“They’re in here,” he called out, although some part of him really didn’t want to take on more trouble. He thought of their encounter a few days earlier when she had looked so fresh and pretty while she worked on the inn’s flower gardens—and had cut into his heart more effectively than if she had used her trowel.
She charged into the room, every inch the concerned mother. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you two answer me? I’ve been calling through the whole hotel.”
Taft decided to take one for the team. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. We had the sander going. We couldn’t hear much up here.”
“Look, Mama. Soft.” Maya held up the piece of wood she had helped him sand. “Feel!”
Laura stepped closer, reluctance in her gaze. He was immediately assailed by the scent of her, of flowers and springtime.
She ran a hand along the wood, much as her daughter had. “Wow. That’s great.”
“I did it,” Maya declared.
Laura arched an eyebrow. She managed to look huffy and disapproving at him for just a moment before turning back to her daughter with what she quickly transformed into an interested expression. “Did you, now? With the power sander and everything?”
“I figured I would let them run the circular saw next,” he said. “Really, what’s the worst that can happen?”
She narrowed her gaze at him as if trying to figure out if he was teasing. Whatever happened to her sense of humor? he wondered. Had he robbed her of that or had it been her philandering jackass of a husband?
“I’m kidding,” he said. “I was helping them the whole way. Maya even wore ear protection, didn’t you? Show your mom.”
The girl put on her headgear and started singing some made-up song loudly, pulling the ear guards away at random intervals.
“Oh, that looks like great fun,” Laura said, taking the ear protectors off her daughter and handing them to Taft. Their hands brushed as he took them from her and a little charge of electricity arced between them, sizzling right to his gut.
She pulled her hands away quickly and didn’t meet his gaze. “You shouldn’t be up here bothering Chief Bowman. I told you to stay away when he’s working.”
And why would she think she had to do that? he wondered, annoyed. Did she think he couldn’t be trusted with her kids? He was the Pine Gulch fire chief, for heaven’s sake, and a trained paramedic to boot. Public safety was sort of his thing.
“It was fun,” Alex declared. “I got to use the sander first. Feel my board now, Mama.”
She appeared to have no choice but to comply. “Nice job. But next time you need to listen to me and not bother Chief Bowman while he’s working.”
“I didn’t mind,” Taft said. “They’re fun company.”
“You’re busy. I wouldn’t want them to be a bother.”
“What if they’re not?”
She didn’t look convinced. “Come on, you two. Tell Chief Bowman thank-you for letting you try out the dangerous power tools, after you promise him you’ll never touch any of them on your own.”
“We promise,” Alex said dutifully.
“Promise,” his sister echoed.
“Thanks for showing me how to use a sander,” Alex said. “I need one of those.”
Now there was a disaster in the making. But because the kid wasn’t his responsibility, as his mother had made quite clear, he would let Laura deal with it.
“Thanks for helping me,” he said. “I couldn’t have finished without you two lending a hand.”
“Can I help you again sometime?” the boy asked eagerly.
Laura tensed beside him and he knew she wanted him to say no. It annoyed the heck out of him and he wanted to agree, just to be contrary, but he couldn’t bring himself to blatantly go against her wishes.
Instead, he offered the standard adult cop-out even though it grated. “We’ll have to see, kiddo,” he answered.
“Okay, now that you’ve had a chance with the power tools, take your sister and go straight down to the front desk to your grandmother. No detours, Alex. Got
it?”
His stubborn little chin jutted out. “But we were having fun.”
“Chief Bowman is trying to get some work done. He’s not here to babysit.”
“I’m not a baby,” Alex grumbled.
Laura bit back what Taft was almost certain was a smile. “I know you’re not. It’s just a word, mi hijo. Either way, you need to take your sister straight down to the lobby to find your grandmother.”
With extreme reluctance in every step, Alex took his little sister’s hand and led her out the door and down the hall, leaving Laura alone with him.
Even though he could tell she wasn’t thrilled to have found her children there with him and some part of him braced himself to deal with her displeasure, another, louder part of him was just so damn happy to see her again.
Ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn’t seem to help it.
How had he forgotten that little spark of happiness that always seemed to jump in his chest when he saw her after an absence of just about any duration?
Even with her hair in a ponytail and an oversize shirt and faded jeans, she was beautiful, and he wanted to stand here amid the sawdust and clutter and just savor the sight of her.
As he might have expected, she didn’t give him much of a chance. “Sorry about the children,” she said stiffly. “I thought they were watching SpongeBob in the bedroom of Room Twelve while I cleaned the bathroom grout. I came out of the bathroom and they were gone, which is, unfortunately, not all that uncommon with my particular kids.”
“Next time maybe you should use the security chain to keep them contained,” he suggested, only half-
serious.
Even as he spoke, he was aware of a completely inappropriate urge to wrap her in his arms and absorb all her cares and worries about wandering children and tile grout and anything else weighing on her.
