by Shirley Jump
“See? Look at how he stares at her,” Luke whispered to Mac. “How much you want to bet we have a fourth Barlow wedding in the near future?”
Mac thought a second. “Hundred bucks.”
Luke laughed. “You must think Colton is made of stronger stuff than you or me.”
“Again,” Colton said, “I’m right here.”
“That’s right,” Luke said. “You want in on this, too?”
Colton just laughed and shook his head then left his busybody brothers behind as he crossed to Rachel. “Hey,” he said, because he didn’t seem to have too many words in his head right now.
“Hey yourself.” She smiled. Dazzling. Absolutely dazzling. “I managed to get my dad to stay home, but only with the promise that I would stop by and see how things are progressing.”
So she’d come to check on the building, not to see him. He shouldn’t be disappointed, but he was. “We got a lot done today. Do you want to do a walk-through with me? The power is still off, but it’s light enough out to see pretty much everything we did today.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She followed along with him, stepping through the temporary door they had hung in the entry. It would be replaced with a new glass door tomorrow, but for now an old interior door was doing the trick.
Once they got inside, a wave of nerves choked up his throat. He’d done all this without permission or input, and suddenly Colton worried that he had gone too far. What if neither Rachel nor Ernie liked what Colton had done? What if Ernie wanted an entirely different design? Or what if Ernie wanted things exactly the same, and Colton had mangled the details?
He wanted Rachel to love the renovations. But the only way to find out if she did was to just show her and quit standing here like he’d lost his voice and his brains on the side of a highway.
“My dad and I rebuilt the counter,” Colton said. “The laminate should arrive tomorrow, and then that’ll be done. We couldn’t get the exact same pattern, but we found one that was close and has a more durable surface.” He gestured to the left. “We hung shelves and pegboard behind the register, to give you more options for last-minute purchase items. I thought if people could see the things there while they were paying, they might add on to their order.”
Rachel nodded. “That’s a great idea. The whole thing is great, Colton.”
He liked that she was pleased with the changes. He liked it more than he wanted to admit. Mac and Luke were right—Colton had a thing for Rachel Morris, and he suspected it wasn’t a feeling that was going to go away anytime soon. It had started in this very shop, and had been quadrupled by the time they had spent together, that amazing night at her place and now this, watching her reaction to the work he had done on her father’s store.
“Did I tell you that the shelves are all adjustable?” Colton went on. “So you can change the height of them to accommodate inventory changes.” He stepped over a pile of lumber and put out a hand for her.
She could have gotten over the wood on her own, but she put her hand in his, anyway. “This is all fabulous.”
He gestured toward the eastern wall. “We had to tear that entire wall down and rebuild it from scratch. The siding and Sheetrock should go up tomorrow, but for now we have a tarp over it, in case it rains.”
“It all looks great. I can’t believe how much you got done.”
Colton kept moving, but didn’t let go of her hand. “We also took the liberty of rebuilding the break room. The way it was set up before—”
“You couldn’t open the door without hitting the table.” She spun in the new space. It seemed bigger, brighter, even though it was the same square footage, just rearranged. The new design made so much more sense, she didn’t know why no one had thought to do this before. “So you moved the door? And relocated the shelving to the far wall? Oh, and the counter is L-shaped now, instead of just one long piece.”
“I was worried about changing it. I wasn’t sure your dad would approve.”
“Actually, my dad has wanted to do that for years. It’s like you read his mind.” She smiled at him. “Another great job here.”
“No problem.” He cleared his throat as if the praise embarrassed him. “Anyway, tomorrow we’re going to run another waterline so you can have an ice-maker refrigerator.”
They stood in the dim interior of the room where Rachel had eaten dozens of sandwiches, or sat beside her father while he drew pictures to keep his little girl occupied on the Saturdays she’d gone to work with him. It was going to be a slightly different, but much more efficient space. She could already see how much better it was going to work out, and how much easier it would make days at the shop. Not to mention the forethought and details Colton had put into the front of the store, with the adjustable shelves, the flexible space behind the counter.
Colton, it seemed, had thought of everything. He’d matched so much of the original store, it was as if he’d been the one working here for the last year. “How did you come up with all of this? I mean, you’ve only been in the store once. It’s like you divined all the issues we’ve had over the years and fixed them in one fell swoop.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t sleep last night. I came down here, did a walk-through to assess the damage then went back to my room and drew up some plans. I’m no carpenter, so thankfully my father and brothers helped me fine-tune it. And I’m sorry not everything is here or in place yet. Some things we had to wait on and—”
She rose on her tiptoes and placed a kiss against his lips. “Thank you.”
He seemed surprised, but a smile crossed his face and he kissed her back. “Oh, Rachel, you don’t have to thank me.”
“I do indeed. You went above and beyond, Colton.” She curved into his chest and wrapped her arms around his back. He smelled of fresh-cut wood and fall air, and she thought she’d never before known a man to give as much as Colton Barlow had, to people who were essentially strangers. “You really know what matters most to people and just...do it. No wonder you’re always saving lives.”
