Or ever would.
The cop was still waiting.
“I’m filling in for Todd.” She knew the kid only by name. “Temporarily. I understand he’s on vacation for a few weeks.”
“Oh, right.” He nodded. “Big Disneyland trip. I remember now. Usually Petunia gets her dad to pinch-hit when Todd is gone.”
She wasn’t sure what sort of response he expected to that, so she just shrugged. “All I know is she needed someone for two weeks to fill in. I’m Arabella. New in town. And—” she glanced at the delivery slip that she still had tucked between two fingers “—looking for Mrs. Jones in Central Records.”
Happy anniversary, my beloved. Arabella herself had written the customer’s message on the card included with the flowers.
“Third floor. Back of the building,” he said immediately. “Fastest way is the stairs. Elevator takes forever.”
“Thank you, Officer—”
“Detective, actually. Detective Teas.” He walked away from her in a much nicer way than Jay had.
I think you should know that...
...you should never take flirting seriously.
She huffed out a breath and headed for the wide staircase situated in the center of the lobby. The detective hadn’t exaggerated about the elevator. There was a small line of people standing outside of it waiting for the bronze arrow to move on the old-fashioned dial above the door.
She could handle two flights of stairs to the third floor a lot easier than face the fact that she’d actually moved away from New York to find out exactly how Jay Cross had intended to finish that sentence.
It had been five months since that day.
Five months of weaving romantic fantasies about the words he hadn’t said.
She found Central Records and delivered the flowers to Mrs. Jones, who turned out to be a young woman who looked no older than Arabella. She had an enormous diamond ring on her finger and gushed over the flowers.
“How long have you been married?” Arabella was afraid her smile was wistful but the young Mrs. Jones didn’t seem to notice.
“One month today!”
As Arabella went back down the stairs again, she couldn’t help but wonder what sort of display the girl would be getting when she and her husband reached one year.
Arabella couldn’t even get a date.
And whose fault is that? Spending the last five months daydreaming about a man you met only once?
Thank heavens Arabella was smart enough not to have shared that particular fact with anyone. Her family already accused her of always having her head in the clouds. And her girlfriends were all too busy with their own love lives—ones that were much more fruitful than Arabella’s.
She’d lost count of how many bridal showers she’d been invited to lately. And being asked to be a bridesmaid for the fourth time in as many months had been just one time too many.
She’d been toying with the idea of returning to Rambling Rose almost as soon as her dad had dragged them away in January from Larkin’s birthday party. But when Arabella had gotten a wedding invitation from her nemesis, Tammy Jo Pendleton, something inside her had snapped. For one thing, it was a destination wedding. In Bali.
If the invitation had been heartfelt and genuine, Arabella would’ve felt regretful having to decline. There was no way she could afford to travel to Bali on her administrative assistant wages, which was something that Tammy Jo knew perfectly well. But the invitation had not been genuine. Tammy Jo had sent it for one simple reason—to drive home the fact that she was getting married to Hamilton Dawes.
Arabella might have dated Ham once upon a time but it was Tammy Jo who’d actually landed him. And now Tammy Jo was the one having the fairy-tale wedding with the most eligible bachelor in their town.
Arabella reached her car and climbed behind the wheel. She rolled down the windows to let the heat escape. Even though it had only taken a few minutes to make her last delivery of the day, the car interior had become stifling hot. Her car was old. It wasn’t equipped with air-conditioning. She probably should have sold it before she’d left New York and figured out a way to get around in Rambling Rose until she could afford to buy another vehicle. But she’d been determined to prove she wouldn’t be a burden on her brothers in Texas.
Because, despite what her brothers and parents thought, just because she had a head full of dreams didn’t mean she had no common sense or pride.
And just what kind of common sense did it show to fantasize about Jay Cross all these months?
She twisted the rearview mirror slightly until she saw her own reflection. “Shut up,” she muttered.
For once, the mocking voice inside her head obediently went silent and she readjusted the mirror and turned the key.
The engine tried to turn over, but didn’t.
The car had some power because the radio came on playing the same song that had been on the radio incessantly for months now. On the long drive from New York, every time she caught a radio signal as she drove from town to town, it had been an obvious staple.
“‘Givin’ it all up,’” she muttered along with the singer’s deep voice before she snapped off the radio. She didn’t even listen to country music but the song had still become an earworm, sticking inside her head for hours at a time. “Right now I’d like to give it all up and be back home in New York.”
But saying the words was enough for her to know that wasn’t strictly true. She was twenty-five years old and it was time that she began doing something with her life. Even if that meant moving to Texas like half her brothers had done.
“All right, car. Don’t let me down now.” Eyes closed as if that might influence the outcome, she turned the key again.
Silence reigned.
She pulled out the key with a sigh and leaned back in the seat. She tossed aside her ball cap and swiped
