Dream Wedding
Autore
Pamela Macaluso
Letto da
17,0K
Capitoli
12
One
“Miss Hill! Miss Hill! The Terminator has Joey!”
Genie Hill turned to the breathless, wide-eyed boy who had burst through the school office door. She reached out her arm to take hold of his shoulder before the sheer momentum of the running fourth grader could carry him past her.
“Slow down, Paul.” The child’s pent-up energy transferred into up and down motion in front of his teacher. “Now, tell me again. Where’s Joey?”
“The Terminator has him.”
She’d heard him right the first time. Genie was sure the futuristic cyborg from the series of Terminator movies was not likely to be in Wiley, Georgia, but the fear in Paul’s eyes frightened her. “Has him where?”
“Out front by the bike rack.”
At least they were close by—if they were still there. Life was usually quiet in the small, sleepy town. There had never been a case of child abduction, but...
Her heartbeat accelerated as she turned and headed quickly for the door.
Paul started to follow.
“You stay here,” Genie told him.
“Should I call Sheriff Conroy?” Annabelle Foster, the office secretary, called after her.
“If I’m not back in three minutes.”
Genie ran the last few steps, jerked open the door and dashed out. Her gaze flew to the bike racks. She didn’t see Joey, but she saw the back of a tall, blond man, dressed in blue jeans and black leather jacket. He was looking down at something in front of him.
A few more swift steps and she saw Joey, staring up, his eyes as wide open as his mouth usually was and his lips pressed tightly closed.
Without slowing, she moved until she stood directly in front of her student. Looking up, she realized her action had put her much closer to the tall stranger than she cared to be.
His hostile gaze, which had been aimed at the nine-year-old, now fastened on the rise and fall of the feminine curves beneath her burgundy sweater. His scowl turned into a smooth smile, and his gaze flicked downward to the black loafers on her feet. When it slowly moved up to meet hers, her already racing heart sped up even more.
“Well, well...what do we have here?”
A deep, warm voice, with no trace of a southern accent. Gorgeous blue eyes, a strong chiseled jawline, a sexy smile with a dimple on the right cheek...
Joey clutched at Genie’s hand and peeked around her side, breaking the trance she’d been falling into. She turned back into a teacher concerned for her pupil. “That’s what I’d like to know. What do we have here?” She was glad her uneasiness didn’t show in her voice.
“Maybe you should ask the little guy.”
She tilted her chin up, refusing to be intimidated. “Whatever he did doesn’t give you the right to accost and scare him.”
“I didn’t accost him, angel. I was just trying to find out who he was so I could make arrangements to talk to his parents.”
“What did Joey do?”
“Joey? Is that your name, sport?”
Genie looked at Joey.
He looked back. “I didn’t say a word to him, Miss Hill, just like you taught us.”
She reached down and ruffled his red hair.
“Since he’s got the never-talk-to-strangers routine down, maybe you should work on teaching him not to bully other kids.”
Joey smiled, managing to look completely innocent.
Genie turned to the stranger, coming face-to-face with his broad chest. An uneasy feeling crept over her. Moving her gaze down, she noticed several patches of wetness on his black T-shirt and a small piece of red balloon clinging to the stretchy fabric.
Oh, my!
As she watched, he moved one long-fingered, masculine hand to brush off the balloon.
Fascinated by the beauty of his male muscles, she was unable to keep her gaze from dropping farther down. The wetness stopped above the blue jeans.
Thank heavens!
As it was, the tight-fitting denim had her quickly dropping her gaze to check out the black leather motorcycle boots—if the jeans had been wet...
“See anything you like, angel?”
Genie felt her cheeks grow warm. Ignoring his question she asked, “I take it Joey threw the water balloon?”
“He was aiming at the other little guy. The one who ran into the building.”
Paul hadn’t been wet. Joey must have missed him. Too bad he hadn’t missed this guy, also. She looked at Joey. “I think you should apologize.”
Joey hung his head. “I was aiming for Paul, and I’m sorry the water balloon hit you, sir.”
“I hope you’ll think twice before bullying someone else again.”
“Yes, sir.”
The angry look on the man’s face showed no sign of softening. Joey’s apology was contrite and sincere. He’d even remembered to end with sir. Genie thought the man could at least stop scowling. Or have the courtesy not to look so attractive while doing it.
