“That would be good.”
I continue going through the meat and cheese drawer and gag a little at the smell coming from the half package of bacon. “Why would that be good?”
He gently shifts me to the side and pulls out the entire drawer, dumping the entire contents directly into the trash. “My gut is telling me that we might as well just get rid of everything,” he says with a curl to his upper lip, making me giggle.
“My nose agrees,” I say, covering my nose with my hand.
He chuckles. “Right? Gross. Anyway, there are a few things I want to talk to you about and it’d be easier if I had your full attention.”
“What kind of things?”
“So impatient.”
“Hey, the last few surprises have kind of been more than a little life changing so excuse me if I no longer look forward to the element of surprise.”
“Fair enough.” There’s a brief pause before I can hear the smile in his voice as he announces, “I’m moving home.”
My eyes jump up to meet his. “For good?”
“For good,” he confirms, holding my stare. “I need to be living here.”
“Here, here?” I ask, pointing to the floor, my voice abnormally high, unable to mask the shock… and possibly a bit of horror. I just can’t imagine him wanting to live in Chris’s house after everything that happened here.
The corner of his mouth ticks up in an adorable grin. “No need to be so freaked out. I’m buying my own place. Max had mentioned me buying this place but…” His eyes widen and lips stretch as he shakes his head. “I can’t. Nothing against the house,” he rushes to continue.
I shake my head and lift a hand to stop him from feeling guilty. “No. I get it. It was hard enough for me just to walk into this place, I can’t imagine living here.”
“Exactly. It’s… hard. I see him here, you know? I don’t want to sell it for that very reason because I feel close to him here but the fact that this is where he,” His voice cracks and he closes his eyes briefly. He doesn’t finish saying that this is where Chris died. “Anyway, I’m looking for something and hope I can find it soon.”
I don’t say anything further because really, what else is there to say? He’s right. Living here would be awkward and uncomfortable but it’s hard to think about selling it and having someone else live here.
“Maybe give yourself some time before finding a new place?”
He’s already shaking his head before I even finish, scratching the back of his hand. I’ve always admired his large, working man’s hands. They’re not manicured or without scars and there’s something about them that just does it for me.
“I want something out of town with more land than this. Maybe with some buildings so I can raise some cattle or goats. I don’t know the first thing about either but figure I can learn.”
I giggle, not being able to stop myself. “You’re just going to “figure out” how to become a farmer, huh?”
“Sure. Why not? I mean, I know it’s not easy work or anything but I’ve never been afraid of that, you know? Maybe I can get a donkey for Zoey. She’d love that, right?”
I grin. “You’d score major points with her, that’s for sure.”
“Well, that’s what life’s about, right? Scoring points with Squirt?”
“That’s right.”
We finish clearing out all the food from the kitchen and Beau helps me clean the bathrooms. After several hours of being inside Chris’s house, I’ve reached my limit. I think Beau would like to possibly go through some of Chris’s things but right now, I just can’t. My heart can’t take much more and luckily, Beau doesn’t seem to mind.
We close up the house and make our way to our vehicles parked in the driveway, stopping beside my driver’s door. I lean against the hot steel that’s been baking in the hot summer sun. I wince at the quick burn through my thin layer of pants but rest my side against it again, crossing my arms over my chest.
Beau shrugs those massive shoulders of his and grins as he tosses a bag into the back seat of his overgrown pickup that’s parked behind my little SUV that looks like a toy next to his. I have no idea how he drives around in that tank without running into everything in his path. I’ve only ridden in it a few times, but I practically needed a step stool to climb in.
“Want to go out to dinner?” Beau asks.
As much as I’d enjoy a nice evening out, the thought of having to make myself presentable and deal with the way everyone would be whispering and staring is more than I can handle. Living in a small town has its perks, but one of them isn’t the fact that everyone knows my business. Especially the fact that I got pregnant with Chris’s baby but have been in love with Beau for nearly my entire life while he doesn’t have a clue. “Would you care if we grabbed a pizza and just brought it to my place? We can eat outside and have a few beers. I don’t feel like being around people. Plus, I’m gross from working here today.”
“You most definitely aren’t gross,” he murmurs then clears his throat. “Yeah, let’s do that. I’ll show you a couple of the listings I found.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and licks his lips nervously. “One is Mr. Noosma’s place. Do you know it?”
“He’s selling the house?” I ask, surprised and for a reason only I know, a little sad.
Beau nods once. “He is.”
Mr. Noosma’s lived in that old farmhouse for what seems like a century. I’m pretty sure he was born there, if the stories he’s told me are true. It’s also my dream house, though nobody knows that except my late-mother. She and I used to take drives together on Sundays and one summer we ended up getting lost on a country road. We pulled into Mr. Noosma’s driveway to get our bearings and figure out where in the heck we were going to get back home. We didn’t have GPS or maps on our phones at the time so while we were a little nervous, there was also something so peaceful about the house that called to my mom and me.
