Tripp’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and a sideways grin played across his lips.
Oh, good God. Had she really just said that? What the hell was wrong with her? Apparently she was incapable of having a normal conversation with the guy. “That…that wasn’t what I meant.”
“I knew what you meant,” he said as his half-smile transformed into a full-on grin. “Do you prefer your beer in a glass or the bottle?”
“The bottle is good.”
Tripp nodded as he opened a drawer and pulled out two koozies, one teal, the other black. Beth recognized them immediately, as she had one in hot pink at home. They were from the Sleepy Sheep, Mirabelle’s most popular watering hole. It was owned by the Shepherds, who just so happened to be more mutual friends of theirs.
Tripp moved to the refrigerator, opened the door, and pulled out two bottles. “How do you feel about Huckleberry Blond Ale?” Tripp asked as he held the bottles up in the air for her to see better.
“Uh, it’s legendary.”
The beer in question had actually been brewed at the Sleepy Sheep’s brewery. Not only was it one of her favorites, but it was seasonal and hadn’t been available for a couple of months now. She fully appreciated Tripp’s sacrifice of tapping into his reserve supply.
“Good answer.” He nodded as he slid the bottles into the koozies.
He grabbed an opener that was magnetized to the refrigerator and the caps were popped off in two quick and easy movements. The crisp sound of the beer’s release filled the room and he looped his fingers around the necks with one hand. In his other hand, he snatched up the plate of cookies from the counter.
With a few easy strides he was standing next to her, holding up the two beer bottles. She grabbed the one with the teal koozie.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” He stepped past her and headed for the French doors, pushing down the lever handle with the side of the hand holding the beer. The door opened when he bumped his shoulder into it, and he stretched his arm out wide, holding the door for her. The hunter green fabric of his shirt pulled even tighter across his shoulders and chest. “After you.”
When she walked by him she couldn’t help but glance up at his face. His gaze was focused on her, and those damn flutters in her belly intensified.
Get a grip, woman. All he did was open a door…and look at you with melty brown eyes…and smell incredible. In-cred-ible.
Oh, no no no. She needed to stop it. This was just a friendly drink with her neighbor. Nothing more.
She pulled her gaze from him and kept walking, stepping out onto the deck. The backs of her leather flip-flops slapped against the wood as she looked around his backyard, taking a deep breath of Tripp-free scented air.
The deck stretched out across the back of the house and had a built-in hot tub sitting off to the left. Stairs led down to a stone path that ran around the entirety of a pool that boasted crystal clear water. Beyond that was lush green grass that went all the way to the low wooden gate that butted against the lake. The water was currently a rainbow of colors from the setting sun.
It was the same stunning view she got from her backyard. Well, minus the hot tub and pool…and the massive dog that was doing laps around the space. Duke’s long, fluffy tail whipped back and forth as he snapped playfully at the air. He was chasing a butterfly.
Tripp moved across the deck behind Beth, the thuds of his bare feet echoing in the air and vibrating the planks beneath her shoes. She turned to look over her shoulder as he walked toward the hot tub. The cover had been pulled back and steam rose into the air as the jets bubbled up in the water.
“I turned it on before you got here.”
“Oh, if you were going to get in, I…” And just like that she lost her train of thought as she imagined Tripp in the hot tub…bare chested…and wet.
Shit. Focus, woman.
“I didn’t mean to change up your plans or anything,” she somehow managed to say.
His eyes narrowed on her and he shook his head, that smile still playing on his lips. “Beth, I invited you in for a beer. I changed up my plans. Come on, you can dip your feet in, watch the sunset, and drink a beer. It will relax you.”
His emphasis on the word “relax” implied she didn’t know what it meant. At this point he probably thought she was uptight or crazy…or both.
The plate of cookies and bottle of beer—which was a beyond-odd flavor combination, but to each their own—were deposited on a low table before Tripp dropped down and took a seat on the edge of the tub. He swiveled his body before sticking his feet into the water. It came all the way up his strong muscular calves, dusted with brown hair, and to his knees.
Really, the thought of soaking her aching feet sounded like pure heaven.
Beth crossed over to Tripp, setting her bottle next to his as she slipped off her flip-flops and lowered herself on the other side of the table. As the weather was beyond pleasant—it was currently in the low seventies—she’d opted for shorts as well, so it was a simple enough move to slide her feet into the rolling water.
The sigh of contentment that escaped her mouth could not be stopped. She closed her eyes and took a moment to appreciate the way the water flowed between her toes and across her arches. She wiggled and moved her feet, the heat working its magic in no time at all.
“I think I need to get one of these.” She opened her eyes as she lifted her legs up, her hot pink toes peeking just above the surface before she submerged them again.
“Nice, huh?”
“It’s wonderful.”
“Bring your suit next time and you can get all the way in.”
Beth’s head immediately snapped over to look at Tripp. And just like that, her mouth was dry again. She wasn’t sure if the offer was one of being friends or…something else.
“To burying the hatchet,” Tripp said as he grabbed his beer and extended the neck out to her.
