If I Didn't Care
Chapter One
The sexy female voice Ross Calvert had programmed into his GPS informed him to turn right at the four way stop. Depending on his mood she was either blonde, curvy, and gorgeous, or brunette, curvy, and gorgeous. Either way, he liked to picture her saying "do me" in the same voice with which she said, “in six-hundred meters, turn left”.
He downshifted his Jaguar F-type when he reached the outskirts of MacLeod’s Cove.
Old two-story houses, some with small barns in the backyard, lined both sides of the road. Maple trees shone red and gold amongst the deep emerald of spruce and fir, the fallen leaves a swirling blanket on the road behind him.
A gas station sat on one corner and a church needing a fresh coat of paint sat on another. A cute woman, the blonde embodiment of his GPS, climbed into her van at the gas station. The next few weeks might not be such a hardship.
Most of the town lay along the glimmer of ocean in the distance. He’d save exploring for another day since he wasn't a tourist. And he wasn't on vacation.
"Turn left in 300 meters."
He followed her instructions, pulling into a driveway ahead of schedule according to his multi-function diving watch, a gift from his fiancée. Now his ex-fiancée. Also ex-co-worker, and ex-route-to-the-CEO's-office.
Win some, lose some. Lose the job, lose the girl.
Losing the condo hadn't hurt like he'd expected. The two-story loft conversion had been Holly's project. He'd felt more like a visitor in a swanky art gallery than a guy relaxing in his own home. Not even allowed to put his feet on the glass and steel coffee table.
Ross patted the leather steering wheel. Thanks to his golden handshake, this gleaming silver baby was safe from creditors. Along with his power suits, custom-made dress shirts, and fifty-seven silk ties.
All trappings of success, proof of how far he'd come. A polite middle finger salute to all the kids he grew up with who teased him about wearing second-hand clothes.
He climbed from the car and grabbed his overnight bag and laptop case, also gifts from the ex who favoured this particular designer for the distinctive logo. Who cared if it worked, provided it looked expensive.
Kind of like their relationship.
He sucked in a deep breath of the fresh, salt-tinged air. Something to be said for small towns on the edge of nowhere. The only sounds were the twitter of birds and the wind blowing through the shrubs and evergreens.
Country living would make a nice change. For a few weeks. No way in hell could he settle here. He needed the energy of a city in order to function. And the networking required to advance in his profession. Having to start over in this backwater would be nigh on impossible. Twenty-four days and then back to the land of coffee shops, power lunches, and wine bars. He'd put his life back together and get back on track with The Plan.
The sharp whistle of a distant dog-walker roused him from his musings. Time to get started.
Wooden steps and a wrought iron handrail sprouting rust led to the front door. He rang the bell, not completely sure what he'd signed up for. His buddy, Daniel, had indicated a simple mom-sitting stint. She was getting a little forgetful but otherwise independent. Ross was more than willing to help out while his old college roommate was in Europe on a contract job. Not only was Ross homeless thanks to Holly's needing ‘closure’, whatever the hell that meant, but also this was a great way to make amends with his friend. Make up for lost time.
Plus, he’d benefit from peace and quiet while he scoured the web for job postings. Time was wasting. The Plan allowed for ten years, maximum, to make it to the top of the ladder.
The door opened and a confused, older version of the woman he remembered from his college years peered out. "Yes?"
"Hi, Mrs. Croft. You might not remember me. I'm Ross Calvert. Daniel told you I was coming to stay, right?"
"Is Daniel with you?"
Uh oh. "No, he's away. I'll be look—helping out until he gets back."
"Yes, dear." She turned and shuffled down the hall in her grimy slippers.
This mom-sitting stint might not be so simple.
He dropped his bags in the dining room and followed her into the kitchen. Dirty dishes filled the sink, and remnants of a few meals sat on the crumb-strewn table. A sour smell, probably the full garbage can in the corner, pointed to more than a bit of forgetfulness. Mrs. Croft’s slightly unfocused stare might be a symptom of something more disturbing.
"So, how've you been?" The kitchen would take at least an hour to clean. Should he offer to help? Or just pitch in and do it? He didn't want to embarrass or offend the poor woman.
