by Jae Dawson
“Good.” My fingers rested on the keys once more and then I flashed him a smirk of my own. “Here’s what I got.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cade
The heavy rain had let up—finally—which meant that today’s drive to Maple Lane Retirement Center was pleasant. Thick forest swallowed up the two-lane highway on each side of the car. Moss draped from branches and dotted trunks, rocks, the ground . . . basically everything, and I reveled in it. Washington state was green. Dark green. Yellow green. Leaf green. Moss green. No wonder it was called the Emerald State. So different from the ever-present browns of Los Angeles.
In a twist I hadn’t seen coming, it was Bella who drove us to the assisted living facility. Beside me, her full lips were relaxed, her dark eyes seemingly lost to the landscape. She was a miracle worker. I still couldn’t believe she found an in, a door my own celebrity status couldn’t open. Her friend, Casie, knew of a resident who wanted a roommate to share his two-bedroom suite with. It was basically the penthouse apartment of Maple Lane. The man must be made of money. But so was I. And my entire body deflated in relief knowing that not only would Gramps be housed in the very best apartment—if he agreed—but he’d also have a friend to keep him company too.
Behind me, Gramps cradled Nightshade in his lap, sighing heavily. He wasn’t as pleased with our good fortune. Actually, he was pissed. It had taken Deloris’s gentle cajoling to get him to even visit Maple Lane today.
Not that I blamed him. But I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to respect his decisions. But I also knew I couldn’t live with myself if he caught pneumonia attempting to mow the lawn or fell and broke a hip. I understood—it must be hard to accept this change in life—to go from self-sufficiency, with the love of his life, to dependency, all alone. To transition into this new normal without the woman he loved. The woman who had been a major part of his life since childhood.
Loneliness took lives at his age, I was told.
And I was a selfish bastard. I wasn’t ready for life without him. It was hard enough without Gran, without my parents. And now Devon.
The forest opened to a long driveway off the highway. Bella turned onto the re-paved asphalt and wended down the quaint lane. A large home, practically a mansion, rose from the woods like a fairytale castle. A profusion of flowers in a rainbow of colors draped down the building from boxes beneath each window. The lawn was well manicured and curved around a large, beautiful gazebo and a koi pond with a small waterfall. Gardens circled the entrance and baskets of flowers hung from the front columns.
“Damn, Gramps. I might move in here too.” I looked over my shoulder to the wary older man. “First impressions?”
Instead of answering, Gramps looked out the window and swallowed.
The car rolled to a stop in a circular driveway. Before we even stepped out, a woman with short red hair and a large smile practically skipped our way, pushing an empty wheelchair.
“Bella!” she greeted. “You made it!”
“Casie, did you cut your hair?” Bella called out in reply. “I love it!”
“Took seven inches off. I don’t know what took me so long.” Casie fluffed her soft, wavy curls. Her gaze swung to me and then her mouth fell open. “Oh my god.” She snapped back to Bella, eyes rounded. “I live and breathe.”
“Cade Owens in the flesh.” Bella gestured my way. “You’ll get used to him.”
“Ouch.” I placed a hand on my heart in mock insult. “Stop lying to yourself, Ms. Pagano. You love having me around.”
Casie giggled, her fair skin coloring in a blush.
Bella rolled her eyes, but a mischievous smile softened the gesture. “You’re the one who fell over me, Mr. Owens. Get your facts straight.”
“Ignore her.” I held out my hand to shake Casie’s. “Thanks for helping my grandfather out.”
“Oh! Your grandfather. I nearly forgot myself.” Casie released my hand and tilted her head to peer at Gramps. She gave him a little cheek-level finger wave, her grin wide. She then sauntered over and opened the passenger door and squealed at Nightshade. “Who is this little floofball? I just adore Yorkies.”
“This little fella is Nightshade.” Gramps pet his companion with a shaking hand. The tremors were bad again today. “Dogs are welcome inside?”
“Absolutely. We love dogs.”
