Falling For Her Boss
Page 23
“Why wouldn’t it last? Because of the cancer?” Ashley questioned before her dad could speak. “Are you really going to argue that after what happened today? Bryan was shot, Melissa.”
“I know. I was there.”
“But you’re still fighting how you feel and for what reason?” Ashley argued. “You couldn’t keep Bryan from getting shot, and you can’t control your future and whether or not your cancer returns.”
“We’re all going to die one day, Mel,” Joe murmured.
“That we are,” her father agreed. “It’s not how long we live, it’s how we live that’s important. How we love.”
“Melissa.” Ashley sat forward. “You’re scared, and you should be. Loving a man like Bryan won’t be easy. I only know what I’ve lived, but I can honestly tell you I wouldn’t change the course of things. Losing Mac hurt, and at the time I didn’t know what I’d do without him. But he taught me how to love, and if I hadn’t known him, hadn’t loved him and lost him, I wouldn’t have known how to love Joe.”
“But that’s not the same thing. Mac’s death was an accident. A tragedy in a time of war. He didn’t already have a deadly disease waiting to spring up again.”
Her dad shot out of his chair and walked away from them.
“You don’t have a disease, either,” Ashley countered. “You had one, past tense. I could be diagnosed with cancer tomorrow where yours might never come back. And, Melissa, being sick once doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy of being loved. Maybe…maybe like Mac, the girl Bryan lost taught him how to love you, and all this—today—is meant to prove to you how much you really love him. Look at us,” she said, waving her hand at the gathering surrounding her. “Would you ever in a million years have imagined all of us sitting here like this talking about love?”
Gruff chuckles followed Ashley’s comment. Joe’s, her father’s, even Randall’s odd-sounding rumble.
“Maybe this is to make you fight for Bryan and not the other way around,” Joe suggested. “Once Pretty Boy is released, he’ll not be lacking offers of comfort from women.”
“They’d better not—” She broke off, her cheeks heating.
“Hmm. Love and jealousy go hand in hand, Mel. Don’t think they don’t.” Her father scowled as he took his seat again.
“Think about it,” Ashley continued softly. “What if your situation were reversed, and Bryan had had cancer?”
“Ashley, please.” She was so confused. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything beyond worry about whether Bryan would be all right. All the talk about life and death and love—she just wanted Bryan to be okay.
“Hey, what else have you got to do while we wait? Come on, Melissa, what if? What if you loved Bryan and he pushed you away because he’d been sick a while ago? Would you let him do it or would you love him anyway?”
“It’s not the same.”
“It is-s.” Randall lifted and lowered his hand on the arm of his wheelchair with a thump. “It is-s.”
Ashley smiled at the old man before turning her attention back to Melissa. “See? Tonight proved that, yeah, your cancer could return, but Bryan is in just as much danger. He was shot by a drug addict, but it could’ve just as easily been a car accident or a multitude of other things. Dying can happen at any time. It’s up to us if we’re ready for it. Every moment we have with our loved ones is precious. And to Bryan and the rest of us, that means you’re precious, too. We love you and we’re going to love you whether you like it or not. It’s up to you whether or not you love us back.”
Of course she loved them. She loved all of them. Every one of them. Even…even Ellen. Because she’d made her dad happy. Because Ellen cared enough to give Melissa a treasured keepsake to make her feel better and because Ellen carried Melissa’s little sister or brother. That was a start, a wonderful start. Overwhelmed, Melissa lowered her head. Her heart ached with wanting to believe Ashley’s words. “What about children? He’s so good with kids and I can’t give him any.”
Her father’s thick brows lowered in a scowl. “That boy doesn’t strike me as the type of man who’d only love a child if it were his own flesh and blood.”
He was right. Bryan would love any child, no matter what. She thought of him stitching up the little boy’s head the night of the barbecue. Remembered the look on his face.
“Dr. Booker? Would you and Chief York come this way? The surgery is complete and Dr. Ackerman would like to speak to you.”
