by Jillian Hart
“Hey, stranger.” She abandoned folding boxes. “Good to see you.”
“I love Saturdays. Errands and not having to go to work, although I do love my job.” Colbie strode to the counter with a smile and an agenda. “I’ve got Mom in the car, so I can’t be long. How about a half dozen banana muffins? They’re her favorite.”
“Sure. Do you want to pick out the faces?” Bree donned a plastic glove and grabbed a small bakery box from the stack she’d already made. “I got to decorate the muffins this morning. A total blast.”
“Mom will adore the smiling monster. I like the ones with the snaggletooth. How about three of each?”
“You got it.” She carefully loaded the box with the enormous muffins sporting iced monster faces. “How’s your day off going?”
“Good. We just finished battling the grocery store. Mom wanted to come. She misses doing it herself.” Colbie opened her purse and dug through her wallet. She dropped a five-dollar bill on the counter. “She’s lost so much of her freedom, I want her to feel like she can still do some things. Like pick out what type of potato chips she wants.”
“She looked good at the bookstore last night.” Bree moved over to the register and caught sight of Lil in the car, parked at the curb in front of the windows. She waved. Lil waved back, cheerful as always in spite of her infirmity. Bree punched in the sale at the discounted rate the owner, their cousin Ava, insisted on. She knew how hard things were for Colbie and her mom. “It was good to see Lil chatting with everyone. A social butterfly.”
“She gets lonely these days. She always was a people person. I’m grateful for our church’s home-care circle. Having church members visit on a weekly basis has been a lifesaver for her. She doesn’t always feel up to going out.”
“I’m going to try to make it by after church tomorrow.” Brianna counted back the change. “I need to study, but at least you can get out for a while.”
“I’d appreciate it. I’ll probably tackle the yard work. The leaves are still in the yard from last October. It’s scary, that’s what it is.” Colbie took her change and her bakery box with a mischievous glint. “I noticed you getting along quite well with a certain handsome man.”
She cringed. Yep, she knew this was coming. The shocker was that Colbie hadn’t called earlier wanting to know the dish. She pushed the cash drawer shut and went back to folding boxes. “You have romance on the brain, Cole.”
“I do. It’s a fatal flaw.” If she looked momentarily sad, it was only for an instant and in a flash it was gone. But the truth of it remained unsaid between them. Colbie wanted romance for others because of the simple fact she could not have it for herself. No man in his twenties was looking to get saddled down with a disabled mother-in-law and more medical debt than most folks could shoulder.
“Still, I see God’s hand in this.” Undeterred, Colbie tucked the box under her arm. “Your car could have gotten stolen any time, right? So maybe it is God turning misfortune into victory. Perhaps you were supposed to say yes to the guy when he offered to drive you home. Hel-lo.”
If only. Just because she knew he was faithful, compassionate, honorable and a dedicated cop didn’t mean she had to start hoping. No, she would stay neutral and refuse to see Colbie’s take on things. At least this way she didn’t have to be afraid of getting hurt, of opening herself up. Of finally meeting someone perfect and finding out she wasn’t meant to be loved. That was what she was really afraid of.
Old patterns, her counselor would say.
“Perhaps Billy was the man God meant for me, but he decided not to show up.” Equally undeterred, Brianna finished the box and slid it beneath the counter with the others. Deciding she’d done enough to last awhile, she grabbed a clean rag from beneath the counter and the waiting pail of sudsy water. “Unfortunately, that’s how free will goes. Now I’m tragically never going to meet my one true love.”
“Sorry, I’m not buying it. Which reminds me, I got a text message from Billy.”
“Groan.” She set the bucket down on the floor and knelt to rinse the cloth in the bleach water. How was she going to convince her sister that the path to true love probably could not start with a blind date? At least, judging by her precious experience. “Billy chickened out.”
