by Sarina Wilde
Greer glanced at the musicians, an eclectic mix of guys playing music that sat well with a clientele a little older than the crowd on most of the boats. She sighed.
“You know, don’t you?”
“About the accident? Your injuries? Yes.” He guided her to a seat on a bench under a towering cottonwood tree. Taking her hand in his, he gently rubbed. “Greer, honey, if just getting this close to the river does this to you…”
“Stop!” she hissed. “It’s not just that. We hung out here, mostly where all those boats are docked. I’d bet if I went down there, I probably know half the people there. I was the proverbial river rat, and so was…”
Chas stared at her. “Markus?”
Greer pulled her hand away. “You were very thorough in your research, Dr. Lynch. Did you check out my medical records too? After all, you work at the biggest trauma center in the area.”
He didn’t need to answer. She saw the flush on his cheeks.
“I saw the edge of your burn. Saw how you reacted the other night. I wasn’t trying to be nosy, just trying to understand.”
“Why? So you could suggest I take meds or see a shrink? Is the next step firing me because I’m too screwed up to be around your kid?”
Before he could respond a high-pitched female voice squealed. “Greer! What are you doing here?”
She was hauled to her feet and wrapped in a bone-crushing hug. Even feeling the contact to her scarred flesh through her clothing made her cringe, as if somewhere deep inside her psyche she believed they would feel her disfigurement. As politely as she could, Greer tried to pull away.
“Where the hell have you been?” Cassie asked. They’d been casual friends all through school, had hung out on the river during long, hot summers, and Greer hadn’t seen one glimpse of her in the weeks following her accident, let alone the years.
“I’ve been around. How are you, Cassie?”
“Good…” She saw her former friend’s eyes drifting to Chas. Without waiting for an introduction, she stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Cassie.”
“Chas…”
“He’s a surgeon at St. Mark’s,” Greer cut in, hoping Cassie would just go.
“One of your doctors?” Cassie flushed.
Liam and Wyatt returned before she could answer.
“Greer!” Wyatt piped. “I got on a boat.”
She scooped the little boy up, catching Liam’s eye and seeing the flash of anger.
“Greer manages our household and cares for Wyatt.”
Cassie’s avidly curious expression flicked between the two men as if she were mentally adjusting her internal radar. Greer could almost see when she arrived at “gay” by the smirk on her face.
“You should come,” Cassie told her. “All the old gang’s there.”
“Not all of them.” Greer raised her chin. “Thanks, anyway, but I’ll stay with these guys.”
Cassie glanced between Liam and Chas again, then shrugged. “Okay. See you around.”
Greer remained silent. Chas took Wyatt from her arms and began questioning the boy about what he’d seen. Greer cleared her throat and stared off toward the restaurant, feeling awkward and exposed, like her life had just become fodder for every gossip.
“I’m sorry, Greer.” Liam’s serious whisper brought her gaze back to him. “I didn’t think when I suggested we come here.”
She shook her head. Her heart ached for everything she’d lost five years ago, but it ached even more to realize most of what she’d lost hadn’t even been worth the amount of time she’d spent mourning it. This wasn’t the time or the place for an explanation, so she just took Liam’s hand and squeezed.
“I’m fine, Liam. There’s a table open on the deck. Should we get some dinner before it gets too late for Wyatt?”
He tucked her hand in his elbow and covered it with his free hand. “You’re one hell of a woman, Greer.”
She wasn’t so sure. A major part of her wanted nothing more than to get back in the Bimmer, head back to Liam’s house and crawl into her bed so she could hide beneath the covers. She glanced up, finding Chas and Liam both watching her with soft expressions, and she took a deep breath. Everything would be all right.
She was stronger than she knew, Chas concluded as he watched the way she handled herself at the restaurant. Two more people approached during the course of their meal, telling him something else about Greer. She’d been well known in the area, popular, and apparently, from how people reacted when they recognized her, had all but disappeared.
While he realized her injuries had been traumatic and her recovery long, it seemed odd she’d completely cut herself off from her past—or so it appeared.
By the time they walked back to the parking lot, Liam was carrying a sleeping Wyatt in his arms. Chas kept a hand at Greer’s waist to guide her through the lot to the car. She insisted on sitting in back with Wyatt, so Chas had a chance to watch her in the rearview mirror. In the intermittent light that shone on her face during the drive along the narrow road bordering the river, Chas caught her pensive expression and wondered if she regretted leaving her friends behind.
When he remembered how close she’d teetered on the verge of another panic attack, though, he realized regret had nothing at all to do with it.
“I’ll put Wyatt to bed,” she murmured when they pulled into the parking area just off the kitchen.
“Come back when he’s settled,” Liam said. “I’d like to see some of your artwork.”
Chas turned to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine and holding it with an arch of his brow. When Liam nodded, he found a corkscrew and set about opening it. They’d just taken it and a plate of cheese, fruit and crackers into the den when Greer stuck her head in the door.
“Can I get—”
“Your artwork,” Liam finished. “I’m serious. I want to see what you’ve got.”