He shook his head, as if he disagreed, then wrapped her in his arms, and when his gaze connected with hers, she felt as though she was in a fantasy world where everything was going to be just fine. That all these challenges and problems would pass in a blink. “I just hope with all the changes, and the new start, it’s enough to get your dad back to work. So then you can go back to what you want to do.”
She stepped out of his arms and let out a sigh. There was the real world again, intruding like an unwanted party guest. “I don’t know if it’s as simple as that.”
“Of course it is.” Colton gave her a grin. “Besides, I hear there’s a girl named Ginny who really wants you to plan her wedding.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s a small town, remember? And her fiancé was one of the ones who pitched in today. She came and brought him a soda and went on and on about how this was such bad timing, because she really wanted you to be free to, and I quote, ‘plan the pinkest wedding this county has ever seen.’”
Rachel laughed. “That is what Ginny wants. And it would be the kind of big, bold, over-the-top wedding that would make the papers and give my business a nice boost of publicity.”
“So...what’s stopping you?”
The sun was nearly gone now, and the shop was almost too dark to see inside. It had become a space filled with shadows, instead of the new opportunities she had seen earlier when the sky was still light. “I don’t want to leave my father shorthanded.”
He snorted. “Is that all it is?”
She spun back toward him. “What do you mean?”
“I think you’re afraid.”
She scoffed. Colton didn’t know anything about her. He couldn’t tell her how she was feeling. Even if deep down she knew he was a little—okay, a lot—right. But still she protested, because admitti
ng the truth meant dealing with the truth. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“You should be.” He paused a beat. “Because I am.”
That surprised her. This powerful man, who could rescue people and save buildings and transform a shell of a store, was scared? “Come on. You? What could you possibly be afraid of?”
He took a step closer, winnowing the space between them to almost nothing. A moment passed, another, and outside the streetlights came on and cast a shaft of gold down the center of the store. “I’m afraid of falling for you and falling for this town and changing my entire life to be here.”
He was really falling for her? Those words had been more than just something said in the heat of the moment last night? And he was thinking about staying here?
“That’s not so scary.” She said those words, but inside her heart was pounding, and her pulse was racing. Because the whole idea scared the hell out of her, too. The very thing she never thought existed—a happy ending for herself—could be standing right before her, in this six-foot-two firefighter who gave more of himself than anyone she’d ever met.
“It is for me.” He took her hands in his. “I told myself I was happy with my life in Atlanta. But that was a lie. And admitting that means I need to make a change.”
“A change to Stone Gap?” She hoped so. Good Lord, did she hope so.
“Maybe. It depends on...a couple of things.”
Once again, she got the sense that there was a wall between herself and Colton, something he wasn’t sharing with her. Their relationship was new, barely a week old, but still, after last night... “Well, you’ve already got a job offer and a reputation as a hero, so—”
He spun away. “That is not what I want people to think of me.”
“Why not? That’s what you are. Running into a burning building and rescuing my father? That’s heroic and amazing. I’m sure you did that dozens of times in Atlanta. Stone Gap would be lucky to have a firefighter like you on the force.”
He cursed and kept his back to her. “I’m not what you think I am, Rachel. I’m not even close.”
“Come on, no need to be modest. You did a great thing—”
He wheeled around, and even in the dim interior, she could see the flash in his eyes, hear the anger in his voice. “Is it a great thing to be responsible for two of your friends dying? For getting in that building too damned late, then watching the beams come down and seeing the fire follow like an angry, hungry beast, and then hearing the screams of terrified men? Then, the worst part of all, the part that haunts my dreams. Hearing the screams...stop.” He shook his head and cursed again. “I’m not a hero. So quit saying that.”
He stalked out of the break room. She waited a moment, taking in everything he’d just said, then followed and found him in the front part of the shop, staring out at the quiet street. No wonder Colton hadn’t wanted to talk about his career as a firefighter. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how painful and difficult something like that had been, to see and hear your friends die and know you were powerless to stop it.
But to her, that made him more of a hero, not less. Because he had tried, even when the odds were against him. He’d fought for the lives of others. And what’s more, he had stayed with the fire department, and kept on running into burning buildings, like her father’s store. That was a hero, whether Colton saw the truth or not. Rachel put a hand on his back. Colton tensed, but didn’t move away.
“Colton, things like this happen,” she said softly. “You can’t save everyone.”
“I should have saved them, Rachel. I could have. If only I’d been faster, faster into my gear, faster off the truck, faster into the building. I only needed a minute, maybe two, and I could have saved them.” His voice was thick, the words catching in his throat. “But I wasn’t, and they died, and I...I haven’t been the same since.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and pressed her cheek to his back. She could feel the pain in his muscles, hear it in his voice. The regrets lay heavy on Colton Barlow, and he couldn’t seem to find a way to let go of them.
