Lauren left the store early on Thursday afternoon and arrived home to find two battered trucks in Gabe’s driveway and one in hers. The fence between the two properties, which had long since been hidden by the overgrown hedge, was now in piles of broken timber on both front lawns. She maneuvered her small vehicle around the truck and parked under the carport.
One of the workers came around to her car and apologized up front for the noise they were making and said they’d be finished for the day within a couple of hours.
“But that tree has got to go,” he said, grinning toothlessly.
The tree was a tall pine that sat on the fence line and often dropped its branches on her roof. It wasn’t much of a tree, and her brother had offered several times to remove it for her.
“Oh, really?”
“The root system will wreck the new fence. We’ll get started on it this afternoon, if that’s okay?”
Lauren shrugged. “No problem.”
Once inside, she changed into jeans and white T-shirt and set her laptop up on the kitchen table. She had invoicing and wages to do and preferred to do it without the inevitable distractions at the store. She poured a glass of iced tea and sat down to work.
By four-thirty, the contractors were still at it. And they were noisy. They were digging new post holes along the fence line with a machine that made a loud clunk sound with every rotation. And the buzz of dueling chainsaws didn’t help her concentration.
Not that she was in a concentrating mood. For two days, she’d been walking around on autopilot, working at the store, talking to her mother, pretending nothing was wrong when she was broken inside.
Gabe’s words still haunted her. His admittance that he might not be able to father children played over and over in her mind. In her heart, she knew that didn’t matter to her. Sure, she wanted children. She longed for them. But she wanted Gabe more. Even though he didn’t want her back.
At the store that day, she’d arrived early and took inventory on a range of new arrivals. When that was done, she’d dressed two of the windows with new gowns and played around with matching accessories. When she was finished, she’d stood back and examined the results. Not bad, she’d thought. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed her work? Years. Too long. After Tim died, she’d lost interest in the fashions and could barely tolerate the enthusiasm of the clients looking for their perfect gown. Her own fairy tale was over, and Lauren took little pleasure in anything related to weddings or the store. It had stopped being fun and instead became a duty.
Perhaps it was time to sell the business and try something new?
She’d once had dreams of taking a break from the store when she was married and had a family of her own. But Tim’s death had changed everything, and now that dream seemed as unreachable as the stars around some distant planet. Because despite how much she’d convinced herself it was what she wanted, her plans for a loveless, passionless relationship were stupid. If falling for Gabe had shown her nothing else, Lauren now knew what she wanted. Along with friendship and compatibility, love and passion were vital. In fact, she wanted it all. Everything. A full and complete relationship.
Maybe a vacation was in order. She hadn’t been on a holiday for years. Perhaps that would quell her discontented spirit. In the meantime, she’d talk with her mother about putting on another part-time employee so she could take some time off. She thought she might even go back to college.
And she’d get over Gabe. She had to.
Lauren was just about to get herself a second glass of iced tea when she heard an almighty bang, followed by several loud shouts and then a crash and the booming sound of timber cracking. Another sound quickly followed—this one a hollow rumble that chilled her to the bone. The roof above creaked and groaned, and suddenly parts of the ceiling gave way as tiles and branches came cascading through the gaping hole now in her roof. She dived under the table as prickly branches and sharp barbs of shattered timber fell through the gap. Plaster from the ceiling showered across the room in a haze of dust and debris, and she coughed hard as it shot up her nose and into her lungs.
When it was over, she heard more shouts and the sound of heavy boot steps on the roof. She coughed again and wiped her watery eyes. Still crouching, she shuffled backward but quickly moved back when she felt a sharp sting on her left arm. A jagged branch had sliced her skin, and she clamped her right hand across the wound to stem the flow of blood. When that didn’t help she noticed her T-shirt was ripped in several places, so Lauren quickly tore off a strip from the hem and made a makeshift bandage to wrap around her arm.
She moved forward and tried to make another exit point, but the branches were thick and too heavy for her to maneuver out of the way. Lauren swallowed the dust in her throat and coughed again. The kitchen table was completely covered in branches and debris from the ceiling support beams, shattered roof tiles and plaster. Her legs started to stiffen in their crouched position, and she stretched forward, looking for a way out from under the table. She tried to push a few of the smaller branches out of the way, but the sharp ends pinched her hands.
She could have been badly injured. Or worse. But she quickly put that thought from her mind and decided to wait for workers to come and help her. And finally, she heard a voice and heaved a relieved sigh.
“Lauren!”
Gabe. Her heart thundered in her chest when she heard footsteps down the hallway and then the sound of tiles crunching beneath his feet. She could see his jeans-clad legs through the twisted branches.
“Where are you?” he asked urgently, coming closer.
“I’m under here,” she said, and rattled one of the branches. “Under the table.”
“Are you hurt?”
“A few scratches,” she replied, coughing again and ignoring the throbbing sting from the gash on her arm. “But I think I’m mostly okay. I have a cut on my arm.”
“Stay still, and I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
He immediately made his way through the room, easily hauling fallen plaster and timber out of his path. The branches around the table shook and swayed, and she heard him curse under his breath. Within seconds, he’d made a space large enough for her to crawl through. He crouched down, and relief coursed through her veins. She pushed back the swell of emotion rising up.
“Give me your hand,” he said, and she reached out.
