Just a Kiss

by Denise Hunter

  Paige leaned back, swatting his shoulder as she surreptitiously wiped her eyes. “I missed you, you big lug. Are you in pain? Can I get your meds for you?”

  Great, more fussing. “Naw, took some on the plane. I’m good. Wicked awesome.”

  Beau reached in, edging out Paige. He grasped Riley’s hand in a bro-grip. “Good to have you home, brother. You had us awful worried there.”

  “Good to be home. Man, is it ever.”

  Zac ruffled his hand over Riley’s high and tight haircut. “Can’t even tousle your hair anymore. What fun is that?”

  “Hey, Zac.” Riley smiled up at him. “Good to see your ugly mug. Gotta say, though, you’re practically a giant from down here.”

  “All the more reason to get you back on your feet.”

  “Hello . . . ?” Aunt Trudy said from the back. “I know I’m just the lowly aunt, but do I get a turn?”

  Riley aimed a smile her way, reaching out. “Get over here, Aunt Trudy.”

  She slipped between Paige and Beau and embraced him. She smelled like lemons and starch. Her narrow shoulders and thin arms felt frail, but her size was misleading. She could stop an army with a mere look.

  “Lord have mercy, you’re wider than the chair. Did your muscles grow muscles?”

  “Something like that,” he said as she pulled away.

  “How was your flight?” Beau asked. “Get any rest?”

  Riley glanced at Paige as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes again. “Little bit.” He shot Aunt Trudy a look. “What I could really do with is one of your big ol’ roasts. Sooner the better.”

  “Lucky for you, I’ve got one in the Crock-Pot at Paige’s house.”

  “And corn bread, mashed potatoes, plus Paige’s pecan pie,” Zac added.

  Riley palmed his stomach. “Oh, man, you’re killing me. Between the MREs, the hospital food, and the airline chow, it’s hard to say which was worse.”

  “Did you check any bags?” Aunt Trudy asked, moving behind his chair and releasing the brakes.

  “Just my chair. I gotta give this one back.” He clapped his hands once. “All right. Let’s get this show on the road. I can’t wait to get home, eat some good chow, and sleep in my own bed.” He rented a room at the back of the Roadhouse, Zac’s restaurant. It wasn’t much, but it was his.

  Zac and Beau froze, trading glances. Paige shifted, and Aunt Trudy started rooting through her purse for something.

  A cloud of unease bloomed in his gut. “What? What am I missing?”

  “Um . . .” Zac didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Your old room isn’t exactly there anymore. I expanded the kitchen over the winter. Lucy and I were planning to let you have our guest room upstairs when you came home, but . . .” His eyes bounced off Riley’s leg.

  Yeah. Not on one leg. Sure, he might be able to manage on his crutches, but moving was painful and cumbersome, and the last thing he needed was a nasty fall to set him back even further.

  His stomach deflated like a week-old party balloon. So much for the privacy of his room. “Guess I’m staying at the farmhouse then. That’ll work just fine.”

  Their aunt had broken her leg a while back, and they’d made the formal dining room into a bedroom. He tried not to let the thought of being fussed over 24/7 bleed into his expression.

  “Um, yeah . . .” Zac rubbed the back of his neck. “The farmhouse is kind of under construction at the moment.” He gave Riley a look that made all kinds of red flags wave.

  “We just started renovating,” Beau said. “Aunt Trudy’s wedding gift to Eden and me. The whole downstairs is a wreck at the moment.”

  “It won’t be finished for a month at least,” Aunt Trudy said.

  “No worries, though.” Paige patted his shoulder. “I told them from the beginning I wanted you at my place. I’ve got that nice master suite on the main floor. It’s perfect. The old doorframes are nice and wide, and your brothers have already built a ramp and put in handicap bars . . .”

  Everything faded as his thoughts spun. He was staying with Paige? His eyes flew to Zac, who was sending him some kind of telepathic apology, then back to Paige, whose words died off—probably at the look on his face.

