CHAPTER SEVEN

Carrie smiled when Adam stopped the carriage just outside the café. "Adam, I'm so glad you chose Café Rosa instead of the International. I wasn't sure you would remember!" Immediately, she regretted her choice of words, her face turning pale and worried. "Oh, Adam. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean . . . I mean . . .," she stuttered as a rosy blush filled her porcelain cheeks. "Well . . . It's been years since you and I . . . Damn!"

"It's all right, Carrie," Adam chuckled. "No need to apologize. It has been years since we had dinner here at the café." Adam's mind wandered back to a time when his notion of true love was in reality nothing more than loneliness softened by an innocent friendship. "Now, why wouldn't I remember an evening with such a beautiful young lady?" He nodded, his eyes twinkling mischievously as they had on that night long ago. "Seems to me you found occasion to use inappropriate language that night as well!"

Carrie fluttered her eyelashes innocently, her cheeks flushing, and when Adam dimpled, she felt an old, familiar rush throughout her body. "Adam Cartwright, you stop that!" Carrie ordered as she turned her head sharply away from his gaze. "You know damned well . . . darned well what those dimples of yours do to me!"

Adam smiled and Carrie shivered as his dimples deepened, highlighting his twinkling eyes.

"I wasn't sure they'd still have the same effect after all these years," Adam bragged as he stepped down from the buggy and offered Carrie his hand. "Glad to know I haven't lost my touch!"

As he lifted her down from the carriage, Carrie was conscious of his strong hands wrapped securely around her waist and as her feet touched the ground, the scent of him filled her lungs as she gazed into his sparkling hazel eyes. Her momentary weakness was not lost to Adam.

"Carrie . . ." Adam whispered.

Carrie took two steps backward, away from Adam. "I know," she said softly. "We decided a long time ago, we're better off as friends. I can't help that I'm attracted to you, ya know. You could try being a little less perfect . . . and adorable . . . and smart . . . and . . ."

Adam offered his arm and placed his hand atop hers as they walked toward the café. "And you, my lovely Carrie, could try being a little less beautiful. No wait . . . that would be impossible, for your beauty is endless," Adam said as he held the door to the café open and waved her inside with a flair of his hand.

Once seated, Carrie took a breath, folded her hands atop the table and dove head-first into the subject that over the years had erected a wall of avoidance between them. "Adam," she said as she reached for his hand atop the table, "tell me again why didn't we work?"

Adam smiled, lowered his head, and seemed to search for the answer in the wood grain of the worn restaurant table top.

Carrie laced her delicate fingers with his and waited patiently for his response. A slight squeeze from his hand was the only indication that he was ready to speak.

"We were just kids," Adam explained. "All I thought about was college . . . what I could learn, what I could become. Anyone who didn't share my aspirations seemed . . . frivolous and I just convinced myself that my time could be better spent."

Carrie nodded her head and bit on her upper lip. "And I was one of the immature ones," she said, a sudden, deep sadness filling her tone.

"I'm afraid so, but that was a long time ago, Carr. We've both changed, grown, been hurt . . ." Adam answered, the same despondency in his voice.

Carrie tightened her grasp on his hand and craned her neck, trying to look into his down-cast eyes. "It's all right, Adam. Those weeks that you courted me were the best. When we weren't arguing, that is!"

Adam laughed. The sound touched Carrie's heart and grew inside her, building into what she'd been denying since she'd seen him on the street days ago; on some level, she still loved him and probably always would.

Rosa, the owner of the café, chose that moment to approach the table and request their order. Although Rosa had no idea what their conversation had entailed, both Carrie and Adam were grateful for the interruption.

Halfway through their meal, Adam heard Carrie sigh. Before he could ask what was wrong, he felt a presence behind him and turned just far enough to see Stu Weaver seated at a table near the kitchen door. Not surprisingly, he was dining alone.

"I take it you're not a fan either?" Adam asked as he speared another bite of roast beef.

