“Bodhi, I appreciate the offer, but it’ll just raise questions that he doesn’t need to think about.” She’d been a single mother long enough to handle a puking kid, but she loved that he’d offered to help.
He took her by the shoulders with a serious look in his eyes. He was back to Bodhi, neighbor, with an undercurrent of something more.
“He knows I’m your neighbor, and he’s . . . five?”
“Yes.”
“Then hopefully his mind isn’t attuned to the nuances of adult romance yet. All he’s thinking about is being in Mommy’s arms. If he throws up on the way home, you’ll have to pull over to help him. Besides the fact that he could choke in the car, it’s not safe for the two of you to be alone on the side of the road this late at night.”
She stumbled over his thoughtfulness. “It’s Sweetwater. It’s not like anything’s going to happen.”
“Bridgette,” he said firmly. “I’m sure you had a few drinks tonight, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m driving you. No one will know there’s something between us.”
“Something . . . ?” Something secret? That was a horrible thought, but it was what she needed when it came to Louie.
“All anyone will see are two friends. The fact that we happen to be more—at least tonight—doesn’t have to be common knowledge. I care about you and Louie, and I’ll be here for you while I can.”
Why did it sting to hear him say this would be kept between them, when it was exactly what she wanted? She wasn’t even sure it was what she wanted, but it was what she needed where Louie was concerned.
“Come on.” He took her hand and headed upstairs.
“Bodhi, when he’s sick, he’s really clingy and whiny. He won’t want you anywhere around him. He won’t even let my mother take care of him.”
He gave her a deadpan look as they crossed the yard toward her house. “Where are your keys?”
“I keep a house key under the potted plant out back.”
“Not anymore you don’t.”
He proceeded to lecture her on safety while they retrieved her keys. If any other man had tried to tell her what to do, she’d probably have told him that she’d do what she wanted, when she wanted. But it didn’t feel like Bodhi was trying to control her. She knew this was the rescuer in him coming out. The man who had seen worst-case scenarios and tried his best to help others avoid them.
They picked up Louie, and he threw up twice on the short drive home. Bridgette was thankful Bodhi was there, enabling her to sit in the backseat with Louie.
“I’ll carry him up. He’s half your size.” Bodhi reached for Louie before she even finished unlatching his seat belt.
“He’s really particular about—” She was silenced by the sight of her son reaching for Bodhi. He rested his head on Bodhi’s shoulder, looking impossibly safe and small in his arms. Her heart had been working overtime around Bodhi, but this . . .
“Can you unlock the door?” He handed her the keys. “I’ll clean up the car after he’s tucked in.”
“I’ll clean the puke off the floor after he’s asleep. You’ve done enough.”
He gave her that don’t-argue-over-this look again, and some part of her that was buried way below the proud mama she’d grown to be didn’t want to argue. That part of her reveled in his insistence, accepting his thoughtfulness for what it was and not seeing it as a slight to her abilities.
Forty minutes later, with Louie cleaned up, tanked up on children’s Tylenol to bring down his fever, and sound asleep, she headed downstairs. She found Bodhi pacing the kitchen floor and heard her washing machine running.
“I threw his dirty clothes in the laundry, and the car’s clean.” He crossed his arms, his eyes drop-dead serious again. “Who fills in when you can’t work?”
“Um.” She hadn’t even thought about tomorrow yet. Her mind was still catching up on tonight’s events. “No one right now. I’m looking for help at the shop, but I’ve been too busy to interview.”
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow. Just give me a key and tell me what needs to be done. I’m sure I’ve done it all at my mother’s shop.”
“Bodhi.” Her head was spinning. “You’ve got enough on your plate, and you’ve done more than you should have already.”
He gathered her in his arms and tipped her chin up, a motion that had already become familiar. “You can’t leave that sick little boy with a sitter.”
“He’ll be fine. My mother will come over.”
“You said he won’t put up with anyone but you when he’s sick.”