  Her eyes clouded with confusion. “Is—is that not okay? You want to stay someplace else?” A flicker of hurt flashed in the blue depths, but she shut it down quickly, covering with a smile he’d known her too long to buy.

  Darn it. He was trapped. He forced a smile, crinkle lines and all. “Yeah. I mean no. That’s great. Wicked awesome. But I can’t take your room. I’ll sleep on the couch or something.”

  She straightened. “You will not. I’ve already moved my stuff upstairs. It’s a done deal.”

  His eyes flickered off Zac before returning to Paige. He held the smile, not an easy feat with his jaw knotted as tight as a dock line on a cleat. “You’re a pal, Warren. Hey, why don’t you guys go get the car, and Zac can help me with the chair. We’ll meet you out front in a few.”

  Moving behind him, Zac edged Aunt Trudy aside. “Sooner we get home, sooner we get a taste of that roast.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Riley said.

  The others headed toward the exit, and Zac set the chair in motion. Riley rubbed his mouth with the tips of his trembling fingers, trying to calm the rising storm. How was he going to spend the next however many weeks cooped up with Paige?

  But what choice did he have? Wasn’t like he had a pile of cash in the bank for his own place. And even if he did, he was nowhere near ready for total independence—much as he’d like to deny it.

  Just the thought of her fussing over him, helping him with clothes and all the other things he still needed help with . . .

  God, are You trying to kill me here? Can’t I have just a little dignity? Would that be too much to ask?

  So much for his plans to put space between them. He’d be trapped in the six hundred square feet of the bungalow’s main floor. With Paige.

  This was all Zac’s fault. He squeezed the metal armrests until his hands ached. He worked to get himself under control as he watched his family exit the building. Then he turned to Zac.

  “What the heck were you thinking? I’m staying with Paige? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  “Whoa, now.” Zac stopped in front of the moving baggage carousel. “First of all, it was a group decision, so it’s not like—”

  “But you’re the only one who knows. I thought you had my six, man.”

  “It’s not like there were so many other options, Riley.”

  “Any option is better than this!”

  “All right, calm down. I get it, this isn’t what you were expecting.” Zac set the brakes. “But maybe you could look at it as an opportunity, you know?”

  “An opportunity for what? To have Paige help me with my gory dressings, help me get in the shower, take care of me like a flipping invalid? Is that the kind of opportunity you had in mind? Because I’m pretty sure my pride’s already in the toilet, but maybe if we try a little harder, it can sink even lower.”

  A curtain of guilt closed over Zac’s face. He grabbed the folded wheelchair from the moving carousel and set it up. “You’ve been through a lot, I get it. But she’s your friend, and she wants to help. Shoot, actually being able to help feels a lot better than having you hurting thousands of miles away and not being able to do a thing. Maybe this could bring the two of you closer together. Maybe this is your chance.”

  Riley gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, just what she always wanted. A cripple.”

  Something flickered in Zac’s eyes. “You’re the same person you’ve always been, Riley.”

  Not even close. Not on the outside, and sure as heck not on the inside. He pressed his lips tight before it came spilling out. Nothing would ever be the same. Paige deserved the best, and that sure wasn’t him.

  Zac’s gray eyes narrowed as he studied Riley. “What happened to the big smile, bro?”

  Riley clenched his jaw, turning to w
atch the belt as it squeaked its way around an endless circle. “Move the chair over here.”

  “Why am I getting the feeling you’re not half as ‘wicked awesome’ as you claim to be?”

  Riley took a long second to compose himself. “I’m fine. I just—I was planning to put some space between me and Paige. Now I’m stuck.” He gave Zac a flinty look. “If I try and get out of it, it’s going to hurt her feelings. Or worse, she’ll know something’s up.”

  The suspicion on Zac’s face cleared as he moved the chair and set the brakes. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

  “Not happening.”

  He was just going to have to suck it up. Work his butt off with exercises and therapy until he could get his prosthesis and manage on his own. Because the sooner he was independent, the sooner he could get out of Paige’s life—out of Summer Harbor—for good.

