Close to Home

by Raney, Deborah;

  He’d looked at her funny, and apparently guessing her fears, he’d reassured her. “Don’t worry, silly. I’m not planning on getting on one knee or anything. Not yet anyway.”

  They’d flown past St. Louis ten minutes ago, but were still on familiar territory since this was the route she took to get to her parents’ house. That had better not be where they were going. He’d been saying he wanted to meet her parents. Surely he hadn’t taken matters into his own hands and arranged to meet them somewhere. She really did not like surprises—especially if they involved her parents.

  But that didn’t fit with Aaron’s other instructions. He’d told her that she could wear a fancy dress if she wanted to, but to be sure it was comfortable because they’d be in the car for three hours. She’d opted for a striped jersey maxi dress and flat sandals. Aaron wore a white dress shirt and dark pants. No tie—though she wouldn’t put it past him to produce one once they got wherever they were going.

  He turned to her, his eyes twinkling. “You look beautiful, in case I didn’t already tell you that.”

  “You told me. At least three times.”

  “Well, you look just that beautiful.”

  She smiled. “Well, thank you. You look pretty amazing yourself.”

  He reached for her hand and entwined his fingers with hers. But only a few minutes later, he gently untangled their fingers and exited the freeway. They drove through the beautiful countryside on a highway she’d never been on before.

  He consulted the GPS on his phone several times, which made her think he’d never been wherever they were going. At last, he turned onto a winding, climbing road and wound his way to a lovely vineyard restaurant with stunning views.

  Looking quite proud of himself, Aaron parked the car and came around to open her door for her. “Madame,” he said, holding out the crook of his arm.

  “This looks amazing, Aaron!” She took his arm, hoping they weren’t underdressed.

  The server found their reservation and immediately led them through the building and out the back to what looked like a charming—but huge—tree house. They were seated at a table hundreds of feet above the Missouri River with an incredible view of the water and the tidy vineyards that grew below.

  Bree could hardly stay seated. “This is so beautiful! Oh! I could just live here. Wouldn’t it be awesome to live in a tree house?”

  Aaron laughed. “You might wish for some walls come winter.”

  A server came and placed menus before them, and half an hour later, they were eating melt-in-your-mouth steaks and yeast bread that tasted—and smelled—fresh from the oven.

  As the sun sank to the horizon, diners drifted to the railing overlooking the river, taking photographs and exclaiming over the otherworldly colors in the August sunset. Aaron slipped his phone from his pocket and pulled her close to his side to snap a selfie.

  While they checked to be sure the photo had turned out okay, a white-haired man tapped Aaron on the shoulder. “This looks like a special occasion. Would you folks like me to take your photograph?”

  “That’d be great. Thanks.” Aaron showed the gentleman how to use his phone camera, then pulled Bree close again, bending at the knees to place his stubbled cheek next to hers.

  The picture turned out great, and Aaron immediately e-mailed a copy to Bree before they returned to their table. After they sat down, he opened the Facebook app on his phone. “Hang on a sec, and I’ll post this.”

  “Oh . . . Aaron—” Bree reached across the table and put a hand on his arm. “Would you not post it yet.”

  He gave her a questioning look.

  “Give me a few days, would you? I’d like to talk to my parents first. And tell Grant and Audrey and the rest of the family in person. I don’t want them to learn about us—that I’m dating someone seriously—from Facebook.”

  He put his phone back in his pocket. “So they don’t have a clue right now? Not even your parents?”

  She shrugged. “It’s just not something we’ve talked about. I don’t talk to my parents that often. And with Grant and Audrey, I guess I’ve mentioned that we went to lunch or—” She cut her words off, not wanting to lie to him. The truth was she’d actually been careful to not reveal anything about Aaron to Tim’s family. If she let Aaron post the photo on Facebook, the cat was pretty much out of the bag.

  Was she ready for all the questions that would bring? Not just from Tim’s family, but from people at work and her parents. She didn’t think they ever even got on Facebook—she rarely did herself, for that matter—but news traveled at lightning speed once you put it on social media. She’d have to tell people.

  She looked up at Aaron to see a funny—was it smug?—look on his face. “What?”

  “Did I hear you right? Seriously?”

  “Seriously what?” She wrinkled her forehead.

  “Did you say you were dating someone seriously?”

  “Ahhh. That.” She dipped her head. “I wondered if you’d pick up on that.”

  “So is that how you see me now? Have I graduated to ‘serious boyfriend’?”

  She cleared her throat, not sure she wanted to have this conversation. “I guess we’d have to define serious first.”

  His expression turned . . . serious. “Here’s how I define it, Bree”—he took both her hands in his across the table—“I love spending time with you. I’m falling in love with you. I don’t want to picture a future without you.”

  What was he thinking? It was too soon. Way too soon. Please, God . . . Please don’t let him ask me to marry him.

  He grinned, as if he’d read her mind. “I know you’re not quite there. But I hope you’ll soon grow to feel the same way about me.”

  She grasped for an answer that would be honest, without hurting him.

