Though Mike hadn’t given all the specifics while laying out everything he had done, with his wife by his side, he had singled out Spence and offered him a tearful, but highly effective, on-air apology. He had expressed regrets for letting Spence take the blame for something of which he had been innocent.
Spence wondered if Kris had forced it out of him. He hadn’t spoken with her since the benefit, after one quick confrontation before she and Mike hurried back to Portland, when she had cried and hugged Spence and yelled at him for spending even a minute trying to protect her. His ears still hurt.
In the time it had taken for the capricious media to grab hold of the story and sports fans to begin responding, Spence had gone from pariah to a hotly sought-after commodity.
He couldn’t believe it had all happened so quickly. Charlotte had been exactly right. Everything in his world had changed.
He still didn’t quite know what to do with it.
“You’re going to have to choose, and soon,” Pete said.
He gazed out the windshield at the quiet streets of Hope’s Crossing, the tidy houses, the well-kept lawns. He waved at Maura Lange, out pushing a stroller and walking a tiny little puff of a dog. She waved back and smiled at him.
Yes, some people had been warmer to him since the news broke but some, like Dermot and Katherine and Charlotte’s friends, had been kind to him all along.
“Slow down, Pete. I told you, I haven’t decided what I want to do yet.”
“You can go where you want. The world is your oyster, and all that shit. But if you sit around with your thumb up your ass, you could miss this chance and end up stuck there in Snoozeville.”
“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who told me I didn’t have any other options left for gainful employment except to come back to Hope’s Crossing.”
“Different time, different circumstance, man. You’ve got options now.”
He had options. Did he want to take one of them? He desperately needed advice from somebody who didn’t stand to make a profit from whatever he decided.
The person he automatically would have turned to was Charlotte. She had become his closest friend in the time he had been back home, someone whose judgment he trusted implicitly, but she seemed to have made herself scarce the past few days. He had tried to track her down at her house and her store but one of the employees had told him she had gone to stay in Denver for a few days.
He wondered if she was avoiding him and was more than a little disconcerted at how that idea hurt.
As if he conjured her up with his thoughts, when he turned onto Willowleaf Lane, he suddenly spied a very familiar figure mowing the lawn of a house that most definitely wasn’t hers.
What in the world? He hit the brakes.
“I’ve got to go, Pete.”
“Wait. What do you want me to tell Portland?”
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” he answered and disconnected the call.
Charlotte was wearing shorts and a Colorado State T-shirt. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked like a coed herself. When she spotted him, she turned off the mower and waited for him to walk across the grass toward her.
“You didn’t tell me you were starting up a new lawn-mowing business.”
“Ha. Very funny. The Walkers had a baby that was a month premature and has been in the NICU in Denver ever since. I stopped to visit them while I was there, and figured I would take care of this. That way Scott doesn’t have to worry about it when they come home this week. I’m just about done.”
If Spence left, he would miss that about Hope’s Crossing—people stepping up to help whenever they could.
“Let me finish for you. It will take me all of five minutes.”
She took in his Oxford shirt and slacks. “You’re not exactly dressed for mowing the lawn.”
“Humor me. I’ve been on the phone all day. I need to do something physical.”
Without waiting for an answer, he took hold of the mower, started it up and took off, leaving her looking after him with a disgruntled expression.
How long had it been since he had mowed a lawn? He couldn’t remember. That had been another of his jobs when he was a kid, mowing everybody’s lawn who would pay him. He had vowed never to touch a mower again but right now he couldn’t think of anywhere he would rather be than here on a lovely August Colorado evening surrounded by the intoxicating smell of fresh-cut grass.
When he returned the mower to the spot where he had left Charlotte, he found her kneeling down in front of a flower garden deadheading some daisies.
“There you go,” he said.
She rose. “It wasn’t necessary but thanks, I guess.”
“Where do I put the mower?”
“They keep it in a shed in the backyard.”
She headed in that direction, trowel in hand, and he followed after her with the lawn mower. The Walker’s baby obviously wasn’t their first. The backyard had a redwood swing set and a sandbox filled with toys. It was a pleasant space with trees perfect for climbing. The shed even had a little window box filled with flowers.
“How was Denver?” he asked.
She sent him a quick look. “Good. I needed a few things for the store and had to order more paper supplies. It’s always easier to do it in person. Peyton stopped into the store this afternoon just as I got back. She looked great. She was excited for school to start. How’s she doing?”
“She seems happier than she has in months.”
She was starting to hang out with Macy Bradford and a few other girls; she wasn’t complaining about going to therapy three times a week, and she was eating better. He thought she already looked much healthier, with better color and definitely more energy.
“I’m so glad her treatment plan is working.” Charlotte brushed a little flying bug away from her face. “She told me you’re getting all kinds of coaching offers, ever since Mike Broderick’s interview.”
