From Neighbors...to Newlyweds?

by Brenda Harlen

  When she entered the living room, she saw that Matt was already hunkered down beside the twins to examine their construction projects. He admired the “fine craftsmanship” of Shane’s hospital and the “creative design” of Quinn’s fire station and commented that there were enough bricks left over to build a whole city.

  “Do you want to help us?” Quinn asked.

  But Shane was shaking his head before Matt even had a chance to respond.

  “Daddies don’t play,” he reminded his brother, and the matter-of-fact tone of his voice made Georgia’s heart ache.

  Phillip had loved his children—she had never ever doubted that fact. But she’d never understood, until she’d seen how easily Matt interacted with the boys, how much the twins had missed out on by not having a hands-on dad. She knew they’d felt rebuffed when Phillip had been too tired to show much interest in whatever they were doing, and she’d tried to make it up to them. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t be the father they needed.

  “Some adults don’t have time to play,” Matt acknowledged. “But sometimes adults need to play—” he glanced up at Georgia and grinned “—just to prove they’re still kids at heart.”

  “Are you a kid at heart?” Quinn wanted to know.

  “Definitely,” Matt said, and dug into the bin of bricks to prove it.

  * * *

  Georgia left the boys to their toys and set about cleaning up the kitchen. Matt and the twins had made a pretty good attempt at destroying her mother’s stove, but the wielding of a scrubber with some serious muscle eventually succeeding in removing the last traces of egg from the ceramic cooktop.

  Still, the cleanup was a small price to pay for everything Matt had done for her. Not only had he let her sleep through the night—and oh, what a glorious indulgence that had been!—he’d helped her boys make breakfast for her. And now, when she thought he would have been more than anxious to get back to his own house and his own life, he was playing with her children, giving them the male attention they needed more desperately than she’d guessed.

  But as grateful as she was to Matt, she was also wary. It was obvious to Georgia that the boys already adored their new neighbor and she was worried that they would start to rely on him for too much. Because as great as Matt had been, he wouldn’t stick around. Because no man in her life had ever stuck around.

  If that was cynical, well, she had reason to be cynical. Her biological father had walked out before she was three years old, and not one of the three stepfathers who had passed through her life had stayed for much longer than that. The few casual and short-lived relationships she’d had as a teenager had done nothing to alter her opinion. It wasn’t until she met Phillip that she let herself look to the future and trust that he would be there. But it turned out that she’d been wrong about that.

  She knew that her husband hadn’t chosen to leave her, and yet, the end result was the same. He was gone and she was alone. Well, not entirely alone. And she would forever be grateful to Phillip for their three beautiful children.

  But as happy as they seemed most of the time—discounting Pippa’s colic for the moment—she couldn’t help worrying about them, about the void in their lives that only a father could fill.

  Since Phillip’s death, she’d sometimes found herself wondering if Charlotte’s string of impetuous unions had been—even in part—an attempt to provide her daughters with a sense of family. Except that her daughters were all grown up now and Charlotte was still following her heart—wherever it might lead.

  Georgia had no intention of following that same path, not for any reason and certainly not on the hunt for a substitute father for her children. She wasn’t willing to risk her heart again, and she certainly wasn’t going to risk theirs.

  But as she heard the boys giggling in response to something Matt had said or done in the other room, she had to wonder if it wasn’t already too late.

  * * *

  Matt made a conscious effort to keep his distance from his neighbor and her kids over the next week. Work at the hospital kept him busy enough for the first few days—it was his days off that caused him trouble.

  In the space of a few weeks, he’d become accustomed to seeing Georgia and her kids almost every day, even if it was only for a few minutes of conversation on the sidewalk. He missed Quinn’s endless barrage of questions, Shane’s intense focus as he listened to his responses, and the joyful light in Pippa’s eyes whenever she saw him. But mostly he missed spending time with Georgia.

  Every time he pulled into his driveway, his gaze automatically swung toward the house next door. More than once, he considered stopping by just to see how she was doing and to check if the shadows under her eyes had faded. Too many times, he’d started to head in that direction before his self-preservation instincts kicked in and turned him around again.

  Instead, he did some more work in the basement. He hung drywall, taped seams, plastered nail holes. The physical labor kept his hands busy, but it didn’t stop him from thinking about Georgia. He spent some time hanging out with his brothers and took a fair bit of ribbing for having struck out with the beautiful blonde next door. It was easier to accept their jabs than admit that he’d walked away from the plate before the first pitch had ever been thrown. He’d been nicknamed Mr. Clutch in high school, because he’d always played his best in the biggest games. But if this was a game, it was the big leagues, and there was more at stake here than a score.

  Georgia wasn’t just a beautiful woman, she was the mother of three beautiful children, and they were a package deal. He couldn’t take one without the other, and he was afraid to admit how much he wanted the whole package. And so, instead of stepping up to the plate, he’d walked away. Mr. Clutch had been face-to-face with what was potentially the biggest opportunity in his life, and he’d choked. And if his brothers knew the truth, he’d never hear the end of it.

