Woodrose Mountain

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “Why do you say that?” Katherine asked, but before Taryn could answer, the door burst open and Hannah Kirk rushed in.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m so sorry. My mom had a meeting with the divorce lawyer and she needed me to watch my little brothers. I thought I would be done in time but her meeting went longer. I’ve been going crazy. I would have called but I couldn’t find the number. I’m so sorry.”

  “No worries,” Evie assured her. “You needed to be helping your mother. We had plenty to do this morning. Taryn, show her your bracelet.”

  Taryn gingerly held her arm out again for Hannah to admire. “Nice. Really nice! Is it too late to do my mom’s earrings? It’s okay, if it is. I can come back another time.”

  “Taryn, what do you think? Can we stick around a little longer?”

  Taryn smiled. “It’s…better…than therapy.”

  They stayed and beaded with Hannah for another hour. In that time, a few other customers wandered into the store, mostly tourists. Though Hannah, Evie and Taryn attracted a few curious looks, they were removed from the main sales floor slightly and most of the shoppers seemed to barely notice them.

  By the time they’d finished, Hannah had created a half dozen pairs of earrings with Evie’s help, using both wire wrap and basic earring headpins.

  “Thank you so much for this. Um, I only paid for the fittings. How much do I owe for the beads?”

  “Nothing,” Evie assured her firmly. “These were old beads I’ve had lying around for a long time. I had no plans for them. Really, I’m just happy to see you making good use of them.”

  “Are you sure? It doesn’t seem right, somehow.”

  “I promise. I hope your mother enjoys them.”

  “She will. I’m sure of it. Thank you. All of you. It was the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

  Evie smiled. “We enjoyed it too, didn’t we, Taryn?”

  The girl nodded, but her eyes were a little glazed over and Evie wondered if the morning had been too much for her. “We’d better go, too,” she said to Katherine and Claire. “Thanks for the help.”

  “Do you have to?” Katherine asked.

  Evie gestured to Taryn, who had a distant, tired look. “We’d better.”

  Despite the shortness of the drive through town and then up the hill toward Brodie’s house, Taryn dozed off against the head support of her wheelchair before they reached the summit.

  Even after they pulled into the driveway, she didn’t open her eyes. Evie sat behind the wheel, pondering her options: Should she let the girl remain sleeping in that uncomfortable position or wake her up and take her inside for a real rest?

  She was still trying to make up her mind a few moments later when the front door of the house opened and Brodie walked out toward her. He wore tan slacks and another of those ubiquitous cotton oxford shirts, this one a soft pale blue that made him look more dangerously masculine in contrast.

  Her insides did a long, slow roll and she wanted to smack herself. This ridiculous reaction to him had to stop. She was acting like some kind of girl Hannah and Taryn’s age with a crush on the captain of the football team, turning giddy every time he was near.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I was working in my office and saw you pull up a few minutes ago. When you didn’t leave the van immediately, I thought maybe you were having trouble with the ramp or something.”

  “No trouble.” She pitched her voice low and gestured toward Taryn, who still hadn’t stirred. “She fell asleep on the way home. I thought she could use a few moments to rest before I take her inside for lunch and our afternoon exercises.”

  “Ah. How did things go at the bead store?”

  She debated telling him about Charlie coming into String Fever at her invitation and helping Taryn make a bracelet, then decided against it.

  Okay, maybe she was a blatant coward but she chose to avoid the inevitable confrontation and opted to keep that information to herself for now. Katherine—or Taryn herself—would probably tell him anyway.

  Besides, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Not really. And her crazy impulse had paid off. Taryn had been attentive and involved, had even participated a little in the conversation, and had utilized more fine-motor skills in the half hour she and Charlie had cooperated together on the bracelet than during the entire week Evie had been working with her.

  “The visit went well,” she finally answered, then decided she didn’t want to continue talking in whispers through the window.

  A quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed that Taryn hadn’t awakened yet, so Evie climbed out the driver’s-side door and closed it gently behind her.

  “I think she had a good time,” she continued. “She seemed to be enjoying herself, anyway. She made a very pretty bracelet, which I’m sure she’ll love showing off.”

  He studied her, head canted to one side. “I guess you probably want me to admit I was wrong.”

  She laughed. “No. I think we can both agree it’s more important that you admit I was right.”

  His smile lit up his features, making him look far less austere and forbidding. “You were right. There. I said it. And the words only burned a little.” He studied her, a soft light in his eyes. “Seriously, thank you, Evie. For pushing both of us outside our comfort zones. You’re making a huge difference in her life.”

  “I hope I can help for the short time I’m here,” she said.

  He looked briefly annoyed at the reminder that her involvement in their lives was fleeting and conditional but he concealed it quickly. “So you rushed off this morning before we could talk after the interview. What did you think about Ms. Martin?” he asked.

  “She certainly seems to know what she’s doing,” she said, picking her words with care.

  He picked up on her hesitation. “But?”

  “I know it was a job interview and those can certainly be stressful, but she didn’t seem particularly warm, did she?”

