by Beth Andrews
They’d just returned from their evening walk, had only been gone an hour. What could have possibly happened? She glanced over her mother’s shoulder but there was no smoke billowing from the windows, no flames shooting from the roof.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Irene grabbed Sadie’s hands, clutched them tightly. “You’re not going to believe it. You were right!”
“Yes, that is a shock,” Sadie said drily. “As I’m usually completely wrong.”
Irene laughed, squeezed Sadie’s hands once more before dropping them. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. It’s just such a shock...after all this time who would’ve thought...” She bent and rubbed Elvis’s head—the first time Sadie remembered her petting the dog. “Wait until you see who’s here for you,” she told him.
Why that made Sadie nervous, she had no idea. “Mom, what is going on?”
“Jo Jo!”
At the shout, Sadie looked up. Elvis barked, hopped into the air. Barked again.
Then took off like a shot.
Which wouldn’t have been a problem except he practically took Sadie’s arm off. Running to keep said arm attached to her shoulder, Sadie grabbed the leash with both hands and struggled to get Elvis to show a little decorum, but he was out of control. He lunged at the last moment and Sadie used all her strength to yank him back before he knocked over a lanky teenager with short brown hair and a chin covered in acne.
She opened her mouth to apologize only to choke on the words when the kid fell to his knees and held out his arms.
And her dog raced into them.
“Hey, boy,” the kid said, rubbing Elvis’s ears, then holding the dog’s face in his large hands. “Did you miss me?”
“I...I don’t understand,” Sadie whispered when her mom joined them.
But she was afraid she did.
Irene put her arm around Sadie’s shoulders and steered her toward the edge of the yard where a smiling Will stood with an equally cheerful-looking middle-aged couple. Everybody was all happy-happy.
Sadie wanted to cry.
“Sadie,” Irene said, “this is Kent and Tracy Jackson. And that—” more smiles, this time accompanied by a head tilt toward the kid “—is their son Jason. They’re Elvis’s—” Rolling her eyes, she laughed. So glad to see everyone was having such a fabulous time. “They’re Jo Jo’s owners.”
Sadie’s blood chilled. “How... Why...”
“It’s such an amazing story,” Irene said. “You’re not going to believe it.”
“Try me.”
“Well, you see, six months ago, we moved from Pittsburgh to York,” Tracy, a heavyset woman with round cheeks and kind hazel eyes, said. “About two months ago, Jo Jo dug a hole underneath the fence in the backyard and took off. We searched for days.” She moved closer and lowered her voice. “Poor Jason was heartbroken. We thought for sure we’d never see Jo Jo again.”
Kent nodded. “We’d even started checking into getting another dog from the shelter—Jo Jo was a rescue.”
“But Jason would not give up hope,” Tracy said, her lower lip quivering. “And then yesterday, one of his friends from his old high school messaged him on Facebook—”
“And told him he’d seen an ad in the paper about someone finding a dog that looked like Jo Jo,” Kent said. “So we looked up the ad online—”
“And Jason was so sure it was Jo Jo he wouldn’t even let us call first to warn you all we were coming,” Tracy said. “So we hopped in the car and here we are.”
“They got here right after you left for your walk,” Irene told Sadie. “They’ve been waiting ever since.”
Sadie couldn’t speak. All she could do was stare at Jason and Elvis—at Jason and Jo Jo. She wanted to scream, to demand these people show proof that this was their dog. She wanted to rip Elvis—damn it, Jo Jo—from the kid’s arms. Run inside and lock the doors until they went back to York.
But she didn’t need proof. Not when the dog and boy were obviously crazy for each other.
She had to let Elvis go.
Her eyes pricked with tears and she blinked rapidly. “I’ll just...” She frowned. Wasn’t sure what to do. What do say. “Uh...get his things.”
“That’s not necessary,” Will said, watching her carefully, the only one of the original happy campers who seemed to suspect she wasn’t as thrilled with this development as everyone else. “We’ve already gathered up his things and put them in the Jacksons’ car.”
“Did you get his squeaky toy? And his rope? He loves that rope.”
Will patted her shoulder. “I got them.”
She crossed her arms. Her throat was tight, her chest ached. “Good.”
Kent checked his watch. “Come on, Jas. We need to get on the road—it’s a three-and-half-hour drive home.” He turned to Sadie. “We can’t thank you enough for taking such good care of Jo Jo.”
She tried to smile but it wobbled around the edges. “My pleasure.”
Jason had the dog’s leash, walked over to Sadie and held out his hand. “Thank you for finding my dog.”
He’s not your dog. He’s mine.
He was going to be mine.
She shook his hand. “You’re welcome,” she whispered.
She trailed her fingers over the silky fur on Elvis’s head then turned and hurried into the house.
She was in the kitchen searching for her keys when Irene came in. “Honey, are you all right?”
“Fine. I just... I’m going out for a little while....” Where were those damn keys? She could have sworn she’d left them right here on the counter.
“It’s Sunday night,” Irene said with a concerned frown. “Going out where?”
