by Molly Evans
Funny... She’d used to hate driving around to different festivals and displays, museums and other events that had interested her mother, but now she was actually looking forward to it. Late summer and early fall was the time of year for celebrations, harvest gatherings and other festivals in Pennsylvania. There was always something new and interesting to be seen.
But all of it would have to wait until she’d turned her life around.
* * *
Two hours later a sharp pain knifed its way through Aurora’s hips, but she mustered on and dragged the last of her belongings into the small apartment over the medical clinic.
Beau had arrived with the keys earlier, but had had to rush off to an out-of-hours emergency call. Now, as he returned, he tutted at her.
“Hey, you aren’t supposed to be lifting this kind of stuff.” Beau took the last box from her, carried it up the stairs and backed through the door. “You’ll undo all the adjustments I just did on you.”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” She had to admit that her back was screaming with pain, but she just had to get this done, then she could rest. And ice. Ice was a magical treatment she was just beginning to discover. Thanks to Beau.
“You say that, but you’re doing it anyway, right?”
Beau gave her that sideways smile of his. Somehow it chastised and encouraged at the same time.
“You are correct about that. Nurses are terrible patients.” She pointed to the plaid couch up against one wall and Beau sat the box on it. “While I had some momentum going I wanted to push through, then it’ll be over with, and I can relax.”
Without another word Beau placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. His hands were warm, his touch gentle. Resisting him was impossible and all those unrequited feelings of long ago surfaced as her eyes met his.
What she wouldn’t have given to have been in this position ten years ago. Before they’d both been too hurt by life and love. But that was then and this was now. There was no way for them to go back to the innocence they’d once had as kids. Now she was too broken even to try. At least at the moment she felt that way.
“Promise me one thing,” he said.
“Okay. What’s that?” A deep breath filled her lungs, helped her push away the longings he’d momentarily stirred in her.
“That you’ll call me for any heavy stuff you need either to be carried or moved.”
“I’ll try. I promise.” With a nod, she pulled back from him, curiously aroused by his touch and the gentle tones of his voice. Having someone offering to do something nice for her was almost foreign.
Looking back, she could see that her last relationship had been doomed from the get-go, and now she wasn’t certain what had really attracted her to the man in the first place. Chad had been a controller, and demanding—which was not the kind of man she wanted in her life. Too much like her father.
But maybe that was what had appealed to her before she’d realized it. Drawn to the familiar rather than someone new, someone different. Seeing Beau in such contrast made her wonder about her mental state, having put up with that relationship for so long.
“I’m going to hold you to that. Your injuries are overcomeable, but you do need to be babied for a while after every manipulation.”
“I see.”
She huffed out a breath and changed the subject to one more comfortable to her.
“Speaking of babies—how’s Cathy and her baby? Have you talked to her since she got to the hospital?”
“Yes. I just spoke to her a few minutes ago and they’re doing great.”
The grin that split Beau’s face was contagious.
“That’s awesome. I still can’t believe that happened right in front of us.”
“I know—but better here than at home alone or something.” Beau opened a box and started to unpack it, then stopped. “Oh, sorry. Do you want me to help you?”
“Oh, sure. That’s just bedding. You can toss it on the bed. I can make it later.”
“No, that’s another back-bending chore. I’ll help you with it.”
Beau shook out the sheets and together they made up the queen-sized bed that took up the majority of the space in the efficiency apartment.
“Did you tell your mom you were moving out?”
“Yes.” Aurora nodded. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, but still uncomfortable. I hate confrontation of any sort.”
“Yes, but it’s necessary sometimes.”
“Not according to my mother. If I just went along with all the things she’s planned for my life, everything would be just fine.” Aurora tossed up one hand for emphasis.
“Except you’d be unhappy.”
“Yeah. She kind of forgot about that part.”
There was real sympathy in his words, in his expression, and she knew he understood. Had always understood her, even when they were kids.
“She had visions of us being gal pals, or roommates or something.”
“Oh. That’s kinda weird.” Beau’s brows crinkled.
Aurora tucked the corner of a sheet in. “Since my dad died last year she’s been left without a mission in life, I think.”
“How so?”
“Well, she’s been a caretaker all her life, and without Dad needing her all the time she doesn’t have enough to keep her occupied.”
“Sounds like she needs a project.”
Aurora barked out a laugh and it felt good. For the first time in a long time, it felt good. “She does—as long as it isn’t me.”
The bed was finished in short order, and Aurora’s stomach rumbled.
“It’s getting to be that time, isn’t it?” Beau patted his stomach. “I could eat something myself.”
“That’s good, because my mom sent along a huge jar of beef stew she made today.” Aurora pointed to the jar on the counter. “And homemade bread. If you’d like some I’ll be happy to share.”
