Collide & Burn by Claudy Conn Page A

thought of Wade. What was he doing? Who was he with?
    My cell rang, and I fished it out of my purse. We dress up for the holidays—no jeans allowed—and my sundress of blue had no pockets.
    “Hi,” I said when I saw his number.
    “Charlie? I wanted you to know  … ”
    He stopped there. I said encouragingly, “Yes—?”
    “That you are missing out on the best turkey ever made.”
    That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “Ah, you don’t know what the best turkey is till you’ve eaten my mom’s.” I hoped my voice sounded light and carefree. Games, back to games.
    “Okay.” He chuckled. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
    And he was gone.
    Not once in all these weeks had he ever said he loved me. Not once had he allowed himself to go that far. So, of course, I hadn’t told him either. Yes, perhaps that was a game, but it was the kind I so needed to win. I loved him more than I loved life. I wanted him not to leave, and so I kept the word out of the equation, hoping he wouldn’t be frightened off—hoping he would find it possible to allow himself to go that far.
    He obviously wasn’t ready.
    I turned and found both my parents staring at me.
    My mom tried to sound casual as she asked, “Who was that?”
    “Wade Devon  … I told you  … we have had a few  … er  … dates.”
    My parents exchanged glances, and I bit my tongue. I knew they were wondering but wouldn’t ask, and this wasn’t the time to tell them I didn’t have a clue where whatever it was that I had with Wade Devon was actually going.
    * * *
     
    The Friday and a good part of Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend went by without another call from Wade. I was feeling down and just a bit sick over it.
    My phone began vibrating, and I dug it out of my jeans. Him . I didn’t know if I was angry or happy. I said, “Hi.”
    “Open the door, baby,” he said, and his voice sounded hungry . No, not hungry . He sounded like a man who was starving.
    I opened the door, and there he stood. All six foot something of him in a black Armani sports jacket, a white silk open-necked shirt, and blue jeans. He was hotter than hot with his black hair shining all windblown around his too handsome face and his blue eyes glittering.
    I’m not exactly sure what happened next. I know I threw my arms around him. I know he hugged me like he would never let go.
    I know at some point we both realized my parents were sitting on the couch watching us with keen interest.
    I turned, and I must have been pink because my cheeks were burning, and said, “You remember  … Wade Devon  … of course.”
    “Well, of course,” my father said, hand extended. “Are you enjoying Norcross? My daughter says you kept the name.”
    He shook my dad’s hand and said, “I love the farm, and, yes, loved its name.” He turned towards my mom. “How good to see you again,” he said. “Hey, wow, you two look like sisters.”
    My mom gushed like a teen. I laughed.
    They ushered him inside and offered him a drink and food.
    Wade’s smile was radiant. He said, “I don’t want to horn in on your time with your daughter, but I was wondering if I could steal her away for just an hour?”
    “Nonsense—horning in? No such thing. She needs a break from us. Go on, you two  … go out, have some fun,” my mom said. I noticed my dad went quiet.
    Outside, my hand in his, he said, “Charlie  … I’m sorry. I meant to let you enjoy your weekend with your parents. I wasn’t planning on this, but, I couldn’t stay away from you any longer  … ”
    I looked up at him. “I’m glad.” That seemed safe enough to say. I wanted to tell him I loved him madly. I wanted to tell him I had been sick with missing him.
    “Charlie, another thing  … it wasn’t Gloria .”
    “What wasn’t?”
    “The arsenic poisoning. It wasn’t Gloria who sent the strawberries.”
    I had forgotten about the incident. “Really? Are you sure? Who then? Why?”
    “My man hasn’t yet been able to