  “In what way?” He looked genuinely confused and she wondered just where his attention had been focused during that interview if he hadn’t picked up the same vibe.

  “Didn’t you notice? She didn’t smile or laugh one single time for that entire half hour, not even when we were just making small talk at the beginning of the interview, talking about her family and college and friends.”

  He frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I was watching for it. She answered every question as if she were in the middle of a congressional hearing.”

  “Maybe she’s just a serious person. There’s nothing wrong with that. Not everyone can be the life of the party all the time.”

  Ah. That’s why he hadn’t noticed. Because Brodie himself was one of the most measured, careful people she’d ever met—most of the time, anyway. She decided not to count that heated kiss that she was really, really trying not to dwell on more than, oh, once or twice every five minutes.

  “I agree. There’s nothing wrong with being serious all the time. I’m sure it’s a very good trait if you’re a funeral director.”

  Or a sexy entrepreneur whose seriousness tended to make a woman’s mind race with various ways she could help him lighten up…

  She dragged her mind away from that dangerous plan. “I’m just not sure she would be the best one to encourage and motivate a somewhat stubborn fifteen-year-old girl.”

  “Warmth can only take you so far. Look at my parents. My mother is probably the most kind, encouraging soul in town. But when it came to motivation, I invariably worked harder for my father, whom anyone in town can tell you was one serious son of a bitch.”

  She had heard a few murmurs about Katherine’s husband and had picked up the impression that he had been stern and uncompromising. She was sad for Brodie, suddenly. Her own father had been mostly a distant figure in her life, busy with work and his civic involvement, moving in Santa Barbara political circles.

  He had died of a massive heart attack when she was a teenager, probably in part becau
se he’d also been one of those serious, solemn people who didn’t take nearly enough time to laugh at the inevitable craziness of life.

  “Is that what you think Taryn will respond to?” she asked him.

  “I’m guessing you don’t think I should hire the woman.”

  “I can’t make that decision for you, Brodie. You’re Taryn’s father. You have to do what you think is best for her.”

  “What if I think the best thing in the world for Taryn would be for you to continue working with her until she no longer needs help?” As soon as he said the words, he looked as if he regretted them.

  Her mouth firmed into a tight line. She’d already told him she couldn’t do it. He knew why this was hard for her. Every day she spent with Taryn—and Brodie—was another gouge in her heart.

  “Two weeks. That’s what I told you. I can’t give more than that.”

  She hated that disappointment in his eyes but she couldn’t bend on this. If she caved, before she knew it, she would be wrapped so tightly around their lives she wouldn’t be able to pry herself loose.

  “I’ll keep looking then. But if I can’t find anyone we both deem suitable, I may end up having to hire Ms. Martin anyway.”

  “Understood. Let me know if you would like me to sit in on any other interviews.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  They lapsed into silence and she was again aware of him with that almost painful intensity. Though they were standing a few feet apart, she could smell him above the late-summer scents of sunshine and flowers. She’d noticed his aftershave before, something masculine and undoubtedly expensive that called to mind long walks in a mountain forest after a rain shower.

  That silly schoolgirl wanted to just stand here for a few minutes and inhale. She swallowed and met his gaze and found it resting on her mouth again. Her insides tumbled, tumbled, tumbled.

  Oh, drat the man. Just when she’d convinced herself she could keep things on a casual, professional level with him, he had to go staring at her mouth again, conjuring up all sorts of crazy, wholly inappropriate impulses—like stepping forward, grasping him by the front of that crisp, sexy shirt, and indulging in another of those incredible kisses.

  * * *

  HE HAD TO STOP THIS. Right now. He was spending entirely too much time fantasizing about Evie, all that luscious blond hair and her soft mouth and those soft, thick-lashed exotically shaped blue eyes. It was ridiculous, especially when he planned to do absolutely nothing about this attraction except take more cold swims in the pool out back and fight to keep his hands to himself.

  “It looks like Taryn’s still sleeping. I guess I should wake her up,” Evie said after a pause, looking at the van and not at him, and he wondered if he’d imagined that tiny flare of heat he’d seen in her eyes.

  No. Probably not. He was almost sure he wasn’t imagining the sudden sexual tension seething and tugging between them.

  “Do you need me to help you take her inside the house?”

  “No. I think I can handle it.” She brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face and he ached to reach out and feel it.

  She swallowed, still avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I almost forgot. I needed to talk to you about something. I want to incorporate more social interaction with Taryn’s therapy as motivation, but also to help her work on regaining those skills. She seemed to really respond to the interaction with her peers at the bead store.”

  He didn’t want to talk about this. What he really wanted to do was press her up against the nearest sun-warmed tree trunk and kiss her again until both of them dissolved into the grass.

  “Would her friends actually help with the therapy?”

  “A little, maybe. We could invite a few over to play around in the pool or maybe come over to do hair or something. Or more beading. That always works.”

  “You and my mother both think beads can solve the world’s problems.”

  “It’s a start, anyway.”

  He shook his head. “I suppose incorporating friends into her therapy makes sense. As long as you’re not talking wild parties long into the night every weekend.”