Sadie spied her keys hanging on the key rack—right where her mother must have put them. “Just out.” She gave her mom a quick kiss on the cheek then practically ran to her Jeep.
She drove aimlessly for an hour. Around town. Outside of town. One street after another. Finally, she pulled to a stop at the place she’d tried like hell to avoid.
The place where she’d known she’d end up eventually.
A minute later, she knocked on James’s door.
* * *
JAMES OPENED the door, his heart tripping to find Sadie, once again, on his doorstep. Except this time she wasn’t drunk, wasn’t hanging on another man. She was simply heartbreakingly beautiful.
“Can I come in?” she asked, her eyes bleak, her lower lip trembling. “Please? I...I could really use a friend.”
He couldn’t turn her away. Had always had a hard time refusing her anything.
He stepped aside. In the great room, she stared at the cold fireplace, her shoulders slumped. She was dressed in bright orange jeans, her top was a kaleidoscope of colors ranging from black to deep red to pink that burned a man’s retinas. But the long sleeves were loose, the wide neck falling down one shoulder to show the white strap of her bra.
“Everything okay?” he asked reluctantly, afraid to be drawn back into friendship with her, terrified of letting her get close enough to rip his heart out again.
“They took him.”
“What?”
She faced him. “They took Elvis. The Jacksons.”
He moved closer, wanting, needing to keep his distance but unable to do so when she looked so lost, when she sounded so incredibly sad. “Who are the Jacksons?”
“Elvis’s owners. Except, his name isn’t Elvis. It’s Jo Jo.” She tossed her hands up. “Jo Jo! What kind of name is that for a dog?”
James glanced at Zoe, who watched him with her head cocked, one ear up. “Uh...”
“A stupid one, that’s what,” Sadie said, starting to pace. “They moved to York from Pittsburgh and it seems El—Jo Jo,” she ground out the name, “ran away one afternoon, made it all the way
back here where I just happened to pick him up one rainy night.”
“You’re saying you found Elvis’s owners?”
“They found him. A friend saw the ad in the paper, contacted them. Isn’t that great? A happy ending for everyone.”
Except she didn’t seem happy. She seemed angry. Miserable.
“That must have been hard,” James said, watching her carefully. “Giving him up.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Why would it be? It’s not like I’m stupid enough to think I could actually keep him. You sure as hell didn’t seem to think I was capable of taking care of him.”
“That’s not true.”
She stopped moving long enough to throw him a hard glare. “Isn’t it?”
“No.” But maybe, just maybe, he thought, guilt pricking him, it was. At least a little. “You’ve just...never been the type to want any commitment. No pets. No long-term plans.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” Arms crossed, she stormed past the sofa, Zoe following her. “I don’t like anything to tie me down. Nothing.” She swallowed. Her chin quivered. Her eyes glittered with tears. “Nothing.”
Aw, shit.
“Come here,” he said gruffly, opening his arms.
With a sniff, she went into them. He lifted her, cradled her against his chest as he crossed to the couch and sat, settling her on his lap. She pressed her face against the crook of his neck, her tears wetting his skin, dripping down to the collar of his shirt. Her sobs shook her body. He felt helpless. Inept. He wanted to take away her pain, to go after the Jacksons or whoever the hell they were and get Elvis back for her. He wanted to make sure nothing and no one ever hurt her again.
But all he could do was smooth back her hair, kiss her forehead.
And hold her while she cried.
* * *
SADIE WOKE with a start. Her heart racing, she clutched the blanket covering her and glanced around frantically, trying to figure out where she was, why her mouth was dry, her eyes burning. It came to her in a flash. Elvis was gone.
She’d been upset and had done what her instincts demanded. She’d come to James. He’d held her while she cried, gotten her some water then held her some more. She’d finally drifted off, exhausted and emotionally spent. It was dark now, though she had no idea how late. James had obviously left her to sleep on the couch, covering her with a blanket.
She wiggled her toes. He’d even taken off her shoes.
He’d taken care of her.
She wanted more from him. It was selfish. But she wanted more.
Not bothering with the lights, she slipped across the room, undressing as she went. She slid her shirt off by the chair, dropped it on the table. Reaching behind her, she unhooked her bra, left it on the floor outside James’s bedroom.
She opened the door quietly and Zoe padded over. Sadie shooed the dog toward the kitchen then crept inside the bedroom, shutting the door again. She unzipped her pants, pushed them and her underwear down, stepping out of them as she approached the bed.
James slept on his stomach, his bare back visible, his right leg bent, his left arm stretched out over his head. He was beautiful, his tanned skin smooth, his back sculpted with muscles.
James deserves a woman who’s going to love him forever, who wants to get married, have children and raise them here in Shady Grove.
He did, he absolutely did. She wasn’t that woman. From the moment she’d set foot in Shady Grove, her one goal had been to get out. To live the life she was meant to live, the one she’d lived before her father had died and her mother had become a totally new person. A life filled with freedom and endless choices. She wasn’t cut out for the routine of small-town life, the drudgery of the same job year after year. The normalcy of marriage and kids and Friday-night dinners at the same restaurant and weekends spent by the pool or the ice rink.
