Chapter Seven #3
“I know. Stay here and I’ll get it for you.
” He seemed worried about leaving her. Cait smiled at him, trying to reassure him she’d be perfectly fine, but she seemed unable to keep her balance.
He urged her against the wall, stepped back a couple of paces as though he expected her to slip sideways, then hurriedly located her coat.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when he returned.
“What makes you think anything’s wrong?”
“Other than the fact that you’re crying?”
“My feet hurt.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Why did you wear those stupid shoes in the first place?”
“I already told you,” she whimpered. “Don’t be mad at me.” She held out her arms to him, needing his comfort. “Would you carry me to the car?”
Joe hesitated. “You want me to carry you?” He sounded as though it was a task of Herculean proportions.
“I can’t walk.” She’d taken the shoes off, and it would take God’s own army to get them back on. She couldn’t very well traipse outside in her stocking feet.
“If I carry you, we’d better find another way out of the house.”
“All right.” She agreed just to prove what an amicable person she actually was. When she was a child, she’d been a pest, but she wasn’t anymore and she wanted to be sure Joe understood that.
Grasping Cait’s hand, he led her into the kitchen.
“Don’t you think we should make our farewells?” she asked. It seemed the polite thing to do.
“No,” he answered sharply. “With the mood you’re in you’re likely to throw yourself into Paul’s arms and demand that he make mad passionate love to you right then and there.”
Cait’s face went fire-engine red. “That’s ridiculous.”
Joe mumbled something she couldn’t hear while he lifted her hand and slipped one arm, then the other, into the satin-lined sleeves of her full-length coat.
When he’d finished, Cait climbed on top of the kitchen chair, stretching out her arms to him. Joe stared at her as though she’d suddenly turned into a werewolf.
“What are you doing now?” he asked in an exasperated voice.
“You’re going to carry me, aren’t you?”
“I was considering it.”
“I want a piggyback ride. You gave Betsy McDonald a piggyback ride once and not me.”
“Cait,” Joe groaned. He jerked his fingers through his hair, and offered her his hand, wanting her to climb down from the chair. “Get down before you fall. Good Lord, I swear you’d try the patience of a saint.”
“I want you to carry me piggyback,” she insisted. “Oh, please, Joe. My toes hurt so bad.”
Once again her hero grumbled under his breath.
She couldn’t make out everything he said, but what she did hear was enough to curl her hair.
With obvious reluctance, he walked to the chair, and giving a sigh of pure bliss, Cait wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged his lean hips with her legs.
She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed again.
Still grumbling, Joe moved toward the back door.
Just then the kitchen door opened and Paul and Lindy walked in. Lindy gasped. Paul just stared.
“It’s all right,” Cait was quick to assure them. “Really it is. I was waiting under the mistletoe and you—”
“She downed four glasses of punch nonstop,” Joe inserted before Cait could admit she’d been waiting there for Paul.
“Do you need any help?” Paul asked.
“None, thanks,” Joe returned. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“But...” Lindy looked concerned.
“She ain’t heavy,” Joe teased. “She’s my wife.”
***
The phone rang, waking Cait from a sound sleep. Her head began throbbing in time to the painful noise and she groped for the telephone receiver.
“Hello,” she barked, instantly regretting that she’d spoken loudly.
“How are you feeling?” Joe asked.
“About like you’d expect,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed and gently massaging one temple. It felt as though tiny men with hammers had taken up residence in her head and were pounding away, hoping to attract her attention.
“What time does your flight leave?” he asked.
“It’s okay. I’m not scheduled to leave until this afternoon.”
“It is afternoon.”
Her eyes flew open. “What?”
“Do you still need me to take you to the airport?”
“Yes... please.” She tossed aside the covers and reached for her clock, stunned to realize Joe was right. “I’m already packed. I’ll be dressed by the time you get here. Oh, thank goodness you phoned.”
Cait didn’t have time to listen to the pounding of the tiny men in her head. She showered and dressed as quickly as possible, swallowed a cup of coffee and a couple of aspirin, and was just shrugging into her coat when Joe arrived at the door.
She let him in, despite the suspiciously wide grin he wore.
“What’s so amusing?”
“What makes you think I’m amused?” He strolled into the room, hands behind his back, as if he owned the place.
“Joe, we don’t have time for your little games. Come on, or I’m going to miss my plane. What’s with you, anyway?”
“Nothing.” He circled her living room, still wearing that silly grin. “I don’t suppose you realize it, but liquor has a peculiar effect on you.”
Cait stiffened. “It does?” She remembered most of the party with great clarity. Good thing Joe had taken her home when he had.
“Liquor loosens your tongue.”
“So?” She picked up two shopping bags filled with wrapped packages, leaving the lone suitcase for him. “Did I say anything of interest?”
“Oh, my, yes.”
“Joe!” She glanced quickly at her watch. They needed to get moving if she was to catch her flight. “Discount whatever I said—I’m sure I didn’t mean it. If I insulted you, I apologize. If I told any family secrets, kindly forget I mentioned them.”
He strolled to her side and tucked his finger under her chin. “This was a secret, all right,” he informed her in a lazy drawl. “It was something you told me on the drive home.”
“Are you sure it’s true?”
“Relatively sure.”
“What did I say? Did I declare my undying love for you? Because if I—”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“Just how long do you intend to torment me with this?” She was rapidly losing interest in his little guessing game.
“Not much longer.” He looked exceptionally pleased with himself. “So Martin’s a minister now. Funny you never thought to mention that before.”
“Ah...” Cait set aside the two bags and lowered herself to the sofa. So he’d found out. Worse, she’d been the one to tell him.
“That may well have some interesting ramifications, my dear. Have you ever stopped to think about them?”