"Hm?"
"I'm glad you came. It means a lot to me. I'll never forget it."
She didn't answer because tears were clogging her throat. Alicia Wareham would never forget it either. She could guarantee that. "Okay," she finally managed, and ended the call.
She sat for a long moment in her truck, taking in deep breaths, trying to calm the racing of her heart.
This thing with Rollo was so far beyond anything she'd ever felt before. It was elemental, as if Rollo had changed her body chemistry in some way. She loved him. She couldn't imagine not loving him ever again.
But she couldn't be with him, even if he felt the same way.
Did he? She had no idea. Sometimes she’d caught an expression on his face…
No. Forget it. Forget Rollo. She had to, even if it was the hardest thing she ever had to do in her life.
The rest of the holiday season passed in a numbing blur. Since her parents had gone to Arizona, she spent Christmas with Suzanne, Josh, and the six teenagers who were currently staying at the Star Bright Shelter for Teens. The Christmas season was the worst for kids away from home, especially kids in the midst of a crisis.
She got each of the teens a gift, a journal they could pour their emotions into. It made her think of Sidney and the sketchbook she carried everywhere. Would Sidney be okay back in New York? She felt bad about leaving her before she'd really gotten her to open up. Had she done anything right at the Warehams? The whole trip had been one big mistake.
She invited Old Man Turner to Christmas dinner, as she did every year. But he declined, as he did every year. As usual, she packed him up a huge basket of leftovers and brought it to him the day after Christmas.
This year, he had a gift for her, too. A savings bond dating from the 1950s.
"Holy mackerel. This thing's probably worth a lot of money by now."
"A-yuh. Haven't paid you a cent in years. Take what I owe you out of that amount. The rest you'll probably need for my sendoff. If my body's ever found after the gang catches up with me." He grimaced as he worked on a can of beef stew with his special adaptive can opener.
"Oh, stop that, Melvin. No one’s after you. And why are you eating canned stew when I just brought you all these delicious leftovers? The least you could do is pretend to appreciate them."
"Ho ho ho," he muttered, putting the can aside. "Don't celebrate holidays. Waste of time."
"I know, you're a big old Scrooge." She poked him on his bony shoulder. "But then how do you account for that savings bond you just gave me?"
"Eh. Dementia."
They both laughed. He might be declining fast, but he still had his sense of humor. She took care of a few chores around the place—switched his propane tank, piled his garbage bags into her truck, checked his dog for fleas. When she left, he was tucking into the roast beef she'd included in her gift basket.
She stashed the savings bond in her glove compartment, where most of her invoices and bills ended up until she emptied it once a month. She didn't want his payment. The only reason she'd cash in that savings bond would be if he needed it. She'd read that dementia could make people paranoid. Old Man Turner seemed like a classic case. Poor old guy.
She spent New Year's Eve at a small party Suzanne threw at the new house she and Josh had just bought. Josh didn't own a stick of furniture, and Suzanne had lived in a small condo before they got married. That left a lot of empty space, which they turned into a temporary dance floor filled with twinkle lights and balloons.
At the stroke of midnight, Sean grabbed Evie and swung her around, covering her face with kisses. Josh gently took hold of the seven-months-pregnant Suzanne and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. Merry sent her a Happy New Year text—she was busy covering the town's official New Year's Eve fireworks celebration.
Kiss any lucky screenwriters? Merry texted.
Good Lord. Finn. She'd forgotten all about him.
No. Ixnay on the ush-cray.
She wondered if Finn and Merry would get together. They had a lot more in common than she and Finn ever had. They were both writers, both sort of mysterious and glamorous. Her silly crush seemed so ridiculous now that she looked back at it. Why Finn? The whole dark-and-brooding thing had really sucked her in. But the whole time, Rollo had been right there, in all his slow-burn, sexy glory. Hiding in plain sight.
And now he was all she could think about.
She kept waiting for a New Year's text from him. Or a call. Or something. But midnight came and went with no word from Rollo.
