Convincing Cara (Wishing Well, Texas Book 2)

by Melanie Shawn

  She had been talkative, very talkative, about her love life or lack thereof. Which had been equal parts entertaining and enlightening. But it was also the first time I was the one to take care of her. For years, I’d been helpless as I’d watched her parents, her doctors, Colton, and even my sister sit at her bedside. Made sure she ate or drank. For the fourteen months I’d had my license and Harmony hadn’t, I’d volunteered to drive her to the hospital to see her friend every time she’d been headed up there. Usually, I’d stayed in the hallway or waiting room and chatted with her mom, her dad, or Colton while my sister had visited with her.

  But sometimes, on her good days, I’d go into her room and we’d all play board games, video games, or watch movies. It was all I could do not to make sure her pillows were okay or she had water, but it hadn’t been my place. So I’d stayed silent, watching from afar and wishing I could be the one. The night I’d taken her home, I had been the one.

  I had made sure she had drunk several glasses of water and eaten a few pieces of toast before she’d passed out. I had tucked her in and watched her to see that she was resting peacefully. When she’d tossed and turned, I had been the one to tuck her back in. I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

  “Trace! I have a quick question for you.” The twinkle in my sister’s eye told me that either I or someone at this table was not going to like whatever she was about to ask me.

  “What’s up?” I asked as I slid in beside Cara.

  I crowded against her and she scooted to her right to give me room. Room I did not need or want. If it had been up to me, I’d have pulled her onto my lap. The only upside to her action was that her hemline had risen up to her mid-thigh. My hands twitched to reach down and graze her soft skin. Keeping my hormones in check was always an issue when I was near Cara. Thankfully, I’d had years of practice.

  I rested my forearms on the table and leaned forward, hiding any excitement my body might have been feeling beside the girl who shot my arousal into space every time I was in her presence. Then I looked at my sister as she began speaking.

  “Would you, or have you ever, shown a girl a dick pic on a first date?”

  “Harmony!” Cara exclaimed before burying her face in her hands as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

  As uncomfortable as it was to have my sister ask me that question, my protectiveness over Cara trumped it.

  Pushing down every primal instinct to scream and demand answers, I turned my attention to the blonde bombshell beside me. I remained calm as I asked, “Is that what happened to you?”

  She was shaking her head, but I could see that was exactly what had happened.

  “Who?” I asked Harmony and Destiny, my tone deadly calm.

  “My friend Peter”—Harmony’s mouth twitched—“showed her his Wally.”

  The girls all started laughing. I didn’t think it was funny. Not at all.

  “Peter who?” I didn’t sound as relaxed as I had even a few seconds before as I scanned the room.

  It was a small town, and outsiders usually stuck out like sore thumbs. Even though the bar was crowded, there wasn’t an unfamiliar face in the bunch.

  “He’s just a guy I know,” my sister answered nonchalantly.

  “How?” I asked as I continued my visual sweep.

  “He’s the brother of…a friend.”

  Harmony’s vague answer did not sit right with me.

  “What friend?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Cara’s not going to see him again.” Harmony sounded defensive. “And he’s not here, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  “Where is he?” I barked at Cara. Now that I knew what that asshole had done, all I needed to know was where he was.

  Her blue eyes widened, and she sucked in a short breath.

  “Calm down. Cara’s a big girl, Trace. She doesn’t need you to Hulk out on her date.” Harmony’s condescending assessment was doing nothing to help my mood. “She thought it was funny.”

  Even in my worked-up state, I could feel the energy at the table growing tense. If I didn’t hide that I wanted to rip Peter apart and lighten things up, my sister might start to see my behavior for what it really was: the actions of a man totally and completely head-over-heels in love with her best friend. That couldn’t happen.