Melissa jerked at the sound of the nurse’s voice. The woman didn’t look at anyone other than Randall and her dad, but even though the old man hadn’t said more than a few words the entire time he’d been there, one glance told Melissa he understood her fears.
Pulling his gaze from hers, Randall raised his hand toward the nurse. “Have him c-come here. We’re his-s f-f-family.”
The nurse hesitated only a moment. “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Randall nodded. “Families s-stick together.” He tapped his heart. “F-faith, M-Melissa.”
“Chief York? Dr. Booker?” A scrub-clad doctor sauntered toward the group but stopped in front of Randall. “I’m Dr. Ackerman. Dr. Booker, the surgery on your grandson was touch and go, but we removed the bullet and repaired the damage. He’s stable and should make a full recovery. He won’t wake up for several hours yet, but if you’d like to go back and sit with him, you can.”
Randall shook his head. “T-take her.” He pointed toward Melissa and she stepped forward, unable to remember when she’d stood up.
The doctor’s eyes flicked toward her with interest then back to Randall again. “It’s family only, sir.”
Randall dipped his head in a nod. “His f-fiancée.”
“I didn’t realize,” the doctor murmured, dipping his head once and smiling at her now. “Nurse Collins will take you back.”
Melissa couldn’t wait to get to Bryan’s side, but she stopped long enough to hug Randall. “Thank you.”
The old man’s eyes sparkled with warmth and understanding. So much like Bryan’s. “T-tell ’im you l-love him. Best m-medicine.”
She tried to smile. Maybe it was the best medicine. And maybe they were all right.
But did she have the courage to take that ultimate leap of faith?
* * *
BRYAN STRUGGLED to find his way through the fog. His side hurt, his throat hurt and he felt like he’d been slammed by a semi. Then it came back in an instant and he tensed, groaning when pain followed.
“Bryan? Bryan?”
Icy-cold fingers framed his face, the shock of it bringing him fully awake.
“Oh, thank God,” he heard Melissa rasp huskily. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Something hit his mouth, salty and warm. “Don’t…cry,” he whispered, opening his eyes.
Melissa sniffled, her nose runny, her eyes red rimmed. She looked beautiful. Scared out of her mind, but beautiful.
“Heard you after…I got shot.” Most of it was fuzzy, and maybe it had been a dream, but he didn’t think he’d dreamed hearing the words he’d waited so long to hear her say. “You said…you love me.” Saying the words out loud made him smile. “Say it again.”
Melissa released a husky laugh. “I love you,” she whispered, her hands trembling against his cheeks. “I love you.”
“That mean…you’ll marry me?”
Her expression softened even more, the face of a woman torn. His heart rate increased and the monitor behind him bleeped more quickly as a result.
“Oh, Bryan. Just rest. We’ll talk and sort things through once you’re out of here. I’ll be here, though. I won’t—”
He shook his head and tried to wet his lips with a tongue drier than desert sand. “Now. Tell me now.”
She stared down at him, searching. Hopeful? “You’re taking advantage of being hurt.”
“Is it working?”
Her laugh was choked with tears. “You’re sure about everything? Bryan, you have to be
sure. The cancer and…and children.”
“I know.”
Her eyes sparkled with tears. “And my scars? How I d-don’t have any breasts?” She whispered the word breasts.
His eyes narrowed on hers when she finally managed to meet his stare. “I’m scarred now. You going to…hold it against me?”
She laughed softly again, doubt-tinged but happy, too. He wanted her happy. She deserved happy.
“Never.”
“Good.” He mustered up the energy to smile, relieved. “Because now you’ve got to…get to work. Lots to plan.”
Melissa wiped her eyes and sniffled. “We just finished a huge fund-raiser and have a medical facility to build. What are we working on now?”
“Wedding. Six months. I’m going to teach you to…plan ahead.”