Maybe he was just running late.
She went home and sat on the back deck of her little cabin, arms wrapped around her knees, and gazed up at the vast blanket of stars overhead. Those same stars were showering their light down on Rollo in Manhattan. Was he watching them in the slices of sky visible between those towering buildings? Or was he inside somewhere, drinking champagne and tugging at his collar?
One o'clock came and went. No call. 1:15, 1:30.
At 1:35, she turned off her phone and buried her head under her pillow.
Clearly, her destiny had struck again. Awkward crushes were her doom.
26
New Year's Eve was probably the worst night of the year for a first date. At Le Bernardin, where reservations had to be booked three months ahead of time, couples filled every table. Romantic, flirting, expensively dressed couples. Rollo and Cornelia, on the other hand…well, they were both expensively dressed. Cornelia was definitely flirting. But romantic? If romantic meant "ball of dread in your stomach"…sure.
"Your mother is amazing," Cornelia was gushing. "She was so thoughtful to book this table for us. Do you know how far in advance she had to do that?"
"Yes. She's very organized."
"She should be running a corporation."
"She does, in a way. Wareham, Inc."
Cornelia smiled, which drew his attention to the deep red shade of her lipstick. He found it unnerving. "The older families like ours are so much responsibility. That's one reason I got both a law degree and a business degree."
Since Cornelia was a compliance officer for a corporation, he didn't really get the connection. But she was definitely smart. His mother hadn't set him up with a flighty social butterfly, and for that he was grateful. Cornelia was focused, poised, ambitious. No one would mess around with her. If anyone could hold their own with Alicia Stockard Wareham, it would be Cornelia.
Best of all, it turned out that her family also had a vacation house in Maine. She'd spent childhood summers about a hundred miles up the coast from him. She even had a firefighting story to tell. "A wildfire came within two miles of our house in Bar Harbor. I'll never forget the men who fought that fire. Very good-looking. Are all firefighters so attractive?"
He laughed, acknowledging the compliment. As they shared memories about tromping through the woods and swimming in the icy-cold Maine water, he finally felt comfortable with her. Even more than the champagne, talking about the outdoors relaxed him.
"I'll always love Maine, but I'm a Pacific Ocean guy these days," he told her. "I just bought a place in California."
A sharp stab of pain shot through him as he pictured his house on the cliffs, with the koi pond ready for fish. What would it be like seeing Brianna around town after all this? He'd always figured they'd stay friends no matter what. In their last phone call, just before Christmas, she'd sounded friendly. But someone like Cornelia might not stand for an unconventional friendship like that.
Cornelia smoothed over his sudden silence. "These days, it's nice to have footholds wherever you can. I'd love to see the spot you've found. Jupiter Point, your mother said? I'm sure it's darling."
"A lot of people think so. I moved there for the firefighting and liked the territory."
At the stroke of midnight, he leaned across the table. Candlelight flickered across her smooth skin, giving her even, pretty features a hint of mystery. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Those deep red lips parted, inviting him in. He kissed her,
just a quick brush of contact.
And immediately drew back.
The wrongness of it sang through his body. No, no, no. He couldn't kiss anyone else. Not yet, anyway. Not while his heart beat to the sound of Brianna's name and the memory of her burned under his skin.
Cornelia didn't seem to notice his reaction. She smiled warmly at him and wished him a Happy New Year. They ordered after-dinner brandies. They talked about her work. She asked him about his house in California. He wasn't sure how it happened, but by the time he signaled for the bill, Cornelia had made a plan to visit him in Jupiter Point.
Only one thing kept Brianna from being able to avoid Rollo. It began with a K, ended with an I, and was filled with Brianna's blood, sweat and tears. The best thing would be if she could fill the damn koi pond with dirt and move on.
But she was a professional, damn it. She wasn't going to run from Rollo. She was going to face him head-on. By now he'd probably heard all about her disastrous fashion show performance. He was probably thanking his lucky stars that things were over between them. If he was a really good friend, he'd never mention that mortifying event.
