by Marina Adair
“What about Sam?” Ty asked, trying to follow the conversation. Which would lead to a deeper conversation Ford would rather avoid right then.
“None of your business,” Ford said.
But at the same time, Harris said, “Ford was the officer who was with Sam when he died.” And then because his friend seemed to forget he wasn’t a part of the recovery, he went on to tell the story as if he’d been right there in that cave with Ford.
Ty let out a long whistle. “Something like that is not ‘if’—it’s a ‘when.’ This is a small town, and Liv is a smart woman. She might not know what you’re hiding, but she knows you’re hiding something.”
“You didn’t know Avery was hiding something.”
Harris snorted. “He’s a man—he sees boobs and gets tunnel vision. Women aren’t like that. They don’t have the Y chromosome, so they think with the right head. Eventually she’ll sniff out your secret and ask you about it, most likely when you’re naked and snuggling, and you won’t have the state of mind to deal with it right, because it won’t just be boobs, it will be naked boobs. And you’ll only see two choices. Tell her the truth while she’s at her most vulnerable or lie.”
Liv deserved more than the disappointment either of those choices would bring. She deserved more than Ford could give her. She deserved more, period.
His intent had never been to bring up Sam. Then again, he’d never intended on getting this deep with Liv. Which left a third option.
“Or I just move on after my certification is over and no one gets hurt,” Ford said, turning around.
Ty set his beer on the table and leaned forward. “I don’t know where Liv is at, but I do get that when it comes to a woman like her, there is no moving on for guys like us. Believe me, I tried.”
Last year before Ty married Avery, he discovered that she’d been keeping a life-threatening secret from him. He broke things off and walked—until he realized he couldn’t live without her and asked her to marry him.
Ford didn’t see marriage for himself, but he also couldn’t see himself walking out of Liv’s life and never seeing her again.
“Did you forgive her?” Ford asked.
“Wholeheartedly,” Ty said without hesitation. “I was a lucky son of a bitch that she chose to forgive me. Because while she might have kept something from me, I walked when it got complicated, took the easy way out. I’m not saying that it won’t be hard, or that she won’t push your dumb ass out the door. But she deserves to hear the truth from you.”
Something that Ford could no longer argue.
“Maybe before you sleep with her again,” Harris jabbed.
“Hard to do with a houseful of uninvited guests.”
“Christ, you’re acting like this is a sleepover. We’ll be out of here by seven,” Harris said.
Before Ford could say he’d better take his mess with him, shrieks sounded in the distance. The front door burst open and Emma came racing in, her baby blues wide, her face flushed.
“Brianna dared Hadley to do ten aerials in a row,” she said, breathing heavy. “So she did it even though I tolds her not ’cuz she ate three whole slices of pizza and a bag of goldfish. She gots to four and said her tummy hurt, but Brianna said a dare is a dare and Hadley started crying and Brianna called her a baby. But she’s not a baby, her brother is, so she kept going and when she finished the last, she said, ‘Your turn, Brianna, or are you a baby?’ And then she threw up all over the bounce house.”
Harris tipped his bottle toward Ford. “I think I saw some extra towels in the garage.”
“And when I run out,” Ford said, heading toward the front door, “I’ll use that sleeping bag in the back of your Jeep.”
CHAPTER 16
“How about your pillow?” Liv asked as Paxton dragged his backpack down the hallway with one hand, his jacket with the other, his Superman slippers scuffing the floor with each step.
“Grandma didn’t put it on the list,” Paxton said, shrugging into his jacket. “She said I only had to bring what was on the list. And a pillow wasn’t on the list.”
“Then no pillow needed,” Liv assured him, kneeling down and zipping him up tight. “But if you decide you need yours, all you have to do is call and I’ll bring it over. You’re right across the lake. I can be there in a few minutes.”
“I know,” he said. “You showed me her house.”