He really had listened to every word she’d said. She should accept his offer, but she was already too drawn to him. Accepting his offer would only make him harder to resist. “For a guy who doesn’t want a relationship, you’re acting very boyfriendish.”
He ground his teeth together and went back to pacing, leaving her to regret the comment she hadn’t meant to say out loud.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and he stopped pacing. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. We’re really fine.”
He nodded curtly. “I hope he feels better soon. Remember to lock up after I leave.”
Her footsteps echoed in the silence after she locked the door behind him.
Later that night Bridgette stood in Louie’s doorway seeking solace to help camouflage her discomfort and trying to bury the emotions Bodhi had unearthed. She felt horrible for shutting him down when he was trying to be helpful. But she couldn’t allow herself to get attached to Bodhi any more than she could allow her son to. She’d made the right decision, even if it felt like she’d pushed away the best thing that had happened to her in years.
And I thought he was the one with the walls.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHILE THE REST of Sweetwater slept, Bodhi painted the rec room and repaired the shelves in the pantry. If Bridgette continued to get under his skin, he’d have his mother’s house renovated in no time. He’d been so frustrated over how the night had ended, he’d finally fallen into bed around four in the morning. But the sheets had smelled like Bridgette, and when he’d finally dozed off, she’d invaded his dreams.
After too little sleep, he’d seen her leave for work this morning, and she’d looked exhausted. He wondered how many times Louie had been up last night. He wished she’d taken him up on his offer to watch the flower shop. He knew what it was like to be the sick kid of a single parent and to be stuck at home with a sitter. Granted, a grandmother was different from a sitter, but still. She’d made it clear that Louie didn’t do well with anyone but her when he was sick. He respected the hell out of her for doing what she had to do for her business and her family. She’d probably made the right choice. What the hell did he know?
Later that afternoon as he washed out his paintbrushes, he was still bothered by the way last night had ended.
Dahlia whined.
“What?” The dog was too attuned to his moods.
She pawed at him. He turned off the water and knelt to love her up. She covered his face with sloppy kisses. After last night they might be the only kisses he got for a while. He gritted his teeth against that reality.
“What do you think, Dahl?”
“Woof!”
“Yeah, no shit. I know I told her I can’t have a relationship, but we connected last night, and then I blew it by pushing myself into her life where I didn’t belong.” He stood and paced, thinking about what she’d said. For a guy who doesn’t want a relationship, you’re acting very boyfriendish. He should forget about last night and go back to being neighbors who rarely spoke. It was safer that way. But every time he thought about the pain in her eyes after she’d said it, he felt like a jerk. She was right. He was putting himself out there in ways he had no business doing.
He went back to cleaning out the brushes, but all he saw was Louie’s little face flushed from a fever. He could still feel his limp body on his shoulder.
Dahlia whined again.
; He kissed her on the head. “She blew me off, Dahl. What was up with that?”
“Woof.”
“You know what? The hell with this wallowing shit.” He headed for the door.
Dahlia whined.
“Don’t worry. I’m not getting all wrapped up in her. I’m just letting her know I’m still around.” It was a bald-faced lie, and what made it worse was that he was lying to his dog.
A little while later he found out just how little he knew about five-year-olds as he walked through the children’s section of Everything and More, a small department store, looking for a gift for Louie. He had no idea if Louie could read, much less what would interest him. He tossed three comic books into the basket and added two books called Where the Wild Things Are and Splat the Cat. He put Where the Wild Things Are back on the shelf because the monsters on the cover looked a little scary, and tossed in a few packs of baseball cards, a stuffed dog that looked like Dahlia, and a couple of toy pirates. On the way out, he stopped in the sporting goods department to see what else he could find, and picked up a pair of long-distance walkie-talkies.
He stopped at the grocery store to pick up Gatorade and crackers in case Bridgette didn’t have any for Louie, and a few other things he needed. He wasn’t trying to be boyfriendish. He was just trying to brighten the kid’s day. There was nothing wrong with that. They were neighbors, and damn it, they’d had a connection, even if she’d pushed him away with her I-can-handle-it-and-don’t-need-you attitude.