"Hmm? Oh, you mean Stu?" Carrie said, the disdain in her voice carrying all of her emotions for the man in question. "Let's just say he's been a thorn in my side since the schoolyard and he's been making a giant nuisance of himself for a few months now."

"He's been bothering you?"

The deep concern in his voice surprised Adam as well as Carrie.

"Well . . . yes, actually," Carrie explained as she pushed her potatoes back and forth on her plate. "He's decided that we should be spending more time together than I am willing."

Adam watched as a small drop of gravy slid from the side of Carrie's plate and onto the pristine, white linen tablecloth. "And just how much time together is too much for you?" he asked.

Carrie stopped her assault on the potatoes long enough to look into Adam's eyes. "Not that how much time I spend with anyone is your business . . ." She bit her lip, immediately regretting her curt manner. She knew in her heart that Adam would always care, as a friend. "The truth is," she continued, "anything over the second that it takes me to become nauseous is too much time with Stu!"

Adam wished he hadn't just filled his mouth with a large swig of wine. The next few seconds were filled with impending embarrassment as he tried to swallow the liquid, his desire to laugh aloud nearly causing him to spurt it across the table. Adam's predicament did not go unnoticed by his lovely dinner companion who rather enjoyed his dilemma.

"Really, Adam, the way he treated Hoss and the others, the fights he goaded you into! The man is a toad. No, that's a callous comparison to amphibians everywhere. He's more like a slug. A slimy, squirmy slug," Carrie ranted. "One that won't take 'no' for an answer and is incapable of the ability to fathom why anyone wouldn't bend over and kiss his slug feet for the mere pleasure of breathing the same air as he."

Adam had his napkin smashed tightly against his mouth, still choking down the wine, barely able to swallow.

"What's so funny?" Carrie squealed, knowing full well that she'd always been able to make Adam laugh and wishing he'd remove the napkin so she could once again get lost in his dimples.

After several attempts at speaking, and a couple of sputters and coughs, Adam was able to answer. "Slugs don't have feet!" Adam chortled.

Carrie smiled. "Well, if they did, they'd be much more appealing than Stu Weaver!"

Their conversation remained light as she asked about his brothers and his father, the ranch and Hop Sing. Declining dessert, Carrie watched as Adam took his first bite of warm, juicy, peach pie. As he chewed, Carrie began to blush.

"What?" Adam asked, nearly losing control of a sliver of soft, sugary peach as it slid to the corner of his mouth.

Carrie had, once again, reacted to the dimples that surfaced as Adam worked the bite of pie in his mouth.

"Not the dimples, again!" Adam mused as he wiped the flake of crust from the corner of his lip.

When Adam raised his eyes to Carrie's, he was surprised to see a frown forming on her lovely face. "I was just teasing," he admitted.

But Carrie's frown only deepened and before he could say another word, she lifted her eyes well above his head. At that very moment, Adam felt a familiar, unwelcome presence behind him.

"What do you want, Stu?" Carrie asked.

Without Ben Cartwright to impress, Stu's manners reverted to those he exercised daily. Walking pompously around Adam, he helped himself to an empty chair, pulled it inappropriately close to Carrie and joined them, uninvited, at their table.

"I'm sure you don't mind me joining you now, do you old friend?" Stu grinned at Adam.

"Actually . . ." Adam began.

"Actually, we are having a private evening, Stu," Carrie insisted. "So if you would please . . ."

"A private evening, you say?" Stu mocked. "I thought you told me you were . . . How did you put it? Oh, yes. 'Much too busy to take the time to dine with boys.'"

"That's exactly what I said. And if you'll look closely," Carrie said curtly, "you'll see that I am dining with a man. Not a boy."

Adam settled comfortably back against his chair. "This is gonna be good," he thought. Slowly, he tipped his chair back on two legs, clasped his hands behind his head, and glared at Stu Weaver. Adam knew that Carrie could be very . . . entertaining when riled, but he was prepared to do whatever he deemed necessary to protect her from the likes of Stu.

