by Abby Gaines
“Please, let’s go somewhere,” she said again.
He shook his head. “Here, Meg. Now.”
Meg had the awful sensation that her future depended on her next words. She fingered her name badge. “When Dad and Logan had that boating accident…Dad died out in the water, but Logan was still alive when they found him.
“Logan didn’t regain consciousness—we never got to talk to him again.” Her throat clogged up; she hated talking about this. “Mom and Trey and I…we sat next to his bed for four days before they decided he would never recover,” she said thickly. “They said his brain was irreparably damaged. They turned off the life support.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and she welcomed the softening in his face. “I really am. But how does that—”
“Since then…” She’d said the hard part, now she started to rush the words out. “Since then I’ve had this terror of being in hospitals. Just walking in the door sends me into a panic attack. I haven’t visited anyone in a hospital since.”
A tour group passed around them, talking at high speed in an indistinguishable language whose syllables sounded harsh to Meg’s ears.
“I get that it’s difficult,” Daniel said. “But this is my mom. About to be your mother-in-law. Your family.”
“I can’t do it. If I could, I would, but I can’t.” If she said it calmly enough, often enough, he might accept it.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t understand—your mom had a stroke….”
She wasn’t proud of any of it, but this was by far the worst part. “Daniel, when Mom had her stroke, I asked for extra shifts at work. I flew more or less constantly.” She hung her head. “Trey did everything.”
“Your own mother?” The rise in his voice drew the attention of an airport security guard, who watched them for a few moments.
She’d shocked him. Disgusted him, even.
“I’m not as noble as you.” Her voice shook. Daniel wasn’t sanctimonious, but he set a high standard of behavior for himself. He’d chosen to practice medicine in a community clinic rather than an expensive private practice. He consulted on the SeedTech medical panel because he wanted to improve life for those less fortunate. It seemed it hadn’t occurred to him his fiancée might not aim so high. “A good day for me is when I make someone’s flight better, not when I save a life. But you knew that when we met, and you chose me because I make you happy. That’s what I want to spend my life doing.”
She risked touching his wrist, her fingers brushing his folded arms, his chest. He inhaled deeply, but didn’t move away. We can work this out. “If I was in ICU,” he said, “would you visit?”
Her pulse jumped at the thought of him being injured. Her stomach roiled. “Of course I would.” But the words sounded thin.
“If I was mashed up by a drunk driver, lying in the hospital with my life in the balance, would you sit beside me for hours?”
“Are you conscious or unconscious?” she joked, only it fell flat.
A pause.
Then he said, “Unconscious.”
Damn, he wasn’t meant to answer that.
Meg swallowed. “Of course I’d sit with you. Though I’d have to go back to work sooner or later. I mean, if you were seriously injured, we’d need me to be earning…” She trailed off. She was babbling, and they both knew it. “This is crazy. It’s not going to happen.”
“In a few weeks we’re planning to stand in front of a minister, in front of the world, and promise to love each other in sickness and in health,” he said.
“I know.”
“When I say it,” Daniel said, “I’ll mean it.”
“So—so will I,” she stuttered.
The stutter was her undoing.
“One of the reasons I fell in love with you is because you’re so lighthearted,” he said. “I know I can be too serious—my whole family’s that way—but you lift me out of that. With you, I feel brighter, more alive.”
She grabbed his wrist. “Then let’s get past this.”
“But you’re never serious,” Daniel continued. “You don’t take responsibility for anything. You think the world will fall into place around you and most of the time it does. But if we’re going to spend our lives together—”
“What do you mean, if?” she blurted.
“I need someone who can be with me down in the valleys, as well as up on the peaks,” he said. “Meg, you can’t go through life without traveling in the valleys.”
“I know that! I’ve had my valleys,” she said. “I lost my dad and my brother, and that’s more than enough. I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”
“Of course you don’t.” His eyes filled with compassion, and hope flared inside her. “But what if the worst does happen? If I did get hurt, or worse, one of our kids did? If we had a child with lifelong medical problems? Could you handle that?”
She stared at him, mute. “Everyone handles those things when they happen,” she said at last.
He shook his head. “I know from my medical practice that over half of marriages break up when a child dies. Long-term illness or injury of one half of a couple most often leads to divorce.”
“Statistics,” she said helplessly. “I love you.”
“We have to at least start off committed to being with each other through everything. For better or for worse, no exceptions.”
Her fingers fluttered over the pristine white cuff of his shirt. “Daniel…”
“Meg,” he said, “I want a partner. I want to know you’ve got my back, the same way I’ll have yours.”
“I do.” This was crazy. She was Meg Kincaid, the girl who got any guy she wanted. Who’d broken hearts with her refusal to get serious. And now the man she’d chosen to spend her life with wanted someone better? “I’m with you all the way. For always.”
He stared down at her and she poured all her love for him into her eyes. He had to believe her.
“If you’re with me,” he said, “come with me right now to visit my mom.”
The smells and sounds of the hospital, of death, flooded her senses. Dizzying her. Meg gripped the flimsy handle of her roller bag. No security there.