Of course they were good friends. They'd get through the wrong turn their relationship had taken. They'd get back to their old casual, fun, hangout-buddy status.
In the meantime, she raced to complete the koi pond before Rollo got back. The koi had been ordered, so the only tasks left were to fill the pond with water and plant the water hyacinth, horsetail and lotus that would help filter the water.
And she almost made it.
So close. So close. She had turned on the hose and was filling the pond when she heard his Jeep drive up. For one crazy moment, she considered hiding in the pond, water and all. But that truly would be a cowardly move, and possibly hypothermic.
So she turned, casual as she could, and waved as he stepped out of his rig.
First thought: his beard was growing back.
Second thought: God, he looked good.
The third thought was more of a physical reaction than an actual thought. It was a full-body flush that swept from her toes, which were tucked under her as she knelt by the pond, to the top of her head, where a bandanna kept her hair out of her eyes.
Rollo waved back and hauled his duffel out of the passenger seat. He slung it onto the walkway and strode across the lawn toward her. All the breath left her body. The glug-glug of the water filling the pond rang in her ears like a bell, blocking out everything else. Her eyes ate him up as if he were Christmas dinner and New Year's champagne all rolled into one. It felt as if her heart sighed. Literally sighed.
He came close, his gray-blue eyes scanning her, the pond, then back to her. "You've been working hard."
"Yeah. I was trying to get it done before…" She trailed off, wincing.
But he caught it right away. A shadow passed across his face. "Before I got back?"
"No, just, you know, I have a lot of other projects going on, and I already ordered the koi and I'm sure you don't want to keep them in the bathtub until the pond is done." Babbling. Totally babbling.
"Homeless koi. Wouldn't be right."
She smiled, then couldn't stop smiling because just the sight of him made her eyes happy. He wore the moss-green cable-knit sweater Sidney had knit for him and his familiar worn jeans and work boots. His beard was about an inch long, which meant he was halfway between clean-cut New York guy and the wild mountain firefighter. She liked both versions, and she liked the in-between version too. She liked all of him.
"So…any luck finding a missus?" She cringed as the words left her mouth. God, what was wrong with her? Why oh why did she have to blurt out every little thing?
His eyebrows drew together. "Still single." But from the reserved way he said it, she knew there was more to the story. And she didn't want to hear it. Not yet. Not right away.
"But someone is coming to visit in a few days. Cornelia. I…uh…I hope that's okay."
And there it was. It felt like a hammer right to her heart. "Really? That's awesome. That's perfect timing because the koi should be arriving right around then and I'm sure she'll want to see that."
Really? That was what "Cornelia" would want to see? Koi? What kind of person was named Cornelia, anyway?
"I mean, maybe she doesn't and that's okay too. I'll try to finish up before she arrives. That way you won't have an ex hanging around in your yard. Not that she would know. Or that I am an ex, technically. We were just friends. Still are. Really, really great friends, and I'm very happy you have someone visiting. By the way, did you know that koi can mate with goldfish? Fun fact. I didn't know that. I've really learned a lot on this project, so thank you for the opportunity—" She broke off with a yelp as water touched her knees. The pond was overflowing. She'd been babbling so much she'd forgotten the hose was on.
Rollo bent down and scooped her up, stepping back from the rim of the pond. Water brimmed over the edge, soaking into the lawn on all sides. She gave his chest a hard push.
"Put me down!"
The desperation in her tone must have shocked Rollo. He let her go and she slid to the ground. She ran to the spigot and turned off the hose. She gave herself a moment of fiddling with the hose bib to collect herself.
It was one thing to try to stay friends with Rollo. Being in his arms again—that was a step too far. She couldn't handle that. She had to make it perfectly clear that their relationship would be strictly hands-off from now on.
"Sorry about the overflow," she told him as she stepped gingerly back to the edge of the pond. "The water should soak into the grass. No harm done. We'll just pretend that never happened, right?" Her gaze clung to his, asking him to understand. She meant the overflow, she meant him holding her…all of the above.