Chapter Six
Greer swallowed, trying to think of some protest to make and totally unable to come up with a thing to say that wouldn’t sound rude. Instead, she nodded.
In her room, she went to her drawing table, looking at the sketch of Liam she’d started. Not that. Without overthinking it, she grabbed her portfolio and her most recent sketchbook, all the time telling herself she needed to look at this from a professional standpoint. When a sculptor as well known as Lee Carle asked to see her work, she showed him the best she had and didn’t try to find reasons to wiggle out of it.
Any of her fellow art majors in school would be green with envy if they knew where she was and who was asking to see her portfolio.
That still didn’t prevent her from feeling overwhelmed when she got back to the den. With a nervous swallow, she handed her portfolio to Liam and set her sketchbook on the table in front of him. As he untied the strings holding it closed, Chas gestured for her to sit between them.
“Wine?” he asked while Liam flipped through the work.
“Yes, please.”
The portfolio held everything she’d done in two years at the University of Louisville before the accident, before she’d quit. Liam smiled at some of her sketched portraits, but his examination slowed, becoming more intent as he looked at the watercolors. He glanced at her, his dark brows knit, and returned, this time pulling out a couple of different pieces. When she saw one of them was a nude she’d done of Markus, she downed the rest of her glass of wine in one gulp.
“These are old… Just things I did in college…before…” She stopped.
Chas took her hand, his thumb chafing the back of it.
Liam set the painting down, picked up her sketchbook. His brow furrowed even more, making her so nervous she was afraid she’d throw up.
“These are new,” he commented.
“Yes.”
“The others are good. These are better, more mature. You’re going deeper into your subject, interpreting instead of just observing.” Liam set the sketchbook down. “Why didn’t you finish?”
She glanced nervously fr
om him to Chas, her heart pounding.
“I couldn’t. I tried. After I got out of the hospital.” Chas pulled her back so she rested against his side, as if he thought the feel of his body behind hers would offer the support she was unable to give herself.
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”
She fought the panic hovering around the edges of her thoughts. “My professors were all understanding, but I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t finish anything. So I quit.”
“But now you’ve started again. When?”
“When I worked for Mrs. Henry. I had a lot of down time.”
He flipped to the sketches, some in charcoal, some in pastels, most depicting scenes from a garden. “These.”
“Yes.”
“Very safe. Flowers.”
She swallowed, feeling stung by his remark.
“It was all I could do.”
He flipped through several pages. “Did you even realize what you did with each of these drawings?”
“What do you mean?”
He tapped a bright pastel with his index finger. “Each one contains blossoms in every facet—bud, opening, full bloom, fading and dead. Most people don’t compose a drawing that way.”
“I drew what I saw,” she defended.
“You drew what you knew,” he countered, “what you felt, what you’d experienced.”
She leaned more tightly against Chas, taking comfort when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“But you’ve changed even since then.” Liam spoke almost as if he talked to himself. “Your newest drawings are predominantly people.” He glanced up. “Have you ever tried three-dimensional media?”
Greer shrugged. “Some. In high school.”
“Why didn’t you stick with it?”
“We just weren’t taught much. We learned basic pottery techniques, but didn’t really work sculpting.” Her stomach jumped nervously, her brain afraid to even consider where this might be going.
“Would you like to try?”
Try working with Lee Carle? Try having a sculptor of his stature as a mentor? Her former classmates would kill for this opportunity. But there was so much more at work here—her insecurities added to the developing personal relationship with Liam and Chas. She’d felt connected as she hadn’t before. Every touch, every look, and yes, every kiss they gave her was a clear message where they were headed. How did working with Lee Carle fit with that?
“I don’t know.”
Liam raised his brows as if he found her response as hard to imagine as she did herself. Nerves working overtime, she gathered her work together, clutching it to her chest as she stammered. “I mean, I— There’s Wyatt…and the house…”
“If you’re not interested,” Liam said as if he didn’t care, “just say so. I’ve got plenty to do without taking on a student.”
She needed to explain, needed him to understand. She closed her eyes, her throat working as she tried to calm herself and her churning stomach.
“Greer?” Chas stood, taking her work from her before guiding her over to a chair.
She shrugged away from him, knowing she had to make Liam understand.
“Itwasmorethanjustnotbeingabletoconcentratethatmademequit.”
“Excuse me?” Liam queried coolly.
“I panicked,” she whispered. “They had to take me back to the hospital.”
Liam crossed the room and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his and holding them softly. “No pressure, Greer. I let Wyatt come in to play with clay. Why don’t you bring him, and both of you can.”
His look was steady, easy, his hands comforting and warm. She held his gaze and some of her tension evaporated. He smiled at her, and it eased even more.
“The nice thing about clay, baby? If you don’t like it, you can smash it back into a big blob and start over.” Liam leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against her lips.
She was about to respond when they all heard Wyatt cry. Liam jumped up, but Greer stopped him.
“I’ll go. You stay with Chas.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. If he wants someone to get in bed with him, I’ll fit a whole lot easier. Besides, it will give me time to think.”
Wyatt sat in his little toddler bed, a teddy bear clutched in one hand while he kept his other hand clamped in a tight little fist and rubbed his eyes.