There were too many places she had yet to see, too many things she had yet to do to ever be tied down.
But instead of feeling excited about those adventures, thinking about them made her anxious, as if they somehow weren’t enough for her anymore. And that scared her to death.
She slid under the covers and he stirred. His scent, the soap he used in the shower, his laundry detergent, tickled her nose, would always remind her of him, of them as they were now.
Friends to lovers.
She pressed against him, seeking his heat, his strength. Smoothed her hand down his back. He rolled onto his side.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice husky from sleep, his first thought, as always, of her and how she was.
“Fine,” she whispered, not wanting to break the tranquillity of the moment. “I want to be with you.” Nudging his shoulder, she pushed him onto his back, made quick work of the boxers he wore, then straddled him and leaned down to speak directly into his ear. “I hope you don’t mind.”
His erection pulsed between them, nudging her lower belly. “I guess I don’t.”
Smiling in the dark, she trailed her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, felt the ridges of his ribs then moved lower to the muscles of his stomach. She shifted back, dragged her finger from the top of his penis to the base and back up again. It jumped.
“Are you sure?” she asked, encircling him and sliding her hand up. Then down. “Because I could always go back to the couch.”
“No, no,” he said, his voice breaking on a moan when she rubbed her thumb over his slick head. “That’s not necessary.”
“Good.”
She bent her head and took him into her mouth. He exhaled a soft curse, his hands going to her head, his hips lifting in supplication, in a plea. She pleasured him, reveling in his sighs and moans, in how his fingers kneaded her hair. And when those hands fisted and he gently pulled her to him, she willingly slid up his body for his kiss. He reached into the drawer next to the bed and she helped him sheath himself with the condom. He flipped her over and entered her, his hands linked with hers.
She arched as he moved inside of her, so strong and hard. This, this was what she wanted. What was between them. Charlotte had been wrong. What she and James had was special and lovely and real. It was more than just a fling, more than friends with benefits.
You’ll hold him back from finding true happiness, but worse than that, you’ll hurt him.
Tears clogged Sadie’s throat, blurred her vision so she shut her eyes. She would hurt him. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t be what he wanted. What he needed. She should walk away, let him move on with his life.
And she would, she assured herself. But not tonight. Tonight she was going to hold on to him for all she was worth.
* * *
JAMES STROKED SADIE’S hair, watched as she woke. Her eyes slowly opened. She smiled at him.
She was his dream. One he wanted to hold on to.
He couldn’t contain his feelings, what she meant to him. How much more right could it be, the two of them, wrapped together in his bed, their bodies sated after a night of lovemaking? He’d held her all night. He wanted to hold her every night.
He wanted all of her.
“I love you.”
She went so still, he shook her hands to make sure she was still alive. She sat up, clutching the sheet over her breasts. “James...don’t. Please.”
He watched as she pulled away from him, crossed the room, naked, to pick up her clothes.
“Don’t what?” he asked quietly. “Don’t tell you how I feel about you? Don’t tell you what I want?”
She flinched. “Look, we care about each other. Isn’t that enough?”
“Not for me.”
“Why not? Why can’t we keep going the way we have been?”
They could, he realized, and that was the problem. He was terrified if something didn’t change betwe
en them now, it never would. Maybe it was time to put that, to put them, to the test.
“Because I want to move forward,” he said.
She yanked on her clothes. “Just because we’re not moving forward doesn’t mean we’re moving backward, either.”
“No. It means we’re stopping. Is that what you want, Sadie? Do you want to stop?”
She didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him.
He climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and went to take her hands in his. He leaned down, kissed her. “Sadie, I love you.” Her fingers twitched in his, but he didn’t let go. His own hands were unsteady, but he didn’t mind. Not when this was so right. Not when it was so important. “I love you,” he repeated. “I want you in my life always, I want us to have a future together. A home. A family. And I need to hear you say that you want that, too.”
* * *
“I CAN’T,” SADIE whispered, tugging free to hug her arms around herself. “You know I can’t.”
James frowned, but he didn’t seem deterred, oh, no, not James. He stubbornly caught her hands again. “Why not?”
“Why not? Are you crazy? It’d never work. Please, James,” she begged, “please don’t push this. Let’s just...forget this ever happened okay?”
His expression hardened. “Like you wanted us to forget the first time we made love?”
“Look, I’m not what you want. What you need.”
“I think I’m capable of deciding what I want and need, Sadie. It’s you. It’s always been you.”
“Only because you’ve never let it be anyone else,” she said quietly.
“Just tell me why,” he insisted.
“Because I’m leaving!”
Her heart thudded painfully, her breathing was as ragged as if she’d run five miles. James looked stricken. “What?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
She licked her lips. “I’m going to California. I’m not staying here, James. I can’t.”
“You can’t leave,” he said, shoving his hands through his hair. “What about your job? What about your family? What about me?”