“No, he said something came up and he had to go out of town on family business. I have a call into him to find out what’s going on. I’ve got to get going.” Colbie backed toward the door. “But if you don’t think things will work with Mr. Gorgeous Detective, then I can try to reconnect you with Billy.”
“As if that wouldn’t be a disaster to my self-esteem.” Bree rolled her eyes, joking so that Colbie was grinning as she pushed through the door. Her sister’s life was somber and filled with hard work, and duty.
Her apron pocket began to vibrate. She dried her hands on her shirt and pulled out her cell. A new text. As Brandi strolled in from the kitchen, balancing a large cake with both hands, Bree scrolled down and opened her new message.
Bree,
I’ve got a lead on a car. Runs good. Interested?
Max.
Max? She warmed from the inside out, as if she were standing in front of a roaring fire on a cold winter’s day. She felt toasty and cozy and glowing. This, from simply thinking about the man.
Max,
I’m interested.
Bree.
“You’re shining.” Brandi swished around the counter, her apron ruffling with her gait. “Something tells me it’s because of a certain detective.”
“No comment.” If her voice wobbled and she nearly dropped her phone, then it wasn’t a sign of significance. She wasn’t in love with him or anything. At least, not yet. Almost, sure, but not yet. “He’s going to help me find a car.”
“Whew. Talk about a relief. You need transportation, but the stuff we’ve waded through online. Scary.” That’s what Brandi said, but Bree knew she meant something else entirely. “Max is going to be a big help to you. I just know it.”
“Me, too.” It wasn’t the big help thing she was agreeing to. She loved that Brandi always understood her. No words were necessary. There were things too fragile to say out loud and too personal to talk about. Her tender feelings for Max happened to be one of those things. Hopes she didn’t dare let flourish, although they were there.
Her phone buzzed again. When she whipped it out of her pocket, there was another text from Max.
Where R U?
She tapped out an answer, aware of her twin watching her with understanding on her face. Brandi knew why Bree’s fingers were wooden and her ribs hurt with every breath. This way she felt about Max—what she was trying not to put in words—was entirely new to her. Definitely uncertain ground. That’s why it was so terrifying.
At the bakery.
She sent her answer, pocketed her phone and wrung the dishcloth out in the soapy water. Max. She hadn’t been able to think of much else. Last night, after the singles event, visions of him interfered with her attempt at late-night studying. He was apparently no match for teaching methods in the elementary classroom. All the workday through, she’d wondered about him. Remembered the rough timbre of his voice. Felt the hurt he hid over his girlfriend’s betrayal.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Brandi hung close, her whisper loud in the hush of the empty room. “You’re afraid to care.”
“It’s a different kind of afraid.” She swiped at the tabletop, scrubbing until it squeaked. “When I was lying in the hospital with tubes and monitors, I was so grateful to be alive. I wanted to play it safe. I never wanted to be hurt like that again.”
“Totally expected. You were really hurt, Bree. We didn’t know if you would pull through.”
“I know.” She held fast against the memories trying to well up from the vault she kept them buried in. Collapsing to the kitchen floor, the tile slick and cold beneath her cheek. Charles, the dishwasher, kneeling at her side after the gunmen had left. The anxious tone of the paramedics as they checked her vital
s. The tearing sound of the blood pressure cuff, the drone of the helicopter and more pain than she could endure.
“I woke up and realized two things. How gracious God was in sparing me, and how important reaching my dreams were. I’ve been marking time, too afraid to go after what I want. Afraid that it won’t be something I can have.”
“A happy life. A loving marriage.” Pure understanding, that was Brandi.
“Exactly. There’s nothing safe about the kind of relationships we’ve seen. And I thought—”
“—that a better quality relationship with a solid, decent man would be safe,” Brandi finished.
“It looks that way from where we’ve always stood.” She didn’t need to tell her twin. Brandi was already nodding as if she knew perfectly.
