Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)

“Mom, don’t be a martyr. I love you. I’m home. Can’t that be enough for now?”


She sniffed, then nodded. “You’re right. I’m glad you’re home and staying in Fool’s Gold. I’ll give you a couple of days to settle in, then call. We can go to lunch or you can come over to dinner. How’s that?”

“Perfect.”

She rose. He did the same. He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. They headed for the door. She opened it and stepped onto the small landing at the top of the stairs. He’d nearly breathed the sweet air of freedom when she turned back to him.

“Did you get a chance to look at those files I sent you?” she asked. “There are several lovely girls.”

“Mom,” he began, his voice warning.

She faced him. “Honey, no. You’ve been on your own for too long. You need to get married and start a family. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“I love you, too,” he said, gently pushing her out the door and closing it before she could say anything else he would regret.

“I want you married, Ford,” she yelled through the closed door. “I have the applications on my computer, if you want to go through them. They’re on a spreadsheet so you can sort them by different criteria.”

She was still yelling when he reached the bedroom and closed that door, as well.

CHAPTER TWO

ISABEL TURNED HER CART down an aisle and knew a lack of inspiration would be a problem later. If she didn’t figure out what she wanted for dinner, she would be starving in a couple of hours. Ordering a pizza at eight-thirty, then eating the whole thing was very bad for her hips and thighs. Remembering that the women in her family eased toward pear-shaped as they aged, she headed for the produce section and virtuously chose a bag of salad. Great. She had salad and red wine and a very small container of ice cream. Disparate elements that did not a dinner make.

She started purposefully toward the meat section, not sure what she would do when she got there. As she turned the corner, she nearly ran into another shopper.

“Sorry,” she said automatically, only to find herself staring into a pair of dark eyes. “Ford.”

He smiled. It was the same slow, sexy smile he’d used before. The one that made it hard for her to catch her breath. Telling herself that he tossed that smile around like empty peanut shells at a ball game didn’t make her chest any less tight. Which was so very strange. She’d never been one to quiver in the presence of a man.

“Hey,” he said. He raised his basket. “Food shopping.”

“Me, too.” She glanced at the package of steaks and the six-pack of beer. “That’s your idea of dinner?”

“You have ice cream and red wine.”

“I have salad,” she said with a sniff. “That makes me virtuous.”

“It makes you a rabbit. And hungry.” The smile turned to a grin. “I saw a grill on your patio the other day. Why don’t we pool our resources?”

A tempting offer. “You want the wine and the ice cream.”

“True, but I’ll eat the salad, just to be polite.”

“Such a guy. Do you know how to use the grill? It’s big and seems complicated.”

One eyebrow rose. “I was born knowing how. It’s in my DNA.”

“Which seems like a waste of genetic material.”

Somehow they were walking. She didn’t remember making a decision about accepting his offer, but there they were, in line to pay. Five minutes later they were in the parking lot and heading to their cars.

They got to his first.

“Seriously?” she asked, staring at the black Jeep.

“It’s a classic.”

She pointed to the gold paint on the side. “It has flames. Jeeps have a long history of faithful service. Why would you torture yours like that?”

“You don’t like it? Why not? The flames are cool.”

“No. Consuelo’s car is cool. Yours is kind of embarrassing.”

“I bought it right after your sister dumped me for my best friend. I wasn’t myself.”

“That was fourteen years ago. Why haven’t you sold it?”

“I never drive it and it’s in great condition. When I decided to move back, Ethan got it ready for me.”

“Being seen near it must have humiliated him,” she teased, knowing Ford’s brother would have been happy to help. “Doesn’t Angel drive a Harley?”

Ford frowned at the mention of his business partner. “How do you know that?”

“It’s hard to miss a guy like him in black leather and driving a motorcycle in Fool’s Gold.”

“You drive a Prius,” he said. “You don’t get to make judgments.”

“You mean because I drive a safe, sensible, environmentally friendly car?”

“Logic,” he muttered. “Just like a woman.”