Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  Lauren listened as he made light of his relationship with Jo Leigh and then veered the topic in another direction. Clearly, neither of them was comfortable talking about their personal lives.

  “I’ll bet you’re good with Tracy,” she said softly.

  He smiled. “She’s a great kid.” He turned so he could lean his hip against the workbench. “She comes out to the garage every day after school to help me.” He chuckled. “Gets underfoot is mostly what she does, but I keep her hopping and fetching for me.”

  The warmth in his voice when he spoke of Jo Leigh’s daughter stirred up an odd remorse.

  “Are you ever sorry?” She sat down on the sawhorse. “That we never had kids, I mean.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t like to waste time with regrets.”

  She did know that about him. “But you don’t ever think about it? Don’t you ever wonder?”

  Greg tilted his head a bit. “I didn’t use to. But spending time with Tracy has really been...enlightening. Kids have a way of brightening up the day. They’re fun. And open. And honest.” He went quiet. “I think having a baby would have changed our lives.”

  Lauren wondered if a child might have tempered her personality a little. Made her less intense about her career, her aspirations...her life in general. Becoming a parent most certainly would have opened her world to new experiences, and it also might have softened her heart. She sighed.

  Then she remembered how hard it was to lose her mother. How grief-stricken she’d been. How desolate and, yes, frightened and vulnerable she’d felt. Even though she’d had her father, losing her mother had been...indescribably difficult.

  “Your mom dying when you were so young had an awful impact on you,” Greg said. “I knew that.”

  She was once again struck with the uncanny notion that she and he had some sort of odd psychic connection that allowed him to so easily pick up on her thoughts. He understood her in a way no one else could.

  He shifted his weight to one foot, resting one ankle on the other. “I’d hoped we’d eventually find the right time to have children. But when that didn’t happen—” his mouth flattened for the briefest of moments “—well, it just didn’t happen.”

  She swallowed. “And you never pushed me.”

  His shoulders lifted and then fell. “That wouldn’t have been right. A baby is something that two people have to agree on.”

  Several long, silent seconds stretched out between them.

  Finally, Lauren sighed. “You’d have been a wonderful father, Greg.” She looked at the toes of her shoes. “I feel bad because—” she paused, unable to look him in the eyes “—well, because I can’t help but think I made the decision for both of us. My career took—”

  “Don’t do that, Lauren. Don’t beat yourself up.”

  His voice was soft. He didn’t move, didn’t reach out to her or touch her, but he didn’t have to. She still felt exceedingly comforted.

  “What we had together was good,” he told her firmly. “Yeah, the last months were a little rocky. But that was my fault. I take full responsibility. Despite the end, though, we had a lot of good years.” After a beat, he asked, “Didn’t we?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. We did.”

  It actually felt good to talk to him without anger getting in the way. They shared a lot of history. A lot of good history. Small snatches of it had been coming to her in bits and pieces over the past few weeks.

  Tucking her hands between her knees, she lifted her chin. “Why didn’t you come to me, Greg?” Although it had never entered her head to ask the question before today, she knew down to the bone that she’d been desperate for an answer for a very long time. “If you’d have come to me sooner, we might have been able to save the store. I still can’t believe that we lost your father’s hardware store.” There was no anger in the statement. Just a great deal of sadness. “How did it happen? Why didn’t you say something before it was too late?”

  His gaze slid from hers. “I don’t know. Male pride, I guess. I didn’t want you to know.”

  After a moment, she said, “You really didn’t think I’d find out?” The grin in her voice drew his gaze to hers, but his expression remained somber.

  He released a pent-up exhalation. “Things started going bad right after Dad died.”

  She was surprised to hear he’d had trouble that early. Daniel Flynn had passed away from complications of an undiagnosed heart defect. That had been seven years ago.