Bree didn’t have to talk about the sting of uncertainty and other people’s comments on them and their family before Dad left. And then the unpredictable and often volatile men their mom dated, or married, or divorced. How they would wonder about the kids in school, the ones with the pretty, put-together moms and nice, well-kept cars and their pleasant smiles of greeting and “I love you, have a good day” that seemed as routine as milk and cereal for breakfast. Those kids must have safe, secure lives. It had always looked ideal, as if there were no peril, no risks and no fear.
“Max is a solid guy. Even I can see it.” Brandi’s reassurance came quietly. “He might be a chance in a lifetime.”
“That’s exactly why it’s so frightening. And hopeful.” Did she dare give life to those stubborn wishes, the ones that not even her uncertain childhood or post-traumatic stress could silence?
Max. She felt his arrival like a jolt of electricity, as if jumpstarting a part of her spirit. She turned toward him. Tenderness filled her, sweet as stardust and twice as luminous. She glowed from the inside out, drinking in his dear, dependable presence.
“I’ll be in the back. I have cookies to decorate.” Brandi slipped away, whispering one last thought. “Don’t be afraid of the good kind of love, Bree.”
Great advice, but how did she not be afraid? With every step Max took toward her, the panic returned proportionally. The sensation of falling. The vertigo. The struggle to let him close.
The door swung open, and he filled the doorway, shrinking the room, forcing the entire world to vanish. There was only him, just him, and her soul seemed to celebrate. The sunshine gleamed more brightly. The air smelled sweeter. She felt enlivened and happy, and she was no longer falling. She took a step toward him, though she couldn’t feel the ground.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He let the door swing shut behind him, looking ruggedly handsome in black. Black coat, black T-shirt, black jeans. “I had a tough morning.”
“You’ve been working?”
“On the job since six. Got a five-thirty call. Didn’t get my beauty sleep.” He winked. Strolling closer, she could read the toll the day had taken on his soul. Shadowed eyes, set jaw, a deep weariness that had nothing to do with being woken up early on a Saturday morning. The bruises under his eyes and his unshaken jaw only added proof. “Is that coffee fresh?”
“Just finished brewing.” She abandoned her table cleaning and circled around the counter. This time, retreating made no difference in the awareness she felt for him. The bond between them continued, a powerful emotional link that seemed to burrow deep, where she was most vulnerable. She grabbed a to-go cup and filled it with steaming coffee. “Are you sure you want to go car shopping with me? Maybe you want to go home instead.”
“No, I’d rather make myself useful.” One dimple showed in his lopsided grin, but she could sense something more. He was afraid of this, too, to take a step forward into the dark unknown. There was more meaning to his words, real feeling beneath his attempt at humor. He took the cup she set on the counter and reached for his wallet.
“It’s on me. Usefulness has its rewards.” She kept her tone light, when she meant more, so much more. “Do you want anything else? A muffin? A cookie. A scone?”
“What’s with the muffins?” He frowned at the display case where the day’s baked goods were faced out, to give the customers a good view of their smiling monster faces.
“Do you like my handiwork?”
“You did this to perfectly innocent muffins?”
“And I got paid to do it. Today I decided to go with green-and-pink hair. It seemed to match the springlike day. I like the old-man face the best. It has character.” She grabbed a plastic glove with a box on the counter. “Want one?”
“No. Thanks. Too frilly for me, although I like the scowling old guy. You have talent with icing.” He tossed a couple bucks in the tip jar and sipped his coffee, keeping watch of her over the rim. “Although the goofy-eyed snaggletooth monster is a close second.”
“My job doesn’t make the city a safer place the way yours does, but it helps people to smile.” She dropped the glove and pushed open the swinging kitchen door. She waved at someone inside the kitchen. “I’m leaving a few minutes early,” she said, and let the door brush closed.
“I don’t mind waiting if you need to finish your shift, Bree.”
“It’s been quiet today.” She untied her apron and hung it in a small closet. She gathered her coat and purse, and he couldn’t keep from cataloguing the graceful way she moved, the precious way she folded a lock of golden hair behind her ear and the luster of her quiet beauty.
