Ain't She Sweet

by Marie Force

  “Manageable as long as I take my horse pills on time.”

  “You’re not missing anything outside,” Cameron said. “It’s snowing like crazy. That’s all it seems to do lately.”

  “Welcome to your first winter in Vermont, babe,” Will said.

  Cameron smiled up at her husband. “Nowhere else I’d rather be than in the midst of your snowy winter.”

  “And it’s not even officially winter yet until the twenty-first,” Tyler said.

  A collective groan greeted his statement, making him laugh.

  The foursome left and over the course of the day, they saw Hannah and Nolan, Colton and Lucy, who had her sister, Emma, and niece, Simone, with her, Hunter and Megan, Ella and Gavin, Lucas and Landon and then finally Wade.

  “Bringing up the rear, little brother,” Charley said from her perch on the sofa. Tyler had started a fire in the huge fireplace, making the room toasty warm and cozy. He’d tended to her quietly throughout the day of visits with her family, making sure she ate and took her pills and stayed hydrated, without interfering in her time with her loved ones. More points.

  “Hannah had a schedule,” Wade said. “I got the last slot.”

  “She actually scheduled everyone?”

  “She didn’t want us to overwhelm you or Tyler.”

  “She’s too funny,” Charley said, imagining her sister organizing the rest of them. “Mom will be back on Tuesday to relieve Hannah of her need to be in charge of everything.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  They chatted until Charley’s eyes got heavy, and Wade took his leave, promising to be back soon. “Sorry to pass out on you.”

  “No worries.” Wade kissed her forehead, shook hands with Tyler and headed out into the snowy late afternoon.

  “You want to go to bed?” Tyler asked when they were alone.

  “Nah. This is delightful. I love the fireplace.”

  “I do, too. I designed the entire house around it.” He covered her with a light blanket that he tucked in around her. “Take a nap while I make dinner.”

  “Spoiling me,” she said.

  “Am I?”

  “Mmm.” She thought she felt his lips on her forehead, but she couldn’t summon the energy to open her eyes to confirm it. But the suspicion was enough to fill her with an unusual sense of contentment as she drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sound strategy starts with having the right goal.

  —Michael Porter

  The torture began on Monday with the arrival of Debbie, the physical therapist sent straight from hell. She was young, blond and peppy, and Charley hated her on sight. First, she removed Charley’s brace and bandages to check the incision, and she was a whole lot less gentle than Tyler had been when he’d checked the incision the night before.

  “Looks good,” Debbie declared. “You’ve been icing it?”

  “Religiously.”

  “Excellent. You’ll need to keep using the crutches for another week or so, when we’ll want to start working on some weight bearing. For today and this week, we’re going to do some basic stretches to work on strengthening your quadriceps.”

  What sounded simple enough was anything but once the “basic” stretching began. Five minutes in, Charley was bathed in a cold sweat and whimpering pathetically from the agonizing pain.

  “You’re doing great,” Debbie said. “You’ve got excellent muscle tone to begin with. That’ll make for a speedier recovery.”

  Charley couldn’t reply because she was desperately trying not to puke up the pancakes Tyler had made for breakfast. By the time Debbie left ninety minutes later, promising to be back for more of the same the next day, Charley was contemplating murder for the first time in her life.

  “How’d it go?” Tyler asked when he emerged from his office wearing well-faded jeans, a brown sweater and those sexy glasses.

  “Fantastic,” Charley said from the sofa where Debbie had left her to recover from therapy. “Best time of my life.”

  He took a closer look at her. “You’re all pasty and pale. What the hell?”

  “She freaking tortured me. That’s what the hell.”

  “She hurt you?” His lips flattened with what might’ve been fury.

  “I think that’s her job,” Charley said begrudgingly.

  He sat on the coffee table and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be. Eventually.”

  “I’m sorry you have to go through all this. I hate to see you hurting.”

  He’d slept next to her again during the night, holding her hand the way he had the night before. Lying next to him in bed, Charley had relived that brief, fleeting kiss he’d given her in the bathroom, wondering if he would do it again. And yes, she was well aware that she’d gone from fending him off to wishing for more of the all-too-brief taste he’d given her the day before.

  She took a good long look at his lips.

  “Charley.”

  His voice snapped her out of the stare fest. “Yeah?”

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Nothing.” She couldn’t very well say she was staring at his lips thinking about what it had been like to kiss him. It hadn’t lasted long enough to get a full impression. Would he kiss her again or had that been a onetime thing? Did she want him to kiss her again? Well, yeah . . .

  “Why’re you staring at me?”

  “I’m just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I wish you’d just say whatever’s on your mind. Is something wrong?”

  “Other than the therapist straight from hell and the surgically repaired knee?”

  “Other than that.”

  “Nothing is wrong.”

  “Do you need anything before I go back to work?”

  “No, thank you. I’m good.”

  He gave her hand another squeeze and released it when he stood. “Yell if you need me.”

