Chapter 5
Ian spent the next few days dissecting his conversation with Katie Layton.
Why was the woman taking up so much of his brain space?
It’s not like she was drop-dead gorgeous, or tall and leggy, and he usually preferred blondes.
He thought of the first time he saw her in an old T-shirt that accentuated her breasts…
breasts that weren’t manufactured or pushed up.
He muttered a curse, annoyed that he’d noticed anything about her.
The woman was a distraction and a complication, neither of which he needed. She didn’t seem affected by him like her sister had, fawning over his looks, his smile, his presence. No, she wasn’t impressed with Ian Marcus Finnegan, and for him to admit that about a female? Definitely a first.
But there’d been a few moments when she’d looked at him as though she could wade through his past to the boy who had everything money could buy, and nothing that truly mattered; time from his parents, encouragement, teaching.
Those areas had been passed off to nannies, tutors, and coaches.
But his parents? No, they were too busy, too preoccupied, too disinterested to fill that role.
Why have children if you weren’t going to be a parent?
His mother swore she loved him more than her very breath and wanted to spend time with him.
Sure, right up until the next tennis lesson, committee meeting, luncheon.
Maybe that’s why she’d never developed an understanding of relationships, definitely not the kind a man and woman shared.
A partnership? What was that? What in the hell did that even mean?
He bet Katie Layton would have a few thoughts about his parents’ behavior.
Maybe she’d pull out a notebook and read him the qualifications for good parenting and relationships.
But maybe she didn’t know either, because he’d seen the way she talked about her sister as though she were desperate to show her love.
It sounded like the sister was the one running the show, making the rules, even though she was only a kid.
Dolly had shared the sad story about the Layton family.
The father who died and left them nothing, not even a reason to believe they mattered more than anything to him.
The mother tried to give them a home but never quite got over the heartache of losing her husband and depended too much on the eldest daughter.
He didn’t like the way Katie had pegged him as entitled and worthless, but while he might deny it, there was truth in her assessment.
Nobody talked to him like that; not the girlfriends, not the quasi-girlfriends, not the guys he hung around with, and certainly not his mother.
His father only tossed out those accusations when he was angry or trying to strong-arm Ian into doing something he didn’t want to do—like the trip to Magdalena.
But Katie Layton had figured out his story after two very brief and volatile encounters.
How had she done that? Unless she wasn’t that different from him.
That was a possibility, and while he should run from her and her assessment, nobody had intrigued him that much in years—if ever.
There was something about her that made him want to dig around and ask questions.
Once he found the answers, maybe he’d have more questions, or maybe he’d find a few answers about himself.
Dolly was a good source of information gathering, and she loved to talk, called it sharing history, sharing friends, making people feel welcome.
No doubt, Jack would call it gossiping, but when a person wanted to know something, Dolly Finnegan was the one to ask.
Sure, Ian might have to be patient and wait for her to get to the point, but if he listened, she usually shared enough for him to draw conclusions by the time he devoured a handful of cookies and a glass of iced tea.
It was the sharing and the curiosity that pointed Ian in the direction of Renova and the new pizza joint.
The sister made the place sound like it had the best pizza ever.
Doubtful, since he’d tasted New York and Chicago pizza.
If he were trying it out, there was no reason Katie Layton shouldn’t share a slice or two.
She’d have an opinion, because in the short time he’d known her, the woman had an opinion about a lot of things—especially about him.
She didn’t find him fascinating or breathtaking.
In fact, he guessed she found him overall annoying.
Great, because he found her annoying as well, probably because she wasn’t afraid to tell him he wasn’t God’s gift to the world, and that he didn’t have the answer to everything.
The woman didn’t care about his clothes, his speech patterns, or where he went to school.
Before she left Jack’s garage, she’d looked at him as though she felt sorry for him, and that was not okay.
Ian drove to Renova, picked up a mushroom and spinach pizza with sausage on the side.
She seemed the back-to-nature type, so maybe she was a vegetarian.
For Ian, pizza wasn’t complete without sausage.
When he pulled into Katie’s driveway, he wondered if he should have called first. But how would he have done that if he didn’t have her phone number?
Sure, he could have asked Dolly, but he was not going to do that.
The woman with the sweet smile and soft voice would have spread the news linking him and Katie Layton all over Magdalena.
He parked the car, grabbed the pizza, and headed toward the front door.
If she weren’t home, he’d leave the box on her doorstep and scribble something like Now you can say you’ve tried the pizza.
He was about to ring the bell when he heard the singing…
if you could call it singing. It was actually more yelling—loud and forceful.
Ian rang the doorbell twice, waited for the music and the singing to stop.
When they didn’t, he hesitated, then opened the front door and stepped inside to the smell of cinnamon and apple.
Ian spotted Katie in the kitchen, back to him, stirring a pot on the stove.
Dancing? The hips, the feet, the shoulders all moved to the rhythm of “I Will Survive”.
He clutched the pizza box, took in the strong legs, the slender back, the long braid bouncing around.
His gaze homed in on the braid. Would it be soft and silky and–
Katie swung around, gasped. “What are you doing in my house?”
He should have risked Dolly’s gossip and gotten Katie’s phone number, so he didn’t look like a fool and an intruder.
Ian cleared his throat, once, twice, tried to provide a plausible explanation for his presence.
“You said you haven’t tried the new pizza place in Renova, so I thought I’d pick one up.
” A shrug, a half-smile, and an attempt to make his actions appear almost normal.
“So, you can see what you think.” When she continued to stare, he added, “I rang the doorbell twice…but you couldn’t hear me.
” Her cheeks turned red, her lips flattened.
Okay, this was going worse than expected.
“Look, it seems we always get off to a bad start, so why don’t I just leave the pizza here?
I really did want to try it, and I wasn’t going to sit in the place all by myself like some loser, and I didn’t want the whole town gossiping if I took you there… ”
“And I’m the only person in town you could ask?”
She didn’t seem as ticked as she had when she first spotted him.
This look was more a mix of curiosity and confusion.
“I’m not asking any of the guys from the shop, and Dolly would talk my ear off on the ride over.
Jack would be a hard pass for several reasons, plus I’d have to listen to the lecture about how just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to spend it.
And, if I asked any other female, I’d get paired up with them… ”
Silence. A frown. More silence.
Katie Layton was going to refuse his offer.
How about that? It had been a long time—years in fact—since he had to work at attracting a woman’s attention.
They were always the ones chasing him. It wasn’t that he was interested in this particular woman, but it surprised and perplexed him that she wasn’t affected by any of the usual tactics he used to convince a female to agree with him.
It was just a pizza. It wasn’t like he was asking her on a date.
He wasn’t even sure he liked her, but she certainly intrigued him.
Still, if she didn’t want to share pizza with him, fine.
He’d leave it here. Ian was about to tell her that when she let out a sigh, pointed to the kitchen.
“I’m only letting you stay because I really want to try this pizza. ”
And then she turned and made her way to the cupboard where she removed glasses, plates, and silverware.
They sat in the tiny kitchen, where she picked only the pieces with sausage because pizza always tastes better with sausage.
They talked about thin crust versus deep dish, how she’d learned to split wood, and what she was studying in college.
She’d hesitated a few seconds before she told him necessity had chosen a path for her, and that path included a business degree.
“But, if you could do anything, would it be business?”
A small shrug, a soft, “I can’t answer that because it’s never been an option to do whatever I wanted.
There was always someone else to think about, something else to take care of…
even when my mother was alive. I had responsibilities, and it made it easier for her if I took care of my sister.
How can you do your own thing when you’ve got a parent who needs your help? ”