  “Dad had let a lot of people run up a lot of bills,” Greg told her. “Then two contractors defaulted on their accounts. One went bankrupt, the other left town in the dead of night. I tried to implement changes, but customers seemed to like the way Dad did business. He let them pay for supplies in installments, or sometimes not at all until they were paid for their jobs. But it was an old-fashioned system that slowly but surely fell apart. Before I knew it, I was up to my eyeballs in debt. I tried to fix things. Tried to force people to pay what they owed. Refused to run tabs.” He shook his head. “And then that big home improvement store was built outside of town, and that was all she wrote.”

  Lauren took a moment simply to look at him. She’d forgotten how his eyes would crinkle and his mouth would quirk up when he relayed a funny story. Or how his dark gaze could turn intense while he was listening attentively to something she had to say or when he was telling her something drop-dead serious. She saw that same concentration in his onyx eyes right now.

  She’d missed this, she thought out of the blue. She missed him. And how they used to talk about...everything. Even when they’d fussed, as couples often do, they had always found a way to work things out. When had that changed for them?

  Suddenly, she ached with missing him. Him and all the good things he’d brought into her life.

  A frown bit into her brow, and something dark and heavy descended on her. The urge to cry welled up, taunting her fiercely. Her eyelids burned, and as she fought back tears, she immediately recognized what was beleaguering her. She swallowed in an attempt to loosen the unyielding knot of grief that had formed in her throat. She’d been so busy feeling hurt and angry about how their lives had spun out of control that she hadn’t had the opportunity to mourn all that they had lost.

  Looking off toward the merry-go-round, Lauren inhaled a slow, calming breath. The last thing she wanted was to lose control of her emotions over something that neither of them could do a thing about. What was done was done.

  Silence pulled, thinner and tighter, with each passing second.

  Greg must have followed her gaze. “Wow,” he breathed. He pushed himself away from the workbench and walked across the barn floor. “Howie’s doing a great job.”

  Relief washed through her. She needed to have something—anything—else to focus on beside the horrible heaviness pressing on her chest. Greg, too, must have been looking for a way out of the chilly shadows of the past that they had inadvertently allowed to close around them.

  “They look brand new, don’t you think?” The dry, corroded sound of her voice was fairly easy to ignore.

  Greg glided gentle fingertips over the zebra’s glossy paint, down the figure’s thick neck, over its back, and Lauren couldn’t help but remember that there’d been a time when he’d touched her with the same gentleness. She closed her eyes, the clear-as-crystal memory churning in her mind.

  When she looked across the barn, he was still admiring the zebra. The glossy black and white stripes stood out in vivid contrast.

  “I never even noticed before,” he commented. “They have glass eyes.” He must have spied the other refurbished figures. “They’re beautiful.”

  One Arabian had been given a white pearlescent coat; while another stallion looked its complete opposite in gleaming ebony paint. Howard had done an extraordinary job on the animals’ trappings, as well; saddles, blankets, fringed breast bands, scarf draping, tassels—all sported bold carnival colors.

  He turned toward her, but Lauren
’s gaze was riveted to his hands where they remained stretched out on the zebra’s back. The pulse in her neck throbbed.

  Pulling himself up onto the platform, he went to give the black stallion a closer examination, and she was grateful for the opportunity to quiet her erratic heartbeat.

  “Did you see this? This horse has actual expression in his face, Lauren. It looks fierce. And this one—” he moved to the Arabian “—looks gentle as a lamb.”

  The awe in Greg’s voice was mesmerizing, but Lauren forced herself to stay put on the crossbar of the sawhorse. When he became excited about something, his enthusiasm quickly turned infectious and getting caught up in it probably wouldn’t be wise. Not unless she wanted a repeat of the last time they’d been on the merry-go-round together.

  She still hadn’t told Greg her intentions to sell the figures. Once he found out she meant to dismantle the carousel, she suspected he wouldn’t be happy. She’d have to tell him eventually. Sooner rather than later, she guessed, seeing that Howard was finishing the animals quicker than she’d expected. They couldn’t be sold without bases, and for that, she’d need Greg’s expert opinion...and probably his carpentry skills. If he’d agree to offer them.

