by Jean Oram
She’d taken his warmth, kindness, and love for granted for too long.
She brought her lips to his, erasing the distance that she’d placed between them over the years, savoring the heat of him melting into her as their kiss deepened. His hand wrapped around her wrist bound her in place as she brought her free hand up to his hard chest, then around his shoulder to the back of his neck. Wide, strong, and vulnerable.
She was kissing her best friend as only lovers did. It was no quick peck as love passed between them. They crossed the friendship line, and she hoped she’d never find herself on the other side ever again. Not with Scott.
His kisses turned commanding, his hands taking her in, one holding her close around her waist as she arched into him, the other caressing her breast. Longing and need hit her like a tropical storm and her kisses became frantic as she tried to consume him, as though this was her last kiss on planet earth.
He felt so right. Her whole body was alive and in command of her moves.
Kissing one’s best friend was definitely not overrated. At least if your best friend was Scott Malone, hunk extraordinaire.
She finally broke free, her breath coming in desperate bursts. The need for more darkened his eyes and it was as though all the pent-up love he’d held within him for the past decade was bursting out. His lips were suddenly on hers again, bruising and demanding in ways she’d never dreamed of reciprocating, but craved so strongly she felt like a satellite, stuck in his orbit. She could come to depend on kisses like Scott’s.
As they finally broke free again, he whispered, “You kiss like you’ve been wanting to do that for years.” His slow, teasing grin made her heart take up an unsteady rhythm, and she opted for a sassy reply to keep the playing field fair.
“And here I kissed you just the other day. How forgettable was that, hmm?”
She’d eased out of his arms and he pulled her back with sudden speed, his lips once again hungry on hers. A gal could get used to this. No more Mr. Nice Guy Friend. Scott was a secret alpha any woman would be lucky to have.
“Don’t toy with me, Amber,” he said a long moment later. She’d never felt so wanted as she did in his arms. He knew everything that was wrong with her. Every flaw. Every insecurity. Every awful stupid spontaneous embarrassing thing that had ever come out of her mouth. And yet he still chose her.
The world was full of unsolved mysteries, but this was surely one of the biggest. One she hoped was never solved.
“Scott?” she asked, placing a finger against his lips before he could pull her in for another smooch. “Why do you love me?”
“I’ll answer that when you’re ready to tell me the same,” he replied.
“I’ll tell you everything,” she promised, giving him a light kiss that had her desperately wanting more. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for me yet.”
He pulled her into a heavy kiss that left the strength in her legs waning. Under her palm she could feel his heart beating, steady and strong. Reliable.
“Amber Thompson, you’re a big tease.”
“I’ll show you I’m not.” She went to say the words that were on the tip of her tongue.
I love you. They were there, but her throat was heavy. Her head spinning.
He loved her. He was staying in his hometown for her. She wasn’t leaving.
They were going to be here in Blueberry Springs. Forever.
Once she said those three big words there would be no turning back. She was locking herself into a life. Here. With one man. Forever. She’d never be someone else. She’d never…
She couldn’t do it. She wasn’t ready. She was still one step away.
She rested her forehead against Scott’s, wanting him so badly her fingers dug into his shoulders, afraid to let go and yet so afraid to say yes, so afraid to trust her heart and the words it was whispering.
I love you, Scott. Now and forever.
Chapter Nine
Amber hurried down Main Street, hoping to catch her mother on her walk home from her early shift at Benny’s.
“Amber!” Liz called as she popped out of the town office. “Wait up!”
Amber complied and Liz, wrapped in a fuzzy robin’s-egg-blue pashmina, hurried to her side.
“Do you know if John’s heard back from Russell?” Amber asked.
“Nothing yet as far as I know. So, how’s the new sister?”
“Good.”
“I heard she and your mom are inseparable.”
“Yeah.”
“You must feel left out.”
“They have a lot to catch up on.” She pointed toward the town office, hoping to move away from what was still a tender subject—and one she didn’t want to be part of the local gossip. “How is Nicola doing? Did she talk to Jen about helping her with tours?”
“She’ll be leading the one-hour nature hikes on Saturdays.”
“Great. Well, I’ve got to catch up with Mom.” Amber hustled away before Liz could pump her for gossip, just about slamming into Russell. Her ex was looking uncomfortable as he shifted on the sidewalk, glancing every so often over his shoulder.
Amber went to move around him, but he caught her arm. “Amber, I need to talk to you.”
“Yeah? Do it through my lawyer.” For whatever reason, right now she wished she could add “my dad.” A lawyer dad would definitely give a girl a certain level of protection.
“Please. I need to talk to you.”
Now there was a tone she hadn’t been expecting.
“I’m busy. You should have called ahead.”
“I figured you’d say no.”
“You’re not as dumb as you seem, then. You just act that way. Good to know.” She started to move away, but he caught her arm again. How could she have ever been so needy as to want the affections of a man such as Russell? How could she not have seen—correction, how could she have ignored—how selfish and self-centered he was? Because she was certain he wasn’t here for any reason other than himself.