“I can’t work here,” he said. “What if it happens again? In a town this small, everyone knows everyone. And if a guy dies because I’m not fast enough—”
“Stop that.” She came around in front of him and met his gaze. “Stop planning for things that you don’t know are going to happen. Stop creating situations that may never exist. Accidents happen, whether you work for a fire department or a fast-food place. You can’t predict when or where or how. And you can’t beat yourself up for simply doing your job.”
“If I was doing my job, they would have been alive.”
“You were doing your job, Colton. And sometimes, that job doesn’t turn out the way you want it to.”
He shook his head, still not hearing her, not believing her. “Rachel, just stop trying to make me into something I’m not.”
“You are a hero, Colton, whether you accept it or not. It’s you that has to stop trying to make yourself into something that you aren’t.” She cupped his face and met his gaze. His eyes were dark clouds, filled with pain, regret and disbelief in her words, in himself. “You’re not a failure. You’re a good man who went through a terrible loss.”
The wall in his eyes bounced the words away. Whatever demons Colton was facing were not going to be solved with one conversation in a dark, half-constructed shop. “Come on, let’s go for a walk,” she said.
“A walk?”
“I never did finish the twenty-five-cent tour,” she said, taking his hand before he could argue. “And there’s something I want you to see.”
Chapter Twelve
Colton was tempted to turn around and tell Rachel to forget it, but her hand grasped his firmly and left no room for argument. They started walking down Main Street, just as the moon was rising in the sky and dappling the streets with pale white.
“So, what are we going to see?” he asked, because it was easier to concentrate on the walk they were taking through the darkened streets than on the shadows that dogged him still. It was as if his friends were following him, reminding him with every step that he couldn’t escape his past.
“You’ll find out when we get there.” She shot him a mischievous grin then turned right onto Berry Lane, and then a few minutes later a left onto Mulberry Avenue. It was the neighborhood of berries, apparently, because he saw a Strawberry Drive and a Raspberry Lane on either side of them, and they had passed a Blueberry Drive a second ago.
“You’re acting like a woman of mystery tonight,” he said. “I like it.”
Even in the light from the street lamps, he could see her blush. “One more street,” she said, and they turned onto Blackberry Lane.
The houses here were all squat bungalows, with scrappy yards and pastel paint jobs. He could smell the ocean, hear its soft song, just beyond the trees. Sand gritted under his shoes as they walked, mixed with crushed shells that sparkled in the moonlight.
Rachel stopped in front of a sunflower-yellow house with white shutters. A swing sat in the front yard, drifting a bit in the breeze off the water. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked and a boat motored across the sea.
“Okay, so here’s the next part of the tour.” She cleared her throat then took a serious stance and tone. “Stone Gap is a town rich in history. It was settled long ago, soon after the Pilgrims colonized New England. It took a while to get its name, but it’s always been a special place, filled with its share of legends and stories.”
Colton chuckled. “That’s part and parcel of living in the South. I think all the Spanish moss inspires people to make up mythical tales.”
“I agree. But this particular story is true. I know this, because I went to school with Arnie Teague, who is a direct descendant of the family that used to live in this house.”
He looked pa
st her at the bright bungalow. “Cute little house, though a bit yellow for my tastes.”
“It wasn’t always that color. Back in the day, it was the only house here. The Teagues owned this entire section of Stone Gap, in fact.”
“Judging by the street names here, they were big fans of fruit?” He liked Tour Guide Rachel, with her serious stone-and-stern face.
“That’s how they made most of their income. Winona Teague grew all kinds of berries here, canned them and offered them for sale, locally and, later, up the coast, sending the orders off with her husband, who was a ship’s captain. The berries sold like wildfire, because they were rumored to make people fall in love. A little jam on a sweetheart’s toast in the morning, and wham, a proposal would come by the end of the day.”
“Clever marketing or truth?”
“Maybe a little of both.” Rachel gestured toward a bench a few feet away. They walked down and took a seat, facing the little yellow house. A cat darted out of the shadows and under the bench, then wound its way between their legs. Rachel bent down and patted the cat, a scrawny orange tiger. “Winona’s husband, Charles, loved her to death. Would have done anything for her. But he was a sailor, so he was away more often than he was here.
“One winter Charles had to make an unexpected trip. A delivery, I think, for a local merchant who wanted to get his goods up north. The weather was bad, but Charles needed the money, so he set sail. The storm kicked up, and several sailors returned home early. But not Charles.”
The cat jumped over Rachel’s lap and settled itself between them. Colton scratched the fur ball behind its ears, and it leaned into him with a purr. Colton barely noticed.
“A week passed,” Rachel went on. “Another. A third. A month. Winona was inconsolable. As time passed and there was no word or sign of her beloved husband, her precious berries grew overgrown, and either rotted or were consumed by birds. The thing she loved most to do was forgotten, and the canning jars grew dusty. She spent more and more time inside that little house, weeping for a man she would never see again.”