“If we see anyone else, it will only be perhaps a few bead store customers. I don’t know how much you interacted with your mother’s customers when she owned String Fever, but I can promise you most of the women who come into the store are bubbling over with kindness and compassion. No one will hurt Taryn.”
“You really think she’s ready?”
“It’s only a quick trip to a bead store, Brodie. I think she’ll be just fine. At this stage in her rehab, I promise I would never ask her to ride on a float in the Independence Day parade. But I think a small outing among caring friends will be very helpful.”
The breeze coming down from the mountains played with a few wispy blond strands of hair that had slipped free of the twisty thing holding the rest of those luscious curls at bay. He was vaguely appalled by his sudden urge to reach out and slide it between his fingertips just to feel if her hair was as soft as it looked.
“You probably think I’m crazy to worry so much about her.”
“I think you’re a concerned father watching out for his child. Nothing wrong with that.”
“I suppose she might benefit from returning to some of her familiar places. It might give her the motivation to work on her goals. Crap television apparently can only take you so far. Who knew?”
She laughed again and it slid down his spine, low and sultry. He really had to get control of himself. Every time he was around her, he felt this wild attraction seethe between them. At first, he thought it must be completely one-sided and he felt like an idiot for being so drawn to her, but lately he was beginning to wonder.
The last few times he’d come into Taryn’s room while Evie was working with her, he was almost certain she had blushed a bit—a hint of color, just a pale pink wash over her healthy tan. She invariably tried to hide it behind bold confidence, but he sensed something in the way she looked at him that wasn’t completely immune to that same simmer of awareness.
He had to remember that, mutual attraction or not, she was here only because his mother had forced her through emotional blackmail to help them with Taryn. She didn’t want to be here and the first chance she had, Evie would be returning to her job at String Fever. When that happened, no doubt they would once more find themselves on opposite sides of any issue that came along affecting their town.
“I guess it should be fine tomorrow,” he finally said, firmly reminding himself his responsibility right now was to Taryn, not to his long-neglected love life. “You’ll have to take her in the wheelchair van. I can give you a quick lesson on the ramp and tie-downs in the morning, after the interview.”
“No need. I’m sure I’ll figure it out. Most of them work the same and…I used to have one myself.”
She said the words in such a rush, he thought at first he’d misunderstood. “You had a wheelchair van?”
Those delicate strands of hair danced across her face and in the fading light she suddenly looked vulnerable and remote as she looked out at the valley below them. “A few years ago I adopted a young girl with special needs,” she finally said.
Shock held him silent for just a few beats. He couldn’t imagine anybody stepping up to volunteer for the misery of uncertainty and struggle his family had lived through the last few months. “Seriously?”
Evie sighed. “It’s kind of a long story. She was a client of mine at my physical therapy practice. Her mother and I became friends over the years. When Meredith, Cassie’s mother, found out she was dying of cancer, she didn’t have anyone else to turn to. Her family was all gone and Cassie’s father had never been in the picture. She asked if I would consider guardianship. I had worked with Cassie for several years by that point and I loved her. I couldn’t bear the idea of foster care for her so I agreed.”
Somehow he didn’t imagine the story was as simple as she made it sound in that no-nonsense tone. What sort of sacrifices had she been forced to make to provide a home for someone else’s child?
“Cassie’s disabilities required her to use a wheelchair, like Taryn, so we also had a ramp-equipped minivan. I’m sure I’ll remember how to work the ramp and the tie-downs on yours. If not, I’ll figure it out.”
Of all the life journeys he might have expected Evie Blanchard to have traveled, this one wouldn’t even have made the list. With those hippie clothes she favored and her bleeding-heart politics, he could easily picture her volunteering at some orphanage in Latin America or driving food-aid vehicles into distant African villages or joining the Peace Corps to teach school in New Guinea.
So why did adopting a child with disabilities seem such a startling concept?
“What happened to her?” He had to ask the obvious question, even though part of him was quite certain he didn’t want to know the answer.
She gazed down at the lights of town, beginning to flicker on with the sunset. “She died two years ago. Before I came to Hope’s Crossing, obviously.”
He had known, without her even saying the words. He’d seen the truth in the shadows in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” The words seemed pitifully inadequate, especially from his own recent perspective of coming so close to losing Taryn. Right after the accident, doctors had tried to prepare him that the outcome was likely grim because of the extent of her injuries. During those long weeks of her coma, he had lived through a wide gamut of emotions. Fear and guilt, sorrow and sheer pain.
In the end, they’d been given a miracle. Taryn had come out of the coma on her own and she was, step by arduous step, rebuilding herself.
“I’m very sorry,” he repeated.
“I had two years of her love. I have to consider that a blessed gift.”
He gazed at her—delicate and lovely, yet with this core of strength he was still discovering. “This is the real reason you left physical therapy. Why you didn’t want to help with Taryn’s care.”
She didn’t answer, only shrugged.
“Good to know it wasn’t simply because you dislike me so intensely, then.”
He was grateful for his attempt at levity when amusement flickered briefly on her features. “Well, that was certainly a factor.”