“If I was afraid of snakes, would you make me hold one?” she asked. “If I was afraid of the dark, would you shut me in a closet?”
Daniel’s gaze dropped, then met hers again. “Are you with me or not?”
TREY WATCHED SADIE swing her little Lexus into her driveway. Saw her brake suddenly when she registered that his truck was once again in her way.
“Nice evening,” he called.
Sitting there, he’d basked in the still-warm beat of the sun, the chirrup of cicadas, the wafting scent of jacaranda from across the street. By anyone’s standards, even standards as high as Sadie’s, it qualified as a nice evening.
“What do you want?” she asked shortly.
Trey couldn’t think why her unpredictability stirred his pulse, but he was getting used to the fact. He stretched his arms behind his head and settled in to enjoy sparring with her. “To run through my proposed design for your garden.”
He’d spread out the drawing on the wrought-iron table, anchoring the corners with stones.
“I’m not in the mood.” She dumped her briefcase on the porch, giving Trey a nice view of her rear as she bent, then unlocked the door. “Go home and get some sleep, Trey. I’m sure you need it.”
Whatever this was about, he had a feeling he was going to enjoy it.
“I’m not tired.” He moved the anchor stones and rolled up the garden plan to take it inside.
“Such impressive stamina,” she mocked.
“Cupcake,” he said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about you and Lexie!” she snapped.
Sadie’s jealous? The knowledge went straight to Trey’s head, then to his mouth—he couldn’t stop smiling as he followed her into the living room.
“Ah, Lexie…” he said reminiscently, setting
his drawing down on the coffee table. “Lexie and me…”
“You can’t start a sentence with Lexie and me,” she said. “And even if you could, I don’t want to know. Plus, you can wipe that smirk off your face—she only chose you because of creative sexual accounting.” She began plumping the perfectly plumped, neatly arranged cushions on her red sofa, the one where they’d made out.
Trey almost laughed. But she looked annoyed and upset and vulnerable.
“The thing about me and Lexie,” he said deliberately, “is nothing happened.”
Sadie paused in her pounding the life out of an innocent cushion. “I couldn’t care less.”
“I’m just sayin’.” He mooched across to the fireplace, propped an elbow on the mantelpiece. “For the record.”
She fished in the pocket of her tailored, cream-colored jacket and pulled out her phone. “Then why did Lexie text me this?” She thumbed through her messages, then tossed the phone to him.
A string of emoticons, every single one of them a very satisfied smile.
Trey guffawed. “She’s winding you up, cupcake. And doing a damn good job of it.”
Sadie sat on the couch, hands folded neatly in her lap, feet crossed at her excellent ankles. “When you say nothing happened…” she said. “Define nothing.”
Trey wondered how she justified to herself that she was asking this question. In theory, his love life was none of her business. He rubbed his chin. “Hmm, let me see. If I remember rightly…”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I drove Lexie home—she has a town house in Cooper-Young. She invited me in for coffee. I accepted her invitation.”
Did he imagine a little indrawn breath?
“We drank our coffee, we talked about football and TV shows.” Trey moved to perch on the rolled arm of the couch, feet planted wide on the floor. “And you.”
She started. “You talked about me?”
“Lexie’s a big fan of yours. Go figure.”
“I don’t get it,” she admitted. “So then what happened?”
“Then I oiled her squeaky door.”
She stiffened, suspecting innuendo. Trey chuckled. “The pantry door. In the kitchen. Then I checked out her CD collection, made love to her, did the dishes…”
“Wait!” she ordered. “What did you say happened after the CD collection?”
“I just dropped that in to see if you were paying attention,” he said. “I didn’t make love to her. Oof!”
Sadie had grabbed a cushion and thumped him.
“She didn’t make love to me, either,” he said.
“Huh,” she said.
“What’s it to you whether I slept with Lexie or not?” he asked. “Daniel’s the one you’re pining for.”
She opened her mouth, closed it again. “I don’t know.”
“By the way,” he said, “I want to apologize for being suspicious of your motives for having lunch with Daniel the other day.”
“Could you stop disconcerting me?” she demanded.
He laughed. “You were right to call Daniel on the problem between his mom and Meg. He needs to get that straight before the wedding.”
“That’s why I said it,” she said gruffly. She paused. “Uh, could I please see those garden plans now?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He unrolled the drawing, spread it on the coffee table “Some of these shrubs are special order, so we’ll need to get onto it fast.”
She scooted forward on the couch.
“The design centers on a water feature—a rock pool and fountain, right here.” Trey touched a point on the paper. “There’ll be a bench seat overlooking the pool, which also lines up with a good view of massed plantings below the porch—honeysuckle and Oregon grape holly. The yellow blooms will look great against the house.”
Sadie leaned in to see the list of plants he’d written down the side of the page, a mix of Latin and common names. He caught the scent of her hair, lemon and honey. Like Sadie herself, sweet and tart.