“Why don’t you go on into the office, Joey? I’ll be along in a few minutes,” Genie told him. With Joey safely on his way, she could step away, but didn’t want to give the impression that she was backing down. “Throwing water balloons doesn’t make a child a bully.”
The man gave a short bitter laugh. “What would you call it, then?”
“It depends on the situation. My guess is that the balloon was payback for the rubber spider in Joey’s lunch box today.”
A police siren started up on the other side of the town square. Although the fastest route from the sheriff’s office to the elementary school would have been on foot, Genie suspected Sheriff Conroy was heading their way. She should have told Joey to tell Annabelle everything was all right.
“Let me get this straight,” the stranger continued. “If you’re doing something as retaliation, you’re exempt from being considered a bully?”
“You’re making a generalization. I’m talking about a specific case.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “What criteria would you use to define a bully?”
“A bully pulls malicious pranks.”
“You don’t think throwing water balloons at an unsuspecting victim is malicious? Maybe you should ask Joey’s intended target how he feels.”
“Water balloons could be used for malicious pranks, but I’m sure in this case it was more of a practical joke. These two are the best of friends—”
“With friends like that, who needs enemies?”
The siren grew louder until it cut off in mid-wail behind her. Genie turned.
Sheriff Zeke Conroy stepped out of his cruiser. He looked the stranger up and down, adjusted his holster and walked toward them. Zeke had been sheriff for the last twenty years. The only other job Genie could imagine him doing would be as an actor who specialized in portraying small-Southern-town sheriffs.
Grateful for an excuse to put some space between herself and the too-handsome stranger, Genie stepped back to make room for the new arrival.
“Trouble, Eugenia?”
“Just a misunderstanding, Sheriff,” the blond man said.
Zeke’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You got any ID?”
The man crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Zeke. “Of course.”
“Mind if I take a look at it, son?”
The stranger reached into his back pocket, pulling the denim of his fly even tighter. Genie turned her attention to the building behind him where Annabelle, Joey, Paul and an assortment of other folks had gathered to watch.
“New York City. You just passin’ through, then?” Zeke’s tone clearly implied that the answer had better be yes.
Genie had noticed the man didn’t have a southern accent, but it wasn’t a New York accent, either.
“I’ll be here a week.”
“Our campground is closed for the season and the closest motel is over in Calhoun.”
“I’m staying with family.”
“Family, huh? Now, just who would that be Mr., er...” He looked at the card in his hand, which Genie assumed was a driver’s license. “Mr. Alexander Lee Dalton. You one of Grandee’s kin?”
Alexander Dalton?
The name was familiar to Genie, but the only picture that came to mind was of a skinny, nerdy kid with horn-rimmed glasses and bad skin.
That Alex Dalton had come to Wiley every year for summer vacation and stayed with Grandee. He’d never fit in with the rest of the kids. The only personal contact she’d had with him had been when her mother had hired him to tutor her the summer she’d repeated algebra.
There was nothing in this gorgeous specimen of maleness to link him to the boy she remembered. Of course with the size of the Dalton clan and the way they’d trickled off to live in other places, it was possible there was more than one Alex Dalton.
“Yes, she’s my great-grandmother,” Alex told Zeke.
“You here for her birthday celebration?”
“That’s right.”
“One hundred years.” He handed Alex his license. “We should all be so lucky.” He turned to Genie. “Well, Eugenia, what is it that Alex here did to make you call for help?”
She didn’t like the way his smile had changed and was sure any answer she gave him would be just a formality. “Paul came running into the office saying that a...a stranger had Joey. I had Annabelle call you since I wasn’t sure what we were dealing with.” She’d gone out looking for the Terminator and instead found another capital-T word—Trouble.
Zeke shrugged. “You satisfied now that everything is okay? After all, a kin to Grandee can’t be a stranger.”
“The children don’t know him, and he scared them half to death by stopping Joey.” He’d also scared her half to death! Besides, wasn’t there a law somewhere forbidding a man from looking so good in blue jeans?
“Just a misunderstanding. Right, Alex?” Zeke reached out and shook his hand. “Enjoy your stay with us.”
He returned the sheriff’s handshake. “I intend to.” As Zeke turned away, Alex looked at Genie. “You’re sorry he didn’t throw the book at me, aren’t you?”