Okay…so it was a friends thing…or a good neighbors thing. That worked…yeah…totally worked.
Beth grabbed her own bottle, staring into his eyes as she clinked the exposed glass against his. “To burying the hatchet,” she repeated.
The need to pull her gaze from this man was real. So she looked out at the yard, bringing the bottle to her mouth and tipping her head back. The cold beer washed over her tongue, loosening it just a little bit.
Duke was now making his way to the deck, clearing the stairs with ease before he ambled over to them. He nudged Tripp’s shoulder, who immediately turned and scratched the dog’s chest.
“You thoroughly exhaust yourself?” he asked Duke.
Duke’s answer was to unceremoniously plop down on the deck between Beth and Tripp.
“Best part of the day,” Tripp said as he looked back out to the lake, now scratching Duke’s back. The dog’s tongue lolled out and he closed his eyes in ecstasy. “This view is my favorite part of the house, actually.”
“Mine too. I love it out here. It was always my favorite part of Colleen and Kevin’s house…” She trailed off for just a moment, shaking her head at the words. “Though, I guess it’s my house now.” A fact she still hadn’t quite accepted.
That oh-so-familiar ache blossomed in her chest…an ache that was unavoidable whenever she thought about Colleen…an ache that she knew would never fully go away.
“Do you like being back here? Back in Mirabelle?”
“Yes and no,” she shrugged. “It’s home, always will be. But there’s no anonymity here. Everyone knows everything about you pretty much all the time.”
“There wasn’t any anonymity where I grew up, either.”
“Where was that?” she asked as she took another sip of her beer.
“Kingsland, Georgia. Residents are more than three times Mirabelle’s five thousand, and I’d say over half all knew who I was. A lot of that had to do with my father, though: Judge Dominic Brandon Black II.”
“Are you the third? Is that where Tripp comes from?”
“Yes, and I couldn’t ask for a better man to get my name from,” Tripp said with no small amount of pride.
“So your leaving didn’t have to do with being in his shadow?”
“Not at all. Hell, I even went to his Alma Mater. Spent four years playing baseball for the University of Georgia just like he did.”
“And after that?”
“This is where I deviated from my dad. His passion was in law, but mine wasn’t. I enlisted and spent six years in the Air Force.”
Beth did the math in her head. Tripp was thirty-five now, which meant…“You joined after September Eleventh.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving hers. “I did. I’d always wanted to be a firefighter, so I figured I might as well do it serving my country for a few years.”
Holy crap. She knew this man didn’t run away from danger, and instead went straight into it. He was a firefighter, after all. But this…this was different. This was something else entirely.
“Did you have to go over there?”
“I was part of Operation Iraqi Freedom. I was on the bases with the planes mostly, so I wasn’t in the actual fight. But I spent about two years over there before they brought me back.”
Two years?
“And what did you do then?” she asked before she could stop herself. She was absolutely more than interested to learn all about him.
They were friends now, after all.
“They sent me to Shaw in Sumter, South Carolina. After that I got transferred to Tyndall in Panama City where I finished out my service. When I got out, I spent a couple of years as a civilian firefighter over there. Turned out I missed small town life. I didn’t really want to move back home, though.” He shook his head. “I liked making a name for myself on my own.”
“So you got the Fire Chief position here.”
“Yup. And it was pretty perfect, actually. Home has always been near the water for me, which was never made clearer than when I was in the desert.”
“A fireman who loves water.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Makes sense.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” He grinned back at her. “What about you? Has it only been Mirabelle and Tallahassee?”
“I stayed there after school, found a job that I loved, and started to build my life there.”
“Do you miss it?”
“I think I’d miss it more had the circumstances of me leaving been different. My ex had a lot to do with that.” She grimaced, an unavoidable reaction whenever she thought about Mick.
“I remember meeting him at Bennett and Mel’s wedding. I take it the two of you didn’t really end on good terms.”
“Couldn’t get away fast enough,” Beth said right before she tipped back her beer and took a good mouthful. Unavoidable reaction number two: drinking more.
She turned back to look out at the view of the lake, the bright bursts of color reflecting off the water. Even the stunning beauty of it couldn’t erase the memories that played out clear as day in her mind.
Two years. That’s how long Beth had been with Mick Waters…Dr. Mick Waters…general surgeon and genuine asshole.
Though the “asshole” part hadn’t been discovered until the very end of their relationship.
A nurse falling for a doctor…it wasn’t a new or original story in the slightest. They’d met at the hospital. He was eight years older than her, well respected and liked by everyone, and charming as all get out.
She’d said no the first half a dozen times he’d asked her out. She wasn’t interested in being another cliché. It didn’t matter how attractive he was with his blond hair and baby blue eyes. Or that he looked like Brad Pitt circa Meet Joe Black.
But after the longest graveyard shift of her life—where about a dozen babies had been born—he’d asked her to breakfast. The draw of caffeine and a warm meal had been too much to turn down, so she’d said yes.
Four months later she moved in with him. They’d both jumped into the relationship and never looked back…or so Beth had thought.