  He saved her the trouble, pushing his chair back to rise and pull her up after him by one hand. “Let’s go for a walk. Our server said there’s a lighted pathway behind the pavilion. We’ll come back for coffee and dessert in a few minutes.”

  That sounded good. She could use some fresh air.

  Aaron spoke to their server, who promised to save their table. They wound their way through tables of diners scattered on the flagstone patio, and Bree was aware of the admiring glances they earned. They did make a handsome couple. But Aaron would have made any woman look good.

  They picked their way along a cobbled trail down a series of shallow steps, following the small lighted signs that directed the way to a narrow path that seemed suspended above the river. Twinkle lights were suspended in the trees overhead, and lanterns atop fence posts illumined their steps. The path meandered through the woods, with the wide, murky Missouri in view at many little terraces jutting out over the river along the way.

  They passed a few other diners coming back the other way, but within a few minutes, they appeared to be alone on the trail.

  Aaron led the way down some rustic steps to another scenic overlook, and they stood, leaning against a wooden rail, watching the lights of a distant barge on the water, captivated by the reflection of a perfect crescent moon.

  Bree turned to lean her back against the railing, tilting her head to behold a perfect night sky. “Oh! Just look at those stars! I always forget how the city lights drown them out. It’s so incredibly beautiful out here!”

  “I can’t look at the stars because I can’t keep my eyes off of you.” He put a hand at the small of her back and pulled her into his embrace.

  “Aaron,” she whispered.

  He bent to whisper her name and matched his lips to hers.

  She wanted to melt into his arms. She wanted to kiss him back and feel everything she sensed he was feeling. She wanted to love him the way he so obviously loved her.

  She wanted her senses, her body, her mind, to respond the way a woman was supposed to in the arms of a man she was falling in love with.

  But nothing happened. Or worse than nothing. She felt her body tense in his arms, and she could not will hersel
f to respond the way she knew she should.

  Aaron deepened the kiss, and she felt as if she were suffocating. It took every ounce of strength she had to not push him away and run back up the path. What was wrong with her?

  When he finally came up for air, she couldn’t look at him. She remained inside the circle of his arms, her forehead resting on his chest. And she hoped he would think she was overcome with emotion. Maybe he would even believe that she was, in this very moment, falling in love with him.

  He took a step back. Tilted her chin upward with the tips of his fingers. Brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face with his other hand. “What’s wrong? Bree?”

  “Nothing. I’m . . . It’s just a lot to take in.”

  That seemed to satisfy him. He gave a little sigh and pulled her close again. They stood that way for a long time, and she counted every second until they could finally start back up the path to their table.

  Finally, he bent to kiss her forehead and take her hand. “Our server is going to wonder if we skipped out on him.”

  She nodded, afraid her voice would betray her.

  He took her hand again and started walking, but after a few steps, he stopped abruptly. “I know it might take a while, Bree. I understand. I really do. He must have been a great guy.” He didn’t look at her when he spoke.

  She wondered if he was afraid of what he might see in her eyes.

  She couldn’t help that she still had a huge Tim-sized hole in her heart. Maybe she always would. Could Aaron still accept her, love her if he knew that? And how could she commit to someone new as long as that chasm existed between them? She longed for someone to talk these things over with. Yet everyone she imagined having that conversation with had a bias that would keep them from seeing things objectively—Tim’s family for obvious reasons. And her parents would only say, “We told you so.”

  * * *

  “Bree, could I see you in my office for a minute?”

  Bree looked up from her computer to see Sallie Wilkes standing in the doorway of her cubicle. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Eleven a.m. “Sure. I’ll be right there.”

  Without further comment, Sallie turned and walked back toward her office at the front of the building.

  Bree quickly sent the e-mail she’d been working on, then stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her shirt. Something was up. Her boss rarely consulted in her office. Sallie was much more a hang-out-at-the-water-cooler kind of leader.

  Bree knocked hesitantly on the door jamb.

  “Come on in. And why don’t you close the door behind you if you don’t mind.”

  She did mind. What was going on?

  Sallie indicated the chair in front of the desk and Bree sat on the edge of it, hands primly in her lap.

  “It’s come to my attention that there’s a little office fraternizing going on.”

  Sallie’s expression was impossible to read, and Bree waited, not knowing how to respond or whether to acknowledge what she assumed Sallie was referring to.

  “You and Aaron are dating?” This time there was a hint of a smile on her boss’s face.

  Bree was relieved to see the smile, but didn’t quite trust it yet. “Well, yes. I guess you could call it that. It’s nothing serious yet, but we have gone out a couple of—”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’ve never had a strict policy against coworkers dating.” Sallie smiled. “How could I? I met Marcus at the agency where we both worked in St. Louis. Thirty years ago now.” She shook her head. “Wow did that go by in a flash.”

  “Really? I mean, I didn’t know that’s where you met your husband. Well— Thank you. I’m glad it’s not a problem.”

  “Well, I didn’t exactly say that. It certainly has the potential to be a problem. I know from experience that it’s not easy to separate work and personal relationships once romance is in the picture.”

  “We’ll be very cautious about that.”

  “I know that will be your intention, but I can’t have this affecting my accounts. Clients can sense if there’s tension and that’s the exact opposite of what they need to feel.”