“Awesome. I never turn down free food. Especially homemade.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Let me check on Chloe first. She’s still at the sitter’s.” After a short conversation, he nodded. “Good to go.”
“I’d love to meet her some time.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will. I have her in the office sometimes.”
“Great. Babies are such fun.”
“Says someone who hasn’t had a child yet.”
“Are you telling me I have a skewed perspective?” With a grin, she parked her hands on her hips.
“Yes.”
The grin was returned, and she could see some of the pain of this morning had eased. This banter was fun.
“I dare you to make that statement again after you’ve been up three nights straight with a teething infant.”
“Oh, no, thanks. Not accepting that challenge.”
In minutes they had poured the still steaming stew into bowls, buttered bread, and sliced some cheese to go with it.
“Sorry, I don’t have any wine. It doesn’t go with my medications.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m not much of a drinker.”
He scooped some of the stew into his mouth and closed his eyes.
“Oh, my God, that’s good. She could open her own restaurant and just serve this. She’d make a fortune.” His brows shot up. “Hey, maybe you could talk her into opening her own diner or something? Then she’d be too busy to run your life.”
“I like the way you think.” Aurora laughed again and relaxed a little more.
Watching him enjoy the stew—a simple meal in her new place—stirred good feelings.
Forbidden feelings—especially after that comment about having her own baby. That had been her lifelong dream, to have a family, but it wasn’t meant to be apparently.
Reca
lling how Beau’s wife had tragically died after giving birth reminded her that having a family wasn’t without risk. And as she sat there in the small apartment, across from Beau, she wondered if the risks were worth it.
There was only one way to find out.
CHAPTER FOUR
MAYBE COMING HOME hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. Though returning to her childhood home had been a temporary plan, she liked how it felt right now. Cathy would be off for at least six weeks, so she had that long to think about things and maybe come up with another plan.
“What are you thinking about?” Beau set his spoon down and placed his hand over hers on the table. “You look so intense, so sad.”
“I was just thinking how far we’ve come since high school.”
She squeezed his hand and enjoyed the warmth of it in hers. Of course they’d touched. Many times. But now, in the closeness of the little apartment, things seemed different somehow. More grown up. More intimate than she’d imagined.
“You’re right.” He nodded and kept hold of her hand. “We’ve come a long way for sure. Sometimes I look back at who I was then and can’t believe I was such a self-centered, immature jerk.”
“Oh, Beau!” She leaned back in her chair with a laugh. “You were not.” No way. At least not the way she remembered it.
“Seriously?” Doubt shone in his eyes. “You don’t know half the things I did back then. I thought I was such hot stuff, that I could have any girl I wanted. Cheerleaders. Homecoming queens. Any girl I set my eyes on.” He shook his head and drew his mouth to the side. “I was an idiot. All ego. No brains. Not like you.”
“I certainly wasn’t all brains—and you weren’t all ego.” Amusement shot through her. “Maybe a little. If you were so bad I could never have been your friend, you know.” She lifted one shoulder.
“Really?” Beau’s brows shot upward. “How do you figure that, Miss Academic Student of the Year?”
“Oh, that was a silly thing. A fluke, really. I was so shy and introverted in high school I could barely talk to guys, let alone be friends with one.” A light pink colored her neck. “Or ever think of going out with a jock.”
She leaned closer, conspiratorially.
“I did have a secret crush on you, though. You were totally into the hot babes, and never looked at me like that, so I got over it.” Or so she’d thought. Until now. Until she’d looked into those green eyes again.
“You... What? Now that’s a surprise.” He crossed his arms over his chest and a curious expression showed on his face. His brows came together and an intensity showed in his eyes, as if she’d just told him some deep, dark secret. “You thought I was out of reach, yet you picked me to be friends with? That’s odd.”
“No, actually...” she said with a laugh, and pointed at him with her spoon. “You picked me. Don’t you remember?”
“No. Refresh my memory.”
“In Mrs. Dixon’s typing class.” A memory and a laugh bubbled up inside her as she recalled him trying to squeeze his bulk behind the small desk the computers had been set on.
“No way. I don’t remember that. All I remember is struggling to get my fingers on the keyboard and not totally screw things up.”
“Yes—you said if I helped you with typing you’d get me into all the football games the rest of the season for free.”
“I did?”
Surprise showed clearly on his face. He didn’t remember.
That tidbit disappointed her. He obviously hadn’t had the same sort of feelings for her that she’d had for him. This reinforced that she’d been right to keep her feelings to herself. Pining after him would only have brought her heartache.
“Yes, you did.”
“I don’t remember it that way at all.”
“No? Well, that’s exactly how it was.”
That particular memory was clearly etched in her mind. How embarrassed she’d been when he’d talked to her—then how thrilled she’d been that he’d talked to her! All for naught, as it turned out.