  The best thing to do would be to just tell him. Get it over with. Like ripping away a band-aid from newly healed skin. Worrying about it only made the ordeal worse later on.

  Instead, she said, “Your friend Howard is a talented artist.”

  “He give you a good price?”

  She nodded even though his attention was elsewhere. “He did. Thanks for calling in your chips.”

  He stepped off the platform and approached her. “Speaking of money,” he murmured, reaching for his back pocket. “I brought you something.”

  “What’s this?” she asked, accepting the white business-sized envelope that had been folded in half.

  “I was going to leave it at the house this afternoon.” He took a small backward step. “But Lew talked me into bringing it here.”

  Although he was doing his best to hide it, she sensed a slight and sudden edginess in his tone that made her uneasy. She made no move to open it. “What is it, Greg?”

  He offered her a small, hesitant smile. “A cashier’s check.”

  “What? But why? For what?” As the short questions shot from her mouth like bullets, she lifted the flap and pulled out the check. All those zeros made her gasp.

  Then she frowned at the check and finally at him. “Where did you get forty thousand dollars?”

  Rather than answer her question, he said, “I know this doesn’t cover everything. But it’s a solid start. You can deposit it in your retirement fund. Or you can use some of it to set up your dad in his own place again.” He inched toward her. “I’d have had more, but you forced me out of the barn. I needed a security deposit on the apartment. And rent. And utilities.” He rubbed his palms up and down his thighs. “The bills never seem to let up. I’ll give you the rest just as soon as—”

  “Wait, Greg. Stop.” She took another look at the check, squinting at the number typed in the amount box. She didn’t know if she’d expected it to change, or what, but it hadn’t. “What is this? Where did you get this kind of money? What are you doing? You don’t owe me anything. Didn’t you hear a word I said in court that day? Judge Brooks told you...” Then the meaning behind the words Greg had just spoken slowly seeped into her brain and her voice trailed, her gaze finding and then searching his for several long seconds.

  Realization made her mouth go dry and her head cock to one side. “You were living in this barn so you could save money? To pay me back?”

  The pauses she inadvertently placed between each question made her sound slow-witted. Hell, that’s pretty much how she felt right now as she tried to figure out why he would do this.

  He, on the other hand, expressed a clear and open uncertainty, in his countenance and in his body language, as if he couldn’t decide whether answering her questions would turn out to be a good thing or land him in more trouble. Finally, he answered with two short, jerky nods before going still, obviously waiting, bracing himself even, for her reaction.

  Lauren felt as if she were moving in low gear, thinking in slow motion. This didn’t make sense. There simply wasn’t another human on earth who could unsettle her more than Greg Flynn.

  “I don’t understand.” She stood, the check in one hand, the creased envelope in the other. “You don’t owe me any money. Greg, the law clearly states—”

  “I know what the law says,” he told her calmly. “I know what you said. I know what the judge said. I know I’m not legally bound to anything, Lauren. But I am—” his gaze darted toward the ceiling as he evidently searched for word “—honor bound. I cost you, Lauren. I cost you, big time. I intend to make it up to you.”

  “What?” she asked, continuing to shake her head. “Are you buying back the land? The barn and the merry-go-round?”

  “No. No. This is yours. The judge gave it to you. I have no qualms with that. In fact, I want you to have it, Lauren. I want you to have it all. To make up for everything that happened. Everything I put you through.”

  He was saying all the right words. They should have been the right words, anyway, she thought. But apparently they weren’t. Because...apparently...they were grating on her.

  “Do you know what this place is worth?” she asked him quietly.

  The question took him aback. “Worth? Not a whole lot. At the moment. But Sterling is growing. And before too long, people are going to be looking for land to build on. The land’s worth holding on to.”