Epilogue
Four years later…
MELISSA PACKED AWAY the last of the quotes she’d pulled from the cork-board lining her dry-erase board, then straightened to survey her classroom. How could another school year be over?
She and Bryan, their family and friends, had celebrated her five-year milestone weeks ago at Randall’s large home—now their home since they’d moved in with him—and she had a whole summer to play with her daughter.
“Mommy, mommy! They’re chasing me!”
Brianna, adopted a year before, ran into her classroom and flung herself at Melissa, wrapping her chubby little arms around her legs. She giggled excitedly, gazing over her shoulder expectantly until her aunt Madeline raced into the room behind her.
Four years old, Maddy had the same blond hair and blue eyes that Melissa shared with her dad, and once she’d held her baby sister in her arms, Melissa had known she couldn’t spend her life mourning her lost daughter or withholding the love she had to give.
“Pick me up, pick me up! They’ll get me!”
Melissa laughed and placed a loud, smacking kiss on her daughter’s forehead before swinging her up in her arms, holding her against her chest. A new and improved chest thanks to the reconstructive surgery she’d insisted on having before putting on a wedding gown. She’d made Bryan wait a full year to get married, just so she could have the time needed to be the woman she wanted to be when she began her new life.
Knowing she didn’t have to have breasts for her husband to love her and wanting them because they made her feel better about her body were two wholly different things. She hadn’t done it for Bryan but for herself. For her future. “Now you’re safe.”
Bryan entered the room behind the kids and she shared a smile with him, one of love and life and instant awareness. His gaze slid over her in a knee-weakening sweep blatantly full of promises to be carried out later, and the sight made her want to call Ellen and see if she was up to babysitting Brianna for a couple hours. Maybe all night.
“You ready to go?” Bryan asked, his smile knowing good and well that he got to her. Every. Single. Time.
“We got a surprise!”
“You do?” She eyed the girls, wondering which one would spill the news first. “What is it?”
“A—”
“Not s’pose to tell!” Maddy called.
“—picnic!”
Bryan winced. “So much for that.”
She pulled him close and gave him a searing kiss. Bryan might have been a player once, but marriage had changed him. Even Joe said so. Their love life was the stuff of trendy magazine articles, and for the past four years she and Bryan had won a different award in the Taylorsville Tribune—that of Taylorsville’s Most Romantic Couple. Not even Joe and Ashley had beaten them yet.
“A picnic, huh? Any special reason?” she asked.
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
“What’s the occasion?”
Holding her and Brianna both in his arms, her husband grinned. “A celebration.”
She drew in a sharp breath, the clues falling into place. “Because…because…?”
Bryan nodded, his smile tender. “I just got the call. The paperwork will be completed tomorrow and then you will be a mommy again very soon.”
“A little boy. Oh, Bryan!”
His lips met hers and held. Tears prickled behind her lids, but they were happy tears. Tears full of joy and thankfulness and life.
Things happened. Good things, bad things. Ugly, awful things. Not a day would pass without some sort of problem or issue, but she’d finally—finally—figured out it all made sense.
Because without all of those things, she’d never truly appreciate the small, quiet moments that made life worth living.
* * *
DID YOU ENJOY FALLING FOR HER BOSS? WANT TO READ MORE? CHECK OUT AN EXCERPT FROM WITH THIS MAN THE NEXT BOOK IN THE SMALL TOWN SCANDALS SERIES!
WITH THIS MAN EXCERPT:
MARLEY STARED into Beau’s beautiful blue eyes and despised the quivering sensation inside her, her mind filled with images she never wanted to revisit. Why her? Why now?
“It’s not an act. I don’t remember you.” Beau’s expression was one of concern and despite the anger that had built inside her over the past five years, she felt drawn to him on a basic level. How sick and twisted was that? The only person Beau had ever been concerned about was himself, and he’d proven it to her in the cruelest way.