Her small smile faded quickly. “Actually, Brodie, my reluctance to help Taryn didn’t really have anything to do with either of you. After Cassie died, I just…lost my heart. I couldn’t do the job anymore. Everything was too painful. I would be working with a patient and suddenly burst into tears for no reason. I would have to reschedule an entire day’s calendar of patients because I was huddled in my office, trying to muster the energy and strength to face the treatment room. I couldn’t help them. If I couldn’t save my own child, how could I help anyone else’s? And why should I bother to try?”
His heart seemed to squeeze in his chest. How had she come through that kind of pain?
“Since I couldn’t give my patients what they needed anymore, I knew I had to get out. What to do with the rest of my life, though? That was the dilemma. Your mother came along at just the right time, convincing me to come to Hope’s Crossing for a visit.”
“And you stayed.”
The gleaming lights of town below reflected in the intensely blue depths of her eyes. “I stayed. I can’t explain it but Hope’s Crossing soothed all those angry, wailing voices inside me. I found peace here working at the bead store, hiking in the mountains, creating my own bead pieces.”
“That’s what my mother meant when she said she knew the steep price of what we were asking of you.”
“I could have said no.”
“But you didn’t.” He was struck again by how lovely she was, that silky mass of blond hair slipping free of its pins, the delicate planes and curves of her features. “We dragged you out of that serenity you fought so hard to find and shoved you back into doing all this again. I wish I’d known.”
“Would knowing have prevented you from pushing me so hard to take on Taryn’s case?”
She looked genuinely curious, not accusatory and he wasn’t sure how to answer. He wanted to think he would have b
een compassionate to her pain over losing a child. But his daughter had survived, against all improbable odds, and he was fiercely determined to provide her the best chance at a normal life.
“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “But I am sorry if we’ve added to your pain.”
She seemed surprised that he could apologize and he wondered just how big an ass she thought him.
“I’ve reconciled to it. I’m doing my best to be Switzerland. Staying detached and uninvolved.”
“Is it working?”
“No,” she murmured, her voice rueful. Over her shoulder, he could see Woodrose Mountain, sure and solid in the murky light.
“I can’t say Taryn is an easy patient but despite her stubbornness, she’s tough,” Evie went on. “And there are definitely glimmers of who she really is. You have to watch for them but they peek out every once in a while. All in all, she’s pretty irresistible. But I guess you know that, too.”
Brodie was more than a little shocked to realize Taryn wasn’t the only irresistible female in his life. Invisible threads seemed to tug him toward Evie. The harder he tried to break free of them, the tighter they pulled. Every time he was with her, they tightened another notch.
“Thank you for not telling us to go straight to hell.” His voice sounded low, slightly husky, and he really hoped she didn’t notice.
“Let’s just leave that option on the table, shall we?”
He had to laugh, even though her smile tempered the words. She blinked a little at the sound and her gaze danced to his mouth. Just like that, those silken threads coiled and strained.
He wanted to kiss her. The urge was a physical ache inside him. He wanted to pull her against him, to cover that soft mouth with his, to touch and taste and explore.
Not smart. What was it about cool and lovely summer nights that seemed made for just that sort of thing? Best not to dwell on it. He would be far more wise to simply send her on her way.
“Good night, Evie. Thank you for everything today.” He held the vehicle door open for her.
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She moved past him. Just before she slid into the SUV, she paused for a long moment, her eyes huge in the darkness. She seemed to want to say something else but instead, much to his astonishment, she leaned up and gently pressed her mouth against the corner of his. “Good night, Brodie,” she murmured.
Shock held him still for just an instant, but he managed to catch her before she could slide into her vehicle. He had just an instant to think that this moment was pivotal, like that moment on a jump when, against all reason and sense, his skis left the snow and he was supported only by physics and aerodynamics. He had loved that moment, the clutch in his gut. He had craved it like a junkie jonesing for his next fix.
But nothing in his life experience—not winning his first ski-jump competition or opening his first restaurant—compared to this perfect moment, when he lowered his head, drew in a ragged breath, and kissed Evaline Blanchard.
CHAPTER SIX
HER MOUTH WAS SILKY SOFT and she tasted cool and sweet, like the evening. At the first connection of their mouths, she froze, her muscles taut against him. No doubt she was probably as shocked as he was by this crazy impulse.
His mind scrambled to come up with some casual offhand remark about summer nights and beautiful women and irresistible temptations. He was trying to work up the resolve to pull away when he felt the tentative touch of her arms at his waist, felt her muscles relax as she leaned closer and eased into the kiss like a child testing the stream with a toe before diving in.
This soft, wary surrender aroused him more than if she had suddenly stripped off her clothes and thrown him back onto the seat of her vehicle. Everything inside him was urging him to deepen the kiss, to press his body to hers and seize everything he suddenly wanted with fierce heat, but he forced himself to keep the kiss slow and easy. Gentle as the breeze.
This felt too perfect, standing out here on a summer evening with her mouth tasting his while the cool air eddied around them and that owl hooted softly in the trees.