  So he let them think that he’d struck out and he tried not to think about Georgia while he listened to Jack boast about the clerk who had propositioned him in the judge’s chambers. But when Luke started rambling on about the exploits of the puppies, he couldn’t help but remember how totally enthralled the twins had been by them—and that those puppies had played a pivotal role in his first meeting with his neighbors.

  It was readily apparent that Luke was trying to convince one or both of his brothers that their lives would not be complete without a canine companion. He’d found good homes for five of them, he admitted, and had decided to keep one for himself, which meant that there were only two left.

  Jack, who was hardly ever at the penthouse apartment he paid an astronomical rent for, refused to be swayed. He didn’t have the time or the energy that a puppy would demand, not to mention the havoc that an untrained animal would wreak on his designer furniture and hardwood floors.

  So Luke gave up on Jack and focused his efforts on his other brother. Matt was able to tune out most of his arguments, but he couldn’t forget the awe and excitement on both Quinn’s and Shane’s faces when they’d seen the puppies in his backyard. And he couldn’t forget the stubbornness and longing in Shane’s voice when he told his mother, “We do want a puppy.”

  And Matt knew he was fighting a losing battle, because he couldn’t refuse anything that would put a smile on the boys’ faces—and maybe Georgia’s, too.

  Chapter Eight

  Matt was avoiding her.

  Georgia didn’t know why, but she knew it was true.

  There was a part of her that insisted the “why” didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Matt had done what she expected him to do—he’d walked away. But another part insisted that there had to be a reason for his withdrawal. And whether or not he wanted to be friends, they were neighbors, and she didn’t want there to be any awkwardness between them when their paths crossed.

  More than a week after he’d made her breakfast, on a rare night in which Pippa had actually settled down at a reasonable hour, she waited outside on her back po
rch to catch him when he came home from work.

  She recognized the quiet hum of the engine as he pulled into his driveway, and her heart started to beat just a little bit faster.

  She was unaccountably nervous, and already second-guessing her decision to confront him. Maybe he hadn’t been avoiding her. Maybe he’d just been busy. Or—and this was a possibility that left her slightly unsettled—maybe he’d done some thinking after their breakfast conversation and had started dating someone. And wouldn’t she feel like a complete idiot if she went over there now and he wasn’t alone?

  She decided that knocking on his door after ten o’clock at night, in the absence of an emergency, might make it look like she’d been waiting for him. And although she had been, she didn’t want him to know it. A realization that only made her feel more ridiculous.

  She had just turned to go back into the house when the light over Matt’s deck came on and he stepped outside. Alone.

  He dropped down onto the top step, his forearms on his knees, a beer bottle dangling from his fingertips.

  Georgia hesitated. She was pretty good at reading body language, and the weariness in Matt’s broad shoulders was visible even in the shadows from fifty feet away. He lifted the bottle to his lips, took a long swallow.

  Her decision made, she ducked back into the house to make sure all of the kids were settled and sleeping, then she clipped the baby monitor onto her belt and made her way across the yard.

  Despite his preoccupation, he must have heard her footsteps rustling in the grass, because his head came up and he peered into the darkness. She stepped into the circle of light.

  “Georgia.” She saw surprise flit across his face and heard the pleasure in his voice before he seemed to shut down all of his emotions.

  It confirmed her suspicion—he had been avoiding her. For some reason, he was deliberately trying to put distance between them. But right now, she didn’t care about any of that. All that concerned her was the look of abject misery on his face.

  “Rough day?”

  He just nodded.

  Though he hadn’t invited her to sit down, she did so anyway, settling onto the step beside him. “Can I do anything?”

  He shook his head and lifted the bottle to his lips again.

  The silence stretched between them, broken only by the chirp of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head again. “Not really.”

  She waited another minute, hoping he would change his mind. He remained silent, and she pushed herself back to her feet.

  “But I wouldn’t mind if you stayed awhile,” he said. “I thought I wanted to be alone, but that’s not really a great place right now.”

  She glanced back at her own house. It wasn’t really so far, but she didn’t like to be away from her children, even when they were sleeping. “Can you bring your beer over to my step?”

  “You want to be able to hear the kids,” he guessed.

  “I know it seems silly when I have this—” she tapped the monitor clipped on her belt “—but I feel more comfortable being close.”

  “It doesn’t seem silly at all,” he told her, rising to his feet. “In fact, I wish more parents were as concerned about their children as you are.”

  She sensed that his comment was somehow connected to his dark mood, and wondered what had happened at the hospital. He’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it, and she didn’t want to pry, but she wanted him to know that she was there for him—as he’d been for her when she needed him.

  When they were settled on her deck, she decided to open up the channels of communication. Even if they didn’t talk about what was bothering him, she thought it might help him just to talk.

  “After living in Manhattan for so long, it took me a while to get used to the sights and sounds outside of the city. It seems so quiet here—” she smiled wryly “—at least it is when Pippa’s not screaming. At first, it seemed too quiet. But now, I sit out on the porch sometimes just to listen to the crickets, and I feel a sense of peace that I’ve never known anywhere else.”