Marley blinked hard to ease the sting of unwanted and humiliating tears. This was adding to the stress of her mother’s coldness and the little hold she maintained on her self-control was rapidly slipping. In response Beau moved yet closer, his gaze locked on hers. She looked away. She didn’t want him to see what he could do to her after all this time.
A scab covered a cut stretching from forehead to temple and it matched the other cuts and scrapes on his face, a few colorful bruises beginning to fade with purple and yellow hues. The imperfections didn’t detract from his looks, however. Beau was still tall, dark and horrible for a woman’s equilibrium.
Pull yourself together. Trying to do just that, she took in the width of his chest, and noted the arm not covered by a royal blue sling was corded with muscle.
“Are you okay?”
Not exactly. She nodded, unable to speak because of the lump of fear lodged in her throat. Despite the numerous times she’d held this very confrontation in her head, she was speechless. Amazing.
“Look, ah…” He lifted his arm, the one hanging in the sling. “I was in an accident and don’t remember so well these days.”
She snorted, wondering how many women had bought that story when he told it. “It’s okay, Beau. Spare me the lies and the games. There isn’t any need for them and I heard plenty from you five years ago.”
Beau closed what little distance remained between them and she stiffened. Heat rolled off him, hotter than the sun overhead. A frown pulled his brows into a deep V, and she had to give him credit, he really did look confused. For a second her resolve faltered, but no. Lying came as second nature to him.
“It’s not a lie. Crazy as it sounds, I have amnesia.”
Marley blinked then released a ragged laugh. “I see,” she drawled, unable to control her sarcasm but careful to keep her voice low due to their audience. She shook her head, disgusted with herself and him.
Who was he trying to kid? Beau had been well-known among his friends as being a BS’er. But amnesia? She’d read novels with better story lines.
“I’m not lying.” He squeezed the cell phone so tight the belt clip unhinged from the casing with a snap. “I’m sorry I don’t recognize you, but at least give me a chance to explain.”
She shook her head firmly. “Save it.” No way would he do this to her again.
“What did I—” He groaned and shut his eyes, lifting the hand that held the phone to his head and rubbing hard. “Look,” he continued in a softer tone, “I was in the Marines and took a couple of hits, one of which was to my head. See the scar? I don’t remember things now. I don’t remember you. It’s nothing personal.”
Her mouth parted to draw in much-needed air. Nothing personal?
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Beau squinted at her, and standing so close she saw the strain etched on his features. Beau might have been good when it came to putting on a show for potential bedmates, but she didn’t think he could fake that much pain. She saw it now that the shock was starting to wear off.
“Maybe if you tell me your name?”
“No need. You’ve forgotten it, let’s just leave it that way, shall we?”
She turned to go back to work, but Beau caught her arm in a gentle grip. “Wait.”
“What’s going on here?” An older man emerged from a house the crew was working on and hurried toward them. “Is there a problem?”
Beau dropped his hold, but not until he’d slid his hand down the length and left a trail of fire behind. Taking a couple steps back, he waited.
People watched. She could feel them, knew they were the topic of conversation all around the site as more and more of the workers paused to see what was happening.
More attention. Just what she didn’t need. Why now? Why now? Marley fought the panic. She’d worked so hard to overcome her past, to make up with her family. How long would it be before the gossips informed her parents of Beau’s presence in town? Here? “Beau was telling me a story.” She struggled to find a careless smile and knew her effort came up lacking.
“It’s not a ‘story,’” Beau insisted again. “Pop, help me out here.”
“I’m Barry Buchanan.” Stepping close, the older man stuck out his hand and waited until she reluctantly placed her smaller palm in his. “Buchanan & Son Electric. You know my son?”
“We’ve met.” She could certainly see the resemblance. Mr. Buchanan wore a ball cap, but he had the same intense blue eyes, the same build. Beau stood a good three inches above his father, but it was easy to picture the man Beau would become. Physically, anyway.
First impressions being what they were, Barry Buchanan seemed like a sincere man. A friendly, fatherly type. Too bad his son was a louse.