“A great idea, but unfortunately I’ve already tried that. Within about a half hour, Alex figured out how to lift his sister up and have her work the chain free. They figured out the dead bolt in about half that time. I just have to remember I can’t take my eyes off them for a second. I’ll try to do a better job of keeping them out of your way.”
“I told you, I don’t mind them. Why would I? They’re great kids.” He meant the words, even though his previous experience with kids, other than the annual fire-safety lecture he gave at the elementary school, was mostly his niece, Destry, Ridge’s daughter.
“I think they’re pretty great,” she answered.
“That Alex is a curious little guy with a million questions.”
She gave a rueful sigh and tucked a strand of hair behind her delicate ear. She used to love it when he kissed her neck, just there, he remembered, then wished the memory had stayed hidden as heat suddenly surged through him.
“Yes, I’m quite familiar with my son’s interrogation technique,” Laura said, oblivious to his reaction, thank heavens. “He’s had six years to hone them well.”
“I don’t mind the questions. Trace and I were both the same way when we were kids. My mom used to say that between the two of us, we didn’t give her a second to even catch a breath between questions.”
She trailed her fingers along the wood trim and he remembered how she used to trail them across his stomach… .
“I remember some of the stories your mother used to tell me about you and Trace and the trouble you could get into. To be honest with you, I have great sympathy with your mother. I can’t imagine having two of Alex.”
He dragged his mind away from these unfortunate memories that suddenly crowded out rational thought. “He’s a good boy, just has a lot of energy. And that Maya. She’s a heartbreaker.”
She pulled her hand away from the wood, her expression suddenly cold. “Don’t you dare pity her.”
“Why on earth would I do that?” he asked, genuinely shocked.
She frowned. “Because of her Down syndrome. Many people do
.”
“Then you shouldn’t waste your time with them. Down syndrome or not, she’s about the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. You should have seen her work the belt sander, all serious and determined, chewing on her lip in concentration—just like you used to do when you were studying.”
“Don’t.”
He blinked, startled at her low, vehement tone. “Don’t what?”
“Try to charm me by acting all sweet and concerned. It might work on your average bimbo down at the Bandito, but I’m not that stupid.”
Where did that come from? “Are you kidding? You’re about the smartest person I know. I never thought you were stupid.”
“That makes one of us,” she muttered, then looked as if she regretted the words.
More than anything, he wanted to go back in time ten years and make things right again with her. He had hurt her by closing her out of his pain, trying to deal with the grief and guilt in his own way.
But then, she had hurt him, too. If only she had given him a little more time and trusted that he would work things through, he would have figured everything out eventually. Instead, she had gone away to Spain and met her jerk of a husband—and had two of the cutest kids he had ever met.
“Laura—” he began, not sure what he intended to say, but she shook her head briskly.
“I’m sorry my children bothered you. I won’t let it happen again.”
“I told you, I don’t mind them.”
“I mind. I don’t want them getting attached to you when you’ll be in their lives for only a brief moment.”
He hadn’t even known her kids a week ago. So why did the idea of not seeing them again make his chest ache? Uneasy with the reaction, he gave her a long look.
“For someone who claims not to hate me, you do a pretty good impression of it. You don’t even want me around your kids, like I’ll contaminate them somehow.”
“You’re exaggerating. You’re virtually a stranger to me after all this time. I don’t hate you. I feel nothing at all for you. Less than nothing.”
He moved closer to her, inhaling the springtime scent of her shampoo. “Liar.”
The single word was a low hush in the room and he saw her shiver as if he had trailed his finger down her cheek.
She started to take a step back, then checked the motion. “Oh, get over yourself,” she snapped. “Yes, you broke my heart. I was young and foolish enough to think you meant what you said, that you loved me and wanted forever with me. We were supposed to take vows about being with each other in good times and bad, but you wouldn’t share the bad with me. Instead, you started drinking and hanging out at the Bandito and pretending nothing was wrong. I was devastated. I won’t make a secret of that. I thought I wouldn’t survive the pain.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She made a dismissive gesture. “I should really thank you, Taft. If not for that heartbreak, I would have been only a weak, silly girl who would probably have become a weak, silly woman. Instead, I became stronger. I took my broken heart and turned it into a grand adventure in Europe, where I matured and experienced the world a little bit instead of just Pine Gulch, and now I have two beautiful children to show for it.”
“Why did you give up on us so easily?”
Her mouth tightened with anger. “You know, you’re right. I should have gone ahead with the wedding and then just waited around wringing my hands until you decided to pull your head out of whatever crevice you jammed it into. Although from the sound of it, I might still have been waiting, ten years later.”
“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he said, wishing again that he could go back and change everything. “More sorry than I can ever say.”
“Ten years too late,” she said tersely. “I told you, it doesn’t matter.”
“It obviously does or you wouldn’t bristle like a porcupine every time you’re near me.”
“I don’t—” she started to say, but he cut her off.
“I don’t blame you. I was an ass to you. I’ll be the first to admit it.”
“The second,” she said tartly.