She filled the electric teakettle and switched it on. "Would you like a cup of tea, dear?"
"Uh, no thanks. I'm not much of a tea drinker. Why don't you take a seat, and I'll make it for you."
"Thank you, that's very kind." She sat in what was obviously her chair next to a window with a view of the back garden and the harvested cornfields beyond.
He opened the dishwasher and breathed a sigh of relief. Empty. The clean up shouldn't take long. "Have you had lunch?" He could zip into town and get take-out. Or find the nearest convenience store for sandwiches and chips.
"Is it lunchtime already?" She laughed. "Seems like we ate our breakfast five minutes ago." She patted her hair, the old lady style of tight white curls that needed a touch-up and a washing.
Not comfortable leaving her on her own, he opened the fridge. A loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese with only a few blue spots seemed the safest options. The nine open cans of baked beans would go straight into the trash. "I'll make us grilled cheese sandwiches."
"Yes, dear. That will be lovely. Daniel will be here for lunch."
"Not today, Mrs. Croft. He's at work."
"Oh, yes, you said that, didn't you. My memory isn't what it was." She fiddled with the buttons on her sweater and stared out the window.
He'd be calling Daniel sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, Daniel was the only family she had unless there were nieces or nephews or other extended family Ross didn’t know about. Regardless, this was beyond forgetful and well beyond his comfort level.
He prepared the sandwiches and they ate a silent meal, despite his efforts at small talk. Mrs. Croft then settled in her chair in the living room to watch TV, another cup of tea at her elbow. He loaded the dishwasher, scrubbed the kitchen counters, and threw out all the naturally occurring penicillin in the fridge. Good to know he could wield a broom – hadn’t lost all his housekeeping skills after so many years of living the dream, complete with weekly housekeeping. There must be a service in town he could hire for the duration. He couldn’t spend all his time doing housework if he hoped to recover from his temporary career setback.
His call to Daniel went to voicemail. Damn. No way he’d leave this kind of message. He got his data hot spot set up and sent off a quick email, choosing words to ensure a prompt response but not cause panic.
While Mrs. Croft napped during a game show, Ross took a quick shower and changed his clothes. Time for loose jeans and a faded t-shirt, his usual downtime outfit, though he normally didn't have time in his day for relaxing. Power lunches, power suppers, and power cocktails kept him out on the town until midnight seven days a week. All necessary to stay ahead of the competition. And staying ahead of the competition had got him close to the top of his profession.
Hell, he was on the fast track to the CEO office until his fiancée dumped him and the fiancée’s daddy fired him.
Actually, it had happened the other way round, but who was keeping score?
He unpacked his bags and did a quick web search for job postings before carrying his laptop down to the living room. Mrs. Croft was talking to a pretty young woman. Tall and slender, but with fantastic curves in all the right places.
She jumped to her feet, a hell of an angry scowl marring her pretty face. "What are you doing here?"
Shit, it wasn’t like he was carrying a bloody axe or anything. "Sorry to startle you. I'm a friend of Mrs. Croft's son, staying with her until Daniel gets back from Europe." He checked her out from her head to her toes and admired it all. Toned arms under a short-sleeved polo shirt, perky breasts, and long, long legs. The woman from the gas station. Twenty-four days of her company would make the time fly.
"And?" She planted her hands on hips. He recognized confrontational when he saw it. Holly had been a pro.
"And...." Did she want his entire life story? "Are you a neighbour?" He had a clear view of the driveway and nothing was parked behind his beauty.
Her face reddened and her large, hazel eyes shot daggers. He recognized pissed off when he saw it, too. She turned her back like he didn't matter. He'd not had that reaction in a long time, not from a woman.
"I've put the eggs in the fridge, Mrs. Croft.” She leaned closer to the older lady and touched her arm to get her attention. “Along with your milk, a bag of carrots, and a bunch of beets."
"Very nice, dear. Will you stay to lunch?"