  Chapter 3

  Paige turned off the TV and crept toward Riley’s wheelchair. After a loud, celebratory supper the family had cleared out pretty quickly. Maybe they’d sensed Riley’s exhaustion, despite his valiant attempt at lively conversation.

  The topics had centered around life here in Summer Harbor: Zac’s restaurant, the brothers’ quickly evolving love lives, the family Christmas tree farm. Paige had glossed over the recent financial difficulties at the shelter. He didn’t need to worry about Perfect Paws or her livelihood. He needed to focus on his recovery.

  She stopped beside his chair, squatting down, taking in his handsome face, not quite relaxed, even in sleep. Twin furrows crouched between his brows, and his lips remained together. He’d changed in the fifteen months he’d been gone. She’d noticed the evolution on Skype, but it was more obvious in real life.

  The planes of his face were more angled, his jaw more square. Harder. She supposed war had a way of changing a man, inside and out. His dark lashes fanned across his skin, the only thing even remotely soft or boyish about him.

  She’d known him so long. Knew him so well. Maybe that was why she wasn’t quite buying the jubilant act. He’d avoided talking about everything he’d been through the past several weeks. His injury had been the elephant in the room tonight.

  Her cat, Dasher, slinked by, rubbing against her, her gray tail swishing, her nose twitching toward Riley.

  “It’s good to have him back home, isn’t it, baby?”

  She studied Riley’s forearms; they looked hard as steel, leading down to strong, calloused hands and thick fingers. She’d always liked his hands. Manly hands. Lobstering had always kept him in good shape. He was happiest when he was out on the water, the wind in his hair, the waves rolling beneath the boat’s hull. That’s why she’d been so surprised when he’d enlisted.

  Surprised and dismayed. And yes, she admitted to herself, angry. He’d dropped it on her like a hot brick, after the fact. He was leaving her, and she’d felt abandoned—an all-too-familiar feeling.

  But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. He was back, and he needed her.

  “Riley.”

  The furrows deepened. His head rolled to the side.

  She hated to wake him, but there was no other way to get him into bed, and his dressing needed to be changed. She’d already turned down his covers and made sure the path to his bed was clear. There was a glass of water on his nightstand beside his bottle of pills, and the crutches she’d picked up for him were within reach of his bed.

  She set her hand on his arm, her fingers brushing lightly over the dark hairs. “Riley, it’s time for—”

  He startled.

  The next second she was flying backward, airborne. She hit the wood floor, sliding. Her elbows flew back. Her head smacked the wall, and the heavy ring she wore on a chain thunked her in the chin.

  She blinked, orienting herself, assessing. Burning elbows. Thudding head. Aching rump. Ouch.

  “Paige!” Horror etched itself on Riley’s face. He unset his brakes and wheeled toward her.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She sat up, moving carefully to her knees, a little dizzy from the whack to the head. She fixed a smile to her face as he wheeled to a stop beside her. “Man, Callahan. You got stronger over there.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  She gave a huff of laughter. “I’m fine. Come on, I’m tougher than that.” She brushed the hair back from her face.

  His eyes narrowed on her forearm. “You’re bleeding.”

  She gave her arm a quick check. “Just a scratch. Little Band-Aid and it’s all good. Let’s get you—”

  “You hit your head too.”

  “Really?” She gave him a saucy grin. “It all happened so fast, I was thinking you had a new superpower. Like that Twilight guy.”

  He pounded his fist on the chair’s arm. “Dang it! Stop making jokes. It isn’t funny. This isn’t going to work.”

  Her lips fell as a weight settled in her midsection. “Don’t be silly. It was my fault. You’re just back from war—I knew better. I’ve done a lot of reading, and this kind of thing is common. I’ll be more careful next time.”

  “You shouldn’t have to be ‘careful’ in your own home, and you shouldn’t have to take care of me.” His fingers tightened on the chair grips.

  Releasing a breath, she set her knees down, put her hand over his. So many things swimming around in those green eyes. Regret, frustration, anger. There were probably a dozen other emotions that hadn’t even come to the surface yet. Maybe they were negative emotions, but at least they were authentic. She preferred them to the fake jovial thing he’d had going on since he got off the plane.

