Her House Divided (Beach Haven Book 1)

by Goode, A. J.

  “Haven’t you watched enough football for one night, Ethan?”

  He spun around to look at her – and nearly fell off the couch. She was wearing the short floral robe again, knotted loosely at her waist to reveal a tantalizing amount of creamy white skin. The fabric parted dangerously as she took a few steps closer to him, revealing long legs and almost so much more.

  “Tara—“ Even to his own ears, his voice sounded funny. He cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

  “I think that’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?” She stepped around the end of the couch, bringing herself within arm’s reach.

  “But I thought—“

  “Don’t think.” She toyed with the loose knot at her waist, slowly untying it.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, girl,” he growled.

  “It’s not a game, and I’m not a little girl, Ethan. I’m a woman,” she breathed. “Or hadn’t you noticed?” She gave a final tug at the belt and shrugged her shoulders. The silken fabric slid silently to the floor and pooled at her feet.

  He took a long, shuddering breath at the sight of her naked body, and then he took the steps to close the distance between them. He pulled her close and kissed her, moving his hands across the warm flesh of her back. As his hands crept downward, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss.

  “You’re trembling,” he broke free and whispered. “Are you afraid of me, Tara?”

  “No. I – I just need to know. . .”

  “Know what?”

  “That you really want me. That the other night really wasn’t all about pity.”

  He cupped both hands under her round, firm behind and pulled her close so she could feel just how much he really wanted her. She gasped.

  “Any more questions?” He asked.

  * * *

  Tara stretched out under the warm quilt, feeling a bit like a lazy housecat luxuriating in the patch of late morning sunlight steaming through the bedroom window. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept in so late; even during the months she had been off work, she had struggled to maintain some sense of normalcy to her days by setting her alarm clock every morning.

  It was a sunny Monday morning, Ethan’s first day back to work. She hated to see him leave, but she had to admit that there was a part of her that was really looking forward to being alone in the house for a little while. As soon as he left for work, she had climbed back into the bed to wrap herself in the bedding that still smelled of him. She hadn’t expected to fall back to sleep.

  She glanced at the clock and blinked in surprise. Ten-thirty? She must have been more worn-out than she had realized. She blushed, thinking about all the delightful reasons that she and Ethan hadn’t gotten much sleep over the weekend.

  Tara threw back the quilt and stepped out of bed, wincing at the random aches that greeted her. After all these months, it never failed to amaze her that she could hop out of bed like that in the morning and actually forget that some parts of her body were just going to hurt. The surgeon had warned her that this would probably happen in different degrees for the rest of her life. Just like a football player with an old knee injury, he had said. It’s always going to be there, but it won’t always be this bad.

  The thought of Dr. Wilbur made her take another look at the clock. She had her three-month follow-up appointment with him today, when he would assess her progress and see if her healing was still on-track. But she was going to have to speed things up a notch if she was going to get herself showered and dressed and out the door in time to catch the bus to make her appointment.

  Thirty minutes later, she let herself out and scrambled to the corner bus stop with only a few minutes to spare. It was at times like this that she really missed the freedom of being able to hop into her trusty little Mustang and drive herself wherever she wanted to go without worrying about bus schedules. Someday, she told herself. Someday soon, she would be able to drive again.

  “Absolutely,” Dr. Wilbur agreed, when she asked him that question an hour later. “Your range of motion is still not good, so you’ve got some pretty big blind spots. I wouldn’t recommend driving anywhere in heavy traffic just yet, but I see no reason why you can’t start easing back into it.” He leafed through her file and frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” She asked.

  “I see here that you haven’t made an appointment with our physical therapist yet. Tara, therapy is crucial at this point in getting you up on your feet and back to normal.”

  “I – I can’t afford it. I don’t have any medical insurance.”

  The doctor’s frown deepened. “Wasn’t this auto-related?”

  She nodded.

  “Who is your case manager?” He wanted to know. At her blank look, he sighed. “All right, before you leave today, I want you to talk with my assistant, okay? We’ll have her set you up with a case manager to help figure out some of the details, but we’ve got to find a way to get you into physical therapy ASAP.”

  He answered a few more questions and left her in the care of his assistant, Michelle, who looked over the file and frowned just as the doctor had done. “Let me see if I understand this,” she said, after a moment. “You had no medical insurance, but you had full coverage on your vehicle at the time of your accident, and the company has refused to pay for your medical bills?

  “It was car insurance, not medical insurance.”

  Michelle shook her head. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “In Michigan, your auto policy must include PIP – Personal Injury Protection – unless you show proof of medical insurance. That means that all medical expenses incurred as a result of a car accident should be covered.”

  “That must be why the lawyer wanted to talk to the insurance company,” Tara said. “They’ve been . . . less than helpful.”

  “That’s a nice way of putting it,” Michelle told her. “I’d like to give them a call, too. In the meantime, I’d like to take you downstairs to our physical therapy department and get you set up on a program.”