As Stu glared at Carrie, heat rose in his cheeks and he refused to allow even a brief glance in Adam's direction. "Really?" Stu insisted. "In my opinion, a man would not entertain a young lady in a café when there are two perfectly acceptable, high quality restaurants in town."

Carrie sat forward, placing her hands on either side of her glass of wine. "That's where you're wrong, Stu. Wrong, as usual, that is. You see, a man selects the establishment in which he intends to entertain a lady by taking the lady's preferences into account, just as Adam has done this evening."

Stu reached for Carrie's hand, which she quickly slid away from his. "But, my dear," he said, "a real man . . . One who lives in a comfortable home, on his own, instead of with his brothers and his daddy . . . could surely make better choices than the one made this evening."

Stu chose this moment to look directly at Adam who simply waited, tilted back in his chair, unflinching from Stu's obvious insult and self-satisfied glare.

"I believe you've been talking to me, Stu," Carrie said in her best admonishing tone, "and I happen to be over here!"

Holding his stare at Adam, Stu refused to take instruction from a woman. "What's it like, Adam?" Stu taunted. "Being back home after leaving the nest for . . . What was it? Three years? Is it nice to have Daddy tucking you in again at night?"

Adam remained undaunted by the insults and innuendo, watching as Stu became suspicious of his behavior.

"Stu, that was not very nice. I don't appreciate your speaking to my date in that manner!" Carrie scolded. "Adam has not said one unkind word to you. And I believe I asked you to kindly excuse yourself from this table!"

"Oh, I'll be glad to leave this table, dear Carrie," Stu said, "just as soon as you accept my offer of dinner tomorrow evening."

Carrie folded her hands together atop the table. Had she looked at Adam, she would have seen the slightest upturn of a smile growing on his face. "Stu, Stu, Stu. You poor dear," Carrie said, speaking slowly and distinctly as if to a young child. "Did you graduate from school, Stu?"

Stu looked confused. "You know I did, Carrie."

"Uh huh, uh huh, I see. And Stu, did you attend college?"

Now Stu looked angry. "You know the answer to that too, Carrie. I did go to college."

"Mm hmm, mm hmm, I see. And Stu, did you graduate from college or did you disappoint your drunkard of a father and flunk out?" Carrie asked, her voice filled with venom.

Stu was enraged. Adam, quite sure Carrie had gone too far, returned all four legs of his chair to solid ground. "I did NOT flunk out, I dropped out!"

"Oh, excuse me," Carrie said. "I must be ill-informed. But either way, you see, Stu, you are too stupid to understand that you are the last man I would ever go out with. Although I've made admirable attempts to do so, you seem to be too uneducated, or maybe it's just a case of being too pig-headed to comprehend the word 'no'. So please, Stu, leave this table immediately and leave me alone permanently!"

"Well," Stu fumed. "I'm relieved that you've shown your true colors before I made a terrible mistake. It seems that your beauty had me fooled. You are an arrogant, conceited little girl with no manners whatsoever who deserves to be taken in by half a man who isn't even sure of who he is or where he's been for the last few months!"

Adam, hands balled into fists, stood and took one step, ready to head to the other side of the table, and most likely, to Stu's jaw.

"Adam, dear, please take your seat," Carrie suggested.

"I will sit when he is gone," Adam announced.

Carrie, her eyes gleaming and her lips curled in a delicate smile, reached for the wine bottle on their table. "Adam Cartwright was more a man on the day he was conceived than you will be on the day you die," she said as she poured the remainder of the bottle of red wine into Stu Weaver's expensively-dressed lap.

Without a single word, Stu stood as the wine spread and soaked into his trousers. Avoiding a glance at Adam, he looked directly at Carrie. "He should be locked up in a mental ward and you . . . you should be turned over someone's knee and taught some manners and common sense!"

With that, Stu Weaver turned and stomped from the café as several of the other diners and waitresses smiled their appreciation toward Carrie.

"Bravo, sweetheart, Bravo!" Adam said as he applauded and resumed his seat across the table from the feisty woman he remembered so well.