Forever...Again

“That where you’re from?”

“Nope.” She picked up two French fries and swirled them through a pool of ketchup before popping them into her mouth. “I’m from Binghamton.”

He smiled. Damn it, he didn’t want to like her, but it was hard not to. “Before here, then.”

“Originally Boston, then Los Angeles, then New York, then…here.”

This is exactly what bothered him, Ron thought. She’d been everywhere, lived everywhere. Why in the hell would she come to a spot-in-the-road town like Binghamton? And why would she want to stay? She’d grown up in a world of privilege and now he was supposed to believe that she was going to be happy slurping down milkshakes and building burgers at South Junction?

No way.

She wouldn’t last.

And then what would Mari do?

All of his daughter’s friends were backing away from her. She’d lost a lot of her big financial backers for the research lab already. And with talk spreading, chances were good she’d be losing more. His own mother had been on the phone only that morning, arguing with a banker from Lexington. But it seemed gossip traveled pretty damn well.

The word was out.

Something was going on at the clinic and Mari Bingham wasn’t to be trusted.

A fresh wave of anger crested inside him, and Ron was half surprised the top of his head didn’t just blow off. Hearing his daughter talked about and whispered over as if she were a criminal was enough to make his blood boil. But there was only so much a father could do.

Mari’s world was crumbling around her, and for some reason she was convinced that Lily Cunningham was going to help her turn the tide. Well, Ron wasn’t. Even the best PR people couldn’t fight all the insidious whispers and the fears and suspicions of the very people they were trying to hose for money.

Besides, a woman society born and raised couldn’t be without society for very long. One of these days, Lily’d be off, leaving Mari high and dry, and he’d have to find a way to cushion the blow for his daughter.

“Why come here?” he asked tightly, getting back to the original conversation.

“I was invited.”

“Must be more to it than that.”

Lily set her burger down and reached for her shake. After taking a sip, she lifted her left hand to push her hair behind her ear. That bracelet of hers chimed musically.

“I wanted a change,” she said. “I wanted to live somewhere that wasn’t made of concrete.”

That much he could understand. Ron could no more leave the mountains permanently than he could sprout wings and fly. He had to be where the sky was huge, the trees were green and a man could walk miles in the forest without running into another soul.

But Lily Cunningham just didn’t seem the kind of woman to appreciate the simpler things in life.

“You look like you don’t believe me,” she said, and tipped her head again, studying him through big brown eyes that looked to him like warm, milk chocolate.

“Not sure I do.”

“Fortunately for me, Mari does.”

“Mari’s a nice girl.”

“Finally. Something we can agree on.”

He leaned back in his seat and watched her as she dug into her burger again. Something about her bothered him, and he really couldn’t put his finger on what it was. But as she ignored him and ate her dinner, he remembered how she’d leaped to Mari’s defense. How she’d read Vickie the riot act and forced the waitress to admit that Mari just wasn’t the kind of woman her enemies were making her out to be.

A surge of gratitude rushed through him, swamping the mistrust that still echoed inside him. Lily had defended his child and Ron had responded by skewering her. What did that say about him?

Hell, if his mother were here, she’d give him that fish-eyed glare she used to use on him when he was a kid.

“Look,” he said, giving in to the urge to make amends, “I want you to know how much I appreciate you standing up for Mari the way you did.”

Blond eyebrows lifted. “How hard was that?”

“What?”

“To be nice to me.”

He frowned and reached for his own burger. Less decorated than hers, it was still tasty and sitting there getting cold. “Wasn’t hard.”

“Then one would think you’d be able to pull it off more often, wouldn’t one?”

“One might.”

Her lips twitched. “A hardheaded man.”

“That’s been said before.”

“I’m not surprised.”

He took a bite of his burger then chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “I’m not sure about you, Lily Cunningham.”

She smiled and winked at him. “Good.”

“Good?”

“If you were sure of me, I’d be predictable. Boring.”

“Stuffy?” He prodded, reminding her of the word she’d used to describe him.

Apparently she remembered very well what she’d called him, because she looked at him now and grinned. Her brown eyes sparkled and good humor fairly shimmered in the air around her. “Oh, very few people can pull stuffy off with any degree of success.”

“And I’m one of them?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, thoughtfully as she reached for her shake again. “But I see a glimmer of hope shining around you, Ron Bingham.”

“Is that so?” She kept twirling the straw through the ice cream, drawing his gaze to her red polished nails and the sapphire ring on her right hand.

“Oh yes.” She sucked at her straw, and Ron told himself not to notice the pucker of her full lips. For all the good it did him. “With a little bit of effort,” she said, “you could be destuffied.”

“Not even a word.”