  Cara was just starting to live, to date, to enjoy being young. If Harmony had an inkling of what I really felt, it would go one of two ways. She’d either be mad and do everything in her power to make sure nothing ever happened between Cara and me or she would play matchmaker and do everything in her power to get us together. Cara didn’t deserve that kind of drama. If we had a chance at something real, it had to be between us, not my sister, my family, or the town.

  Which was one of the many things holding me back from telling her how I felt. If it were just the two of us working things out, that would be one thing. But it wouldn’t be. The whole town would have something to say about it.

  I had to cover up my “Hulk out” reaction, so I went with what was expected of me.

  Leaning forward, I whispered loud enough for Harmony and Destiny to hear and with enough cockiness to sell it. “Just so you know, if I’d sent you a picture like that, you wouldn’t be laughin’, darlin’.”

  My intention had been to be shocking to try to camouflage the anger surging through me. And it had worked. Cara gasped and her eyes widened. Destiny’s head fell back in laughter. My sister, on the other hand, was not as amused as Destiny, and not nearly as shocked as Cara seemed to be.

  “Eww, gross!” Harmony threw a crumpled-up napkin at me as she said, “See? I told you. Boys are disgusting.”

  I had no idea what my sister had or hadn’t told them. What I did know was that, while Harmony went on about the burden of having eight brothers, Destiny continued chuckling and Cara appeared to be having some trouble recovering.

  There was a small grin on her lips as she listened to Harmony’s many complaints, but her breaths were uneven, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as she licked her lips and tucked her hair behind her ear.

  Cara was nervous. She always tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous. I knew her well enough to know that, if one of my brothers or one of our friends had said that to her, she would have joined Destiny in thinking it was funny or my sister in thinking it was “gross.” But the second my words had registered on her face, there hadn’t been a hint of humor or disgust there. Even now, her breathing and her body language were all saying that she didn’t hate the idea of seeing that particular part of my anatomy.

  It might not have been a declaration of love, but hell, any sign that she had any interest was better than her avoiding and ignoring me.

  “All right. I thought this was girls only. I’m crashing the party.” JJ pulled a table over to the booth, and within seconds, it was filled by Travis, Jaynie, and Lizzy.

  The conversation turned to reminiscing about the days when we had drunk down at the river because we hadn’t been old enough to go to the bar. As everyone laughed and joked, I tilted my head towards Cara and whispered, this time low enough so only she could hear.

  “I’m sorry that asshole did that.”

  I still wanted to kick his ass, but even more than that, I wanted to make sure Cara was okay.

  “It’s fine,” she whispered back dismissively.

  “No. It’s not,” I rasped.

  Her shoulders stiffened. Okay, so this was not a discussion she wanted to have. And, any second, Lizzy would pick up on the fact that I was giving someone other than her attention. The last thing I wanted was a scene.

  Inching even closer, I said quietly beside her ear, “Just in case the assclown didn’t tell you, you look beautiful tonight.”

  Cara’s gaze sliced to mine as her brow furrowed and she gave a subtle shake of her head. Her mouth opened in what I knew was going to be disagreement with my compliment.

  So I spoke before she had a chance. “Yes, you do. Breathtakingly beautiful
.”

  This time, she didn’t try to argue. She froze, uncertainty floating in the deep, blue seas of her irises.

  “Trace, you want a beer?” Travis asked, snapping me out of the trance I found myself in any time I looked into Cara’s eyes.

  As much as I wanted to stay like this, lost in her stare—or, even better, lean forward and press my mouth to hers, taking away any doubt she might have been experiencing about how I felt—I couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.

  “Yeah.” I nodded, turning my attention back to the group.

  The rest of the night passed like hundreds before. Us all hanging out, drinking, eating, and then heading home. There was one difference though. Something that hadn’t before had passed between Cara and me. We’d shared a moment. A moment I was determined, more than ever, to explore and expand on.

  The only question I had now was: When?

  Chapter 12

  Cara

  “Once you found the jelly to your peanut butter, you’d think picking the bread would be easy.”