It still baffled her mind that she could love someone so fully and not know him, because in the end she hadn’t known him at all—a fact that had shocked the hell out of her because they’d never seemed to have a problem communicating. They’d talked about everything; absolutely nothing had been off the table. They discussed the future, staying in Tallahassee, getting married, buying a bigger house to raise a family…their family…their kids.
But there’d been some things he hadn’t been up for.
He didn’t want them.
“He didn’t want who?”
“What?” Beth repeated as she turned to look at Tripp. He was frowning, his dark brown eyebrows coming down low over his eyes.
“You said he didn’t want them.”
Shit. She’d spoken out loud and hadn’t even realized it. And it wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t realized. Somewhere between her thinking and accidental talking, she’d started petting Duke.
The dog had moved closer to her, putting his head in her lap. She was now scratching him between his fluffy ears.
Well, this was interesting. She’d screamed and ranted and raved at this dog more times than she could count. But he wasn’t even remotely intimidated by her. Yeah, she knew it; her bark was much bigger than her bite. Duke had read her like a freaking book; she was a total softie.
“Beth?” Tripp pressed. “He didn’t want who?” he asked again.
She pulled her eyes from the dog who was scooting closer to her and looked up at Tripp again. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
Besides Mel, Beth hadn’t told anyone what had really ended her and Mick’s relationship. People had probably guessed it, but no one had asked her outright. Yet here she was, telling Tripp.
“Apparently I can’t control my mouth when I’m around you. Whether it’s yelling, or crying, or telling you personal things that I don’t usually talk about.” Before she could stop herself she just went for it. “Mick didn’t want Nora, Grant, and Penny. Didn’t want to raise kids that weren’t his.”
An admission that had almost destroyed her. Because really, how was a person supposed to react when the man they loved…the man they planned on marrying…the man they planned on spending the rest of their life with…how were they supposed to react when that man walked away without a second thought?
“Wow,” Tripp’s frown deepened. “He sounds like a real class act.”
“He was an asshole.” A bitter laugh escaped Beth’s mouth. “He waited a whole week after Colleen and Kevin died—two days after the funeral—to tell me how he felt. It was either him or them. I didn’t need to even think about it. There wasn’t a choice.”
Tripp looked at her for a moment…really looked at her, his eyes holding hers so intensely that she was maybe just a little bit breathless from them.
“You know”—he slowly shook his head—“if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, there’s always a choice. A choice to be selfish or to be generous. A choice to take the easy road or the hard road. A choice to quit or to keeping going. A choice to turn away or to walk into the fire.”
“Well, your whole adult life has been about walking straight into the fire. God, Tripp, you enlisted after 9/11. You’re a firefighter. You save people’s lives.”
“Last I checked, so do you. Aren’t you saving babies these days?”
“I’m an obstetrics nurse. I work with moms and their unborn babies. But I don’t put my life at risk every day that I do my job.”
“Maybe not. But it doesn’t change what you do, does it?” he asked. “I’ve seen it more times than I can count. When I was growing up, when I was in college, when I was in the military, even now. There are people in this world who don’t choose to do good. People who turn their backs on someone in need. People who walk away, sometimes from their own flesh and blood, and don’t even think twice about it.” He turned his body more fully to face her.
“Beth, there’s always a choice. And you know what
? I think you’re pretty damn remarkable for what you’re doing for those kids. The other day you said you felt like you were failing. But you aren’t. Because when you were given a choice to turn away or walk into the fire, you chose the fire. It’s never easy.”
“Thank you,” she said on a whisper, surprised she’d been able to get those two words past the constriction in her throat. Words…words failed her. How did someone respond to something like that? He’d just called her remarkable.
Duke shifted closer to her, moving so he could push his side up against her thigh. She ran her fingers through the thick, soft fur on his back. She found it comforting, just like she was beginning to find his owner.
“Any time.” Another smile turned up Tripp’s mouth as he clinked the neck of his beer against hers. He tipped the bottle back and she followed suit, the cold liquid washing down her throat and helping with the tightness.
“Besides, you’ve got a couple things going for you,” he said as he lowered the bottle, pointing to the plate on the stand. “Your chocolate chip cookies are pretty much the best I’ve ever had.”
She raised her eyebrows high. “Pretty much?” she asked, no problem finding her voice now.
That recipe had been honed to perfection by her grandmother and mother. They were without a doubt the best chocolate chip cookies ever.
“Hmmm, maybe I need another taste.” He set his beer down before he pulled the Saran-wrap back and grabbed a cookie. When he took a bite—that comprised half of the cookie—his eyes didn’t leave hers as he chewed thoughtfully. He swallowed before he popped the other half in his mouth, repeating the process.
Yup, watching this man eat a cookie should he illegal. How in the hell could something like that be so damn sexy?
“Okay.” He nodded as he grabbed the plate and held it out for her. “I take back the pretty sure.”
“Damn straight you do,” Beth said as she set her bottle down and snatched up a cookie with the hand that wasn’t buried in Duke’s fur.
“Pretty interesting flavor combination, cookies and beer.” She raised her eyebrows before she took a bite of the cookie.
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