  Tara’s head was spinning. She hardly dared hope that everything could be cleared up so easily, but she followed the other woman and was soon handed off to a physical therapist who proceeded to ask her what seemed like a million questions. He used a tiny measuring tape to measure how far she could raise her chin and turn her head to the left and right. He had her stand and turn and reach different directions while he scribbled measurements and notes on a clipboard.

  “I want to see you three times a week,” he told her when he was done. “It’s going to take a lot of hard work from you, and it’s not always going to feel good. But I promise you, it’ll be worth it.”

  “Will I ever get back to normal?” She asked.

  “I can’t promise that. We’re going to get you a new ‘normal’ that’s better than where you are right now.”

  Tara signed an agreement to follow his schedule and took the instruction sheets for a set of exercises he wanted her to do at home. Her eyelids were drooping by the time she boarded the bus home, and it was all she could do to make it to the couch before exhaustion overtook her.

  She had no idea how long she had been asleep when she heard Ethan calling her name. “Mmmf?” she murmured, gradually becoming aware of his hand on her arm.

  “You’ve been asleep for quite a while,” he told her. “I thought you might want to wake up and eat some supper.”

  She blinked, suddenly wide awake. “Ethan! What time is it?”

  “It’s almost six,” he told her. “I got home about an hour ago.”

  “I was going to make supper for you!’’ she wailed. She sat up -- and promptly smacked her forehead against his as he leaned over her. “Ow! What are you doing?” She demanded.

  “I was worried about you,” he said, sounding sulky as he rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I know you had your doctor appointment today, but you didn’t answer when I called you this afternoon to see how it went. And when I got home, here you were, soun
d asleep with your shoes on and your purse still in your hand. I wondered if maybe you got bad news or something.”

  “Not at all.” She sat up more slowly this time and yawned. “I’m sorry. No, it was all really good news.” She filled him in on the doctor’s comments about her progress and told him what Michelle had told her about her insurance coverage. She finished by telling him about her physical therapy assessment. “I guess it just wore me out,” she finished apologetically. “All that walking and bending and twisting for the PT guy, moving around after three months of not doing much at all. What a wimp, huh?”

  He draped an arm around her shoulders and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her temple. “Not a wimp at all. I think you’re pretty darn tough, Tara.”

  She snorted. “I used to work twelve-hour days on my feet doing perms and highlights and haircuts without so much as a lunch break. Now I need a three-hour nap after turning my head and raising my arms a few times.”

  “It’ll take time.”

  “So I hear.” She said, grimacing. “I wanted to make supper for you to celebrate the first day of school. I’m sorry.”

  “You can cook tomorrow. Tonight, I went all out. Fancy, exquisite, gourmet fare. Otherwise known as grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

  Tara suddenly realized that she was ravenous. She wolfed down the simple meal as Ethan told her about his new students and some of the different things he was anticipating about the new school year. His enthusiasm was so appealing that she almost found herself wishing she could go back to school.

  “I never had a Math teacher like you,” she blurted.

  Ethan stopped. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He wondered.

  “Remember Mr. Hart?” She drew herself up and deepened her voice in an imitation of the high school Math teacher: “’You gotta have your tool box. Only five things in it, the letters T, H, I, N, K. Knowing how to think is only tool you’ll ever need.’ Turns out, I needed a whole bunch of other tools for his class. A calculator. A tutor. Permission to drop his class.”

  Ethan laughed. “I remember him. He’s one of the reasons I went into teaching. I knew there had to be a better way to reach kids and help them enjoy learning.”

  “I wanted to teach, once upon a time” she admitted. “Right after I got my Cosmetology license, I really thought about getting my instructor’s license. It’s such a rewarding field to work in, but so many people drop out before they even take their state board exams, or they get their license and never use it. Statistically, less than five percent of all licensed cosmetologists are still working in the field after five years.”

  They washed the dishes together, and then Tara made two cups of blueberry tea for them to drink on the porch. Ethan talked some more about his day, and she found herself nodding off again. We’re like an old married couple, she thought with a chuckle. Just a couple of old farts talking about our day and watching the sunset.

  She felt a small jot of panic at the word “married”. No, she was not going to expect that from Ethan. This wasn’t about love or marriage. It was about physical attraction, sure. Friendship, of course. A common goal of keeping the Seashell out of Jacqueline’s greedy hands.

  But that was all it was.

  She was not falling in love with Ethan Davis, she told herself as she drifted off to sleep once more. Definitely not.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Ethan left school at the end of the day, the last person he expected to see was Jacqueline. And yet there she was, waiting for him in the parking lot, her sleek silver sedan parked next to his Expedition.

  “I didn’t see you this much when we were married,” he sighed. “What do you want?”

  His ex-wife pouted. “Is that any way to greet the woman you once wanted to spend your life with?”

  “I once wanted to be a superhero, but I grew out of that phase, too.”

  She laughed, and he couldn’t help but compare the brittle, controlled sound of her laughter to Tara’s exuberant belly-laugh.

  “I have an offer for you,” Jacqueline said, when she realize that he wasn’t laughing with her. “I’ve spoken with my lawyer, and we are prepared to make you an offer on the house. It’s very reasonable, and we would be able to close on the deal within a week. Think about it, Ethan: Money in hand within a week, and you will no longer be tied down to the house and your little . . . companion.”

