Just Me: Cheesecake, Margaritas & Candlelight, #2

By Pamela Humphrey

To him, age doesn't matter. But she thinks a man his age isn't interested in an older woman.
 

After six years as a widow, romance writer Remi Carrington starts a new chapter by moving to Texas. Living near friends brings new joy, and her dating life has never been more exciting. Everything seems perfect until she finds herself attracted to her much-younger friend and muse.

Art Perales has carried a flame for Remi since the first day they met. Frequent phone calls and long conversations over margaritas fuel his hope even though she's dating other men. Then she lets down her guard, and he sees a spark. Risking the friendship, he tells her how he feels, and for a few seconds, a happily-ever-after seems possible … until she runs out of her own apartment, leaving her margarita and Art behind.

By telling Art the truth, Remi risks getting her heart trampled. But saying nothing guarantees losing him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Phrey Press
• Release date: Oct 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781947685154

Pamela Humphrey

Pamela Humphrey is the author of Researching Ramirez: On the Trail of the Jesus Ramirez Family and The Blue Rebozo. She is an amateur genealogist and researchers of family stories. When she is not searching records for traces of the past, she might be writing, reading, crafting, homeschooling, or practicing on her bass guitar. She lives in San Antonio, Texas, with her husband, sons, black cats, and leopard gecko.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Remi

Remi tugged the phone out of her purse as she climbed the stairs. The name on the screen made her smile. Hey!

Art called whenever he had a fun story to share, which happened more often lately. Did I catch you at a bad time?

No. I’m just getting home. Enjoying the salty air, she gazed out at the ocean as she strolled along the breezeway. It’s a great time to chat.

One day I want to see LA. Do you live right on the beach?

I can see the ocean, but I’m about a block or so from the beach. You should fly out. I’ll show you around town. She dug in her purse for the keys as she approached her apartment. That would be so fun.

It would be. Anyway, I called to share a story. The craziest thing happened in my limo.

Oh, yay! Hold that thought. Let me unlock the door. She had the door halfway open before she noticed the folded letter taped to it. After yanking it off, she continued inside. Okay. I’m getting out my pen and notepad so I can take notes. Curiosity got the best of her, and she unfolded the letter before picking up the pen. Oh, no.

What’s wrong?

Remi dropped into a chair. My lease isn’t being renewed. They’ve sold the building.

You love that apartment.

I love it because—did you know that this is only the second place in LA I’ve ever lived? She hadn’t talked to Art about her late husband. It just hadn’t come up. After Brett died, I never even considered moving. My memories are here. After six years, saying goodbye wouldn’t be easy, but she couldn’t fall apart. That wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Anything I can do? Art’s kind spirit was only one of the reasons they’d become such fast friends.

Yes. You can tell me a great story that will stir up my inspiration and help me forget that I have to move. She sighed. I’m ready to take notes.

This one will totally fit into a billionaire story. I’m not sure how, but you’ll see what I mean. Art cleared his throat. This started when I picked up a couple from a hotel. They were headed to some sort of party out in the Hill Country.

A venue or someone’s home?

Is that really important? Anyway, we barely make it to the loop, and the guy knocks on the divider. The woman is upset. So the guy, let’s call him—I don’t know—Abe, asks me if there is a mall or something nearby. I can’t remember her name. I’ll call her Ashley.

Why was Ashley upset?

From what I could piece together, they were headed to an event and her friend, who was also going to the event, posted a picture wearing the same outfit.

Oh, no. That’s horrible.

That was her reaction. The Abe guy didn’t seem to agree, but he clearly would do anything to make her stop crying. She wasn’t exactly crying, but she was close. So anyway, she asks if they have a discount store close by. He shakes his head and tells me to go to Saks. So I did.

Remi scribbled as Art talked. Did he go into the store with her?

He did. They came back out ten minutes later, carrying bags. This is where the story gets fun. She climbs into the back seat. He gets into the passenger seat. Thankfully the windows are heavily tinted because that woman completely changed clothes in the back seat.

Remi giggled. I bet looking at the traffic behind you was awkward.

You’re telling me. The guy bore holes into me if I even glanced at the rearview mirror. He chuckled. She should’ve gotten some kind of a medal, though. She looked great when they got out and walked into the party.

What did they do with the bags and her other clothes?

I tossed them in the trunk. They’ll get stuff at the end of the night when I go pick them up.

Wait! This happened tonight?

I called you as soon as I found a suitable place to park.

You’re at a coffee shop, aren’t you? Remi chewed on the end of her pen, trying to figure out where the story fit with the plots and characters in her head.