She smelled of flowers dusted with a hint of spice and he wanted to bury his face in that delectable curve where her neck met her shoulder and just inhale.
This was Evie. Frustrating, bossy, argumentative Evie. How could he feel this fragile tenderness—mingled with sheer mind-stealing lust—toward a woman he wasn’t even sure he liked?
The sound of tires humming on asphalt finally pierced the fog around his brain. Move. Now. The message slowly seeped through and he just barely managed to ease away from Evie before his mother’s silver BMW SUV pulled into the driveway.
Evie seemed to be struggling to catch her breath—an endeavor to which he could completely relate. He couldn’t seem to suck enough oxygen into his brain, and could only stand and stare at her, his thoughts a muddle of shock and a sort of numbed dismay—and above all the urge to grab her close and taste her all over again.
Katherine parked beside Evie’s vehicle and he could see Evie weighing whether to drive away or wait to speak with his mother. She ended up staying, though he had the feeling that particular state of affairs was mainly an effort for her to catch her breath after that stunning kiss.
“I’m sorry I’m so late,” his mother said with a cheery smile. “Wouldn’t you know, my hair color went long—I’m afraid Chet isn’t happy with me for ignoring my roots. And then I stopped off at the store for a few things. At least I had the chance to see you for a moment before you leave for the evening.”
She pressed her cheek to Evie’s and then stepped back. He knew precisely when his mother picked up on the currents zinging between him and Evie—a little pucker suddenly appeared between Katherine’s eyes and she cast a quick, sharp look in his direction.
“Sorry. Am I interrupting something?”
He glanced at Evie, whose features had turned a quite delectable pink.
“Not at all,” she said quickly. “I was just leaving for the day. We were, um, talking about my treatment notes for the day.”
He was quite certain his mother wouldn’t fall for that, especially when Evie refused to even look at him—a conviction that was reinforced when Katherine sent him a swift, censorious look.
“Is that right?” she asked blandly.
“Yes,” Evie said. Her voice sounded a little thready and she cleared it before continuing. “I also needed to check with Brodie about taking Taryn into town to the bead store tomorrow. I told Hannah Kirk I would finally help make those earrings I’ve been promising for her mother’s birthday. I thought the outing might be good for Taryn.”
“Oh, Taryn will probably adore that. She always loved coming to visit me at the bead store.”
“I hope it will remind her of some of the things she once enjoyed.”
“Great idea.” His mother beamed, though there was still suspicion in her eyes. “Whatever you need my help with, make sure you let me know.”
“I will.” Evie looked desperate to leave suddenly, her gaze darting between Katherine and the road and her vehicle.
While he didn’t necessarily want her to leave—after that kiss, he would be more than happy to drag her into the bushes right now—he also didn’t want his mother asking her probing, uncomfortable questions.
“I’ll see you tomorrow for the interview then,” he said.
He really wished he could read her expression but it was difficult in the dusky light, especially when she wouldn’t look at him. “Right. I’ll be here. Eight-thirty sharp.”
“Oh, and don’t forget your lederhosen.”
“My…oh.”
She shook her head at his reference to Switzerland and her intentions to remain neutral. “I think it’s way too late for that, don’t you?” she muttered, then climbed into her car and turned the key.
A moment later, she backed out and then headed down the winding road. He watched her for a moment, then turned reluctantly back to his mother—only
to find Katherine wasn’t watching after Evie. She was gazing at him, her mouth a stern line.
“Don’t even go there,” Katherine spoke firmly.
The phrase might have sounded more appropriate coming from Taryn and her friends than his sixty-year-old mother.
“Go where?”
“Evie is my dear friend. I love her like a daughter. I won’t let you hurt her.”
He frowned, more than a little annoyed at the assumption. Yeah, he might have been a little wild when he’d been on the ski-jump circuit and had gone through a healthy line of women. He’d been young, athletic, moderately good at what he did. Ski bunnies had been an inevitable part of the life.
Compared to the other guys on the team, he’d been a freaking monk but, okay, he still had liked to party. Those days were long gone. A wife and a kid on the way tended to settle a guy down in a hurry—or at least they did when said wife—and mother of said kid—was a wild party-girl herself who would have rather been out making the rounds of après-ski events than taking care of their child.
Marcy had been irresponsible and selfish and spoiled. When he’d dated her, he had not been interested in her character, only in her wild reputation. It seemed the height of childishness now but he’d dated her at the time mostly as one more way to piss off his father—and then she’d gotten pregnant and his world had changed. One of them had to be the grown-up after Taryn came along and the job title had gone to him by default.
He turned his attention back to his mother. “Why would I hurt Evie?”
“I’m not saying you would be deliberately cruel.”
“Aren’t you? Do go on. This is fascinating.”
She sighed. “Don’t be mad, Brodie. You know I love you. It’s just that… Evie needs heat and passion. A man who adores her with every breath.”
Instead of someone cold and unfeeling, like his bastard of a father. Katherine didn’t say the words—she probably didn’t even think them—but that’s how Brodie interpreted her meaning.
RaeAnne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry SummerWoodrose MountainSweet Laurel Falls Page 38