by Helen Conrad
Mack shook his head. “No, see, you got it wrong. It’s not really because of any problems that we need you to take her someplace and keep her there. It’s because of this thing Misty is planning…”
Tyler shrugged. “I don’t care what it’s for. I’m not going anywhere near that woman.”
Mack made a sound like a growl, low in his throat and Jared pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and put it between his lips, though he knew better than to light it. Bert would have had his head.
“Hey.” Mack elbowed Jared in the side and gave a jerk of his head toward Tyler. “Hey, look at him.”
Jared nodded, his eyes narrowed. “I’m lookin’.”
“He’s got a whipped look about him, don’t he?”
Jared grinned. “Sure does.”
“What’s a matter, Carrington?” Mack taunted. “Scared of Becky? Is that it?”
“Yeah,” Jared joined in, like a wolf smelling blood. “Hell, look at him. He’s scared of her. Is that a kick, or what?”
“Scaredy cat,” Mack hissed. “Chicken. Yeah, you’re yellow.”
Jared cupped his hands over his mouth and made joyful poultry noises, pleased for a rare chance to show off his special talents.
Tyler looked from one face to another, anger beginning to form a toxic mix with the disgust that was already boiling in his veins.
“You know what?” He stood, shoving back his chair with a scraping sound that rocketed through the small room and glaring down at the two men who were supposed to be among his best friends. “You guys deserve to get ripped by the women of this town. Your minds are still in freakin’ junior high.”
“Chicken!” Mack sneered.
“Gobble gobble,” Jared added.
Tyler grabbed his hat and turned on his boot heel and strode from the café. If he stayed, someone was going to end up with a bloody nose, and the way his day was going, it might just be him. The sun glinted into his eyes as he came outside into the warm October afternoon and started for the street, blinding him for a moment, and in that same second, he heard someone yell, “Look out!”
There wasn’t much traffic on Camino del Mar at this time of day, so he’d hardly thought twice about looking for cars, but the thing rattling down the hill toward him wasn’t really a car. It seemed to be a large metal cart piled high with furniture barreling in his direction. There were people running alongside it, yelling. And people running on the sidewalk, yelling. And there was a woman hanging on to the cart for dear life with one hand and waving wildly at him with the other. Most surprising of all, that woman was Becky Harris herself.
Chapter Two
Tyler took it all in of an instant, the huge delivery truck parked in front of her interior design studio at the top of the hill, the runaway cart the delivery men had been using to take furniture from the truck into her store, the men running behind the cart, shouting in warning and frustration, Becky on board.
“Get out of the way!” she was yelling at him. “I can’t stop this thing…”
It didn’t take a genius to see where she was going to end up if nobody stopped it—right in the middle of Granny’s Tea Shoppe, that was where. The cart might be stopped—and pretty darn abruptly--by the brick planter full of white petunias in front, but Becky and the furniture would go flying in through the plate glass window and land on the laps of the little old ladies having afternoon tea and crumpets.
Tyler didn’t think of himself as any sort of hero, but he would have considered himself to be pretty lame if he didn’t at least make an attempt to keep that from happening. That was why he stepped in front of the cart and grabbed hold of the leading bar and yanked hard, using all the strength in his big, muscular body to pull it around and drag it to a stop against the parking curb right in front of Bert’s Café.
It was really no big deal. He’d done the same sort of thing to bulls bigger than this back in his teenage rodeo days. It was all a matter of physics and confidence. You had to know the right time to move and the right angle to apply strength with. And you couldn’t hesitate once you started to make your move.
Hell, it was simple, really. But for some reason, everybody who saw him do it seemed to think he’d pulled a Superman stunt. Everybody was laughing and jumping around him and slapping him on the back. Jared and Mack had come out of the café to see what all the commotion was about, and they were shaking their heads in admiration.
But he hardly noticed. All he saw at that moment was Becky Harris.
Her huge brown eyes were shining like a kid on Christmas morning. Her cheeks were flushed like roses and her fudge-colored hair was floating wildly around her pretty face, catching the light and giving off a halo effect. He’d never seen her look more beautiful. It made his breath stop deep in his chest. In fact, it felt like he didn’t need to breathe at all any more as long as he was looking at her.
She was launching herself at him, coming through the air with both arms open, and he reached out and caught her against his chest and held her there, looking down into those wonderful warm brown eyes, wishing he didn’t have to let her go.
“Tyler Carrington, you saved my life!” she cried, hugging him around the neck. “Not to mention my furniture. I can’t believe you just stepped out and did that!”
She planted a kiss on his cheek and he stared at her, feeling the warmth seep up his neck and realizing with shock that he must be blushing. Time stood still, just like it did in those romantic movie scenes. Everything around them seemed to fade into a misty fog and his gaze was locked with hers. He could feel every curve of her body, sense her heartbeat. And he wanted to keep her there against him forever.
But he was going to have to let her go. She was starting to pull back, and he knew he should do the same. Besides, it was about time he took a breath. So he reluctantly released her and stepped back.