Gramps nodded his head, drawing in a heavy breath. “I don’t want to be here.”
Casie sobered at his words, then squatted down to better see him, a kind yet sad smile replacing the infectious grin. “I’m sorry about your wife. How long were you married?”
“Fifty-two years. But we had known each other since grade school.”
“Wow!” Casie’s eyes brightened, though her face remained reflective. “I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for you. What did you love most about her?”
Gramps focused on Nightshade again, attempting to pet him with a shaking hand. “Her adventurous spirit. She made everything exciting, even if we were just sitting in front of the TV. Frances had this way of making you feel alive.”
Casie sniffed back tears that were quickly gathering on her lashes. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to be here. I’m sure you built a beautiful home together.”
Gramps lifted his head, his eyes red with unshed tears as well. “We did. Bought the house in 1969.”
I shifted on my feet again, trying to ease the ache in my chest. I felt like a self-centered asshole, pushing this move on Gramps. And yet, I also knew it was the right decision. I couldn’t leave him alone. And he didn’t want live-in help either. The thought of a stranger taking up clinical space in his home, replacing Gran’s care, was worse than the idea of moving into an assisted living facility.
“The grounds are nice.” Gramps gestured to the sprawling lawn, and my heart leapt to my throat. He was making small talk? That was a good sign.
“There’s a garden club that meets every Wednesday and these industrious residents head up the care and design of our grounds. The gardeners we hire take their ideas and instruction and”—she swung her hands in a grand, sweeping gesture—“we have flowers growing out of our ears.”
“Not much of a gardener, myself,” Gramps admitted.
“Our residents have a wide variety of hobbies. We have a bridge club, book club, an antique car club—”
Casie stopped as Gramps’ eyes lit up.
“Are you an automotive fan? There are three gents who love to discuss antique cars on Saturday. Every quarter, the local chapter of the Classic Car Club of America brings their antique cars here for the residents to ride in.” The woman leaned in, as if about to share a secret, then stage-whispered, “In fact, Walter, the gentleman who offered up his apartment to you, is one of them.” She rocked back on her heels and grinned. “Oh!” Her hands flew up and she grinned even wider. “Today is Saturday! Silly me. They’re meeting in twenty minutes. Would you like to join them today?”
Gramps slid his gaze to me, held mine for two heartbeats, and then focused on Casie again. “That would be nice.”
“Wonderful! I’m Casie Miller, by the way.” The spritely woman held out her hand.
Gramps shook her hand and lifted a wobbly smile. “Frank Owens.”
I didn’t consider myself a religious man—I wasn’t even totally sure I believed in God—but Casie and Maple Lane felt like a miracle. Soon after the antique car club started, Bella disappeared to catch up with Casie during her break. And Gramps was busy discussing Phaetons from the 1930s, Roadsters, a Chevelle, and even Camaros from the 1960s. The older men laughed and shared stories of their times rebuilding antique cars, selling and trading them, and . . . I felt guilt, once more, for wrecking Gramps’s Chevy pickup.
Complete. Asshole.
So, I faded into the background—not that Gramps noticed—and sauntered over to the gazebo. I leaned over the railing while my mind circled like the orange and yellow speckled koi fish below me. Today’s visit was going even better than I hope
d; it seemed like there was a real shot that Gramps could be happy here. Yet the thought of returning home to an empty house left me numb. No Gran. No Gramps. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that as much as Gramps wasn’t ready to move.
My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, for the fifth time since I wandered outside for fresh air, and interrupted my restlessness. Brix. Again. Well, he could wait. I didn’t know how long this phone call would take, or if I would explode once talking to him. I ended the incoming call and then read through a couple text messages from Andy and Bale. Same as usual. I tucked the cell phone back into my pocket. But I really wanted to chuck it into the pond.
“Pretty day.”
I twisted toward Bella, who paused just behind me, a contented smile highlighting every beautiful line of her face. That look, the secrets it held—it did something unexpectedly wild to my pulse. I was struck by the image she formed with the gardens stretched out behind her. Like I was witnessing the actual birth of Venus.