“Why are you here?” she asked, not caring if she had an edge to her voice.
“I wanted to see you.”
“Why? Did your editor already dump you?”
Russell couldn’t look her in the eye.
“Right. You were never the man of my dreams, Russell, and I wasted a year of my life trying to convince myself otherwise.” She began walking away, shooing off Fran, who had come to the door of her boutique to make sure Amber was okay.
“I wanted to apologize,” Russell said, his voice carrying down the street.
She stopped cold. Those were the last words she’d ever expected to hear. She turned. Russell was staring at the display in Fran’s window as though he hadn’t said a word.
“Usually when a man apologizes he explains why. Here are some starting places, if you’re at a loss. Cheating on me, using me, betraying me, my confidence, and our intimacy. Making me feel as though I never meant anything to you, making me a public spectacle, starting a multitude of rumors about me in my own hometown, slandering me in a libelous way, lying to me…” She had been moving closer with every word and was now in his face. “Would you like me to go on?” she asked coolly.
Russell looked at her in wonder. “You’re different.”
“Angrier? More jaded? Yeah, go figure on that one, huh?”
“No. More… you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She was taken off guard by the way he was studying her. It wasn’t as though she was a bug under a seven-year-old’s microscope, it was more as though he was intrigued by what he saw, and wanted to see more. The only man who had ever looked at her that way before was Scott. However, with Scott it was comforting. She knew he was looking beneath her layers and possibly seeing something good that she couldn’t see in herself. But with Russell it made her feel judged and exposed.
“You’re closer to the Amber I wrote about.”
“So you do admit it!” She pointed at him in triumph.
“You were
my muse―you knew that. That’s why we came back here.”
“Why we came back?” He was making no sense. He’d told her he’d liked the quiet of Blueberry Springs.
“This was the only place where you’d relax, open up and let me in.”
“Here? In Blueberry Springs?”
“We’d go back to the city and you’d harden. You’d try to guess what I wanted you to say.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Why would she have been different at home? She’d hated it and wanted out. She understood now that this town was where she belonged, but she hadn’t felt that way until recently. And while it was true that in the city she had always been trying to be someone cool and sophisticated, she hadn’t realized that she’d been a completely different person at home. Maybe that was why, when she decided to stay in Blueberry Springs, she’d felt a rush of relief—not just because it was easy and familiar, but because she could be herself and be accepted for that reason. There was no one to impress. Everyone knew her flaws, her problems, and they rolled with it.
“I had to figure out why you were real here. It was compelling. You are compelling.” Russell touched her elbow and she shifted away, clutching the neck of her jacket. He sounded genuine, but she wasn’t sure she liked where he was going with the conversation.
“You are every woman in North America. I wanted to see that. Take that. Build on it.”
The book was about her, but theirs was a battle that would go nowhere. He’d backtrack in court and, as John had said, it would become a case of he said, she said. Russell would make up something that sounded good and that would be that.
And in the end, it didn’t matter. People would believe what they chose to believe. Amber knew who she was, and so did those who meant the most to her. She was enough for them just the way she was and nobody, especially Russell, could come in and change that.
“It’s a compliment, Amber. Did the new you learn to accept one?”
She continued to think, ignoring his digs to get her going.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
“I don’t have anything nice to say.” The man was as trustworthy as a rickety rope bridge stretched across the mouth of a jagged canyon.
“Are you plotting my death?” he asked wryly.
“Yeah, because I want to get arrested—I look great in orange jumpsuits, in case you didn’t know that,” Amber said absently.
Russell laughed. “I’m glad we can joke.”
“Don’t take my jokes as me saying everything is okay, because it’s not. It’s really not. What you did was unkind and unfair.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I don’t think you are. The tears have already fallen, Russell. It’s too little, too late.”
“The book was a gift and you’re obviously already over it. Cry me a river, babe.”
“I’ll get you a life jacket so you don’t drown.”
“Look below Ember’s surface.” Russell was raising his voice, angry with her for not being the weak, easy-to-sway woman he’d dated only weeks ago. “She’s tough, resilient, confident. She is unafraid. She’s bold. She goes after what she wants and makes the best of crappy situations. That’s supposed to be you. I wanted to tell you that. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I wanted you to know that I saw those traits in you and that I hoped you could do something with it. Something positive.”
Amber felt tears prick her eyes as scenes from Russell’s book flashed through her mind. Ember was tough. Resilient and confident and all those things Amber had wished she was, and was on her way to becoming. But it wasn’t because of him or his book. It was because she had the undying love and support of people like her mother and Scott.
Russell would not take credit for who she was. Not now. Not ever.
“You were a rotten boyfriend, Russell, so you just keep on telling yourself whatever you need to hear to make yourself feel better about the way you betrayed the woman who’d had your back. You are not the kind of person who could ever look out for me, protect me, or take care of me in the way I deserve. So don’t rewrite history, babe. I was over you the moment your trailer went over the side of the cliff.”