  “I’m not interested. I like being ‘tied down’ to the Seashell.”

  “And Tina?”

  “You know her name is Tara.”

  Jacqueline shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I call her. She’s a burden, Ethan. There is no way she will ever be able to pay her share of the bills, and it’s just a matter of time before her creditors come after her. You’re going to lose the house because of her. If you’re smart – and I know you are – you’ll get out while you can before she drags you down with her.”

  He was silent.

  “Oh, is that how it is?” she said, after a moment. “You’re falling for her. Oh, Ethan.”

  “I think we’re done here. Good-bye, Jacqueline.”

  She tsked. “You know what this is, don’t you? A rebound. You’ve bounced from our marriage into the arms of the first pretty little thing within your reach. You’ve known her for a couple of weeks. Is she really worth losing everything? Can you really trust whatever it is that you think you’re feeling?”

  “Why do you want this house so much?” he demanded. “Yes, it’s worth a lot of money, but you’ve already got plenty of that. Is this about hurting me?”

  “’Plenty of money' is never enough,” she told him, baring her teeth in a smile that was more of a snarl. “Hurting you is just an added bonus.”

  “You’ll just turn it into a rental property, or sell it to a developer for a profit. If I really wanted to sell it why would I go through you and let you make all the profits?”

  “Because you don’t have the money it would take to renovate it into a rental property. And you don’t have the contacts that I have to sell out to the right developers. Face it, Ethan, even if you could get the financing to buy out Tina’s half, you’ll be left so strapped that you’ll eventually go under. Right now, my offer is the best option you’re going to get.”

  “You’ll never be my best option, Jacqueline.”

  Her laughter was still ringing in his ears as she drove away, and he slumped down into the seat of his Expedition. He didn’t hate her, but hated it when she was right. In this situation, she was right, at least about some of it.

  There was no denying the fact that Tara was in over her head financially. It was only a matter of time before creditors came after her or she was forced into declaring bankruptcy. One way or another, there was a very strong possibility that they were going to lose the Seashell because of her.

  You’re falling for her, Jacqueline had said. That stood out more than anything else she had said to him. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

  He liked spending time with Tara. She was funny and smart, and it was a true pleasure to watch her bloom as she regained her strength and confidence. They had fun together. And he had to admit that she continued to surprise him in the bedroom. But he was not falling for her. His feelings for her were strictly friendly – with “benefits”, of course.

  He resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands and groan out loud. He was an idiot. No matter how much he tried to deny it, the truth of the matter was that he really had begun to develop deeper feelings for Tara. Feelings that couldn’t be trusted, not this soon after divorcing Jacqueline. As she had just reminded him, he had once wanted to spend the rest of his life with her; how could he possibly trust anything he was feeling for another woman so soon?

  Damn it.

  He shook himself. First things first. He needed to hold onto the Seashell. It was time to call Ben again and discuss a few options.

  * * *

  Tara was bursting with excitement when he arrived home an hour later. “I’m going b
ack to school!” She blurted out.

  “What?”

  Tara laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you with that the second you walked in the door. I’m just so excited. My physical therapist set me up with a vocational rehabilitation specialist, who is helping me figure out some new career options. Just because I can’t do hair any more, it doesn’t mean I have to sit at home feeling sorry for myself.”

  “So the vocational whatchamacalit wants you to go back to school?”

  “Cosmetology school, for my Instructor’s License. I should be able to qualify for financial aid, and it’s only five hundred hours of classroom time. I can be done in less than a year.”

  Ethan followed her to the kitchen where she continued to chatter as she slid a pan of lasagna out of the oven.

  “I warned you, I can’t cook,” she said, seeing his questioning gaze. “I bought it frozen and just had to throw it in the oven. Not even I could mess that up.”

  He helped her set out plates and silverware. “Will you be able to teach?” He asked. “I mean, won’t that involve working on your feet and doing all of the same things you used to do?”

  “That’s the great part. I can teach Theory. Students in Michigan need three hundred and fifty hours of classroom and lab time before they are allowed on the floor with actual clients. Every school needs a Theory Instructor.”

  He couldn’t help but get caught up in her enthusiasm, despite the misgivings he felt. He wondered if she was perhaps pushing herself too hard, too soon. The physical therapy sessions were already starting to help with her posture but she was clearly exhausted. There were dark smudges under her eyes and an unhealthy pallor to her skin, and she seemed to need so much sleep. He was afraid that adding school to the mix might just be too much for her at this point in her recovery.

  He wanted to talk to her about postponing her back-to-school date until she was a little but stronger, but said nothing. He didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble when she was this happy.

  He also needed to talk to her about what he had done that afternoon on his way home from work. It had seemed like a good idea at the time; after talking to Jacqueline, he thought he was making a good decision and doing the absolute best thing for both him and Tara. Now, watching her enthuse about going back to school and getting on with her life, he wasn’t so sure.