  “I used to take it for granted,” he admitted. “Growing up around here, I didn’t really know anything else. But the years I spent away at college gave me a new appreciation for this town.”

  “I never thought I wanted anything like this. But now that I’m here, I can’t imagine a more perfect place to raise my kids. I want to watch them run around the backyard, chasing butterflies and playing tag. I want to hear them giggle when they jump into piles of leaves we’ve raked up together.”

  “You’ll have lots of leaves,” he assured her, looking around at the towering maples that lined the back of her property. “Probably more than you want to rake.”

  “Luckily, I have this wonderful neighbor who’s been a very big help with a lot of my outdoor chores.”

  “It’s not as if I enjoy cutting the grass—actually, I do enjoy cutting the grass,” he decided, sounding almost surprised by the realization. “The mindless physical work is a welcome diversion after a twelve-hour shift at the hospital.”

  “Then I’m sure raking leaves in the fall will provide similar benefits.”

  “And shoveling snow?”

  She smiled. “If it works for you, I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the pleasure.”

  “Believe me, there are other—and much more pleasurable—stress releases.”

  She felt her cheeks color, but refused to follow where his train of thought was trying to lead her. “Talking about the cause of stress also helps,” she agreed.

  “I wasn’t talking about talking,” he informed her.

  “I know,” she admitted. “But it can help. And if you ever decide you do want to talk, I’m happy to listen.”

  He was silent for a moment, considering her offer. She didn’t expect he would actually open up to her. It had been apparent that whatever was bothering him wasn’t something he wanted to discuss, but he finally said, “I performed surgery on a four-year-old girl with a spiral fracture tonight.”

  “What’s a spiral fracture?”

  “It’s a break caused by twisting the bone—a common type of injury suffered by skiers. Their feet are tied into boots locked into skis, and when a ski twists around, the leg automatically twists with it.”

  “It seems unlikely that she was skiing anywhere around here in May.”

  “She wasn’t. And it wasn’t her leg, it was her arm.”

  It didn’t take her long to make the logical jump. “She was abused?”

  “The mother is denying it, but X-rays revealed that the child’s arm had been broken before and healed improperly because it wasn’t treated. So when I fixed the new break, I also had to rebreak and repair the previous injury.”

  Georgia’s eyes filled with tears. “And she’s only four?”

  He nodded.

  “I’d say that was a pretty rough day,” she agreed.

  “I’m doing okay now.”

  She touched her lips to his. Softly. Briefly.

  He stilled. “What was that for?”

  “A kiss to make it better,” she said lightly. “Because you’re hurting.”

  * * *

  Georgia started to draw back, but Matt snaked his arm around her waist and held her close.

  “I’m feeling a lot of things right now,” he told her. “And hurt isn’t anywhere near the top of the list.”

  Her eyes grew wide, her breath hitched, and he could see the pulse point at the base of her jaw fluttering.

  “I think we’re getting a little sidetracked,” she hedged.

  “Are we? Or are we finally back on the track that we’ve been heading toward all along?”

  “How is it possible that we were heading anywhere in the same direction when you’ve been avoiding me all week?”

  His lips curved, just a little. “Did you miss me?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, sounding piqued. “For almost th
ree weeks, it seemed as if I couldn’t step outside my door without tripping over you, and then, just when I got used to you being around—when I started looking forward to you being around—you disappeared.”

  “If it counts for anything, I missed you, too. All of you.”

  Her gaze softened. “The boys kept asking me why you didn’t want to play with them anymore.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.

  “I don’t want you to be sorry, I just want to know if it was something I said or did.”

  “No,” he assured her. “It’s all on me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I knew that if I didn’t put some space between us I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from doing this.”

  She knew he was going to kiss her. He could see the conflict in her eyes—the war between wariness and wanting. Not wanting to give her another second to worry or wonder, he dipped his head.

  She held herself immobile and kept her eyes open, as if she was willing to tolerate his efforts but was determined not to participate. He kept his gaze locked on hers, his hand splayed against her lower back, as he brushed his mouth against hers. A soft sigh sounded in her throat and her eyelids flickered, just a little, proving she wasn’t as immune to him as she wanted to believe.

  Since the end of his marriage, he’d been with other women, but sex without intimacy had left him feeling oddly unfulfilled. The problem with meaningless flings, he’d quickly discovered, was that they were meaningless. Truthfully, Georgia was the first woman he’d been sincerely attracted to in a long time, the first woman with whom he could imagine himself having a relationship rather than a one-night stand.

  He also realized that he was probably thinking further ahead than she was. She was a young widow with three kids, and he knew he would have to take things slow until he was sure she wanted the same thing he did. Right now, she didn’t seem to know what she wanted—but at least he knew he had her full attention.

  His mouth cruised over hers again, savoring her texture and flavor. Her lips were soft, lush and deliciously seductive. He traced the shape with the tip of his tongue, and swallowed her soft sigh as her eyelids finally drifted shut.