"Thank you, but—"
"We ate lunch, Mrs. Croft. Remember? We cooked grilled cheese sandwiches." He was definitely out of his depth. He dreaded having to break the news to his friend. He glanced at his watch. Five o'clock here, so nine over there? Or was it ten in The Netherlands? He couldn't lay this on Daniel when he was no doubt out on the town. The party animal from their college days hadn't changed his spots. Earning his master's degree and forming two multi-million-dollar companies hadn’t slowed him down and he played harder than he worked.
Mrs. Croft chuckled softly. "Oh, yes, I remember now." She stared at the TV, watching a car commercial like it was an Oscar-winning film.
The young woman met his gaze, her brows raised in question, telegraphing true concern.
Not wanting to upset Mrs. Croft by discussing his suspicions in front of her, he tilted his head and led the way to the kitchen. "Daniel can't get home for a few weeks, twenty-four days to be exact. He's stressed about being away and asked me to help."
"I'd heard she was scattered...."
"I think we're beyond scattered."
She glanced toward the living room, her face clouded with worry. "That's sad. Um...The groceries are in the fridge. So…uh…see you around." She rushed out, letting the screen door slam.
Shit, he hadn't gotten her name, to say nothing of asking her out. More than likely she had a boyfriend. Might be married despite the lack of wedding ring. He strode to the dining room window and watched her cross the yard to the house next door. Long strides covered the distance quickly but he had plenty of time to admire the sway of her hips. The van parked behind the house advertised Bennett's Family Market. Did she—no, she bypassed the van, went into the house, and closed the door.
Could he assume her last name was Bennett? The name rang a bell. Daniel must have mentioned it when he'd discussed the town's one grocery store. Ross needed to make a shopping trip tomorrow, so he might have another opportunity to talk to the lovely Miss Bennett. Find out if she was single.
He sat in the living room so he could keep an eye on Mrs. Croft and opened his laptop. He wrote another, longer e-mail to Daniel.
"Hello, dear. Did you have a good day?" Mrs. Croft smiled, but he sensed she had no clue who he was.
"I'm Ross, Mrs. Croft. I'll be staying with you for a couple weeks."
"Oh, yes, that'll be lovely. Shall I fix our lunch?"
Shit on a stick.
The sexy female voice Ross Calvert had programmed into his GPS informed him to turn right at the four way stop. Depending on his mood she was either blonde, curvy, and gorgeous, or brunette, curvy, and gorgeous. Either way, he liked to picture her saying "do me" in the same voice with which she said, “in six-hundred meters, turn left”.
He downshifted his Jaguar F-type when he reached the outskirts of MacLeod’s Cove.
Old two-story houses, some with small barns in the backyard, lined both sides of the road. Maple trees shone red and gold amongst the deep emerald of spruce and fir, the fallen leaves a swirling blanket on the road behind him.
A gas station sat on one corner and a church needing a fresh coat of paint sat on another. A cute woman, the blonde embodiment of his GPS, climbed into her van at the gas station. The next few weeks might not be such a hardship.
Most of the town lay along the glimmer of ocean in the distance. He’d save exploring for another day since he wasn't a tourist. And he wasn't on vacation.
"Turn left in 300 meters."
He followed her instructions, pulling into a driveway ahead of schedule according to his multi-function diving watch, a gift from his fiancée. Now his ex-fiancée. Also ex-co-worker, and ex-route-to-the-CEO's-office.
Win some, lose some. Lose the job, lose the girl.
Losing the condo hadn't hurt like he'd expected. The two-story loft conversion had been Holly's project. He'd felt more like a visitor in a swanky art gallery than a guy relaxing in his own home. Not even allowed to put his feet on the glass and steel coffee table.
Ross patted the leather steering wheel. Thanks to his golden handshake, this gleaming silver baby was safe from creditors. Along with his power suits, custom-made dress shirts, and fifty-seven silk ties.
All trappings of success, proof of how far he'd come. A polite middle finger salute to all the kids he grew up with who teased him about wearing second-hand clothes.
He climbed from the car and grabbed his overnight bag and laptop case, also gifts from the ex who favoured this particular designer for the distinctive logo. Who cared if it worked, provided it looked expensive.
Kind of like their relationship.