“That’s right,” Liv said, pulling Paxton’s backpack out of his closet. She’d spent most of yesterday preparing Paxton for the idea of a sleepover at Grandma’s, then all of today wondering if she should just cancel. “Now is there anything else you think you might need?”
“I got my cape and my mask.” He patted his bag. “And I packed an extra one in case Grandma wants to wear one. Do you think Bullseye would want to do the sleepover with me?”
Liv took a deep breath and cupped her son’s cheek. They’d been over this a dozen times. “Bullseye has to sleep at his own house, but Grandma said that her neighbors have a cat named Miss Peepers who likes to sit on her porch at night and be petted.”
“I like Miss Peepers, but I like my own bed more.” Paxton exhaled a shaky breath and toed at the floor.
Last week when Paxton saw Miss Peepers, he had been ready to give up his bed and all of his toys if he could keep her, but Liv didn’t bother to point that out.
In fact, the mother in her wanted to call the whole thing off too, postpone it for another year or three. But the warrior in her, who knew that her son was about to have his first sleepover in a safe and loving environment, said, “Your own bed will be right here when you get back, and when you come home we can snuggle up in it and you can tell me what a good time you had.”
“If the good doesn’t come?” he asked softly. “Do I have to lie?”
“Nope, you are free to have whatever kind of time you want.” And to show her confidence in the situation and in Paxton, she added, “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had an awesome time. I hear Miss Peepers likes to chase toilet-paper rolls, and she will give purrs for treats.”
“But she can’t fly like Superdog can. So if something goes bad, who’s going to come down and save me?” he said, and Liv felt a bead of familiar panic start to grow. He hadn’t told that story of Superdog in more than a year. A story that he’d clung to after the accident.
Sam had given Paxton the stuffed dog as an early Christmas present. And he’d been holding it when they’d skidded off the road. Her son had clung to that dog the entire time they’d been out in that storm, the doctor had told her, so it was natural he’d find comfort in it.
Most parents would just tell him that nothing would happen, but she wasn’t about to promise him something she couldn’t guarantee. Lying would only give him a false sense of security.
“If something feels weird in here”—she pointed to his belly—“all you have to do is tell Grandma what you need to feel better—that way she can hold your worry for you so you can enjoy your big-boy sleepover.”
“What if she makes those smelly fish noodles?” he asked, so serious Liv had to bite back a smile.
“Sometimes grandmas make smelly fish noodles.” When Paxton looked as if that was the worst answer ever, she added, “If it’s that bad, then tell her. And if it takes you a while to find your words, that’s okay too—just show her what you want.”
“How?” he asked, his voice heartbreakingly quiet.
Liv had thought about this too, wanting to give him all the tools he could need to have this be a positive experience. “If you need a snuggle, you don’t ask me—you just snuggle in. Grandmas love to snuggle. And they love to laugh and read books to their grandkids. So if you want her to read you a bedtime comic, then crawl up in her lap, and I bet you a cupcake for breakfast that she’ll start reading.”
“I packed three comic books,” Paxton said proudly.
“See, you’re a natural at this.” And then taking a page from Ford’s handbook, she asked, “What do you need to have
an awesome time?”
Paxton thought about that for a minute, then stuck his hands on his hips in a pose that was all Sam. “A dog of my own that I can bring with me to sleepovers. Cuz if I’m big enough to do big-boy sleepovers, then it means I’m big enough to have a pet.”
Liv’s first reaction was to tell him that after he got settled in at school, they’d talk about it. Then she realized that school was just a few short weeks off and he was going to be fine. “You’re right. You are growing up. So why don’t we talk to Ford about what kind of dog we should consider.”
“Yes!” He punched his hands in the air, and Liv wondered if she’d just been played.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“My book,” he said, but instead of racing down the hall to grab a book from his room, he walked into the family room and reached up high on the bookshelf, stretching to get to the third shelf, and pulled a journal down. Cradling it to him, he said, “So I can see you before I go to bed.”