  “I will.” Charley watched him go, noting the superior fit of his faded jeans, and wondered when exactly she’d stopped pushing him away and started wanting to pull him closer.

  —

  Tyler was losing his mind. Having her in his house, sleeping next to her at night, holding her hand . . . It was too much and not enough at the same time. He’d made a critical error by kissing her in the bathroom yesterday. The instant his lips met hers, he’d panicked, fearing if he moved too fast she’d run away as soon as she could.

  And with her parents returning from their trip tomorrow, she’d have no good reason to stay with him anymore. He ached at the thought of her leaving already. If he had his way, she’d stay forever and they’d live happily ever after in the house he’d built for the family he hoped to have someday.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her. He knew that in the moment, but it happened anyway, and he wanted to do it again—as soon as he possibly could. But he couldn’t move too fast or push her for things she wasn’t ready for, especially when she was recovering from such a serious injury.

  Propping his elbows on the desktop, Tyler dropped his head into his hands. He was in so deep with her and had been for a while now. Every time she dismissed him or snapped back at him with a sassy retort, he wanted her more. And when she’d joined his running club, he’d praised the god of kismet for ensuring that he’d see her weekly for months.

  She’d wanted to quit when she realized he was a member. Remembering the look of utter disdain she’d sent his way that first day drew a small smile to his lips. The more she disdained him, the more he wanted her. Crazy, right? More than one person had said as much to him, but none of that changed the way he felt about her. Those feelings had only deepened in the days since her fall. He would never forget the sight of her at the bottom of that ravine, or the bone-deep fear he exper
ienced as he ran for help, praying with every step that she wouldn’t die down there, that she wouldn’t leave him before he had a chance to hold her or kiss her or make love to her.

  He blew out a ragged deep breath. It didn’t matter that she was injured or laid up or prickly. He wanted her madly, desperately. She’d been staring at his mouth earlier. Was she thinking about the kiss in the bathroom, too? He should say something to her about that. If they talked about it, maybe they could address the awkwardness and move on. But how did he go about starting that conversation? So about that kiss in the bathroom . . .

  His computer chimed with new e-mails and stock updates and other things he should be paying attention to, but all he could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss Charley Abbott again and when—or if—he’d get the chance.

  —

  Hannah decided that Hunter should be the lucky one to meet their parents as they arrived home from their trip. As he navigated the one-lane covered bridge that led to his parents’ home, the melting snow they’d gotten over the weekend splashed against his car in an icy slush that would leave a mess behind.

  Ahh, winter in Vermont. Good times. And speaking of good times, he couldn’t wait to tell his mother about how they’d kept Charley’s fall and serious injuries from her while she was on vacation. At least he could place all the blame on Charley, who’d insisted they not spoil their parents’ long-awaited trip. And what was up with pregnant, bossy Hannah deciding he was the best one to loop their parents in on Charley’s situation? He expected better from his twin and closest friend than that.

  Prepared to take one for the team, he hung a right onto Hells Peak Road and pulled into the long driveway that led to the red barn where his parents had raised ten children and still lived with their dogs, Ringo and George. The dogs were frolicking in the yard, which meant his parents had stopped to pick them up at his grandfather’s house on their way home.

  Hunter parked and got out of his Lincoln Navigator, ignoring the nasty sludge caked on the car as he would until after mud season in the spring. There was simply no point in trying to keep a car looking nice during winter and spring in Vermont. He went in through the mudroom, the dogs in hot pursuit. They ran by him into the kitchen, where his mom was standing watch over a kettle on the stove.

  “Hey,” he said. “Welcome home.”

  “Hi, honey.” Molly greeted her eldest child with a warm smile and a hug. “This is a nice surprise.”

  He returned her hug and kissed her cheek. “How was it?”

  “Fantastic. We had the best time. I’ve got lots of pictures.”

  “I can’t wait to see them.”

  “So what’s going on here?”

  “Usual stuff plus a few other things.”

  “What other things?”

  Before Hunter could reply, his dad came into the room. “Hey, son. How’s it going?”

  “Good.” Hunter hugged his dad. “Nice to have you back.”

  “Good to be home. How’re things at the store?”

  “Busy, the way we want it this time of year.”

  “Excellent.”

  Molly crossed her arms. “Hunter was just about to tell me what’s been going on around here while we were gone, and something tells me I’m not going to like this.”

  “Before I say anything, this was all Charley’s doing, so you can take it up with her.”

  “What am I taking up with her?”

  “So a week ago Saturday—”

  “The day we left.”

  “Yes, and before I say anything else—she’s okay—or she will be eventually. She was running up on the mountain in the snow with Tyler Westcott when the ground fell out from under her.”

  Molly sucked in a sharp deep breath.

  Lincoln’s hand landed on her shoulder.

  “What happened?” Linc asked, his complexion gone ashen.

  “She took a bad fall. A really bad fall down a ravine. Tyler ran for help, and thankfully, the only thing she injured was her knee. She had surgery—”

  Molly let out a cry of distress. “My child had surgery and no one thought to tell me that?”