Her hands tightened into fists. “Maybe if he’d cuffed you and hauled you off to spend a few hours in the Wiley jail, you’d think twice about approaching unaccompanied children.”
“You’d like to see me in handcuffs? Maybe Sheriff Conroy has a spare pair he’ll loan us. I’m game if you are.”
Genie was speechless.
Alex chuckled, then flashed her another of his sexy smiles. “See you around, Genie.”
Genie?
How did he know friends called her Genie? Zeke had called her Eugenia, and Joey had called her Miss Hill. Had he made a lucky guess at her nickname or could he be the same Alex who had tutored her?
Genie watched him walk down the sidewalk. Concern for Joey had been her main focus when she’d come out. With the youngster safe, she was free to notice that Alex Dalton’s jeans fit as nicely across the back as they did across the front.
This couldn’t be the same guy....
She watched until he reached a large black and chrome motorcycle, then she turned toward the office.
Paul and Joey dashed down the steps. “Miss Hill, what did the Terminator say to you?”
Joey snorted. “Grow up, Paul. The Terminator is just a character in a movie. He’s not real. It’s an actor. Arnold Schwarzkopf.”
“Schwarzkopf’s that Desert Storm guy, you idiot!”
“Well, it’s Arnold Schwarts-something,” Joey fired back, then looked at Genie. “Is Arnold still mad that I hit him with the balloon, Miss Hill?”
“Sorry to disappoint you two, but it wasn’t Arnold Schwarzenegger. The man’s name is Alexander Dalton, and he’s one of Grandee’s great-grandsons. He wasn’t happy about getting hit with a water balloon, but the reason he stopped you was that he was concerned you might be bullying Paul.”
The boys exchanged puzzled glances.
“Can we go home now?” Paul asked.
“Sure. See you tomorrow, guys.”
After a quick wave goodbye, the two friends took off. Genie chuckled as she watched them. She could see that from their height Alex might look like Arnold Schwarzenegger.
From what she’d seen, he had a terrific build. Probably not the bulk of a weight lifter...or a professional football player. The thought entered her mind before she could squelch it.
She shouldn’t be surprised, though. Even now, any number of things could set off memories of Will Tucker. Today she guessed it was the thoughts of high school algebra that had her thinking of her ex-fiancé’s profession. After all, they’d been high school sweethearts.
Genie turned and walked toward the office to finish checking out for the day. She didn’t want to think about Will Tucker.
Even more, she didn’t want to think about Alex Dalton, his sexy smile or the peculiar awareness he’d stirred in her.
* * *
“So, Genie Hill didn’t marry Will Tucker?” Alex asked his great-grandmother.
Grandee shook her head as she rinsed off the glass she was holding and handed it to Alex for drying. “Nope. They called it off a month before the wedding.”
He was surprised. Genie and Will had been “the couple” the last few summers his parents had shipped him off to Georgia for vacation.
Since Joey had called her Miss Hill, she must not have married anyone else, either.
He put the glass in the cupboard. Grandee had a dishwasher but rarely used it, saying she liked to end her day of chores with the familiar feel of warm soapy dishwater. Here in her house, her word was law. If she said the dinner dishes were going to be washed by hand, by golly the dinner dishes were washed by hand.
Born a week short of one hundred years ago as Sarah Mary Thomas, Grandee had married and become Sarah Dalton. Her first grandchild called her Grandma Dalton, then shortened it to Grandma D. Over time it had evolved into Grandee and now it was the only name she went by.
Alex reached out and took the next glass from her. “Does Genie teach at the elementary school?”
“Yes, dear. Fourth grade, I think. Your cousin Donny’s boy has her. I think he’s in the fourth grade. I can’t keep track of the young ‘uns the way I used to. I’ve got the grandchildren and the great-grandchildren down, but these great-great-grands...”
Genie had ended up becoming a teacher. Alex wondered what had made her choose that over the glamorous life Will’s football career could have provided her. Or maybe Will had been the one to break it off.
He wanted to know more, but Grandee was a sharp one and would catch on if he kept asking about Genie. “How is cousin Donny?”
Grandee set off on a roll, filling him in on all the relatives, including a listing of who was coming to her birthday party. Alex listened, but found Genie crossing his mind frequently.