A line appeared between his eyebrows and he looked away. He nodded once, stuffed his hands in his pockets. With his wide shoulders hunched over, he surveyed the wet grass and full pond. Then he swung his grave gaze back to her. "You should probably go change. You'll catch a cold out here like that."
She looked down at herself, realizing she'd gotten completely drenched. Her overalls clung to every curve of her hips and legs. Well, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before.
When she looked up, he was halfway to his house, bending over to pick up the duffel he'd left on the walkway.
"Okay, thanks," she whispered to herself.
It could be worse, Rollo kept telling himself. Brianna could be ignoring him. Hating him. Yelling at him. Spreading nasty rumors about him. But then again, she wouldn't be Brianna if she did that sort of thing. That was completely not her style.
Instead, she was acting as if New York had never happened. As if their "fling" had never happened. She gave him friendly smiles every time she saw him. Which would have been fine, but he saw her everywhere. Laughing, being adorable, lighting up every nightspot in Jupiter Point.
When he went to grab a beer at Barstow's Brews with Josh and Tim Peavy, there she was, shooting pool with a bunch of guys from the police department. He watched from across the room as she bent over the table, squinting down her pool cue. The overhead lamp lit her hair into a coppery halo of fire. Her cute little rear shifted as she lined up her shot, making him about as hard as her damn cue.
Were those idiot cops checking out her ass too? Fuckers.
He was halfway out of his seat, ready to smash some off-duty heads together, before he remembered that he had no claim on Brianna. That she should be looking for someone else. He sank back and signaled for another pitcher of beer.
"Doing your squats?" Josh asked mildly. From the glint in his eye, he knew exactly what Rollo was going through.
"Fuck off."
"Dude, is something bugging you? Want to talk to Uncle Josh about it?"
"Bet it's girl trouble," said Peavy wisely. "If you need advice from a couple of married guys—"
"Then I'll ask those old geezers at the end of the bar," growled Rollo. "I don't need any advice."
"Good. Becau
se no advice will help you, my friend." Josh squeezed his shoulder. "Want to know why? Because you're doomed. Fight it all you want. Won't make a difference. When you find the right girl, it's all over, man." He grinned at Rollo's expression. "In a good way, of course."
"I'm blocking you out right now." Rollo downed his beer just in time for the next pitcher to arrive. As he sipped the foam off his next mugful, his gaze traveled back to Brianna. She was high-fiving one of the cops. Her t-shirt rode up her waist, exposing a flash of skin that went right to Rollo's head.
"Doomed," Josh repeated gleefully.
Rollo also saw Brianna at the hardware store. They chatted long enough for her to explain she was buying bulbs for a hillside of daffodils. He ran into her at Fifth Book from the Sun, where Mrs. Murphy, the town rumormonger, tried to get one or both of them to spill details from Brianna's trip to New York.
"Someone told me you're a secret millionaire and you paid for Brianna's suite at a five-star hotel. But I said, why would a millionaire risk his life putting out wildfires? It just doesn't make sense."
"It really doesn't, does it?" Brianna tossed Rollo a wink as she plopped her pile of books on the counter. "And can you imagine me in a five-star hotel? They'd have to give me one of those Silkwood treatments first. You know, when they put you through the power wash?"
"Don't be silly, Brianna. What are these, westerns? Not your usual choice." Mrs. Murphy rang up the books, barely noting the prices. Most people felt that she ran the business more as a front for gossip than anything else.
"They're for Old Man Turner. He sprained his ankle again."
"Poor man. Speaking of which, someone came in here asking about him."
“Really?” Brianna handed over a twenty for the books. “Someone from out of town?”
“I didn’t know him, and I know everyone in Jupiter Point.” Mrs. Murphy smiled smugly. “Strange thing, though. He used a different name for Melvin at first. Something foreign. Now I’m wondering if Old Man Turner’s been hiding something from us.”
Into the Flames (Jupiter Point Book 3) Page 18