A soft breeze fluttered her dark strands and I stared like an idiot, mesmerized by the way her hair fell across her shoulders. Dappled shadows darkened her eyes to a sinful shade. I wanted to lose myself to that smokey gaze and let the world slip away.
“Guess who I saw starting paperwork with reception?”
My body stiffened. What the . . .
Was she suggesting what I believed was the impossible? It took my mind several seconds to catch up with the crazy pounding behind my ribs. Was this actually happening? After weeks of disagreements? The most important person in my life would be safe. And happy. And well-cared for.
I wanted to cry.
To scream for the entire world to hear my overjoyed relief.
Instead, I grabbed Bella around the waist and spun her around, shouting, “You are a goddess!”
Her arms wrapped around my neck; her head tipped back in laughter. I really couldn’t believe that Gramps had agreed after putting up such a fuss. This woman had gifted me something I could never repay. I didn’t deserve her kindness after all I had done. And yet, her face was now pressed to my chest. I could feel her smile through my shirt. Her breath warming my skin.
And I craved more.
Her feet softly touched the floor as I slowed. But her arms didn’t loosen around my neck. Those dark, sinful eyes lifted to mine, then lowered to my mouth. She bit the corner of her lip and softly blinked.
Oh god.
Molten heat poured into my veins and my body ignited. Every muscle tight with want, every breath laced with need. And I felt myself growing harder by the second.
My hands slid from her waist to her hips and tugged her closer.
What the hell was happening?
Emotions swirled furiously through my mind. Did I cave and kiss her? Did I risk ruining the sanity I had found every Tuesday and Thursday?
She reached up and brushed the hair from my eyes. Those same fingers then trailed down my check in a whisper touch. As if exploring me. As if . . . longing for me.
Screw it.
I leaned in, trying not to moan. She rose on tiptoes and tilted her mouth to meet mine. And god, her lips. Just a single brush of her lips—
“Bella? You out here?”
We jumped apart, each with our own creative strand of swear words.
“Sorry,” Bella mumbled, not quite meeting my gaze.
I stepped back and looked away. Did I misread her cues? “It’s fine, nothing happened.”
“Right.”
She sounded as delusional as me. The confession our lips made would change everything. Denial was definitely safer. But better? Bella adjusted her wrinkled shirt and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“The gazebo,” she called out to Casie.
“Oh good! You’re both here.” Casie beamed, her hands on her hips. “Your grandfather is officially registered and set to move in next week. And get this”—she started to chuckle—“he agreed to dress up for the Halloween party too!”
“What?” I combed my fingers through my hair, shaking my head in wonder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gramps dress up for Halloween.”
“I’m very convincing.” Casie’s face twisted into smug satisfaction. “He said he wanted to be Captain America, but he wasn’t sure the ladies could handle his chiseled abs.”
I erupted into laughter. That was Gramps. “He’s not wrong,” I agreed.
“I know the perfect shop to get him a costume,” Bella said, still not meeting my eyes. “I need a couple more things for the musical. Want to join me?”
“Are you asking me out on a date, Ms. Pagano?”
She swiveled on her heel and arched a single eyebrow, one hand positioned coolly on her hip. “Strictly professional, Mr. Owens.”
“Right.”
Our eyes locked. A hint of a flirty smile teased my lips. After sampling the merest kiss, I didn’t want to go along with this delusional denial we were playing at. I had a feeling she didn’t want to either, if the intensity behind her eyes said anything. Her gaze drifted downward to my mouth and lingered a heady heartbeat before she spun around to face her friend, who was taking in the exchange with wide eyes.
And God, my body responded all over again.
“How’s your brother doing?” Bella linked her arm through Casie’s and led her onto the lawn. “I forgot to ask you earlier.”
The women chatted as we walked back toward the lobby. But all I could think about was how I could physically feel stress melt off me now that Gramps was safe. And how I had never craved a kiss so badly in my life.