We sat in the driveway staring at the house, breathing in the fresh air when we stepped out of the car and looked around. A screen door creaked then slammed shut and an older gentleman with a kind smile came outside. He was wearing a dirty ball cap that looked like it’d been a permanent fixture in his daily wardrobe for twenty years nestled on his head, his skin was weathered, and he had the clearest pale blue eyes I’d ever seen. He greeted us with a tobacco pipe hanging out of the corner of his mouth, a big yellow Labrador retriever at his heels, and introduced himself as Richard Noosma.
We let him know we had simply lost our way and he explained how to get back to the main road. But not before he offered us a glass of lemonade and some store-bought cookies. We sat on the wraparound porch that was so beautiful, I’ve never been able to forget it.
Richard Noosma spoke to us like we’d known him our entire lives. Long after the sun set, we laughed and shared stories. He warmed up leftover pot roast and potatoes that was delicious despite being a little dry. If I had a grandfather, he’s who I would have wanted to claim the title. I’ve gotten in the habit of driving by every few weeks just so I could see it. Stopping in for Sunday dinner or Saturday afternoon “coffee time”, he calls it. I can so easily picture myself sitting out there enjoying a morning cup of coffee as the sun rises. After Zoey was born, he visited me in the hospital then took her in as his family also. When Mom died, he spent the night in my guest room because he didn’t want me to be alone.
Just a few weeks before Chris died, Zoey and I had an afternoon on the porch almost identical to the one my mother and I had so many years before. He might not be my grandfather by blood, but in every way, he’s family. He knows all my secrets. Knows my heart and how much I love his home. He never mentioned that he wanted to move. And that hurts. Not that I’m surprised, because it’s a huge house. Big enough for a family of five or six. It’s not a typical house for a single guy and Richard isn’t necessarily young. It’s too much of a house for him to take care of on his own.
Chris knew of him, and had met him a few time
s. But our relationship? The friendship that Mr. Richard Noosma and I shared? It was ours. He didn’t have much in the way of family and neither did I. His wife has been gone for over thirty years and from what I understand, his house has been in his family for generations.
I swallow hard. “Yeah, I know it. I’m just a bit surprised he’s getting rid of it. I thought the house had been in his family for a while.”
He looks at me closely as if trying to figure out a puzzle. “He only had one son and he doesn’t want to live there. Noosma still owns some of the land that he’ll rent for someone else to farm so it’s not like he’s getting rid of everything, but he’s ready to be in a smaller home.” Why wouldn’t his son want to live there? And he’d just up and sell it to some random person who doesn’t already love the home?
“Do you really want that big of a house?” I clip, not meaning to be short with him but not being able to stop myself.
He shrugs and I want to shove his shoulder out of frustration. I don’t know why, other than for some reason, I feel this sudden betrayal by a man who I felt was family. And since he’s not here, that frustration and anger is directed at Beau. But Beau knows me better than anyone else and I’m sure he can tell there’s a reason to my shortness.
We’re both silent, his gaze curious and trained on me as he tries to figure me out. Annoying.
I shake my head slowly and say, “I don’t think I’d ever leave if I lived there.”
Beau’s stare slowly begins to heat and I squirm under the intensity of it. “You like the house?”
“Let’s just say it has sentimental value to me,” I explain softly.
That seems to surprise him. “Really?”
I nod to confirm. “It does.”
His voice is scratchy and eyebrows furrowed when he responds, “I never realized.”
“Well, now you know that if you buy it, plan on me stopping over plenty to sit on that front porch,” I say, smiling and hoping to lighten the mood a bit.
“That’s a burden I might be willing to take.” He smirks and I roll my eyes.
I open my car door and he steps back. “All right. I’ll meet you at my house. I’ll call a pizza order in along the way.”
“Meat,” he says simply as he points at me and I laugh.
“Like I don’t know what you like on your pizza.”
“Hey, you’re always trying to sneak veggies into Zoey’s food and I have no doubt you’d do the same to me.”
“You said so yourself, you’re a growing boy.”
He lifts his arm and does a goofy flex to show off his ridiculously huge bicep.
I scoff and climb into my car. “Let’s go, showoff.”
I hear him shout, “You love it!” right before I shut my door and dammit, he’s right. I do.
Chapter Nine
Beau
I’m playing a dangerous game. One that I know will turn out one of two ways. Either really good. Or really, really, freaking badly.
One thing I’m not, is a liar. Not even lying by omission. Especially when it comes to Addy.
As I make the final turn to go down the street that leads to Addy’s house, I try to decide whether I need to psych myself up and admit why I’m looking at Richard Noosma’s house, or if I should just let it ride for a little while.
I pull into her driveway behind her tiny SUV that she just parked in her garage and park my pickup. As soon as I see her smile at me before walking into the house, I know I’m going to be holding my secret safe for a little while longer. Today was hard on her and I’m not going to add to it.
My mom said that she looks exhausted and while she’s still beautiful, it’d be impossible to miss the bags she’s carrying under her eyes, the weight she’s lost, and the way her shoulders seem to curl forward as if she’s too tired to even fully stand up straight.
Tonight I plan to feed her pizza and the oatmeal fudge bars my mom sent with me while we watch a movie and relax. She’ll probably be annoyed with me when I do my best to get her rested and healthy again because she’s incredibly independent but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.
