposed it was because she didn’t have any hopes or expectations where Simon was concerned. Since she’d had to count him out from the beginning, there was no point in pretending not to have the insecurities that were as much a part of her as her desire for discipline and order. Considering who Simon was and the type of women he usually surrounded himself with, her shortcomings would be very obvious, anyway.

Supporting the bulk of his own weight with one hip and shoulder, he twisted a strand of her hair around his finger. “I like the color of your hair.”

“Sure you do.” She managed to push him the rest of the way off. “But for your information, I wasn’t trying to solicit a compliment. Besides, you don’t have any choice at the moment except to make do. I’m better than nothing, remember?”

He didn’t seem pleased to have his words thrown back at him. “I was dying for a drink that day. And I was still angry over the rape accusation. I didn’t mean what I said.”

She kicked off the blankets that covered her feet. “Of course you did. But that’s okay. I am what I am.” With a smile to let him know she really didn’t care if he found her lacking, she rolled off the mattress and onto the carpet. “Why don’t we get dressed and head down to Just Like Mom’s. I think it’s time for a proper meal.”

“Gail…”

He sounded too serious. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She could only handle what was happening between them if she kept things light and didn’t expect too much. “Come on.” Resisting the urge to cover her nudity, she got to her feet. “Enough being lazy.”

“I really didn’t mean it,” he said, but she was already on her way to the bathroom and pretended not to hear.

24

Just Like Mom’s had purple walls, white ruffled curtains and half a dozen high chairs lined up at the entrance. The booths around the perimeter of the main dining area were done in lavender vinyl; the country-style oak tables in the middle of the floor had chairs sporting cushions with big bows that could only have been hand-sewn. Simon had never seen a restaurant that reminded him more of his grandmother’s house. Not that he’d been able to spend much time there. Grandma Moffitt had been too upset about the circumstances of his birth to ever fully forgive his mother, and him by extension. She preferred her other grandkids, who were girls. But he’d always secretly liked the homey comfort of her rambler in Palm Springs.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” Gail murmured over the bell that jingled when they walked in.

The place wasn’t crowded, but it was doing a brisk business for eight o’clock on a Sunday night. “Pot roast,” he said.

“Mildred Davies makes the best meat loaf and beef stew imaginable. I’m sure the pot roast isn’t bad, either.”

Through the two-foot opening where the food came out, he saw a short, round woman with a cap of snow-white hair directing traffic in the kitchen. “That’s the cook? Mildred Davies?”

“Cook and owner,” Gail said. “As you can tell, she’s getting on in years but she manages to keep up. After dinner you’ll have to try her carrot cake. Delicious.”

“Maybe I’ll start with it.” Somehow, he felt younger, more innocent and certainly more content than the man he’d been in L.A. Either the paparazzi couldn’t find him or they’d been unwilling to make such a long drive on the off chance of picking up a detail or two about his private life. He hadn’t heard from Bella for twenty-four hours. He had less craving for alcohol than at any previous point since giving it up. And, best of all, for the first time since the event that had caused him to unravel, he was gaining confidence that he’d be able to do what was necessary to get Ty back.

It wasn’t until he thought of his father’s visit yesterday morning, and the possibility of running into Tex in Whiskey Creek, that some of the old anger and uneasiness returned. His father seemed to appear every time Simon began to get on his feet.

But he wasn’t going to let Tex provoke him. Tex could sue if he wanted. Simon would gladly pay restitution for any financial loss he caused the producers of Hellion, but he wouldn’t allow his father to ruin his life yet again. He wasn’t ready to jump back into the world that had nearly driven him crazy. Ty was the prize. Ty—not another movie or another fifty million dollars.

Once he was granted custody, even if it was only partial, maybe he’d bring Ty to Whiskey Creek. They could spend their summers here enjoying Gail’s friendship, whenever she came home, and maybe the friendships of some of the people he’d met at the coffee shop. He and Ty could forget the opulence and excesses associated with his career, they could play baseball, eat at this tacky but homey restaurant, check out the old-fashioned soda fountain down the street, hike in the mountains….

Simon wanted to take Gail’s hand, to communicate his gratitude for all she’d done. Despite his initial skepticism, her involvement in his life had made a huge difference. But ever since they’d left the house, she’d been careful not to so much as brush against him, which felt odd, considering. At first, he thought he was only imagining the change. But the more minutes that went by without physical contact, the more convinced he became that she was doing it on purpose. She was determined not to expect him to act like a boyfriend.

He appreciated that she wasn’t suddenly clingy. Their current arrangement was what he’d asked for from the start. Now he had what he wanted, and yet her withdrawal bothered him. In his opinion, she was being too vigilant about making sure there was no emotional spillover. Why couldn’t they just relax and do and say as they pleased for the time being?

He was about to broach the subject. He wasn’t ready for Gail to raise her defenses again. It’d been too long since he’d felt close to anyone, and he wasn’t willing to lose it so soon.

But the hostess, a middle-aged woman who wore a purple uniform with a tag that said Tilly, approached before he could bring it up. Her mouth formed an O the minute she recognized him, but she cleared her throat and addressed Gail. “Two for dinner?” she said in a gravelly smoker’s voice.

Gail seemed amused by the hostess’s reaction to his presence. He was amused by it himself. True to Whiskey Creek form, she didn’t gush over him or ask for his autograph, but she was obviously flustered.