“Let me help you with that.” He set down his coffee to take her coat and hold it for her.
As she slipped into it, she had to come irresistibly close. Tenderly, he let the experience wash through him. The wonder of her so near that he could see the richer highlight of platinum in her hair, inhale the sugar and icing scent of her, see the sweet vulnerability of her heart. He felt ten feet tall, to her petiteness, and an unprecedented twang of hope vibrated within him as he settled the coat on her shoulders. He wished he could pull her into the shelter of his chest instead of watch as she moved away.
He was not a man ever carried away by his feelings, so what was happening to him?
“What’s Marcus up to today?” Her question was light and simple, on the surface.
Just the way he wanted to keep things. Except for the stubborn feelings he couldn’t seem to control. Thick, lustrous rays of sunlight followed her as he held the door. Overhead, the bells chimed more sweetly, as if just for her. The mild spring day felt joyful and the images of his morning’s work faded from his brain. When he wanted to reach out and take her hand, he settled for walking alongside her instead.
“Marcus is at a friend’s house.” He opened the passenger door for her, offering a hand to help her up. “Something about a basketball challenge and a video game medley. At least he’s out of my hair.”
What he meant was, he was glad the kid had friends, the good kind that were a help to him. That he was fitting in well here when the move had originally been traumatic.
“It has to feel good to see him thriving.” As if she understood him, she settled on the seat as if she belonged there. “Not many men your age would take on a teenager.”
“Teenagers don’t scare me. I’m tougher than I look.” What he wished he could say was, he’s my brother. I would trade my life for his.
Her gaze softened, as if he knew that, too, as if somehow she could see behind the tough exterior and hard-earned armor. He’d never felt so exposed, never felt as understood.
“I’m not at all surprised,” she said with an adorable grin. “You look as if you could take on any wrong and win.”
“Nah, that’s a superhero. I tell you what, I might not win but I give it my best shot.” If he kept gazing at her, he was going to lose all possession of his senses. He was going to start believing in goodness again and that she was someone he could trust when the chips were down.
He couldn’t seem to stop his fingers from reaching out and brushing at a strand of hair, which had tumbled across her eyes. He couldn’t stop the tenderness wrapping him up in knots.
Her hair rustled like silk against his callused fingertips, her skin like fine satin.
This is not going to work out, Decker, he told himself. But did that stop him? No. Not one bit. She gazed up at him wordlessly, and he felt lost in her gaze. Lost in those innocent violet depths and her beautiful goodness.
Being with her made his shadows less. His hope more. Overwhelmed by tenderness, he leaned closer. Time slowed, her eyes widened, his pulse flatlined. And in the space between one breath and the next, he leaned nearer, treasuring the tickle of her hair against his jaw and her delicate intake of breath.
Would she move away? Or say no? Or boot him out of her way? To his surprise she didn’t. She laid her hand on the center of his chest, a cherished warmth above the place where he had once been so cold. There were no more excuses. No more jokes to crack. Distance vanished between them, and he felt vulnerable. Armor down, he pressed a kiss to her satiny cheek. He felt her smile and her happiness.
The earth shifted beneath his feet. Barricades built along ago began to crumble inside him, places he had never intended to let anyone in again. But he couldn’t help it. As he straightened, and the cool March wind eased between them, he realized he was smiling, too. He didn’t know how to tell her what she meant to him, or that he was in, all in. He wanted this to work. The way her hand lingered on his chest for a moment longer before falling away told him she might be feeling the same. Afraid to trust, but unable to hold back her heart.
He shut her door and circled around the truck, taking comfort that at least they were in this together.
Chapter Ten
Happiness hugged her from the inside out. Bree couldn’t stop it. She pulled her new ten-year-old economy sedan into the vacant spot in the carport and clapped her hands. She had her freedom back. And her ability to go to and from school, work and church without relying on her sisters or her bike.