He realized he’d lost his train of thought and scanned the diagram to regroup. “Oh, yeah, I put a couple of forsythia over here for summer shade on the sages and salvias. This patch will have a wildflower look, but in reality—”
Sadie sat back. “What happened to my English cottage garden?” she asked. “Where’s the lavender? I don’t see daffodils, either.”
“That look’s not right for you.”
“But it’s what I want.” Sadie couldn’t believe it. Not one plant she wanted had made it into his plan. “I’ve told my parents I have an English garden—what happens when they turn up and find this?” Didn’t he get where she was coming from?
“Forget your hang-ups for five minutes, could you?” he snapped. “You might be the smartest person in the house, but out in the garden I know more than you do. A garden should reflect its owner. Which is why I’ve designed something unique, multifaceted, unpredictable.”
She caught her breath. “Oh,” she managed to say.
“Standout,” he added severely.
Excitement fizzed in her veins. She bent over his drawing. “Maybe if you’d mentioned your rationale at the beginning…” Because it was difficult to hold on to her objections when he’d called her unique. Multifaceted.
“Maybe if you’d trusted someone to know better than you,” he grumbled.
“I’m sorry.” She touched the back of his hand where it rested on the diagram.
Lightning-quick, he flipped his hand over and caught her fingers. The tug went all the way up her arm, into her chest.
“Because this plan,” she said, “is actually rather…incredible.”
“You’re just saying that,” he said sulkily. His mouth looked supremely kissable.
She bent her head over his diagram, aware he still had hold of her hand. “You’ve thought of everything. I can picture it in my head and it’s stunning.”
He lifted one shoulder as if he didn’t care, but one corner of his mouth twitched. His middle finger scraped her palm. Scraped her nerve endings.
She pressed her knees together. “Trey, how can you even think of doing anything else for a job?” she asked. “You’re so talented.”
Instantly he let go of her hand. “I’ve been in the garden center my whole life. I’ve had enough.”
“You haven’t been doing this. I didn’t even know you could. Your family doesn’t know….”
“Sadie,” he said, “I’m going back to football.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SADIE GAPED. “You’re too old.”
Trey stood, walked halfway across the room. “Not playing, idiot. Coaching.”
“You already coach a team at your old school, don’t you?”
“I’m not talking about Andrew Johnson High, a part-time job with a less than part-time wage. I’m talking college ball.”
“Where?” she asked, dazed. She realized now that deep inside she’d always thought he would recognize the strengths of his ties to the family and the business and would change his plans.
“That interview I had the day I came to your place for dinner…the football coach from Berkeley, a guy I played with at Duke, was here scouting out a player. He was also scouting for a new assistant coach.”
“Berkeley, California?”
“The very same. I’ve been up there to see him a couple of times. Last week was the final interview. He offered me the job yesterday.”
“It’s the girls, isn’t it?” she said.
“Huh?”
“Your wild oats. You’re after the California girls, beach babes, Baywatch…”
His mouth curled in a smile that made her want to slap him.
“I hope you realize most of them have implants.”
He returned to the sofa. “Is that a fact?”
“Which don’t feel nearly as good,” she warned.
“To the, uh, wearer or the toucher?” he asked.
“Both,” she said firmly.
He laughed, an
d the deep, appreciative sound made her catch her breath. He noticed, held her gaze. Trey was perhaps the most observant man she’d met, she realized.
“I’ll miss you, Sadie.” He sounded surprised. “I’ll miss talking to you.”
“Don’t go, then,” she said. Where had that come from?
He twisted to face her. “Why not?”
“I—uh—your family…the business…” It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but she couldn’t frame her thoughts.
“Anything else?” he asked, his gaze intent.
She knotted her fingers in her lap. “I don’t know.”
He sighed. “You know what else I’ll miss?”
She shook her head. She knew what she was hoping for.
“This.” He pulled her into his arms.
When his lips touched hers an electrical current jolted her, top to toe. She jerked against him and he took instant advantage, sliding his hands to her butt and pinning her close. She welcomed his tongue, and a low groan vibrated in his chest as he took full advantage.
Protest fled, trounced by need and heat. Trey pulled her closer, if that was possible, fusing his body against hers.
She’d kissed him before. But this was different. This kiss had nothing to do with Daniel. She gave herself up to the exploration of his tongue, the slide of her hands over the firm expanse of his back until she found the hem of his shirt. Her hands slid under and up, until she found warm, bare flesh. He made an exultant sound, then his hands were tugging her shirt from her jeans, hastening to return the favor.
She bucked as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her waist, groaned as he slid one leg between hers, the need building inside her to an explosive state. One spark and she would ignite.
“Trey,” she gasped, aware there was a decision to be made here, and it wasn’t the kind she could make lightly.
“Hmm?” His mouth left hers, but her groan of disappointment turned to a moan of pleasure as his lips trailed down her neck. She tipped her head back, aware of his fingers brushing against her as he worked the bottom buttons of her shirt, then moved upward.
A distant voice penetrated the fog of desire. “Who’s that? Sadie?”