He sucked in a deep breath of the fresh, salt-tinged air. Something to be said for small towns on the edge of nowhere. The only sounds were the twitter of birds and the wind blowing through the shrubs and evergreens.
Country living would make a nice change. For a few weeks. No way in hell could he settle here. He needed the energy of a city in order to function. And the networking required to advance in his profession. Having to start over in this backwater would be nigh on impossible. Twenty-four days and then back to the land of coffee shops, power lunches, and wine bars. He'd put his life back together and get back on track with The Plan.
The sharp whistle of a distant dog-walker roused him from his musings. Time to get started.
Wooden steps and a wrought iron handrail sprouting rust led to the front door. He rang the bell, not completely sure what he'd signed up for. His buddy, Daniel, had indicated a simple mom-sitting stint. She was getting a little forgetful but otherwise independent. Ross was more than willing to help out while his old college roommate was in Europe on a contract job. Not only was Ross homeless thanks to Holly's needing ‘closure’, whatever the hell that meant, but also this was a great way to make amends with his friend. Make up for lost time.
Plus, he’d benefit from peace and quiet while he scoured the web for job postings. Time was wasting. The Plan allowed for ten years, maximum, to make it to the top of the ladder.
The door opened and a confused, older version of the woman he remembered from his college years peered out. "Yes?"
"Hi, Mrs. Croft. You might not remember me. I'm Ross Calvert. Daniel told you I was coming to stay, right?"
"Is Daniel with you?"
Uh oh. "No, he's away. I'll be look—helping out until he gets back."
"Yes, dear." She turned and shuffled down the hall in her grimy slippers.
This mom-sitting stint might not be so simple.
He dropped his bags in the dining room and followed her into the kitchen. Dirty dishes filled the sink, and remnants of a few meals sat on the crumb-strewn table. A sour smell, probably the full garbage can in the corner, pointed to more than a bit of forgetfulness. Mrs. Croft’s slightly unfocused stare might be a symptom of something more disturbing.
"So, how've you been?" The kitchen would take at least an hour to clean. Should he offer to help? Or just pitch in and do it? He didn't want to embarrass or offend the poor woman.
She filled the electric teakettle and switched it on. "Would you like a cup of tea, dear?"
"Uh, no thanks. I'm not much of a tea drinker. Why don't you take a seat, and I'll make it for you."
"Thank you, that's very kind." She sat in what was obviously her chair next to a window with a view of the back garden and the harvested cornfields beyond.
He opened the dishwasher and breathed a sigh of relief. Empty. The clean up shouldn't take long. "Have you had lunch?" He could zip into town and get take-out. Or find the nearest convenience store for sandwiches and chips.
"Is it lunchtime already?" She laughed. "Seems like we ate our breakfast five minutes ago." She patted her hair, the old lady style of tight white curls that needed a touch-up and a washing.
Not comfortable leaving her on her own, he opened the fridge. A loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese with only a few blue spots seemed the safest options. The nine open cans of baked beans would go straight into the trash. "I'll make us grilled cheese sandwiches."
"Yes, dear. That will be lovely. Daniel will be here for lunch."
"Not today, Mrs. Croft. He's at work."
"Oh, yes, you said that, didn't you. My memory isn't what it was." She fiddled with the buttons on her sweater and stared out the window.
He'd be calling Daniel sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, Daniel was the only family she had unless there were nieces or nephews or other extended family Ross didn’t know about. Regardless, this was beyond forgetful and well beyond his comfort level.
He prepared the sandwiches and they ate a silent meal, despite his efforts at small talk. Mrs. Croft then settled in her chair in the living room to watch TV, another cup of tea at her elbow. He loaded the dishwasher, scrubbed the kitchen counters, and threw out all the naturally occurring penicillin in the fridge. Good to know he could wield a broom – hadn’t lost all his housekeeping skills after so many years of living the dream, complete with weekly housekeeping. There must be a service in town he could hire for the duration. He couldn’t spend all his time doing housework if he hoped to recover from his temporary career setback.
His call to Daniel went to voicemail. Damn. No way he’d leave this kind of message. He got his data hot spot set up and sent off a quick email, choosing words to ensure a prompt response but not cause panic.
