by Kristi Gold
He straightened and shifted to face her. “My mom had plans to open a dance studio in Placid, but she decided to wait until after I was born. When I was less than a year old, she was diagnosed with MS. Pretty ironic, huh? An aspiring dance teacher who couldn’t walk, much less dance. Sometimes life is damn unfair.”
Instead of offering a response, Rachel did something that caught him completely off guard. She slid her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest. Having her so close, holding her again, was worth every gut-wrenching memory he’d unearthed. He rested his chin atop her head and enjoyed the moments, for however long they might last.
She pulled back but didn’t pull away. “Thank you for finally sharing your mother’s story with me. You have no idea how much it means to me.”
And she had no idea how much she meant to him. How much he wanted to make everything right between them. How badly he wanted to carry her to bed and make love to her. But he’d promised to give her space, and that was a promise he had to keep. He’d already broken one too many.
He brushed a kiss across her cheek, and although it killed him to do so, he let her go. “Guess it’s back to the bad box springs and shoddy mattress.”
“You poor baby,” she said. “You should have grabbed the big bed while I was feeling generous.”
“I’ll manage.” He doubted he’d sleep much anyway knowing she was in the next room, only a few feet away. “Sweet dreams.”
“Good night.” She walked to the door leading to the master bedroom, then suddenly turned. “I can’t do this to you. I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
“The bed sucks, Rachel. You need to be comfortable in your current condition.”
“Excuse me?”
He could’ve sworn he’d heard a little panic in her voice, but he was probably imagining things. “You drove all day, so you’ve got to have a stiff back. Like I said, I’ll get by.”
She stood there for a few minutes without making a move to go inside the room. “This is ridiculous. We’ve slept in the same bed for most of our adult life. I don’t see any reason why we can’t do that tonight.”
“Deal.”
He was at the door in a flash, but she halted his progress by pressing a palm against his chest. “Can you honestly do this, Matt? Can you sleep in the same bed with me and not expect more than sleep?”
Why did he feel as if this was some kind of a test? “I promise you won’t even know I’m there.”
But he’d know she was there, close but not quite close enough. That was okay. For weeks he’d wanted nothing more than to have her beside him again. He’d gladly take whatever she was willing to give under any condition. Maybe now he might actually get some decent sleep.
When Rachel opened the door, Matt followed her into the room and took his place on his usual side of the bed, closest to the door. She quickly climbed under the covers while he stripped off his shirt. But as he started to untie the pajama drawstring, she said, “Leave those on.”
As if not being able to touch her wasn’t bad enough, now she was asking him to veer away from his normal habit of sleeping in the buff. “You know I don’t like to wear clothes to bed.”
“Sorry, but I’d prefer you keep your weapon concealed.”
“Weapon?”
“Your heat-seeking missile.”
She could’ve gone all year without drawing attention to that. “Am I sensing a little missile envy?”
That earned him a grin. “You know what I mean.”
Oh, yeah, he did. She meant to torture him. “I guarantee you’ll be safe from me and my artillery.” He couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t salute if she came anywhere near him during the night.
Matt threw back the comforter and stretched out on top of the sheets on his back, while Rachel covered up to her neck.
After a few seconds, she lifted her head and stared at him. “Are you going to get the light?”
Some things never changed. “Sure. While I’m up, do you want me to make you a snack or maybe do a few magic tricks?”
“No. Just the light.”
He got out of bed, snapped off the switch near the door and returned to assume his position on his back. When she shifted slightly, he caught a whiff of her shampoo. The scent reminded him of all the times they’d showered together, and that led to some pretty dirty thoughts.
He continued to lie there, stiff as a pine plank. All of him. Unable to get comfortable, he punched his pillow and turned onto his side to face the wall.
A few moments later, he felt a light touch on his shoulder. “Matt?”
Could he be lucky enough that she’d reconsidered the hands-off policy? Highly unlikely. “Yeah.”
“I’m cold.”
He sure as hell wished he could say the same for himself, especially when he rolled over to face her and found she’d moved closer. “Do you want me to turn on the heat, or would you prefer I go out and chop some wood to start a fire?” Either way, the pants were coming off, missile or no missile.
“You could just hold me.”
Definitely torture, and the ultimate test. He could do this. He could show her he could be trusted to keep her warm without trying to make her hot. But not before he gave her a hard time. “Did you shave your legs?”
“Hush up.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Are you going to do it or are we going to discuss it?”
He’d always preferred action over talking. “Come here.”
When she scooted toward him then turned her back, he took his cue and wrapped his arms around her. She wiggled around for a few seconds, like a squirrel burrowing into the nest for the winter. Hell, didn’t she realize it was spring and that her cute little butt was way too close to the armory?
Finally she stopped moving and her breathing settled into a steady rhythm. At least she was relaxed and able to sleep. On the other hand, he couldn’t seem to shut off the thought faucet.
But this was good, having her in his arms. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held her like this. Yeah, he did. Last December, about a week before she’d given birth. He’d been rubbing her lower back, which had been bothering her, and she’d fallen asleep during the process. He’d held her close, his hand on her swollen belly so he could feel their baby kick against his palm.