  “And you’re willing to just give it away?” She lifted her shoulders, her arms, her hands. “Just like that? You’re willing to give up your land, your money, your time and talent. You’re willing to give everything away, aren’t you, Greg?” She looked at him, shaking her head. “You’re no longer just making poor business decisions. You’ve now moved into the realm of sheer stupidity.”

  His brows rose and his lips parted, but no sound came out. He raked his fingers though his hair. “Lauren, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’ve given your land to me.” She placed her palm on her chest.

  “The judge did that.”

  “But you just said you have no qualms about it,” she accused. “You’ve given your money—” she shook the check at him “—to me. You’ve given your time and talent, free of charge, to Jo Leigh. Keep this up and you won’t have a pot to pee in.”

  “What are you talking about?” He looked at her as though he thought she’d lost her mind. “Yes, I gave you money. Only because I owe it.” He frowned. “But I didn’t give anything to Jo Leigh.”

  “That’s not true. You know it and I know it.”

  Once again, she’d stunned him into silence. He looked completely aghast. But slowly his expression tightened with ruddy ire.

  “So I’m not just stupid,” he said, his tone dangerously low, “I’m a stupid liar. Tell me, Lauren, do you ever cut your gums on that sharp tongue of yours?”

  In all the years she’d known him, she could probably count on one hand the number of times she’d seen Greg angry. He was an easy-going man who didn’t lose his temper. Lauren pulled herself up straighter and met his glare. Maybe this was a good thing, she decided. Maybe she could shock him into watching out for his own best interests.

  “You need to take this check back, Greg,” she said, amazed by the composure with which she spoke. “And you need to stop working for free.”

  “You’re keeping that check.” His eyes narrowed. “And I have been paid for every minute I’ve worked for Jo Leigh Stapleton.”

  Lauren wanted to march up to him and stuff that expensive slip of paper into his shirt pocket. She wanted to force him to take the good advice she was offering. Instead, she asked, “If that’s true, then why would she tell me you’re working for free?”

  His gaze never wavered from hers. “Are you sure that’s what she said? Think, Lauren. Thin
k hard. Because I seriously doubt that Jo Leigh would tell you something that wasn’t true. She’s not that kind of person.”

  How dare he insinuate that she had heard Jo Leigh wrong?

  “I’m positive that’s what she said. She told me you were converting her garage. ‘I’m getting it all for free’ were her exact words.”

  Greg’s jaw muscle ticked. “You’re bound and determined to criticize and condemn every thing I do, aren’t you?” He tucked a fisted hand on his hip. “I mess up once, and now I can’t do anything right. How could I have saved forty thousand dollars to give to you in just a year’s time if I wasn’t getting paid for the work I’m doing? Did it ever occur to you that she might have gotten the money from someplace? Because that’s what she did. She applied for a government grant. Especially for single mothers. To start a new business.”

  A light-headed feeling came over Lauren. It was as if she were filled with helium and Greg had poked her with a sharp needle that had caused a slow leak. Her righteous anger lazily deflated. So did her haughty attitude.

  She tried to swallow, but her mouth and throat had gone so dry the attempt was painful.

  “I thought I could somehow say or do something to make everything up to you,” he said, his gaze set on something high on the plank wall behind her. “To fix my mistake. To make it right. To assuage your anger so we could at least be civil to one another. But I can see now that won’t ever be possible.” His black eyes found hers and he glared for a long, drawn-out moment. “I can also see you’re not the same woman I once knew.”

  He looked at her for a second or two longer, and then he stalked away without another word.

  She stood there with her heart in her throat, a voice in her head screaming out for her to do something, say something. She should apologize. She should at least give him his money. Taking it wouldn’t be right. But she figured she’d done enough damage for one day. So she continued to stand there, listening as the barn door tapped shut, as his truck engine revved and then settled into a hum before fading away as he drove off the property and down Skeeter Neck Road.