“Hey, baby,” Greer whispered as she hurried across the rug. “You have a bad dream?”
He held up both arms, his bear hanging limply by one foot. “Y-yes.”
She sat next to him on the bed and pulled him into her lap, his pull-up-clad bottom feeling a little bigger under his Elmo pajamas. Greer let him lay his cheek against her chest while she stroked his hair.
“You want to tell me about it?”
“Cat Woman’s on the roof. She’s comin’ down the chimley.”
Greer pictured Julie and had to admit it was just a bit scary. She kissed the curls on top of Wyatt’s head. “You want me to check to make sure she’s not there?”
He leaned back so he could look at her. In the glow from the nightlight, his eyes were wide. “You’re not scairt?”
Greer shook her head. “I’ve been trained in monster and bad-guy defense tactics. I have a black belt.”
“Like Kung Fu Panda?”
“Exactly.” Greer looked around. “I’ll need a flashlight.”
Wyatt scrambled off the bed and hurried to his bag. “I gots Buzz Lightyear.”
He held out a flashlight shaped like the movie character, and Greer took it. “That’s perfect. You wanna help?” He clutched his bear and shook his head. Greer smiled. “That’s okay. Climb in bed. You can watch me.”
She turned on the flashlight and tiptoed over to the fireplace. With elaborate exaggeration, she bent low, shined the flashlight up the fireplace and looked inside. The flue was closed, of course, but she still moved the light around as if searching.
“Nope, no Cat Woman. No monsters. You want me to look anywhere else?”
Wyatt nodded and pointed to the windows. Greer nodded, happy to see when she stopped in front of the full length panes the locks were high enough and sturdy enough little hands couldn’t open them. But she could, so she opened the first window, pushed it up and leaned out to look around.
“It’s all clear.”
She shut the window and looked over her shoulder. Wyatt sat with his back to the wall and his thumb in his mouth. When he saw her looking, he took it out really fast. Maybe that was part of the reason Mommy was the bad guy.
“You want me to stay?”
He scooted over. “Will you sleep wif me?”
Greer smiled. “Sure. I think we can both fit. I’ll stay ’til Daddy and Chas come. Okay?”
He nodded. Greer tucked him in then stretched out on top of the colorful bedspread. Liam and probably Chas too had taken a lot of time creating a room in which Wyatt could be comfortable. The least she could do was stay with him until he fell asleep again.
She knew what it was like to have bad dreams. They’d haunted her in the months following the accident.
“You want me to tell you a story so you can fall asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. My Mommy used to read this to me…so I memorized it—
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe—
Sailed on a river of crystal light,
Into a sea of dew.”
As she continued the rhyme, Wyatt listened, his eyes gradually drifting shut. By the time she finished, he had drifted off to sleep. Greer watched him, curling her hand beneath her cheek.
Yes, she knew what it was like to have nightmares, but it was so hard to recall those when she stared at such sweet innocence. She swallowed. Wyatt was just three. Had Markus… No, that was the past. She had a future now finally beginning to look brighter.
She thought of Liam’s offer. Maybe if she tried working in a different medium, she would hav
e fewer problems. She knew just how generous his offer was. To be able to study with someone as knowledgeable as him was more than an honor. Students would pay to be able to do it.
* * * * *
Chas glanced at the clock. “She must have fallen asleep with him.”
Liam nodded. “Let’s pick this stuff up and head upstairs. You know, maybe she should move into your room while Wyatt’s here, so she’s close to him.”
“Not a bad idea. It’s not like I use it. Wyatt knows we sleep together, and he’s cool with that. So having Greer upstairs would just make things easier.”
They’d walked into the kitchen by this time, carefully scraping the crumbs off the plate into the garbage, then rinsing everything. Liam leaned his back against the counter. “So, if he’s adjusted to the idea of you and me, how hard do you think it would be for him to adjust to adding Greer to the equation?”
Chas shook his head. “I don’t think it would be a leap at all. Clearly, he’s already taken to her. I don’t think he’s the problem at all.”
“So would it be Greer…or Julie?”
Chas sighed. “Both. Until Greer opens up about what’s happened to her, I think it would be difficult for her to truly accept a relationship with either one of us, let alone both of us.”
“What about last night?”
“Sex. The heat of the moment.”
Liam crossed his arms across his broad chest. “This might seem premature, but I want more. What about you?”
Chas’ jaw tightened. “Yeah. Neither one of us have ever made a secret of the fact we like women. You just got hooked up with the wrong one. Finding one we’re both attracted to is amazing.” His eyes softened. “She’s pretty special. Like you.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to fuck this up.” He thought of the way Wyatt looked at her. She’d already won over his son—and them. “I’ll admit, at first, I had my doubts about her even working for us, but she’s perfect.”
“In every way.” Chas agreed. He stepped over to Liam and brushed his lips in a quick kiss. “Let’s go check on her.”
Liam led the way up the stairs after they turned off the lights. Once again, he stopped in the doorway, caught by the sight in front of him. Chas looked over his shoulder, his hand squeezing gently.