You know me well.

What did the guy look like?

He was a guy. I really didn’t notice.

You’d be horrible as a police witness. What did the woman look like?

Tall. Long hair. Not too skinny, but—she had a nice figure.

You noticed all that when you were changing lanes? Remi laughed, picturing Art’s expression. She rarely got to tease him in person, but she did it often over the phone.

No!

She left her notepad on the table and dropped onto the sofa. What am I going to do, Art?

I’ll fly out and help you pack up your stuff. I’m sure there are other places with a view of the ocean.

You don’t have to fly out here. I’ll just hire people to shove my stuff in boxes. She stared at the golf hat hanging on the hook near the door. Maybe it’s time I leave LA.

The words surprised her.

The silence on the other end of the line meant they’d surprised Art too, at least that’s what Remi guessed.

You still there? The longer the thought noodled in her brain, the more she liked the idea. Moving would help her say the goodbyes she’d put off.

It wasn’t like she was still mourning Brett, but his clubs were still in the hall closet, and all his clothes were in the bedroom closet they’d shared. Letting go of his stuff was what she hadn’t been able to do.

Grief was funny that way.

Art finally spoke. I’m here. You just startled me. Where would you go?

Gosh, I haven’t even thought about it. You’re getting to see how my brain processes. The first thought that popped into her head was San Antonio, but she couldn’t give a good reason why. Only one of her friends lived there.

You could—I don’t know if you’d want to— Art almost never stumbled over his words. He was known for saying what he meant, sometimes in clever ways.

What? Just tell me your idea.

You and Mari seem really close. What if you moved here? To San Antonio.

She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen. Well …

I don’t think Charlie would get her feelings hurt. She can come to Texas more often. Besides, she knows you write stories about Texas billionaires. It was as if Art could read every thought in her head.

You’re right. She knows that. And I have more friends than just Mari in San Antonio. I know Travis and you and …

Right. And you’ll meet more people here.

Remi itched to search for an apartment near Mari’s place. I need to sleep on it. But I have some time. I have a little over a month before I have to be out of here.

If there is anything I can do to help, let me know.

Thanks, Art. I’ll call you tomorrow. Oh, let me know how the couple’s evening ends.

Will do.

She ended the call and opened her laptop. Sleeping on it wouldn’t change her mind, but she was too scattered to search at the moment.

Leaving the city because she had to vacate her apartment was rash. Moving out of state was crazy, and something about that appealed to Remi.

She grabbed a chocolate bar from her stash and ran out the door. A walk on the beach was just what she needed in order to think.

The stretch of beach near her apartment was always interesting. Street performers, people on roller skates, and gawking tourists made it anything but quiet. But in the midst of the chaos, she found her peace, the space she needed to contemplate her future.

She found her favorite spot near Muscle Beach. It wasn’t the guys working out that held her attention, it was the women watching them that intrigued Remi. Seeing their admiring expressions often proved fodder for writing. But even the gawking women couldn’t distract her from the reality of leaving the apartment. She scanned the crowd, and her gaze settled on a couple having an animated conversation.

Remi smiled, remembering.

The memories weren’t in the apartment. They were part of her.

As the conversation continued—too far away to be heard—she giggled. When Brett was in town, they’d walk, and her normally quiet, reserved husband let his guard down and showed off his goofy side. He entertained her by narrating conversations, pretending to be lip reading. It was the goofy side of him she’d fallen in love with.

Los Angeles had been home for many years, but the main reason for staying disappeared when Brett died. In her heart, she knew it was time to move. The memories would move with her, but not all his stuff.

After popping the last bite of chocolate in her mouth, she strolled back to the apartment, eager to start her next chapter.

Chapter 2

Art

Art rolled over and slapped at his phone. Why had he set an alarm? He sat up and shook off the haze. He hadn’t set an alarm.

Grabbing for the phone, he rubbed is eyes. Hello.

I woke you, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. Remi had never called him so early.

Art rolled out of bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Is everything okay? Being upright required coffee, so he wandered into the kitchen to brew a pot. It’s the middle of the night where you are.

It is. There are still a few people out walking and such, but that has absolutely nothing to do with this conversation. I said I was going to sleep on it—you know, the idea of moving. I tried, but I couldn’t sleep. Do you think it’s crazy?

Art pulled a can of refried beans out of the pantry. I don’t think it’s crazy at all. If you recall, I suggested it.

I’ll need help unloading stuff when the truck arrives.

Just tell me when and where.

I think I’m really going to do this. Mari will be so excited. Maybe I should tell Charlie first.

