Free Yesterday's Love by Sherryl Woods

again,” he said with a sigh. “It’s crazy to worry about that. They can’t push us into anything we don’t want.”
    â€œAre you kidding? You are exactly what they’ve been looking for in a son-in-law. They’re not about to let you get away. Didn’t you notice the look of relief in my mother’s eyes?” She glowered at him, then added with an air of resignation. “No, of course you didn’t. You were too busy trying to figure out why I’m not more like them.”
    â€œThe thought did cross my mind.”
    She looked so sad when he said that that he wanted to take it back.
    â€œI don’t know why I’m not,” she said wearily, as if it were something she’d though about often. “I try to be more organized. I really do, but it seems to escape me. There are always so many more interesting things going on. Maybe I’m a throwback to my grandmother. Everyone thought she was a little cracked too, just because she didn’t believe in sitting back and letting life slip by. She had the time of her life. She went out and grabbed what she wanted, without giving a hoot if it was considered proper. The rest of the family was absolutely scandalized by her antics, but when she died at eighty-one, she had no regrets.
    â€œI’m not going to have any either,” she added defiantly, her eyes flashing a challenge at him.
    â€œI wouldn’t want you to,” Tate countered, meeting her gaze head-on without flinching. He wondered briefly why it was so important for her to believe that.
    Victoria seemed to consider the sincerity of his claim, then nodded. “No, maybe not. But you do think I should do things by the rules. I can tell from that funny little look you get in your eyes every time I do or say something you don’t approve of. I know what you think of my bookkeeping and my house. You think I should computerize my records and live in some tidy little apartment with a fully equipped kitchen, wall-to-wall carpeting and a dead bolt lock on the door.” She shivered.
    Tate grinned at her apparent idea of a fate worse than death. “Would that be so awful?”
    â€œDon’t you see?” she said plaintively. “It wouldn’t be me. Filling in all those little numbers bores me, and I like light and space and character in a house. I even like the fact that mine’s a mess right now, because when I’m finished fixing it up, I’ll know how much I’ve accomplished.”
    Tate didn’t know what to say to that. Victoria waited for a response, then sighed and regarded him as though he were hopeless. “You loved their house, didn’t you?”
    â€œI’m not sure what that has to do with anything, but yes,” he admitted.
    Not only had the exterior been in perfect condition, the inside had been spotless, freshly painted in soft colors and decorated with a sense of symmetry. There hadn’t been a magazine out of place. He wouldn’t have changed a thing, including the intriguing collection of photos of Victoria from infancy through adolescence. She’d been a golden-haired cherub at birth and her evolution into a wickedly impish redhead had charmed him. The house had fairly shouted of family and tradition and dependability.
    He sighed aloud at the memory and a soft smile curved his mouth. “I thought it was lovely.”
    â€œSee. I knew it,” Victoria huffed and then retreated into silence. She didn’t say another word on the ride home, until they pulled to a stop in front of her house. Even then, she only mumbled an agreement to be in his office the following afternoon at two to wrap up the audit. She was out of the car before he could even begin to figure out what was wrong with her, much less try to take her in his arms and recapture the wildfire and magic of those first tentative kisses they’d shared earlier in the evening.
    All night long Tate thought about the