“Nothing is exactly anything—let alone memories so old. I think you’re yanking my chain.” He narrowed his eyes playfully at her, trying to discern the truth.
“You’re right, Beau. Nothing is ever exact or perfect, the way we thought it would be when we were kids.”
She had to admit that. Nothing in her life had been that way. Not ever. And it was one of the reasons she’d left town so soon after nursing school. She’d wanted—needed—something in her life to be perfect, and she’d known she’d never get it here. At the time, that was how her mind had worked. Now she wasn’t so sure there was a perfect anything out there.
At the time she’d thought her happiness had lain out there. Somewhere. Somewhere else. Somewhere new, different, exotic. Someplace where she knew she’d fit in. Where no one knew her past or had preconceived notions of what she should be. No one would try to make her fit into a mold they’d developed for her. Where she could live and be herself, with no one to please except herself.
Beau leaned back and patted his abdomen again. “Nothing’s perfect except for this stew. I’d be tempted to stay with your mother just for her cooking.”
With his words the tension in her eased and she relaxed.
“I know. She is a great cook, but it doesn’t come without strings.”
Yet another reason she’d had to leave her mother’s home as soon as she could. But despite all her faults Aurora loved her mother, and had to accept her as she was—not continue to wish she were different. Another part of her childhood that she had to let go of.
“That’s too bad, ’cause she’s a really great cook.”
One corner of Aurora’s mouth lifted. “And then there’s her bread.” Another thing Aurora had to admit was a huge bonus of hanging out with her mother. She loved to bake and was excellent at it. “She tried to teach me, but I only made lead bread so I gave up.”
“It’s amazing.”
“Incredible.”
“Which is unfortunate.”
“Why?” A confused frown crossed Aurora’s face.
“Well, if she was a good cook and a bad baker, then I could justify a strike against her. If she was bad at both, that would be two strikes.”
“I see. So since she’s good at both, then it’s two points in her favor?”
* * *
Fortunately, Beau hadn’t lost his sense of humor. It had kept him from going crazy with grief after his wife’s death. It made him see things a little differently, but he liked it that way. It had helped him turn himself around after the worst time in his life. It had helped him begin to view life in a different way.
“You got it. You catch on quick.”
He winked, and a little squiggle of pleasure shot through him as she held his gaze just a little bit longer. That was interesting. She’d had a crush on him and he’d never noticed? He was an idiot. At least he had been back then. Now he could appreciate what a great woman Aurora had become.
“You have a strange scoring system.” She laughed and shook her head.
The outer corners of her eyes crinkled up and the laugh came from her chest, not her throat, and was a genuine expression. That made him feel good. That he’d made her laugh when the past few months had been filled with anything but joy for either of them.
“Well, it works for me. I have to say that.”
After they’d finished, he took the dishes to the sink. Aurora rose with obvious stiffness in her back.
“Just put them in the sink. I’ll deal with them later.”
Beau could hear the fatigue in her voice, and her eyes were dark with pain. “Come here.”
She approached, and he turned her to face away from him, her back against his chest.
“What? What are you doing?”
“Just relax. I’m going to do another gentle treatment on you. A fine tuning.”
“Er...now?” Surprise lifted her voice into a question.
“Yes, now.” He pushed her long hair off her shoulder and to the front. “Cross your arms over your chest. I’m going to hug you from behind.”
“How is a backward hug going to help?”
“Shh. Trust me. Take a breath and relax.”
Although she performed the movements as he’d directed, when she lifted her arms and put them on top of his, and he embraced her from behind, something in him changed.
He struggled to tamp down the attraction he felt for her in that moment. She’d been there in his formative years and he trusted her. He had always trusted her. Now he needed to be strong for her—not some affection-starved, struggling single father who needed feminine companionship.
Getting a grip on his hormones, he secured her against his chest, wishing for just a second or two that things could be different between them. They’d been friends. They’d always be friends. He wouldn’t change that for a quick escape between the sheets. Aurora was more important to him than that. Way more.
“Now, just relax. Lean back against me and let me hold your weight.”
“I don’t know if I can. I’m so tense.”
Her chest rose and fell quickly with her breathing. With one hand he eased her head back to rest against his left shoulder.
“Close your eyes and listen to my voice. Take a breath in. Let it out slowly.”
Beau rocked her gently back and forth while he tuned in to the feel of her body against his, waiting for the moment she relaxed. Her head nestled perfectly against his shoulder and felt so very right. The way her back and hips lined up against his chest was an exact fit.
All she had to do was turn her face toward him and it would be in the perfect position for him to place his lips against hers, to breathe in her scent and take this embrace to a whole new level. He hadn’t held a woman in a long time and now, holding Aurora this way, he realized how much he’d missed having a woman in his life.
How much he missed Julie.
Choking down the emotions swirling in him, he swallowed hard. Distracting himself right now was as important as distracting her.