  ~ Dolly Briggs

  My foot tapped in time to the butterflies doing the cha-cha, the jitterbug, and the jive in my stomach like it was a dance floor while I waited in the reception area of Valley Memorial Hospital. At first, I’d thought that my fancy-footed winged creatures’ competitive ballroom routines had been inspired by the fact that I was about to meet bachelor number two. But, with every second I sat there, that theory was disproved. I’d never been to Valley Memorial as a patient, but I was realizing that a hospital was a hospital.

  The same smells. The same sounds. The same sights.

  With as much time as I’d spent in them, you would think I would’ve built up an immunity to these sterile surroundings. It would stand to reason that I would have been used to the white coats, the scrubs, the codes being announced over the intercom, the distinct smell of disinfectant that hung heavily in the air. But I hadn’t.

  Instead, they made anxiety build up in me like a dam about to burst. Even the innocuous squeak of rubber-soled, nonslip shoes walking down the hallways made panic rise in me like I was a caged animal. Some people didn’t like hospitals; I had a visceral reaction to them.

  Bachelor number two had texted a couple of hours ago and asked if I could meet him at the hospital instead of the restaurant. My first instinct had been to politely decline and cancel altogether. But following that path would not lead to Cherry Popped Lane, so I sucked it up and took Grown Up Avenue, which I hoped would at least cross First Base Parkway. The street I chose to travel was filled with so many doubt potholes, nerve speed bumps, and anxiety crashes that I was starting to rethink my turn. I was about to get up and leave, making a sharp left down Avoidance Alley, when my phone buzzed.

  Destiny: So what do you think? He’s cute right? How’s it going?

  Even through my mild panic attack, I still appreciated my friend’s enthusiasm.

  Me: Well, I think I’m tired of sitting in this waiting room. I’m sure he is cute, but I have nothing, other than your and Harmony’s word, to base that on seeing as I haven’t met him yet. It’s not going anywhere right now.

  I had barely pressed send before my phone vibrated again.

  Destiny: Oh no! How long have you been waiting? I’m so sorry!

  The last thing I wanted was for Destiny to feel responsible for this not going well. I mean, if I didn’t blame Harmony for having been visually assaulted by a dick pic, no way was I going to hold Destiny accountable for the good doctor keeping me waiting.

  Me: About an hour, but no worries. I suppose it’s the price you pay to date a man that puts McSteamy and McDreamy (may they rest in peace!) to shame.

  “Dr. Hall, one more thing!” a female voice called out.

  A somewhat frazzled-looking nurse pointed to the chart she was holding as she animatedly explained something. The man she was speaking to was standing with his back to me. He was wearing a blue, dress shirt and black slacks. When he bent his head and pulled the chart closer to read it, the cotton fabric across his shoulder blades tightened to reveal a muscled back that had my nerves dancing for an entirely different reason. I still hadn’t spoken one word to him or seen his face, but I was already feeling better about bachelor number two than I ever had felt about bachelor number one.

  Me: I think he’s here. Gotta go. I’ll call you later. Love ya.

  As I was sliding my phone back into my purse, a text from Destiny that instructed me to “have fun” came through. Fun. That small single word flipped the switch and a light bulb turned on in my mind that that’s exactly what these dates were supposed to be.

  It might seem like an obvious reminder to someone else, but it was one I needed to hear. I realized as I stared at those three letters that, in my mission to take the pressure off any serious relationship I would enter someday, I’d inadvertently shifted that responsibility to my starter affair. Instead of looking at these dates like opportunities to meet some great guys and have some fun, I was turning this into a job interview. And looking forward to them about as much.

  My friends had had the best intentions when we’d crafted my list of what I was looking for in a guy, but that had just been a creative way of disguising qualification requirements. Besides the fact that all the lists in the world could never come close to encapsulating my “perfect man.” He wasn’t a list—he was real. The only problem was he wasn’t interested.