“Oh my God, look! You cut yourself,” she cried, grabbing his hand and staring down at it in horror. Blood oozed from a cut he didn’t know he had.
“It’s nothing,” he muttered, but he couldn’t look away from her eyes as she gazed up at him, tragedy written large on her face.
“How about you? Are you okay? That was some wild ride you were on there.”
She laughed. “Now that it’s over, it was almost fun.”
He frowned, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you jump off?”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that. I had to make sure it didn’t hit anybody.”
“Right.” He gave her a crooked grin and she laughed again, grabbing his good hand.
“Oh, Tyler, you come with me,” she said, leading him back up the hill. “The delivery men will take care of that darn cart. Come on. I’ll get you patched up. It’s the least I can do after you saved me that way.”
He followed her just like she told him to, only he wasn’t really sure why. He supposed it had something to do with the way her skirt fit snuggly around her hips and her blouse gaped open at the neck to show off a generous swell of soft, rounded breasts—and the way her smile seemed to light up the sky. He was a man, after all. Could he help it if she looked good enough to coax into a hay loft?
But there wasn’t any sign of farm life in her new interior decorating store, and the next thing he knew he was sitting in her office, holding out his hand while she dabbed peroxide on the cut and dried it with gauze, getting out scissors to cut him a bandage. She was babbling on and on about how the men delivering the furniture had lost control of the cart while she was on it, surveying the shipment of Regency chairs that had just arrived from back East, making sure they were in proper condition for her to accept delivery, how scared she’d been as the cart had picked up speed going down the hill, how she’d been too scared to jump off by the time she’d seen him.
“If you hadn’t stepped out and stopped the cart,” she kept saying, “I don’t know what would have happened. You were the only one who had the guts to actually do something.” Her eyes shone as she looked into his. “Tyler Carrington, you’re incredible.”
He didn’t feel very incredible. In fact, he was beginning to feel a lot like a fool. He’d spent years staying as far away from this woman as he could get, and now here he was, practically holding hands with her, letting himself fall under her spell again—just like in high school. The trouble was, he could hardly keep his eyes off her. There was something about her that knocked him out.
There always had been. And that was why he had to watch out. Because the one time when he was young and he’d tried to reach out for her, shy as a colt, ready to run if she frowned, she’d pretty much taken his tender young ego and stomped that sucker flat. He wasn’t going to let her set him up for a fiasco like that again. No way.
He glanced out at her store. She had posters on the wall, pictures of furniture groupings and kitchen ideas. A couple of mismatched chairs were pushed into a corner and two tables were stacked on top of each other. More furniture was still wrapped in brown paper and set about in random piles. The place didn’t really look ready for prime time, but then, she’d only opened it a month or so before. He supposed it took time to settle in and get things the way she surely must want them.
He turned his attention to her, studying her for signs of changes. Her hair was longer than it used to be. Instead of the pixie cut she’d worn in high school, it now swept long and lustrous about her shoulders in deep, graceful waves. Her form was as slim as ever, though a bit more curvaceous than he remembered it. All in all, she was still the girl he used to dream about at night. But that was something it wouldn’t pay to remember—so he was working hard on forgetting it.
“You just stay where you’re sitting,” she was saying, bustling about as she began to put her medical supplies away. “I’m going to get you a cup of tea and then we’ll talk about old times. Okay?”
He glanced at her and quickly looked away, staring out into her store where the men were back at work with their delivery.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay any longer,” he told her stiffly, gathering his resources as he got ready to make a break for it. “I’ve got to pick up Sandy…you remember my little sister, Sandy? School lets out in a few minutes and I don’t like to have her standing on the street, waiting for me, so…”
Becky turned and looked at him. “Oh, that’s a shame.”
Was it his imagination, or did she actually look as though she were disappointed? Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t. He didn’t trust it, and he looked away just as the front door of the store opened and a perky redhead bounced in.
“Tyler Carrington!” cried Becky’s sister, Misty as she came skidding to a stop before him. “You are the man of the hour. Everybody’s talking about how you picked that cart up and carried it to the side of the road….”
Tyler stood. He couldn’t help grinning at Misty. She was cute as a bug and full of life. “I did no such thing,” he told her gruffly. “I just gave it a tweak. It calmed down and did what I told it to, just like a bull does when you whisper in its ear.”
Misty rolled her eyes and laughed, exchanging a glance with Becky. “Cowboy talk,” Misty said with mock scorn. “You can’t fool me. You’re just modest, that’s all.”
He knew Misty must be all of twenty-one by now, but she was a young twenty-one. She was still taking classes at the local junior college, trying to decide if she was going to go on to university or try something else with her life. In the meantime, she had the look of someone determined to squeeze every bit of fun out of her day that she possibly could.
He grinned at her, then looked at Becky. Mack was right. Misty certainly had filled out, and very nicely. But somehow he didn’t think he’d ever be able to see her as anything but a kid. Becky, on the other hand… Now there was a woman who had it all.