  “We’ll be very professional about it.”

  Sallie eyed her. “I trust you’ll both behave appropriately—here in the office, of course, but especially whenever you’re on site at a job. That’s when it will be tempting to forget you represent Wilkes. No PDAs or other—”

  “No! Of course not.” Good grief. This wasn’t high school. Although she hadn’t felt her cheeks burn like this since high school. “I assure you we’ll be professional at all times,” she repeated. “We’re just— Well, it’s just a friendship that might be turning into something more.”

  “Been there, done that.” Sallie laughed again, but it felt forced. “I know you won’t let it affect your work.”

  Bree shifted in her seat. “Have you talked to Aaron . . . about this?”

  “Not yet. But I will. I know you two have been sneaking around, and I didn’t want you to think you have to pretend nothing is happening between you.”

  “We haven’t been sneaking . . .” But that wasn’t exactly the truth. They had been avoiding Sallie. “Thank you. I promise we’ll be professional.” She didn’t want to exit too soon, but she couldn’t wait to get out of there either.

  “That’s all.” Sallie rose and shooed her out with a flourish. “For what it’s worth, I think you two are cute together.”

  “Oh . . . Thank you.” She rose and backed out of the office with an awkward little wave. Before going back to her cubicle, she scanned the room, looking first for Aaron, and then to see who else in the room might have heard her get called into Sallie’s office.

  Aaron was there, apparently just back from an early morning meeting with a client. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  She gave a subtle shake of her head and mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.” She slumped into her chair, completely unable to concentrate on the project she was supposed to finish before five o’clock tonight.

  Not three minutes later, she felt Aaron towering over her. “Wanna go to lunch?”

  She glanced toward Sallie’s office. “I don’t think we should.”

  “Not now. At noon, I mean.”

  “Maybe. You might not be available.”

  “What are you talking about? What was that all about?”

  “Shh. I’ll tell you at lunch.”

  He eyed her. “Are you okay? You look a little shook up.”

  “I guess I am, a little.”

  “So what’s the deal?”

  “Not here, Aaron.” Which part of “I’ll tell you at lunch” did he not get? She looked around, sure the others in the office could hear them.

  He blinked and held his hands out as if staving off a physical blow. “Sorry.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat. I just don’t want to talk about it here.”

  “Can you get away a little early. So we can beat the lunch crowds?”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea. Besides, I have to get this stuff sent out for that trade show or I won’t hear back in time to get all the hotel reservations in.”

  “Okay then. I’ll meet you in the parking lot at noon?”

  “Sounds good.”

  He gave her a curious look and walked away.

  But it didn’t sound good. She was having serious second thoughts. It was hard enough to think about dating again. But Sallie’s little talk added a whole new level of trauma to the whole thing.

  She was frankly surprised that Sallie didn’t have more of a problem with it. In fact, it almost seemed like her boss was rather enjoying the whole idea of an office romance.

  Great. She turned back to her computer screen. The last thing she needed was for her romance with Aaron to become a spectator sport.

  * * *

  As Culver’s came into sight just up the road, Drew stripped off his baseball cap and leaned to check his face in the rearview mirror. He was getting
a farmer’s tan wearing a cap all the time on the work site. He’d have to remember to take it off this afternoon when they were on the ladders. Even things out a little.

  Ha, Brooks. Quit worrying about your tan and concentrate on not getting fired.

  He maneuvered into the turn lane. Grant had sent him into town to pick up some burgers for lunch since there was a crew today. They probably would have just made sandwiches at the inn if it had been only the two of them, but Audrey was gone for the day—having lunch with a friend from what he gathered—and Grant had Dallas, Link, and Jesse helping today. Grant had an aggressive agenda for this stifling Friday, the first weekend in August, and he’d decreed they needed better fuel than PB&J.

  Drew kind of hated that he was the one who drew the short straw as designated-lunch-picker-upper. He was enjoying the construction work more than he ever imagined he might. Not that he didn’t still have a ton to learn.

  And he’d had his moments of sheer stupidity along the way. He’d learned measure twice cut once the hard way. He’d learned that certain plywood had a right and wrong side to it. But at the same time, he’d learned how to skillfully remove dozens of nails. He chuckled to himself, remembering. Thankfully, Grant had been beyond patient with him, but he didn’t need to add a firing to a résumé that already contained a layoff.

  He wished he’d had time to wash up before heading into Cape—construction in August was a hot, sweaty job—but he could tell Grant was in a hurry to get back to work on the cottage.

  Pulling into Culver’s parking lot, he saw that the line at the drive-through was six cars long. He started to drive on, but remembering what a fan Grant was of the restaurant’s ButterBurgers, he pulled in and parked. It’d be faster to go inside—and just pray he didn’t run into anyone he knew looking like such a slob.

  He’d no more opened the door than he heard someone call out his name. He turned to see Bree Whitman and the guy she’d brought out to the inn last week—Aaron.

  “Well, hey there. Fancy meeting you here.” She smiled, then seemed to remember her manners. “Oh . . . Drew, you remember Aaron . . . from the other night.”