“Yes.”
She gave him a searching look. “You don’t sound very happy about it. I should think you would be ecstatic. You’ve got options now beyond Hope’s Crossing. This is everything you wanted, isn’t it? To clear your name and return to the game you love?”
“A month ago, I would have agreed with you.”
“But now?”
He studied her there in a patch of afternoon sunlight, bright and sweet, kind and lovely. A little wren flew into a gourd-shaped feeder hanging from a tree just behind her. He watched both it and Charlotte while that seductive peace—that sense of contented rightness he always found with her—curled through him.
“There are things here I’m not sure I want to do without anymore,” he murmured.
“Like...what?” Her shoulders tightened and he thought he saw something that looked like panic flit through her eyes.
He wanted to say her. She was the most important thing he didn’t want to leave. The word hovered inside him but something, perhaps her sudden fine-edged tension, convinced him the time wasn’t quite right for that sort of admission.
He mentally shifted gears. “How can I walk away now, before A Warrior’s Hope has even had its first session?”
She seemed to relax a little. “I suppose it would be a little like making a birthday cake, frosting it to perfection and then throwing it away before you even have a taste.”
“Exactly. I want to see that first group of soldiers casting out a fishing line, hiking up the Woodrose Mountain trail, waterskiing on the reservoir.”
“Understandable.”
“And Peyton. She’s finally starting to settle in here. What kind of father would just yank her right out again? Even if we go back to Portland, she would have to leave behind people she’s started to care about. The therapy is working well and she likes her therapist. I hate
the idea of moving somewhere else and having to start all that over again.”
“Tough choices, all the way around.”
“On the other hand, this is everything I hoped would happen. If I stay here and live quietly in Hope’s Crossing, will people still think there was some truth to the accusations?”
“That’s a possibility.”
“You’re not helping, Charlotte. I’m trying to make a decision here. What should I do?”
A mountain-scented breeze washed through the backyard, playing with the ends of her hair. She tucked a loose strand back behind her ear. “Why do you need my opinion?”
“I trust you. I...” Care about you, he almost said. The words caught in his throat.
“You’ve been a good friend to me. Possibly the best friend I’ve had since I’ve come back to Hope’s Crossing. You believed in me even when, by all rights, you should have thought me an even bigger bastard than the rest of the world.”
The little bird had been joined by a few friends. Charlotte shifted her attention to the feeder, but not before he caught an expression on her features that looked almost...wretched.
“I can’t help you make this decision, Spencer,” she said quietly. “I guess you have to weigh your options and figure out what’s best for you and for Peyton.”
“Why not? I want to hear your opinion. What do you think I should do?”
She didn’t answer and he took a chance and stepped forward, brushing another of those errant strands away. “What you think matters to me, Charlotte. You matter to me.”
And then, because he couldn’t help himself, because it had been far too long, because his chest ached with the need for it, he kissed her.
At the soft, immeasurably tender kiss, a whole host of terrifying emotions welled up inside him, so big he didn’t know what to do with them.
She caught her breath, the sound a little ragged amid the twittering of the birds and the wind rustling the leaves of the tree overhead, then she kissed him back fiercely, her hands clutching his shirt almost desperately.
At the taste of her, the intoxicating scent of her, fire scorched through him, wild and hungry. He didn’t care that he was standing in a stranger’s backyard, he wanted to lower her to the grass, to kiss her until they were both senseless from it and ease into the warm, sweet welcome of her—
Abruptly, she wrenched out of his arms and stepped back so quickly she nearly stumbled. She was breathing hard, her hands trembling and her color high. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a clear signal that prevented him from reaching for her again.
“Okay,” she said, her voice shaky, thin. “You want my opinion. Here it is. I think you should take one of the offers and go.”
Pain sliced at him, raw and sharp. “Really? After that kiss?”
“Especially after that kiss.” She turned away, her attention on the little birds now tossing seeds onto the ground for their fellows. “You broke my heart once, Spence. Before I ever even really knew what love was, you shattered me. I don’t think I’ll survive if...if I let you do it to me again.”
He had been such an ass to her, but how could she give so much power to a cocky nineteen-year-old kid who should have known better?
“Why are you so certain I’m going to break your heart?” he demanded. “I hope you know by now I’m not that jerk anymore.”
“I know. And you weren’t a jerk. Not really. You were only being honest. But I’m not the fat, awkward girl in glasses correcting your English papers. I...I need more from you than your friendship and a few kisses when you feel like it.”
“I can give you more. I care about you, Charlotte. I think...no, I know I’m falling in love with you.”
He loved her. The truth of it washed over him like a healing rain. He loved Charlotte Caine. She was funny, she was sweet, she was lovely. She made him want to be better.