Or tell them both at the same time. He scooped the beans into a pan and pulled a package of tortillas out of the fridge. They weren’t quite like the ones his grandma made or even his mother, but the packaged tortillas were better than anything he could make on his own.

That’s probably the best way to do it. Thank you.

I haven’t really done anything.

You didn’t hang up on me. That’s something. Remi’s soft laugh came through the line. You’re a great friend. It’ll be fun living closer.

It will be. I can tell you stories over coffee instead of over the phone.

So many great reasons to do this. Okay, so I need to find an apartment. She tapped away on the other end of the line, presumably starting her hunt. The pen clicked as she searched. There are several not far from Mari.

That’s a nice area. Once the beans were sizzling, he slathered them onto a hot tortilla and added a handful of cheese. Before you launch a full-scale search, you should sleep.

She sighed. You’re right.

Of course I am. Thank you for saying so. He chuckled, knowing she was rolling her eyes. My breakfast is ready, and I’m pouring myself a cup of hot coffee.

All right. I can take a hint. I’ll hang up so you can enjoy your breakfast. Her laugh was like sunshine breaking through on a cloudy day.

Art would enjoy his breakfast more if she were already in San Antonio. That’s not what I meant. You have to be exhausted.

Completely. Good night or good morning. I’m not even sure which to say. I’ll talk to you later. Mind if I call you tonight?

"Not a bit. I may not have any good stories, but you can call me anytime. He paused, wondering if she understood what he was really trying to say. I mean that."

Thanks, Art. You’re the best. She only meant it in the friendliest sort of way, unfortunately.

I’ll talk to you later.

Oh! Just in case you see Mari—

My lips are sealed.

"And you can read my mind. Bye." Remi ended the call.

What would she think if she could read his mind?

Art smiled when the phone rang. He didn’t have any stories to share but had planned to call Remi anyway. Hey there. How are you?

I just dragged a bunch of boxes up the stairs.

You aren’t wasting any time! He checked the schedule to see when he needed to pick up the next client. He had another forty-five minutes. Have you told Mari and Charlie?

I called them earlier. Caught Charlie just as she was getting home.

And? He knew both friends would be excited about the move.

Something crashed, and Remi huffed. Now I need a new lamp.

I’m sorry. You sure you don’t need help?

I’m sure. I’m not packing up the whole place. Just stuff I don’t want the movers dealing with. And Mari and Charlie were both thrilled. Charlie is going to fly to San Antonio so that she’s there when I get into town.

Art kicked his feet up on the desk. I’m so excited for you. This will be great.

I think so too. The screech of a tape gun came through her end of the line. There is still so much to do, but I’m hoping I get movers here soon. Any stories for me?

Today was pretty uneventful. Oh!

What? Tell me.

It’s a little thing. I had a lady this morning who had a dog in her purse. That thing wasn’t much bigger than a hamster.

Remi laughed. I can totally picture that.

That’s all I have for now. His phone beeped and he glanced at the screen. Remi, I need to let you go. My grandma is calling.

Bye! Tell her I said hello. She giggled as the call ended.

Hi, Grandma. How are you? Art didn’t cut short calls with Remi for many people, but Grandma was on that short list.

I’m fine. I called to see how you were. You haven’t come to see me.

I’m sorry. Things here have been busy.

I just worry about you. Are you eating? Grandma almost always asked a variation of the same question.

Yes, Grandma. I’m eating. He needed to figure out a time to drive up to visit with her.

Are you working tonight?

I am. I have to pick up another client in a bit.

I’ll let you go. Just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.

Love you, Grandma.

"Love you too, mijito."

He grabbed the keys and headed out again.

A week and a half later, after getting move updates nearly every day, Art glanced at his phone as he climbed out of the limo.

Remi had texted: Everything is set. I move next week! Squee!

Let me know what day and I’ll be there to help unload. Art headed inside.

I will!!! The three exclamation points weren’t quite enough apparently because she followed the words with two happy face emojis.

Art knocked on the office door as he walked in.

What’s wrong? Miles glanced up from the computer.

Nothing. Why lead with that question?

Miles shook his head and went back to scheduling. "Because you never knock. Ever."

In all the years we’ve worked together, I’m sure there was a least one occasion when I knocked on this door.

Did you come in here to discuss entering the office or was there another reason?

I’m taking a day off next week.

What’s wrong?

We’re back to that again? Art dropped into a chair, chuckling. I’m helping a friend move.

Who?

Remi. Art tried to make it sound casual.

Miles cocked his head. The romance writer from LA?

"Yep. Mari’s