  Her smile was lovelier than the native wildflowers his gardening service so carefully cultivated. “Not yet. We build to that. I thought maybe we could start out with having Hannah and some other friends help with her therapy. She might be more motivated to work if someone is here making it more fun.”

  How was he supposed to focus on these important questions when his stupid one-track male brain was thinking about that smile and the little sound of surprised desire she made when he kissed her? He forced himself to do his best to pay attention.

  “Friends. Uh, that makes sense. She’s been a social butterfly all her life. I believe she first started gabbing to her neighbor while she was still in the incubator in the hospital nursery.”

  “Oh. And one more thing.” Evie’s tone was suddenly rueful. “She and my dog hit it off. Would you have any objection to me bringing Jacques with me tomorrow? He’s very well behaved and certainly housebroken, I promise.”

  “Give you an inch.” He shook his head.

  “I know. I take a mile. But if you give me lemons, I make lemonade. I’m what you call multitalented.”

  He laughed, thinking how perfect it was to be standing outside in the afternoon sunshine with the hum of bees in the flowers and the air sweet and clear and a beautiful woman beside him who, despite all his common sense, somehow made him laugh.

  “Speaking of lemonade,” she said, “I’m dying for some of that peach lemonade Mrs. O. makes. And lunch, of course. Guess it’s time to wake up Taryn.”

  She opened the sliding door of the van at the same moment he heard the sound of a vehicle turning into the driveway. Probably his mother coming home for lunch. Brodie turned to look but instead of his mother’s vehicle, he saw a delivery truck pulling in.

  Weird. He wasn’t expecting anything and he typically had most deliveries sent to his office for his assistant to handle. Maybe Katherine had ordered something.

  “Is this the Thorne residence?” the driver asked after he climbed out with alacrity.

  Brodie stepped forward. “Yes. I’m Brodie Thorne.”

  “I need your signature for this one, please.”

  Brodie quickly signed the electronic pad and took the bed-pillow-size package from the man, who then hurried away in that quick way delivery drivers had that made you feel they had less than a microsecond to spare for you.

  “Looks like Taryn is waking up,” Evie observed. Brodie supposed that wasn’t a big surprise, with the big truck rumbling behind her.

  “Let me set this inside and I’ll help you take her into the house.” He took a look at the label. “Hey, it’s for her!”

  “For Taryn? Are you expecting medical supplies for her?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Those usually come through our home-health company anyway. This doesn’t have a return address so I can’t tell who sent it.”

  “Now I’m curious. Since she’s awake anyway, I say we let her open it.”

  Evie hit the remote on the keychain that extended the automatic ramp on the passenger side of the vehicle. She reached in to release the tie-downs, speaking quietly to Taryn as she did. He couldn’t hear what they said but he saw Taryn’s sleepy smile in response, saw Evie rest a hand on his daughter’s hair, and something tender and fragile shivered in his chest.

  “Hi…Dad.” Taryn smiled at him, still half-asleep, reminding him of long-ago snowboard trips when they would wake up early to drive to one of the other ski resorts in Colorado for the day.

  “Hi, bug.” He had let too much distance come between them over the years, had allowed himself to become too immersed in building his business and too focused on his own expectations for Taryn. Shame on him that it had taken his daughter nearly dying before he finally realized it.

  “Look,” she said, holding out her arm, just as Evie had predicted she would. He saw a bracelet of pretty, colorful pink-and-green bead
s.

  “Nice,” he said.

  “Made it with Char…”

  “Let’s get you inside,” Evie said quickly, pushing Taryn toward the house and making him curious about her haste.

  “You’ve got a package,” he said. “Want to open it?”

  “Really? For…me?”

  She had always loved opening presents on Christmas, he remembered—until the last few years, anyway, when she had started asking for money to buy her own gifts.

  “Why don’t I tell Mrs. O. to bring lunch out back by the pool? You can open your package there.”

  “Okay. Bathroom…first.”

  “I’m on it.” Evie helped Taryn to her room and the en suite bathroom while he went in search of his housekeeper to ask if she would mind serving lunch outside. He didn’t really have time to stop for lunch since he had only come home for a moment to take care of some loose ends, but he supposed he could find a few minutes to spare for his daughter, especially when he’d nearly lost everything with her.

  Ten minutes later, the three of them converged outside at the covered table near the pool. The waterfall built into the landscape gurgled, reflecting flashes of afternoon sunlight.

  “Mrs. O. made chicken-salad sandwiches. My favorite,” Brodie said.

  “She…loves…you,” Taryn said with a teasing grin.

  His eyes met Evie’s and he was embarrassed to feel himself blush. Mrs. O. was nearly sixty years old, for heaven’s sake.

  “She appreciates that I pay her a decent wage and that I don’t make her work on weekends.”

  “That’s…not all.”

  “Why don’t you open your package?” he said quickly. “I’m dying to know who’s sending you things and what it might be.”

  “I brought some scissors out to help us,” Evie said. For all her free-spirited ways, she was hyperorganized about things like that, he was discovering. Because of his ADD, he had trouble focusing beyond right this moment and had always greatly admired others who could think ahead three or four steps beyond the now.