  “Listen here, Callahan. I’m going to be here for you whether you want me to or not. That’s what friends do. That’s what you’d do for me, and you know it. Now, we’re going to get you into bed, and you’re going to get a good night’s rest because tomorrow’s your first appointment with your physical therapist. From what I’ve read, he’s going to be the new villain in your life.”

  He clamped his lips closed, and his nostrils flared. Some emotion passed through his eyes before he turned away, his jaw as hard as the boulders at Lighthouse Pointe.

  “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this.” She gave his hand one last squeeze. Please, God. Let it be okay.

  Chapter 4

  The cacophony started the moment Paige entered the kennel area. High-pitched barking, tails thumping, paws prancing. A hint of disinfectant hung in the air, mixed with the lingering smell of dog chow. She tugged the leash, coaxing along the male boxer, who was less than eager to return to his kennel.

  “Hey, guys! Who’s happy today, huh? Are we all fed and raring to go? Oh, we’re so feisty, yes we are!”

  She gave attention to the animals as she passed, exclaiming over each one before finally stopping at the last kennel to let the boxer inside. Before closing the door she knelt to scratch behind his ears. Her heart squeezed at the forlorn look in his eyes.

  “It’s okay, baby. We’ll find you a home.”

  The boxer was brown with a white muzzle and flews. He had floppy ears and the wrinkled forehead so characteristic of the breed. They’d found him on Bristol Road four weeks ago, dehydrated and starving. His weight was coming up, his nose was bright and shiny, but the hollow look in his eyes remained. She’d been calling him Bishop from the get-go. She didn’t name all her animals, but the name had flashed into her brain the instant she’d laid eyes on him. Sometimes that happened.

  Something about the sad look in his eyes reminded her of Riley. She wished she could bring the dog home. She had a feeling the animal would be good for him. But she was renting her house, and the owner allowed only one pet. Probably a good thing, or Paige would’ve had a menagerie by now.

  The past three days Riley’s demeanor had been cheerful enough—if stubborn. He wanted to do everything himself. She knew it was important to his pride and his recovery. But watching him struggle for ten minutes on a thirty-second task was painful.

  She worri
ed about him, home alone during the day. But the family was making regular stops, and he had plenty of food, that was for sure. Every single woman within a twenty-mile radius had brought over a casserole or pie. Still, she’d checked in by phone a lot the past few days. He didn’t seem to mind, and it put her mind at ease.

  Speaking of which . . . She checked her watch. It had been a couple hours. She closed Bishop’s kennel and left the clamor for the relative quiet of her office as she tapped her phone.

  He answered on the third ring.

  “Hey there!” she said. “What are you up to?”

  “Same thing I was up to an hour ago.” She heard the smirk in his voice.

  “Well, I had a few minutes and just thought I’d—”

  “Paige. I’m fine. You don’t have to call me every hour.”

  “I’m not! I was just calling to, uh, to see if you wanted takeout from the Roadhouse tonight.”

  “No, you just wanted to make sure I hadn’t strangled myself in the drapery cords or something.”

  “Don’t be silly. I don’t even have drapes.”

  “Paige.”

  Okay, fine, she was hovering. But what if something happened while she was gone? What if he fell and couldn’t get back up?

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to smother, but I worry about you. I wish I could afford to take some time off.”

  “And do what? Sit here and watch me do my exercises? I can take care of myself. I’m getting around fine, and I keep my cell phone on me. If I need anything I’ll call.”

  Her gut clenched at the thought of letting loose. But she was probably going to drive him crazy if she didn’t. “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  The bell over the front door tinkled. Lauren was out to lunch, so Paige wrapped up the phone call, making a mental note to stop at the Roadhouse on the way home.

  Margaret LeFebvre was waiting behind the counter as Paige entered the lobby.

  She looked as fresh as usual. Her smart fashion and elegant figure put Paige in mind of Diane Keaton. Margaret owned the Primrose Inn and served as chairperson of the shelter’s board.