While Mrs. Croft napped during a game show, Ross took a quick shower and changed his clothes. Time for loose jeans and a faded t-shirt, his usual downtime outfit, though he normally didn't have time in his day for relaxing. Power lunches, power suppers, and power cocktails kept him out on the town until midnight seven days a week. All necessary to stay ahead of the competition. And staying ahead of the competition had got him close to the top of his profession.
Hell, he was on the fast track to the CEO office until his fiancée dumped him and the fiancée’s daddy fired him.
Actually, it had happened the other way round, but who was keeping score?
He unpacked his bags and did a quick web search for job postings before carrying his laptop down to the living room. Mrs. Croft was talking to a pretty young woman. Tall and slender, but with fantastic curves in all the right places.
She jumped to her feet, a hell of an angry scowl marring her pretty face. "What are you doing here?"
Shit, it wasn’t like he was carrying a bloody axe or anything. "Sorry to startle you. I'm a friend of Mrs. Croft's son, staying with her until Daniel gets back from Europe." He checked her out from her head to her toes and admired it all. Toned arms under a short-sleeved polo shirt, perky breasts, and long, long legs. The woman from the gas station. Twenty-four days of her company would make the time fly.
"And?" She planted her hands on hips. He recognized confrontational when he saw it. Holly had been a pro.
"And...." Did she want his entire life story? "Are you a neighbour?" He had a clear view of the driveway and nothing was parked behind his beauty.
Her face reddened and her large, hazel eyes shot daggers. He recognized pissed off when he saw it, too. She turned her back like he didn't matter. He'd not had that reaction in a long time, not from a woman.
"I've put the eggs in the fridge, Mrs. Croft.” She leaned closer to the older lady and touched her arm to get her attention. “Along with your milk, a bag of carrots, and a bunch of beets."
"Very nice, dear. Will you stay to lunch?"
"Thank you, but—"
"We ate lunch, Mrs. Croft. Remember? We cooked grilled cheese sandwiches." He was definitely out of his depth. He dreaded having to break the news to his friend. He glanced at his watch. Five o'clock here, so nine over there? Or was it ten in The Netherlands? He couldn't lay this on Daniel when he was no doubt out on the town. The party animal from their college days hadn't changed his spots. Earning his master's degree and forming two multi-million-dollar companies hadn’t slowed him down and he played harder than he worked.
Mrs. Croft chuckled softly. "Oh, yes, I remember now." She stared at the TV, watching a car commercial like it was an Oscar-winning film.
The young woman met his gaze, her brows raised in question, telegraphing true concern.
Not wanting to upset Mrs. Croft by discussing his suspicions in front of her, he tilted his head and led the way to the kitchen. "Daniel can't get home for a few weeks, twenty-four days to be exact. He's stressed about being away and asked me to help."
"I'd heard she was scattered...."
"I think we're beyond scattered."
She glanced toward the living room, her face clouded with worry. "That's sad. Um...The groceries are in the fridge. So…uh…see you around." She rushed out, letting the screen door slam.
Shit, he hadn't gotten her name, to say nothing of asking her out. More than likely she had a boyfriend. Might be married despite the lack of wedding ring. He strode to the dining room window and watched her cross the yard to the house next door. Long strides covered the distance quickly but he had plenty of time to admire the sway of her hips. The van parked behind the house advertised Bennett's Family Market. Did she—no, she bypassed the van, went into the house, and closed the door.
Could he assume her last name was Bennett? The name rang a bell. Daniel must have mentioned it when he'd discussed the town's one grocery store. Ross needed to make a shopping trip tomorrow, so he might have another opportunity to talk to the lovely Miss Bennett. Find out if she was single.
He sat in the living room so he could keep an eye on Mrs. Croft and opened his laptop. He wrote another, longer e-mail to Daniel.
"Hello, dear. Did you have a good day?" Mrs. Croft smiled, but he sensed she had no clue who he was.
"I'm Ross, Mrs. Croft. I'll be staying with you for a couple weeks."
"Oh, yes, that'll be lovely. Shall I fix our lunch?"
Shit on a stick.