Yeah, a voice inside mocked him. She’s got it all, including a football hero named Shane who she chose over you a long time ago. Get real, Carrington. And get out of here.
“I’ve got to get over to the high school,” he said, picking up his hat and turning to go.
“Oh, me too,” Misty cried, as though she’d forgotten. “I promised Trevor I would pick him up. But my car’s at Phil’s garage, getting a new muffler put on.” She flashed a smile at Tyler. “Do you think you could drop me off to pick up my car on your way? It should be ready by now.”
Tyler nodded and wondered if anyone was ever able to resist anything this pretty girl wanted. He had to think a minute to remember who Trevor was--the youngest of the Harris children, Becky and Misty’s sixteen year old brother. A pretty nice boy, as he remembered him, but a little full of himself. And what boy wouldn’t be with two big sisters to cater to his every whim?
He glanced at Becky, more to check how she was reacting to Misty’s request than anything else. He knew how it could be in families and he didn’t want to get in the middle of anything. But Becky was gazing at him speculatively, her lower lip caught by her pearly white teeth in a way that made his blood speed up. She didn’t look like she was listening. She looked like she was looking him over with some purpose in mind, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to stick around and find out just what that was.
“Sure, I can drop you,” he said hurriedly to Misty, starting toward the front entrance to the store. “Come on.”
“Great,” Misty said, grabbing her purse and slinging the strap over her shoulder as she came after him. “Tyler Carrington, to the rescue again!”
To his surprise, Becky had followed him and she stopped him with a hand on his arm before he made it out the door. He looked down at her and hesitated.
“I just want to thank you again, Tyler,” she said, her eyes glowing. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do to repay you for what you did.”
“Uh…sure,” he said, feeling a tingle start up his arm from where she was holding it. “Will do. See you around.”
“See you around,” she echoed, releasing him.
He walked off down the street with Misty bouncing beside him and Becky watched him go, her arms folded across her chest, her mood rapidly shifting to melancholy. He was a good guy. She’d known him just about all her life, but she saw him very rarely these days. Even so, even when it had been a year or more since the last time they’d met, she always felt instantly in tune with him in some mysterious, visceral way she couldn’t really describe. Maybe it was because they’d grown up in the same town and came from the same sort of people.
But no. It had to be more than that. After all, she could claim that sort of connection with half the people in Destiny Valley, and she didn’t feel that way with anyone but Tyler. Funny.
Maybe it was because he’d always been such a good friend to Shane. At least in the old days. Shane hardly ever mentioned him any longer and she was pretty sure they hadn’t gotten together in a couple of years. Her fingers tightened on her arms. Maybe if they’d stayed closer…. Maybe if Shane had kept in touch with old friends like Tyler….
But it was too late to think about things like that now. Life went on. You couldn’t hit the rewind and do it over again just because you didn’t like the way the story was turning out.
She thought of what Tyler had done, risking a lot to stop the cart she was careening down the street on, and she hugged her arms in closer, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. It was reassuring to know there were still men who would do things like that these days. She watched from the doorway until she couldn’t see him any longer, and then she sighed. A shower of red fall leaves, tossed by a sudden breeze, covered the sidewalk.
They were gone, and if matters went true to form, she wouldn’t see Tyler again for months. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him since college. He never seemed to change. He always had the gruff exterior, covering up the sweet, decent guy she knew him to be underneath. She wasn’t sure why he felt he had to cover it up, especially with her. They had too long a history for pretences.
She gazed at the huge delivery truck, still parked in front of her store, and the men bringing in the last of the chairs s
he’d ordered. As she turned back into the room, she caught a glance from one of the men.
“Say,” he said with half a smile. “Someone out on the street said that you were engaged to Shane Garlock, the football player.”
“Did they?” she responded absently, looking at her watch.
“Could you, like, get us tickets for Sunday’s game?” he asked, lingering to see what her answer would be.
She looked at him. This was a question she got all the time, and it hardly even bothered her anymore. She’d worked up a standard answer that she gave, and it seemed to satisfy most who asked.
“Sorry,” she said crisply. “I don’t see much of Shane during football season. We have an agreement. We live our own lives until after the Super Bowl.”
“Darn,” the young man said good-naturedly. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to try, huh?”
“Of course not.” She looked at the row of chairs they’d already brought in. “Are you about finished? I’ve got an appointment with a client in a few minutes and I’d like to lock up when I go.”
“Oh. Sure. There’s only a desk left. We’ll have it in for you in no time.”
“Good.”
She walked back to her office to pick up the samples she needed for her client meeting. She paused for a moment, looking at the chair where Tyler had been sitting and remembering what it had been like. He’d seemed a bit ill at ease, as though he wasn’t sure why she was so glad to have him here.
She smiled, recalling how he’d met her gaze, then looked away quickly a couple of times. He’d always been such a sweet guy. Who was the poet who’d said the saddest words in the English language were “what might have been”? She couldn’t remember his name, but she thought he’d said something pretty profound when he’d said that.
“What might have been,” she repeated softly, then turned and picked up her keys and prepared to leave the building.
Chapter Three