She began storming away, but turned and stomped back for one final blow. “And I will not pay for that ‘writing cave,’ as you called it. I doubt you had anything in it, and I did you a favor by getting rid of it. If anything, you should be paying me—your muse whose life you used without permission—half of your royalties.”
Russell’s mouth opened, then he closed it with a glare.
“Right. So we’re close enough to even, and done with each other. Wish your next girlfriend good luck from me.” Amber blew him a haughty kiss and sauntered down the street, high-fiving Liz, who had been eavesdropping on the whole conversation and was grinning like a mad fool.
Amber straightened her spine, realizing that she was someone—the someone she’d always wanted to be. She was strong enough. Smart enough. Confident enough.
She was finally enough.
She had a mother, a sister, a town, and a really fine best friend. She might not be super wealthy or put together like Delia, but she helped people and made a difference in their lives, even if only on a small scale. She didn’t intentionally hurt others and her mother was proud of her. She should be proud of her.
And she should finally feel able to tell the man of her dreams that she loved him with all her heart.
* * *
“I saw Russell in town today. Did he bother you?” Scott asked. His arms were crossed and his brow lowered as though he was a bull about to charge if given the smallest inkling that there might be a threat.
They were sitting on the walkway of the water tower, enjoying the view and sharing a massive sandwich from Mandy’s, along with brownies for dessert.
“No. Why didn’t you warn me before I wasted a year on him?”
Scott scowled at her and she hugged him to her, warm and tight, kissing him to lighten him up.
“I figured if you dated a jerk you’d eventually see what a catch I am,” he said at last, his body softening against hers.
“Well, thanks.” She crossed her own arms and pretended to huff.
“It worked, though.” He drew her back, caressing her cheek before kissing her lightly on her lips.
“Are we dating?” she asked between kisses. She shifted her legs so they were in a sunny spot, folded over Scott’s.
“I want something real.”
This felt pretty real to her. Forever real.
“Isn’t this real?”
“Very real.” He kissed her again, the honey Dijon from the sandwich adding spice to their sweet, lingering kiss.
“So then?”
“Are you ready for forever?”
She tipped her head down, waiting for the tightness in her throat. It wasn’t there. Sunshine radiated from her core and she smiled. Scott brought her chin back up, his eyes watchful, his body still as though he might miss the most important moment of his life if he moved a single muscle.
“I love you.”
“Say it again,” he breathed.
“I love you, Scott.” Amber felt as though she’d just broken free of a decade’s worth of chains weighing her down. She trembled with relief. She’d said it! She wanted to jump up, lean over the railing and shout out to the town that she, Amber Thompson, was in love with her best friend, Scott Malone.
“As a friend?” he asked.
“As a forever friend.”
His shoulders fell before he caught himself, and she laughed. “I’m teasing you, Officer Malone. I love you as much more than a friend.” Her voice grew thick with emotion. “I can’t promise you forever, but I can promise you today and tomorrow and next week. Is that enough?”
“I want you, Amber. All of you.” His eyes were dark, a sign he was holding back.
“I know.”
He closed them for a moment, his jaw clenching. “But I’ll take whatever you can give me, as long as you give me your
heart.”
“It’s already yours, Scott. It’s already yours.”
* * *
“Mom, we need to talk.” Amber closed her mother’s front door behind her, having completely missed catching her the day before. Gloria and Delia were sitting on the couch, bent over a magazine. “Delia, I need a moment with my mom. Actually, probably an hour. I’m sorry. I know I’m interrupting, but it’s important.”
“Can I wait in the other room?” Delia asked, rising from the couch cautiously. “Or…?”
“What’s going on?” Gloria asked, standing in turn, her brow furrowed as she watched Delia leave the room. “You’re being very rude.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Did I do something?” Delia asked from the kitchen doorway.
“No. I’m sorry, really. I just need to talk to Mom about Dad. Aka John Abcott. Please.”
Her mother paled, then sat heavily as Delia backed into the kitchen.
“We both know,” Amber said.
“I should have spoken to you sooner. Both of you.”
How could her mother have lived side by side with a man she loved, in a town this small, and never told him who her daughter belonged to? Amber couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to serve him regularly in the restaurant. Or to watch him be a father to Marisa. To keep such a massive secret from him. To deny so much.
“Is he really my dad?”
Her mother nodded silently, tears sliding down the creases between her mouth and cheeks. “Oh, Amber. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. When he got divorced, I thought, This is the time to tell him. And then he started dating again and I didn’t want to interfere. I was afraid too much time had gone by and that he would be so angry. He could have turned the whole town on me, and I was afraid it would upset you, upset your life. This town was so good for you.”
Amber sat beside her mother, feeling a strange sense of calm, as she had when John had spilled his sorrows in the restaurant. It wasn’t her grief. It was theirs. Their story, their battles. She’d had a good life, a good upbringing, and she couldn’t imagine it being any different. If she’d known who John was earlier she might have expected things he couldn’t deliver. She could easily have grown resentful toward him for not being more to her, for not giving more than he was already eking out.