Liv’s chest shrank when she saw the book. It was a journal, really, a memory journal Avery had made for him for his birthday. She’d taken photos and news articles and ticket stubs from Liv and Sam’s first date and created a beautiful scrapbook for Paxton so as he grew older he’d never forget his parents’ story.
Not all of the story, but the best parts. Liv pulled it out every time he asked about Sam, but Paxton usually got bored after a few pages. This was the first time he’d initiated the interest. “Did you want to look at that while we wait for Grandma?”
Paxton climbed on the couch and put the book in his lap. Overcome with emotion, Liv sat beside him, opening the book so that it rested on both of their laps. Clearly focused on a specific destination in this walk down memory lane, Paxton flipped past the first few pages, and that’s when Liv knew what he was turning to.
“What’s his name?” He pointed to a photo of Sam when he’d been in high school, down at the lake with his dog.
“I think that was Shadow,” Liv said. He was a black Lab and loved to dive off the dock.
“Could he fly?”
“It sure looks like it in this photo,” she said with a smile. Shadow was front leg forward, hind legs straight back, in midair hovering over the water with the dock behind him.
“Where’s his other dog?” Paxton asked right as a soft knock sounded.
Moments later, Carolyn opened the door and peeked in. “Are you all packed up?” she asked, cautious hope lacing her words.
Paxton looked up at Liv and whispered, “My belly feels funny.”
“Some of that is nerves, because it’s normal to be nervous about doing something new. But some of that is also excitement, because you’re going on an adventure.” Liv stuck her hand out. “Try to find the nerves and put that in my hand for me to hold, so all of the flutters left are excitement.”
Paxton closed his eyes, a look of concentration causing his tongue to peek out. Then her brave little guy placed his hand over Liv’s and dropped the fear in her hand. And when he opened his eyes, he didn’t look confident, but he also didn’t look as scared.
“All right.” She stood and grabbed his backpack. “Let’s get you guys on the road.”
Walking to the door, not looking back to see if he was coming, Liv handed the backpack to Carolyn.
“Thank you for this,” Carolyn said quietly. “After what I said the other day, I wouldn’t have been so forgiving.”
“You were right when you said Sam wouldn’t have liked that his son didn’t get to spend time with you,” Liv said. “And I don’t like the distance his death has brought between us, Carolyn.”
“I don’t either,” the older woman said.
“Then let’s fix that,” Liv said, and Carolyn nodded, looking as if she were one blink from waterworks.
Right there with you.
“Now you two have fun, and I’ll see you in the morning at Shelia’s so we can all grab a family breakfast.”
“Sounds good,” Carolyn said, taking his mini-size backpack. “Ready, Paxton?”
Paxton looked up at Liv, and she pulled him in for one final hug before he set off. And before she let go, she said, “You got this.”
Paxton didn’t look as if he completely believed her, and she couldn’t be certain there weren’t going to be some tears and rough patches over the next twelve hours. But she knew that they’d be okay. Because Paxton didn’t answer his grandma, but he walked out the door instead of running back to Liv, and he took his grandma’s hand.
Telling her what he needed. And wouldn’t you know it, it seemed that was what Carolyn needed too, because she looked up at Liv with glassy eyes and mouthed, Thank you.
Liv watched them go. She watched as he climbed into Carolyn’s car and didn’t stop watching until the brake lights disappeared around the corner.
Normally, when Ford invited a woman over to his place to talk, the majority of the lip action took place in the bedroom. Yet there he was, three feet from a beautiful woman in a blue strapless number that was designed to be slowly peeled down her body—with his teeth—and the only thing he was peeling was carrots.
He didn’t even like carrots. But since steak and salad took five minutes to prepare, leaving him with idle hands and memories of exactly how creative they could get on this counter, Ford had gone for a five-component meal—including boneless pork chops, apple chutney, white cheddar potatoes, endive slaw, and candied carrots. Not that there was enough to keep him distracted all night.