Chapter Fourteen
Bella
I sat at the auditorium’s piano, playing Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat major. It was one of my favorites—reminding me of Pride & Prejudice with Kiera Knightly and Matthew MacFadyen, a multi-award winning soundtrack I played often. And one that always calmed down my racing brain.
I was going to see Cade again today for the first time since our almost kiss at Maple Lane, and I had no idea how things stood between us. After Casie shared that Cade’s grandfather was filling out the resident application, Cade was swept into the back office to deal with endless logistics. On the drive back, with Gramps in the car, we didn’t talk about what had almost happened, what had happened.
My fingers flew over the keys in a familiar pattern while my head filled with images of disheveled blond hair and brooding dark blue eyes; the way he genuinely took interest in my students; his ease with people and seductive charm; and God, that voice—I could write sonnets about the ache and smolder in the emotive way he sang and spoke. And his smile . . . wickedly boyish and sexy, the feel of those soft lips on mine . . .
I tried to think logically. I was attracted to the man, that much was clear. Any warm-blooded woman would be. He wasn’t awful like I had thought after our first meeting—which was many levels of awful. Worse than endless Final Cup refills from the teacher lounge’s Ancient of Days coffee maker. Or Mamma’s sex advice. But it seemed that he had been telling me the truth. That very awful moment of weakness was brought on by sorrow over his grandmother’s death and his stress about his grandfather. For a celebrity, he was surprisingly down to earth. The kids adored him too, long over their starry-eyed stupor. Nor had he missed a day of rehearsal.
Still, I was left breathless by one thought: it seemed like the attraction went both ways. After all, he had leaned in to kiss me. A nobody. A teacher who moved from a big city on the East Coast to a small town in the Pacific Northwest. But I’m sure Cade was used to sowing his wild oats far and wild, and I didn’t want to be just another notch on the guy’s belt, no matter how delicious one night with him might be. Blessed Mother Above, the very thought of exploring his skin, of knowing the feel of him, the way his body moved against mine . . . I focused on my fingers flying across the keys. Much safer. Especially since Jason’s betrayal had hit me harder than I cared to admit.
And I still wasn’t sure I was completely over the aftershocks.
I knew myself—my heart fell deep and
hard. I couldn’t get involved with Cade without that complicated organ of mine getting thoroughly tangled in the mix. That was a recipe for another cruel heartbreak, and I’d have no one to blame for this one but myself. I thought about calling Mamma for advice, but quickly dismissed the idea. She’d just tell me to throw myself at him. My girlfriends would give far more objective advice, if they could see past Cade’s allure, that was.
“Bella.”
A hand fell onto my shoulder. I let out a squawk of surprise and the piano keys jangled.
“Principal Kelley,” I said in hurried relief. “Sorry. I was lost in thought there.”
He leaned a forearm against the upright piano, tapping the wood gently. “That was beautiful. Sometimes I think your talents are being wasted here.”
I offered an awkward smile, hoping the compliment wasn’t his segue into bad news. “I’m right where I want to be. Anyway, what’s up?”
“I wanted to catch you before rehearsal. I got a call from the PTA president. The show is totally sold out and people are emailing, begging for tickets.”
My mouth dropped open. We had never been more than half full for any of our shows. “Must be some sort of computer error,” I quickly justified.
He leaned forward and grinned. “It’s Cade Owens. The kids have been Tweeting or Snapping or TikToking or whatever it is they’re doing this week. And it has spread like wildfire. Then The Hartwood Herald mentioned Cade’s connection to the show in yesterday’s paper, so now even the old folks know.”
I looked to the heavens, sending a thank you to whoever was up there. This was incredible.
“So, I was thinking,” he continued, “what would you think about adding another show? We have two Friday and Saturday night shows, what about adding Sunday each performance week?”
Sunday night? Would that work?
My pinkie finger pushed down on a key and the single note echoed in the auditorium. “Sure,” I finally answered. “Yes, I think we can pull off another two shows. I’ll ask the kids at rehearsal today.”