He wanted her to fall back into his arms, to kiss him and bring that precious sense of peace. Instead, she only stared at him, her eyes huge in her face, and said nothing for a long, long time.
His words hung out there like beach towels on the line, flapping hard in a brisk wind.
“I’m not sure that’s enough,” she finally whispered.
* * *
WHAT WAS WRONG with her? This was everything she wanted. Spence was standing in front of her, telling her he was falling in love with her. She should be doing cartwheels across the lawn.
Fear kept her feet rooted firmly in the grass, though. How could she trust what he said? She had been hurt so many times before.
“What do you mean, it’s not enough? What more do you need from me?”
She had no answer for him and hated herself for her cowardice.
The hard truth was, she didn’t believe him. He said he was falling for her and, while some part of her wanted to burst with joy that he would even think the words, she just couldn’t comprehend how it could be possible.
He couldn’t really love her. He might think he did, but that was only because she had been kind to him since he’d come to Hope’s Crossing when few others had accepted him. She had helped him with A Warrior’s Hope and, she wanted to think, with Peyton.
He was confusing friendship and gratitude and maybe pent-up sexual desire for something deeper.
When he went back to the world where he belonged, he would see the ridiculousness of ever thinking he had feelings for someone like her.
The thought of him and Peyton leaving ripped across her like a sudden blizzard, leaving icy desolation in its wake.
How ridiculous she had been, to ever imagine she had loved him when she was fifteen. She hadn’t known anything about love. Compared to how she felt now for this man, that was nothing, the difference between a pitcher’s mound and the vast looming splendor of Woodrose Mountain.
She loved him more than she ever believed possible. How could he possibly share the same feelings?
“I believe you think you might...care for me,” she said slowly. “That means the world to me. I’m flattered. I am. But when you get back to Portland, I’m sure you’ll quickly see you were mistaken. Now that everyone knows you didn’t do anything wrong, you could have any woman you wanted. You’re Smokin’ Hot Spence Gregory, for heaven’s sake. And I’m...me. Why would you pick the shy, quiet, inexperienced owner of a candy store when you could have anybody?”
He stared at her blankly. “I don’t want anybody else. I want you. How could I not? You believed in me when nobody else did. You made me laugh when the world seemed a pretty miserable place. You were kind to my daughter even when I didn’t like her very much. I love you, Charlotte.”
The words tried to mend the broken cracks in her heart. She wanted so desperately to believe him but the fear was too huge. How could she ever endure the pain when he realized his mistake and left?
Her throat was thick with tears. They burned behind her eyes but she forced them back. She needed to go now before she lost the battle.
“Take the job, Spence. Go back to Portland. I’m sure Peyton’s specialists can recommend an eating disorders program for her there. She can reconnect with her friends and you can return to the world you love.”
It took every limited acting skill she might have ever possessed but she managed to summon a tiny smile that felt as if it might split her face apart. “Hope’s Crossing will be a better place because you were here. We’ll take what you’ve started with A Warrior’s Hope and run with it. You know we will. Take the job. I wish you the very best with it.”
Because she knew she couldn’t stand here and talk to him another moment without breaking down, she leaned on tiptoe, kissed the corner of his mouth with the last of her strength and walked away as quickly as she could.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“THIS IS SO not going to work,” Spence stated.
“Will you just relax, oh, ye of little faith. Don’t you trust us?”
He looked at the group of women scurrying here and there throughout the ballroom of the Silver Strike Lodge.
Katherine Thorne and Mary Ella McKnight were hanging yards of silver-spangled tulle, Maura Lange was primping one of the glorious flower arrangements that were probably costing him a fortune. Even the immensely pregnant Claire McKnight was there, directing Evie Thorne on the placement of one of the twenty or so little fairy-light-bedecked trees that lined the edges of the vast ballroom.
He couldn’t believe how much effort they had put in today. The ballroom looked spectacular, he had to admit. Romantic and elegant. He had it on good authority all the decorations except the fresh flowers were the same ones used for the last Giving Hope Day gala and dragged out of storage for a good cause.
The string ensemble he hired, recommended by Maura Lange, was warming up on the dais. There seemed nothing left for him to do but stand and fidget.
“What if she doesn’t come?”
“She’ll come. You really need to relax, Spencer.” Claire McKnight gave him a warm smile, even as she stretched a little and pressed a hand low on her belly. He really hoped she didn’t go into labor right now.
If not for Claire, none of this would be happening.
It had been a miserable week. Just about the worst of his life—and that was saying something from a man who had once been arrested and charged with multiple drug counts.
After Charlotte walked away from him in her neighbor’s backyard, he had figured he would give her a little while to think about things but she refused to take his phone calls and wouldn’t answer the door.
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