I grab the large cooler from her back seat of all the frozen food that was in Chris’s freezer as I’m walking past her car and carry it inside then rush back for a few more loads of things she took from his house. She’s just emerging from her bedroom with wet hair, a pair of cotton shorts, and a t-shirt that says the words “be kind” when I walk in carrying my bag and the container of bars from my pickup.
“You showered?”
“I stunk.”
“Do we have time for me to shower before the pizza gets here? I think I got everything from the car already.”
“Beau! You didn’t have to do that! I just couldn’t take the sweat and gross feeling from cleaning out the fridge another second and needed to hop in the shower quickly. I’d planned to bring everything in myself.”
“I know you did. But now you don’t have to.” I reach into the front pocket of my shorts and pull out my money clip, handing it to her. “I’m going to shower. Here’s some cash for the pizza.” She opens her mouth to no doubt protest me giving her money so I lift a hand and give her a pointed look and point at the leather money clip she’s holding while trying to glare at me. “I know how much is in there, so if you don’t use it, I’ll be upset.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“My cross to bear,” I joke and brush past her.
It’s a mistake to inhale while I do so because the scent of her freshly showered skin and coconut shampoo infiltrates my senses, making a direct line to my dick. There is nothing and no one that turns me on as much as Addy does. Everything about her just does it for me.
She’s not just under my skin or in my heart.
She’s it for me.
It’s why I haven’t moved on or been with anyone else in four years.
I shower quickly in the guest bathroom, which is also Zoey’s. Her hanging basket of mermaids and boats and cups makes me smile.
After toweling off, I throw on a pair of baggy shorts over my boxer briefs and slip a t-shirt over my head. Swipe on some deodorant and gather up my dirty clothes, shoving them into a side compartment of my bag before heading back to the living room.
Addy’s placing a large pizza box on the coffee table along with two bottles of beer and two glasses of water.
She glances up and I love the fact that her eyes make a trail from the top of my head to my bare feet then back up again, lingering a little at my crotch. “I’m too tired to get plates. Care if we just eat straight from the box?”
“You need sleep,” I reply gruffly.
“Yeah, well…” She trails off and I have no idea what she’s going to say. What is she battling on her own? For a second, I wonder if she’s upset over the loss of Chris for reasons other than I assumed, but the thought vanishes just as quickly. If she’d wanted to be with Chris romantically, she would have been.
“Let’s eat. Mom sent her oatmeal fudge bars with me and I’m just nice enough to share with you.”
Her eyes light up. “Is that what’s in the container?”
“It is.”
“I might have dessert before the meal.”
The mention of dessert has my dirty thoughts trailing to much different places than sweet treats.
“Zoey’s not here to see you behaving like a bad girl.” I smirk when her eyes widen and damn, I wonder if she’s a bad girl in the bedroom. What does she like? Slow and sweet or hard and rough? A little of both? Why am I so fixated on her right now? Not that I’m normally not, but every comment out of her mouth I feel like I could turn sexual right now. And that’s not like me. I usually have a lot more will power when it comes to my desire for her.
Instead of allowing my mind to linger, I retrieve the Tupperware full of fudgy bars and bring it to the living room, setting it down on the table next to the pizza. “Go nuts. Just please, eat.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, taking a seat on one end of the co
uch.
“You know what I mean, Addy. It’s me. You can’t hide from me. What’s going on?”
“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, watching as I reach for a water rather than a beer. I definitely do not need the aid of alcohol in my system to lower my inhibitions around her. Especially with her sex-on-a-stick legs luring me in like a moth to a flame.
“You’re not looking much like yourself these days, Addy.”
Her cheeks pink. “Gee, thanks,” she says, snark heavy in her voice.
With my fingers under her chin, I turn her to face me and softly explain, “Hey, listen to me. You’re beautiful. You always are. But right now, I can tell you’re not getting enough sleep and you’re losing weight. I know the last few months have sucked more than usual. Is it bringing back memories of your mom? Is that it?”
As I was talking, tears filled her eyes and when one escapes and begins a trail down her cheek, I swipe it away with my thumb. She shakes her head. “No, that’s not it. I mean, that’s part of it, yes. I miss her terribly and more so now, but that’s not what’s going on. I just… gah, I feel so selfish saying this out loud.”
“Hey, you can tell me whatever’s on your heart. You know I would never judge you. Let it out.”
When her silent tears begin to slow and her glazed-over eyes stare off into the distance, I think she’s not going to tell me. But then she sucks in a shaky breath and opens her mouth. A sob escapes before she cries, “I hate being a single mom.”
That’s not at all what I was expecting her to say. She’s been a single mom since the day Zoey was born.
“What do you mean?”
“Since Chris passed, it hit me how alone I am. That I’m now truly a single mom. What if I screw something up? I don’t have him to help me make decisions or carry part of the responsibility.”
I sit back when she uses her hands to wipe her face. “What the…? Addy, no. First of all, you’re a wonderful mother. Chris told me all the time how he just followed your lead.”
“That’s not true.”
The Path To Us: A Single Parent Romance Page 9