That night, he’d let himself imagine what it would be like to raise a son. He’d let himself believe that he could be a good father. That he had the power to protect him, which he hadn’t. He’d hadn’t been able to save his child, just as he hadn’t been able to save his mother. He’d failed Rachel on many levels and continued to fail his father.
Maybe wanting to stay in this marriage wasn’t fair to Rachel, because he didn’t have the heart or the guts to go through it all again. But he couldn’t stand the thought of losing her for good. He’d take that out and examine it later. Right now he just wanted to hang on to her for as long as he could.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AT SOME POINT during the night, he’d let her go. Rachel felt almost bereft when she woke without his arms around her. Funny, she’d been going to bed for months without Matt—before and after she’d left him. She should be used to it by now.
When she felt the mattress bend, she turned her head to see he hadn’t actually gone anywhere. He’d simply changed positions and flipped onto his back. He’d also stripped off his pajamas, she realized when she noticed a gap where the sheet, loosely draped over his hips, revealed his bare leg from waist to foot. No real surprise there. He’d walk around naked all day if he could.
His left hand rested low on his abdomen and his right arm, the one closest to her, lay at his side. His sleep-tousled hair and unshaven face were patently appealing. Too appealing for her to remain close to him, at least physically. She did feel more emotionally connected to him after their most recent conversation. Yet she didn’t quite trust that she’d completely broken through the internal fortress he’d built throughout his lifetime. They still had a lot of
ground to cover and a short time to cover it.
She climbed out of bed, gathered her clothes and went into the bathroom to complete her morning ritual. When she returned to the bedroom, Matt hadn’t moved an inch, but he had managed to turn over—without the sheet. Great. Nothing like beginning the day with an anatomy lesson. But she’d seen his bottom before, many times, and ignoring it wouldn’t be a problem. After all, it was just a nicely toned, gently curved male butt like any other male butt.
Who was she kidding? If she didn’t leave soon, she’d be tempted to explore the terrain as if she’d been given a brand-new boy toy. She chalked up her insane desire to hormones and took the corner chair to put on her sneakers. Yet the cradle captured her attention, a solid reminder of the secret she still held close to the vest. A secret she should reveal to her husband soon. But she wasn’t ready to make that revelation. Not until she knew for sure where he stood on having another baby. One step at time, she reminded herself. First, she needed to get out of there before Matt woke and delayed her departure.
“Where you going, sweetheart?”
Oh, that low, rough morning voice she’d come to know so well. That familiar, endearing and extremely sensual tone that could be very persuasive. Her gaze snapped from the shoelaces she’d been tying to the owner of that voice, who’d managed to flip onto his back without her noticing. She definitely noticed him now. His aversion to sheets was showing and so was everything else in all its glory. Anatomy lesson, part two.
“Could you please cover up?” Her tone sounded tentative, as if she wasn’t sure that’s what she wanted.
He folded his arms behind his head, clearly demonstrating he had no intention of honoring her request. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
Very true, but she didn’t want to see it now. Correction. She didn’t need to see it now. To avoid staring, she went back to tying her shoes. “I’m going to the grocery store in a few minutes.”
“First, could I interest you in—”
“No, you couldn’t.” Actually, yes, he could, and that’s why she had to leave.
“Dammit, Rachel, would you stop anticipating what I’m going to say before I say it?”
She came to her feet, thankful to discover the sheet now strategically covered him. “I’m sorry, but when you start a sentence with ‘Could I interest you’ and you have…” She gestured toward the cotton tent. “That.”
“That’s what’s known as an erection. Been having one in the morning for as long as I can remember.”
His use of the anatomically correct term was surprising and, for some odd reason, absurdly sexy. “How well I know. And because you’ve always been very good at persuading me to take care of that, what did you expect me to think you were going to say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like could I interest you in having breakfast down at the café? You’ve been second-guessing me for years and it drives me crazy.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“No, I’m not. You have a bad habit of not letting me finish sentences.”
If that happened to be true, and she wasn’t certain it was, she should probably feel remorseful. “I only finish your suspect sentences.”
“Then that means almost every word coming out of my mouth is suspect in your eyes.”
Maybe she had been guilty of making too many assumptions. “Okay. From now on, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and stop running over your words. But I’ll pass on the breakfast offer. I want to stop by and see Helen and Jack after I buy a few supplies. Feel free to go to the café without me.”
He released a rough sigh. “You’re taking my only means of transportation.”
She pushed out of the chair and strolled to the mirrored dresser to brush her hair. “It’s less than half a mile, so you can walk. Maybe if you jog you might work off a little steam.”
“Or I could take a shower.”
She regarded him in the mirror’s reflection as she pulled her hair into a high ponytail and secured it. “Didn’t you already have one last night?”
He sat up and stretched his arms above his head. “Yeah, but unless you want to come over here and take care of my problem, I’m going to need a cold one.”
She turned and pointed at him. “That is exactly why I won’t let you talk.”
He had the gall to grin. “You’re just afraid if you hear it, you’ll want to do it, so you cut me off at the pass.”