  “Charley told us not to. She didn’t want to mess up your vacation.”

  “Why did she need surgery, son?” Linc asked.

  “She tore the ACL and MCL in her knee, and then there was an infection—”

  “Where is she now?” Molly glared at him as if it had been his decision to keep this from her.

  “At Tyler’s place. He felt responsible for her getting hurt and insisted on helping her out afterward.”

  “You all let her go with him rather than one of you?”

  “It’s what she said she wanted.”

  “Charley—my Charley—said she wanted to go home with Tyler Westcott, who she’s been avoiding for ages, instead of one of her own siblings?” Molly asked, incredulous. “Did she hit her head, too?”

  “Her head is fine.”

  “Take me to her right now, Hunter. This minute.”

  “Okay—and if you could please keep in mind that I’m only the messenger.”

  Molly took him by the arm and marched him through the mudroom the way she had when he was in trouble as a kid. She was still as freakishly strong as she’d been then. “Drive. Now.”

  —

  Charley’s second session with Debbie went much like the first, only this time there had been tears—a lot of them. The more Charley cried, the harder Debbie pushed her. As he had the day before, Tyler came out of his office to check on her. Today he wore a white Dartmouth T-shirt with another pair of deliciously faded jeans.

  She couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for the jeans or the hot guy in them because she couldn’t stop crying.

  “Charley.” He took his usual seat on the coffee table and reached for her hand.

  She yanked it back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What isn’t wrong? Everything I own hurts like hell, and that woman will be back again tomorrow to torture me some more. That is what’s wrong.” Using the sleeve of her T-shirt, she mopped up her tears.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Nothing! There’s nothing you can do, so stop being so freaking nice to me and go back to work!”

  To which he calmly replied, “Are you hungry?”

  “No, I’m not hungry. In fact, I’m afraid I’m going to puke all over your sofa.”

  “If you do, we’ll clean it up.”

  “Go away, Tyler. Leave me alone. I mean it.”

  “I’d rather stay here with you so you don’t have to be upset alone.”

  “I want to be upset alone. I want to go home. I want my bed and my stuff and my life. I’m supposed to be at work right now, and the store is probably crazy busy, and I have Christmas shopping to do. And . . . And this . . . it . . . It blows!”

  “I know it does. But you’re in luck—I can help with at least one of those things.” He got up and walked away, disappearing into his office for a few minutes that she used to chastise herself for lashing out at him when none of this was his fault—despite what he might think.

  Tyler came back carrying a laptop that he put on the coffee table next to him when he returned to his perch.

  “What’s that for?”

  “I’ve got the best Internet connection in town up here, and that laptop gives you access to every online retailer in the world. Get your shopping done. Have it all sent here, and I’ll help you wrap it.”

  “As the co-owner of a brick-and-mortar store, online shopping goes against everything I believe in.”

  “I understand, and I hereby grant you a onetime, special-circumstances exemption. You know you want to go crazy shopping for your nephew, so have at it.”

  Charley stared at the computer for a long moment before extending her hand. She had been lo
oking forward to shopping for Caden. That was true.

  Tyler put the computer in her hands and then went to answer the door after a pounding knock interrupted them.

  Charley heard her mother before she saw her.

  “Where is she? Where’s Charley?”

  “Come in, Mrs. Abbott, Mr. Abbott,” Tyler said. “She’s on the sofa. Right this way.”

  “Hi, Mom.” Charley smiled up at her mother, who came rushing over to hug her, taking Tyler’s spot on the coffee table.

  “Oh my goodness, Charley!” Molly touched Charley’s face, her arm and then her hand as if to confirm she really was fine. “How could you tell them to keep this from me?”

  “I was fine, and I didn’t want to mess up your trip. Nothing to worry about.”

  Charley’s dad came over to kiss and hug her as best he could with Molly crowding him out. “What’s all this, my love?”

  “A little fall, a little surgery, nothing to be concerned about. How was the trip?”

  “Never mind about that,” Molly said. “Tell me everything that happened.”

  While her dad wandered off to talk to Hunter and Tyler, Charley recounted the entire incident—or as much as she recalled of it—for her mother. “Lucas and Landon were amazing. Turns out they’re good for something other than driving us all nuts.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Molly glanced over to the kitchen, where Tyler was pouring coffee for Linc and Hunter. “What’re you doing here?” she asked in an exaggerated whisper.

  “That’s another long story. He’s been . . . He’s been really great, Mom. Amazing, in fact.”

  “Charley . . .”

  “Can I get you anything, Mrs. Abbott? Some tea or coffee?”

  “I’m fine, thank you, Tyler.” When he had returned to his conversation with Hunter and Lincoln, Molly continued to whisper. “I thought you said you weren’t interested in him.”

  “I wasn’t. I’m not.”

  Molly raised a brow that let Charley know she needed to do better.

  “We’re having a good time together, believe it or not, and my craziness doesn’t seem to faze him.”

  “I’ve always thought he was a very nice boy.”