Genie Hill had been a real looker in high school. Dark brown hair that glimmered in the sun, light hazel eyes that sparkled when she smiled.
Not that her smile had ever been directed at him back then.
He’d expected her to grow into a beautiful woman, rather than the ordinary-looking one who’d come racing to the rescue of that little prankster. Her hair, which had once swung enticingly around her shoulders, was now tucked into a tight bun, which did nothing for her.
She did have a point, though. Approaching the child hadn’t been wise. But being christened with a water balloon had struck a chord within him.
He’d lost count of the times Will Tucker and his cronies had been lying in wait for him when he’d ventured away from the safety of Grandee’s. Whether he was going to the grocery store, movie theater or the library, he always seemed to end up wet, either coming or going.
And the balloons weren’t the worst of it—Four-eyes, Einstein, Specs, Crater-face—that name-calling hurt more than the water.
The last few summers had been more peaceful. Will was occupied with Genie and spent less time picking on his regular targets.
Genie.
Alex had had a major crush on her. Living for the school vacation, praying that this summer she would notice him.
He was fairly certain she hadn’t recognized him today. He would admit he’d changed a lot since she’d seen him last. Changed as much as she had. Only difference was that his changes had been for the better.
Time had made some of them, working out and a more active life-style had helped. Contact lenses had banished the horn-rims most of the time, although he had a pair of wire-frame glasses he wore occasionally.
But the biggest changes were the ones within.
He’d been a loner most of his life. Not by choice. He’d tried to fit in with other children, both at home in California and here in Wiley where he’d spent his summers. He hadn’t been successful in either place. In fact he hadn’t had any real friends until he’d met Rorke O’Neil and Jesse Tyler while he’d been working on his MBA at MIT.
The three of them had hit it off right away. Both Rorke and Jesse had successful relationships with women—more than their fair share, as far as he’d been concerned. He’d said as much, and they’d taken him under their wing and taught him the ropes.
The first thing Rorke had told him was to lose the pocket protector and the horn-rims. Then he gave him some pointers on how to talk to women.
Talk them right out of their silk and lace and into his sheets. Once he had them there, fortunately, Mother Nature had taken over.
Now he had his pick of women. He was certain he could have Miss Eugenia Hill, too. If he wanted her.
He thought back to the moment her burgundy sweater had come into his view. It had been on the baggy side, like the dark gray skirt she wore with it. But with her breathing deeply from her sprint, he’d seen enough to suspect somewhere underneath all that material she was hiding a nicely developed feminine body.
The grown-up version of the body that had tormented his adolescent fantasies, back when she’d paraded around in short shorts and halter tops.
He couldn’t have had her then, but he could have her now.
Thinking of her sour expression, severe hairstyle and sensible shoes put a damper on his enthusiasm. Yet the idea of Genie wanting him as badly as he’d once wanted her was very appealing.
* * *
Genie looked out the peephole. Alex Dalton. What was he doing here?
She turned on the porch light, unlocked the dead bolt and slowly opened the heavy wooden door. He was dressed in a ski sweater and twill pants, but looked just as striking as he had in denim and leather.
Genie felt dowdy in the outfit she’d worn to work and wished she’d changed. How could she have known that after so many lonely evenings, an attractive male would show up on her doorstep tonight? Of course anything else available for her to change into would have been as plain. All her clothes were chosen for their comfort at work.
Her occupation was only part of the reason for her changed appearance. Much was Will’s doing. His admonitions that attractive clothes on her were false advertising had both consciously and unconsciously shaped her current wardrobe.
“Hello, Mr. Dalton. Wh—” She stopped abruptly. Remembering his comments from this afternoon, she decided it was best not to ask what she could do for him.
Alex smiled and flashed her a look of boyish innocence. “Hi. You look surprised to see me.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I came by to apologize for upsetting your student this afternoon.”
It was a thoughtful gesture. “I, um, I should also apologize for being rude.”
“It was a natural reaction. Just like a mama bear defending her cubs.”
She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure I like being compared to a bear.”
“I could have said mother hen.”
“That’s even worse.”
He sighed. The smile faded from his mouth but intensified in his eyes. “Then I guess I’ve blown my chances of being invited in.”