By the time he left the store, he was wound as tight as a fishing reel. He probably should not stop at the Secret Garden until he had time to calm down, but he didn’t like how he and Bridgette had left things, and he needed her to know he was still around.
He grabbed the ten-pound bag of sugar he’d bought at the grocery store and headed into the bright and cheery shop. Every surface was covered with gorgeous flowers, throwing him back in time to when he’d worked in his mother’s shop. He’d loved every second of it, regardless of the kids who had called him a pussy for working there. Slamming one bigmouthed asshole against a locker had shut them all up. Nobody dissed his mother’s business. He supposed if life had been different, he might have continued working there instead of going into the military. But his father had lost his life because of a rescue gone wrong, and he’d known from that moment on what he had to do. If it were up to him, no other family would lose a loved one because of a botched rescue mission.
He spotted Bridgette talking with a tall brunette by the counter and stalked toward her. Did she always have to look so gorgeous? There wasn’t a woman on earth who could make skinny jeans and a white T-shirt look sexier. Her hair hung in loose waves around her face, and his fingers itched to feel those silky strands wound around them again. Hell, he’d give anything to just hold her in his arms one more time.
She looked over as he approached, surprise rising in her eyes. “Um, excuse me for just one second,” she said to the woman.
Bodhi set the bag down at the other end of the counter.
“Bodhi?” Bridgette said. “What’s this?”
“Sugar. In case I need it.”
She smiled, and it warmed him to the bone. I’m not about to let my stubborn girl forget about me. He scowled at the thought. She wasn’t his, and couldn’t be even if he wanted her to. He wouldn’t do that to her or to Louie.
With a curt nod, he headed out to the car before he said something stupid.
Half an hour later, with Dahlia by his side, Bodhi stood in Bridgette’s living room with Roxie Dalton, Bridgette’s exuberant mother, watching Louie work his way, very slowly, through the presents Bodhi had brought. The poor little guy barely had the energy to pet Dahlia, who had parked herself beside the couch where Louie was tucked beneath a blanket.
Bodhi quickly assessed Louie’s pallor and the glassiness of his eyes. “Is he getting enough fluids?”
“As much as I can get him to drink, right, sweetie?” Roxie brushed Louie’s hair from his forehead and pressed a kiss there. “At least his fever is staying down. I think the yarrow tea bath I gave him helped.”
“Look, Grandma Roxie, baseball cards.” A weak smile lifted his lips as he turned to Bodhi. “I collect them, like my dad did. He’s dead.”
Roxie touched Louie’s shoulder, pity hovering in her eyes.
Bodhi knelt beside the couch with a heavy heart. Dahlia licked his face, earning a giggle from Louie.
“My father’s gone, too.”
“Are you sad?” Louie asked.
“Sometimes,” Bodhi said honestly. “Are you?”
“No. I don’t remember him. But I think sometimes Mommy is sad.”
Bodhi had seen that last night, even though Bridgette had tried to hide it. He glanced at Roxie, unsure of how much he should say, but there were no answers in her eyes. Only compassion.
“Luckily,” he said, “your mom has you, and that makes her very happy. I’d love to see your card collection someday. My father collected coins. I never got into them, but my mother has them all.”
“If my mom lets me show you my cards, do you think your mom will let me see your father’s coins?” Louie asked.
“Yeah, buddy. I’m sure she will.” He made a mental note to borrow the collection from his mother. Hoping to give Louie an incentive to drink more fluids, he took a bottle of Gatorade out of the bag and said, “You know, baseball players drink a lot of Gatorade. Do you like Gatorade?”
Louie nodded. A new glimmer of light shone in his eyes.
“Maybe you could be like them and drink a bottle this afternoon.” He winked at Roxie, who mouthed, Thank you.
“I will. I’m going to play for the Yankees when I grow up.”