If this conversation didn’t seem so very pivotal, he might have smiled, but he had the feeling he had the chance to turn things around between them right here and now, and he wanted that with a fierce and powerful need.
“Probably. For what it’s worth, my family would fill out the rest of the top five there, waiting in line to call me names.”
She almost smiled but she hid it quickly. What would it take for him to squeeze a real smile out of her and keep it there? he wondered.
“I know we can’t go back and change things,” he said slowly. “But what are the chances that we can at least be civil to each other? We were good friends once, before we became more. I miss that.”
She was quiet for several moments and he was aware of the random sounds of the old inn. The shifting of old wood, the creak of a floorboard somewhere, a tree branch that needed to be pruned back rattling against the thin glass of the window.
When she spoke, her voice was low. “I miss it, too,” she said, in the tone of someone confessing a rather shameful secret.
Something inside him seemed to uncoil at her words. He gazed at her so-familiar features that he had once known as well as his own.
The high cheekbones, the cute little nose, those blue eyes that always reminded him of his favorite columbines that grew above the ranch. He wanted to kiss her, with a raw ferocity that shocked him to his toes. To sink into her and not climb out again.
He managed, just barely, to restrain himself and was grateful for it when she spoke again, her voice just above a whisper.
“We can’t go back, Taft.”
“No, but we can go forward. That’s better anyway, isn’t it? The reality is, we’re both living in the same small town. Right now we’re living at the same address, for Pete’s sake. We can’t avoid each other. But that doesn’t mean we need to go on with this awkwardness between us, does it? I would really like to see if together we can find some way to move past it. What do you say?”
She gazed at him for a long moment, uncertainty in those eyes he loved so much. Finally she seemed to come to some internal decision.
“Sure. We can try to be friends again.” She gave him a tentative smile. A real one this time, not that polite thing he had come to hate, and his chest felt tight and achy all over again.
“I need to get back to work. I’ll see you later.”
“Goodbye, Laura,” he said.
She gave him one more little smile before hurrying out of the room. He watched her go, more off-balance by the encounter with Laura and her children than he wanted to admit. As he turned back to his work, he was also aware of a vague sense of melancholy that made no sense. This was progress, right? Friendship was a good place to start—hadn’t their relationship begun out of friendship from the beginning?
He picked up another board from the pile. He knew the source of his discontent. He wanted more than friendship with Laura. He wanted what they used to have, laughter and joy and that contentment that seemed to seep through him every time he was with her.
Baby steps, he told himself. He could start with friendship and then gradually build on that, see how things progressed. Nothing wrong with a little patience once in a while.
Her hands were still shaking as Laura walked out of the room and down the hall. She headed for the lobby, with the curving old stairs and the classic light fixtures that had probably been installed when Pine Gulch finally hit the electrical grid.
Only when she was certain she was completely out of sight of Taft did she lean against the delicately flowered wallpaper and press a hand to her stomach.
What an idiot she was, as weak as a baby lamb around him. She always had been. Even if she had hours of other more urgent homework, if Taft called her and needed help with Spanish, she would drop everything to rush to his aid.
It didn’t help matters that the man was positively dangerous when he decided to throw ou
t the charm.
Oh, it would be so easy to give in, to let all that seductive charm slide around and through her until she forgot all the reasons she needed to resist him.
He asked if they could find a way to friendship again. She didn’t have the first idea how to answer that. She wanted to believe her heart had scarred over from the disappointment and heartache, the loss of those dreams for the future, but she was more than a little afraid to peek past the scars to see if it had truly healed.
She was tough and resilient. Hadn’t she survived a bad marriage and then losing the husband she had tried to love? She could surely carry on a civil conversation with Taft on the rare occasions they met in Pine Gulch.
What was the harm in it? For heaven’s sake, reestablishing a friendly relationship with the man didn’t mean she was automatically destined to tumble headlong back into love with him.
Life in Pine Gulch would be much easier all the way around if she didn’t feel jumpy and off-balance every time she was around him.
She eased away from the wallpaper and straightened her shirt that had bunched up. This was all ridiculous anyway. What did it matter if she was weak around him? She likely wouldn’t ever have the opportunity to test out her willpower. From the rumors she heard, Taft probably had enough young, hot bar babes at the Bandito that he probably couldn’t be bothered with a thirty-two-year-old widow with two children, one of whom with a disability that would require lifelong care.
She wasn’t the same woman she had been ten years ago. She had given birth to two kids and had the body to show for it. Her hair was always messy and falling out of whatever clip she had shoved it in that morning, half the time she didn’t have time to put on makeup until she had been up for hours and, between the kids and the inn, she was perpetually stressed.
Why on earth would a man like Taft, gorgeous and masculine, want anything but friendship with her these days?
She wasn’t quite sure why that thought depressed her and made her feel like that gawky seventh grader with braces crushing on a ninth-grade athlete who was nice to her.
Surely she didn’t want to have to resist Taft Bowman. It was better all around if he saw her merely as that frumpy mother.
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