At some point, he’d have to come clean. Which would lead to the reason why he was here . . . in Sequoia Lake. As soon as he did, no amount of reasoning would make her understand why he hadn’t told her about Sam.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” she asked, leaning against the island. “I might not be Martha Stewart, but I can be trusted with a peeler.” Ford looked pointedly at her fingers, most of them tipped with Band-Aids. “Sewing machines should really come with an emergency brake.” She reached for the endive and a knife. “At least let me help with the salad.”
“It’s not salad. It’s slaw.” Ford lifted the knife from her hand and set it on the counter. Then he lifted Liv by the hips and set her stubborn ass on a bar stool, and damn if she didn’t feel like sex wrapped in silk. “And you can help by sitting your stubborn ass right here and relaxing.”
He handed her a glass of wine, and not waiting for an answer or the right moment to do the wrong thing, Ford went back to his plan—keeping his hands to himself.
“Cooking is actually relaxing for me,” she said, sweeping her long dark hair off her shoulders so that it spilled down her back.
“The delivery guys all know you by name,” Ford pointed out. From what he’d seen, her house was like a revolving door for takeout.
“By the time I get off work and get home, Paxton only has a little over an hour before bedtime. I can spend that in the kitchen cooking or hearing about his day. Takeout lets me do both.”
Ford knew that becoming a single mom had reshaped a lot of the ways Liv approached the world. But he’d never stopped to wonder about the daily struggles and sacrifices she’d been forced to make—like something as simple as making her son a home-cooked meal.
Guilt tightened in his chest at the thought of whatever else she’d been forced to choose between.
“Plus, with takeout I know dinner won’t turn into a three-hour standoff over why he won’t eat his broccoli,” she said with a smile.
“I’m in my twenty-eighth year of my standoff with broccoli,” Ford said, and Liv laughed.
“In my house, the topic has caused a filibuster. One time he talked me into submission, claiming that broccoli was Superboy’s Kryptonite, then went on to list every reason why broccoli was the worst vegetable on the planet, including that they fed it to the guinea pig, Buttons, at school and Buttons pooped green pellets. So he refused to eat his greens on the argument of pooping green pellets.”
“My mom used to say it would put hair on my chest,” Ford s
aid, dropping the carrots in the pot. “The fear of broccoli among boys is real.”
“And so is the punishment for not eating your vegetables,” Liv said, channeling her mother-knows-best tone. “Straight to bed with no dessert.”
Ford glanced over at Liv, who had one lean leg crossed over the other, her mouthwatering cupcakes on display, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress, and he decided that was a punishment he’d take.
What he couldn’t take was how uncomfortable she was with not participating in the preparation.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” she asked.
“Almost done. I just need to chop the endive.”
She jumped to her feet. “I can do that.”
“Or,” he said when she was about to take the knife from his hands, “you can take your wine out on the deck. I’ll just grab a beer and meet you out there in a minute.”
With a sassy grin, she grabbed him a beer from the fridge and popped the top, before heading through the kitchen and out onto the deck. Her hips swishing the whole way. His hands twitching to touch her until she disappeared.
And it was only when she was out of sight that he was able to fully breathe. He wanted her to relax, but he also needed air that didn’t smell like sheer temptation and questionable decisions.
Ford finished with the slaw, checked the chops, and after counting to ten, with each number imagining the unsexiest thing possible, grabbed the wine bottle and walked out onto the porch, coming to a full and complete stop.
He could have counted to a hundred in a cow pasture for all it mattered. Liv sat on the chaise lounge, her bare feet curled up beneath her, the moon casting a gentle glow on her face and bare shoulders.
She was resting against the back of the chair and looking every bit the peaceful, calm oasis Ford had been craving.
“All I had to do was get you away from the knives for you to relax,” he said, walking over to fill up her glass.
She moved her feet so he could sit next to her, then gave a shy smile. “It’s been a long time since a man has offered to cook me dinner, so I didn’t know what to do with my hands.”