Oh, yes, she definitely wanted to do it. She wanted to kick off her shoes, pull off her sweatshirt and jeans, toss away her underwear and have at it with her husband. She couldn’t, wouldn’t play into his hands, even knowing that those hands could play her like a baby grand piano.
Before she did something totally stupid, she had to get away. “I’ll be back in a while.”
“Drive carefully,” he called out as she started down the hallway to the front door.
She needed to be careful. Very, very careful. She was bordering on throwing caution to the wind with a lot still left to resolve. Yet she felt as if they were moving in a positive direction. She had high hopes for the rest of the day.
* * *
SO FAR THE DAY HAD STARTED out great. The sun was out, not a cloud in the sky, and he’d had a nice breakfast down at the greasy spoon. Most important, he’d spent the previous night with his wife in his arms. Yeah, a great day. And if he had his way, it would only get better.
He hammered the last nail into the loose board on the porch, straightened and surveyed his handiwork. Nothing like a little manual labor to work off some nervous energy. As soon as Rachel returned, he’d suggest they go for a hike down one of the trails they hadn’t explored. He’d work his way into asking her to go to the rec hall this evening for a little dancing to set the mood. And when they came home tonight…well, anything was possible.
When his cell rang, he set the hammer down on the railing and pulled the phone from his pocket. He’d expected Rachel might be calling, only to discover that wasn’t the case. But he did recognize the number, and this particular caller could mean his good day could very well go south. “Hey, Chase.”
“Hey. Sorry to bother you, but this couldn’t wait.”
“Is this official business or personal?”
“A little of both.”
As crazy as it seemed, Matt hoped someone had vandalized the clinic or broken into the house. Insurance would cover that. But he had a feeling none of the above applied. “What’s up?”
“It’s Ben.”
Exactly what he’d feared. “What did he do this time?”
“Dad arrested him last night on a drunk-and-disorderly charge.”
“Was he back at Scruffy’s?” If Mo had gone against Matt’s wishes, the bartender would have hell to pay.
“No. He wasn’t in a bar at all. Buck found him wandering around downtown, drunk as a skunk.”
That was a first. “I’m guessing he’s still locked up, since I’m the only fool who’ll bail him out.”
“Yeah, he’s locked up and he’s still not sober. He really tied one on.”
So much for having some quality time with Rachel. “It’s going to take me seven hours to get back there.”
“Maybe you should just leave him here for a few days instead of bailing him out.”
Matt had considered that before, but he’d never had the guts to do it. “I could, but he’s going to start drying out, and that could be dangerous if he gets the DTs.”
“We have a protocol we follow in this situation. I’ll have the staff nurse monitor him on a regular basis, and if he’s in any danger at all, we can send him to the hospital.”
“I didn’t plan to be back until Monday, so that means he’ll be without the booze for three nights, counting last night.”
“And he should be clean by then. When you get back, maybe you can finally convince him to get the help he needs.”
Another choice he didn’t want to make. “If anything happened to him, I’d feel responsible. I�
�m sure Rachel would understand if I head back.”
“Would she, Matt? You’re already skatin’ on thin ice with her. And don’t you think it’s way past time to let Ben sink or swim? He’s going to have to hit rock bottom before he makes that upward climb.”
He was caught between saving his dad and saving his marriage. In reality, the first had influenced the second, and not in a good way. For years he’d asked his wife to tolerate his father’s antics, and she’d done so at the expense of their relationship. It had taken a possible divorce to force him to see that, among other things.
Once again, he chose Rachel. And this was one choice that should make her happy. “You’ll call me if something goes wrong?”
“You bet. Normally we’d have to leave him unsupervised for short periods of time, but I’ll make sure someone’s checking on him all the time, even if I have to do it myself.”
“Then keep him there. I’ll deal with it Tuesday morning.”
“You’ve made the right decision, Matt.”
Probably, but that didn’t make it any easier. As Rachel had pointed out, he’d been enabling his dad for years, and the time had come to stop. “Thanks, bud. I owe you one.”
“You can pay me back by fixing your marriage,” Chase said. “Jess has worried nonstop over it, and that worries me. By the way, how’s it going with Rachel?”
“Good. Better than I expected.” And he hoped like hell he hadn’t just jinxed it.
“And I expect you to come back, ready to ditch the divorce. And who knows? Rachel might even be pregnant again.”
That was the last thing they needed.
* * *
“RACHEL BOYD, I haven’t seen you in ages!”
The high-pitched voice echoing across the parking lot grated on Rachel like a fork against a metal pan. She could throw the groceries into the truck, climb into the cab and pretend she hadn’t heard a thing. Or she could get the inevitable inquest over with.
After setting the bags on the floorboard of the front seat, she turned to see pint-size Rita Kendrick coming toward her as fast as her short, stocky legs would allow, a massive aqua faux-suede bag hanging from one shoulder of the purple scrubs she always wore, not an ultrateased strand of bottle-black hair out of place. The nurse was to Wayhurst what Pearl Allworth was to Placid—queen of the busybodies.