“I bet you’ll be their best player ever.” He broke the seal on the Gatorade, then screwed the top back on and set it on the coffee table. “Let me show you what else I brought.” Bodhi opened the walkie-talkies. “These work for miles.”
“Can I call you on them?” Louie asked.
“If your mom says it’s okay, sure.” He showed both Louie and Roxie how to operate them.
“Can you hook it to your pants like G.I. Joe?” Louie asked.
“Maybe I should leave it here so you can use it with your mom.”
“I can call her on the phone,” Louie insisted. “Please?”
Bodhi glanced at Roxie, who nodded. “Okay, little dude. But you need permission from your grandmother or your mother before using it, okay?”
After they played with the walkie-talkies, Roxie walked Bodhi to the door. “It was really sweet of you to bring Louie all those gifts. Bridgette told me you drove her to pick him up last night. It’s been a long time since she’s had a friend like you. Thank you.”
“Happy to help.” He was surprised Bridgette had mentioned him. “There’s a paperback in the bag for Bridgette.”
“I’ll be sure she gets it. She also mentioned that you’re fixing up the house next door for your mother. I assume, like most hardworking men, your hands could use a little attention, and I have just the thing.” She dug around in a box sitting by the stairs and handed him a jar. “Think of this as a thank-you gift for all you’ve done.”
Dahlia nosed the container, trying to get a whiff. Bodhi read the label. CLARY SAGE & CINNAMON LOTION BY ROXIE. He wondered if she had any idea that clary sage was known for its aphrodisiac qualities, and whether she believed in the tales that cinnamon promoted warmth and spice in a relationship. Then he remembered she’d given Louie a yarrow tea bath and realized she probably did know those things.
“You made this? Thank you. It’s an interesting combination.”
“Oh, honey.” She waved her hand. “I made that and about every other lotion, oil, fragrance, or soap in this town worth its salt. I put a little extra love in every batch. I’ll bring something special for your mother when she settles in. I’m sure she’ll love it here. Sweetwater has a way of growing on a person. Once the people here work their way into your heart, it’s impossible to lea
ve.”
The glimmer of mischief in her eyes reminded him of Bridgette. He’d just seen her in the flower shop. Was it possible to miss her already?
“Before I forget,” Roxie said, “would you mind leaving me your number? It’s always good to have a neighbor’s number handy.”
“Sure.”
She grabbed a paper and pen, and while he jotted down his information, she said, “Half the town is talking about you and Bridgette dancing together last night.”
His gut fisted, hoping no one had seen them kissing. The last thing he wanted was for Bridgette to be the center of gossip. He handed Roxie the paper and pen. “She’s an incredible woman. A wonderful neighbor.”
“Yes, she is. She was once a feisty little gal, my Bridgette. Maybe you can bring that out in her again.”
What did Bridgette tell you? “Roxie, I’m only here for a little while. I’m not looking to get involved in that way.”
“Yes, Bridgette mentioned that to me as well.” She glanced at Louie, who was drinking the Gatorade, and said, “I understand. But some towns are harder to leave than others.”
BRIDGETTE LAY ON her bed Saturday night, staring up at the ceiling and trying to figure out what to do about Bodhi. She’d been shocked when he’d brought the sugar into the flower shop and dropped it in his big, brooding fashion without so much as a simple conversation. But to come home and find out he’d bought presents for Louie and had spoken to him about Jerry and his own father? The man was a walking contradiction—and his phone number was like the apple in the Garden of Eden. Leave it to her mother to meddle where she didn’t belong. Roxie hadn’t even told Bridgette that Bodhi had left his number, or that he’d left her a copy of Any Time, Any Place, the follow-up book to the one she’d bought at the grocery store. The pages were dog-eared, and the book was signed by the author to Bodhi. Bridgette had found both items on her bedside table, with a note from her mother. Such a nice man. You should call and thank him for the gifts for Louie. Maybe invite him to dinner when Louie’s better? After all, he’s here by himself, and from what I hear, all the single women in town are hot on his trail.
Only for You Page 9