  Or, at least, I hadn’t thought he was.

  Lately, Trace had been acting strangely. I’d first noticed it when he’d driven me home from church. There had been a moment, which I was ninety percent sure wasn’t just my imagination going wild, where I’d thought he was going to kiss me. Then, when he’d sat with me in the park, a second moment had occurred. I might have been able to chalk those both up to wishful thinking, but then another moment a couple of nights ago at the Tipsy Cow had happened.

  The look he’d had in his eye when he’d asked me where Peter was had stolen my breath away. It was a heady combination of protectiveness and, well, ownership. For an all-too-brief second, I’d felt like I belonged to Trace. That in and of itself had been mind-boggling. Then, when he’d followed it up by telling me that I looked beautiful—breathtakingly beautiful—in a low raspy, voice, it’d caused my skin to break out in goosebumps and my lady parts to tingle with excitement. His words had washed over me and I’d been fairly certain I was in danger of melting like the Wicked Witch of the West into a puddle of lust right there in the back booth at the Tipsy Cow.

  For the rest of the night, my entire body had been hyperaware of Trace’s nearness. I’d catalogued every brush of our arms, our knees, and our shoulders. I’d memorized every look, every word, and every touch we shared. When Bryson, the bartender, had announced last call, I had been sure Trace was going to offer to take me home or at least give me a goodnight kiss. But he hadn’t.

  I could blame it on the fact that, halfway through the night, Colton had shown up and Trace knew I’d be riding home with him. But, if all of those things I’d experienced had been real, not just figments of my overactive imagination, Trace would have wanted to take me home, whether I had a ride or not.

  As much as I wanted to make something out of the change in Trace’s behavior, I was most likely making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe he’d just been waiting patiently for me to get out of his truck that day after church and I had projected the fact that I’d wanted to kiss him onto the situation. And he could have sat with me at the park because he’d overheard that I was being stood up by his sister and Destiny. And maybe, the other night at the Cow, he’d just been protective of me because we’d known each other our entire lives and he was a good guy and had thought what Peter had done had been out of line. As for the compliment, he might have just been surprised to see me that dressed up. It wasn’t like I made it a habit.

  I needed to face facts that based solely on his track record, if Trace wanted to make a move, he had no problem doing it. So, whatever signals I might’ve wanted to be
lieve he’d been sending, the sad truth was I was seeing, feeling, and experiencing what I wanted to be there, not what was actually happening.

  Which was even more motivation to give bachelor number two a real shot and take Destiny’s advice. Tonight should be all about fun.

  Turning my attention back to the hallway, I watched as the nurse’s shoulders relaxed as she nodded at whatever Dr. Hall was telling her. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I could hear the calm in his authoritative voice. As a patient, I’d always appreciated that quality in a doctor. Usually, the circumstances that caused you to seek medical advice were scary, and having a physician that wasn’t self-assured was a foolproof way to slide down the slippery slope of uncertainty into a pit of hysteria. On the flip side of that medical coin, having a doctor who came across as both confident, competent—even cocky—was practically a guaranteed one-way ticket to Hope Island, where possibility lived and a positive outlook reigned supreme.

  In all my interactions with various medical professionals, I’d never really stopped to think about how that same quality would transfer to coworkers. But it made sense that it would do just that. Every day, these people came to work and literally held life and death in their hands. They were in the mortality trenches. Having someone who could command with confidence had to be invaluable. Before I’d even seen him, just imagining that bachelor number two held that quality was enough to send my heart fluttering.

  “Okay, thanks, Dr. Hall.” The nurse smiled before tucking the chart under her arm and rushing down the hall.

  My heartbeat picked up speed as Dr. Hall turned, in what appeared to be slow motion, towards me. It was odd how everything else around me seemed to slow down yet my pulse was going a mile a minute. I was able to study his face—for what felt like a few minutes but I was sure was only seconds—before he noticed me sitting in the waiting room.