His fingers clasped around hers, warm and strong and lovely and safe. Lauren stifled a sob as he gently drew her out through the space and got her to her feet. And without a word, he folded her into his arms and held her close.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair as he gently stroked her scalp. “You’re okay now.”
Relief pitched behind her ribs, and as Lauren glanced around, the enormity of the destruction struck her like a lash. The room was wrecked. Plaster and timber were strewn over the floor, and benches and dust from the shattered ceiling plaster covered every surface. The huge branch that had fallen through the roof covered the entire table, and there were broken branches and foliage everywhere.
“Oh...what a mess.”
Gabe held her away from him. “Forget that for a minute. Let’s check your injuries.”
He quickly examined her and looked underneath her bandage. “I don’t think it needs stitches, but you should probably see a doctor.”
She smiled. “Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”
He stared at her for a moment, and then smiled back. “I guess so. I have a medical kit at home, so I can dress that for you. Now let’s get out of here.”
And then he lifted her up into his arms as though she were a feather.
“I can walk,” she protested.
“Humor me, okay?”
Her legs did feel shaky, so she nodded. Seconds later, he was striding down the hallway and out the front door. The contractors were all hovering by the bottom steps.
“I’m fine,” she assured them when she saw their worried faces.
“Don’t go inside,” Gabe told the workers. “There could be structural damage. I’ll be back soon, so wait here.”
She smiled at his bossiness and then dropped her head to his shoulder. It felt nice being in his strong arms. When he rounded the hedge, she noticed how his front door was wide-open, as if he’d left the house in a hurry.
“I really can walk,” she said once he’d carried her up the steps.
But he didn’t put her down until they reached the kitchen. Then he gently set her to her feet and pulled out a chair. Once she was settled and he’d grabbed a first-aid kit, he undid the makeshift bandage and examined the wound.
“It’s not deep,” he said, and cleaned the area, applied a small bandage around her forearm and then circled it in plastic wrap. “That should keep it dry when you shower.”
“Thanks,” she said, and fought the urge to fall into his arms again. “I need to get back to my house and call my insurance company.”
“Later,” he said. “I’ll go and check it out while you rest here.”
“There’s no need to—”
“There’s every need,” he said, and grabbed her hand. “You’ve just been through a frightening ordeal, and you’re injured. Plus, there’s a great gaping hole in the roof and there could be structural damage to the house.”
Lauren ran her free hand down her torn T-shirt and jeans. “I need some fresh clothes, so I’ll go home and change and then call the—”
“Stop being so damned obstinate,” he said impatiently. “Let me check out the house, and I’ll get your clothes while I’m there.”
She pulled her hand free. “I’m not sure I want you rummaging through my underwear drawer. It’s private and—”
“Lauren, I have seen you naked,” he reminded her. “Remember? It’s a little late for modesty. Go and take a shower, and I’ll be back soon.”
“A shower? I don’t know why you—”
“Once you look in the mirror, you’ll see why,” he said, and smiled. “I’ll be back soon.”
He left the room, and Lauren tried not to be irritated by his high-handedness. She cradled her sore arm and headed for the en-suite bathroom. And worked out why he’d insisted she shower. She was covered in grime and plaster dust. Her face and hair were matted with the stuff, and her clothes were speckled with blood and dirty smudges.
Lauren stripped off the soiled clothes and stepped beneath the warm water, mindful of the plastic-covered bandage. She washed her hair as best she could, and by the time she emerged from the cubicle, wrapped her hair up in a towel and slipped into his bathrobe, she heard him striding down the hallway.
He paused in the doorway carrying a short stack of clothes. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he said, and placed them on the bed.
She nodded. “Thank you. How does my house look?”
“Redeemable,” he said, and half smiled. “I’ve told the contractor to tarp the roof so there’s no more damage overnight. And I’ve arranged to have a certified builder assess the damage in the morning. Get dressed, and I’ll make you a cup of that tea you like.”
Lauren had to admit he’d done a fair job at choosing her clothes. Gray linen pants and a red collared T-shirt, a sensible black bra and brief set and slip-on sandals. As she stepped into the briefs, she didn’t want to think about his lean fingers touching her underwear. Gabe’s take-charge attitude should have made her as mad as ever, but she was actually grateful for his kindness. What had been a frightening experience was eased by him coming to her rescue. When she was finished dressing, she headed for the kitchen. He’d made tea, as promised, and was staring out the long window, mug in hand.
“I think I inhaled a bucket of plaster dust,” she said when she entered the room.
He turned and met her gaze. “If the cough keeps up, let me know.”
“I will. Thanks for the tea.” She saw her handbag, dusty laptop and house keys on the counter. “Oh, that’s good. I wasn’t sure the computer survived the tree crashing on top of it.”
“It seems okay,” he said quietly. “I found your bag but couldn’t find your cell phone.”
She shrugged. “That’s fine. I don’t need it, anyhow.”
“So how are you feeling now?” he asked.
“Pleased I dived underneath the table.”
“Me, too,” he said, and set the mug down. “I’d just gotten home when I saw the pulley snap and then saw the branch nosedive into your roof.”
“Apparently, that tree was going to mess with the fence,” she said, and grinned. “They didn’t warn me about what it might do to my house, though.”
He chuckled, and the sound warmed her blood. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”
He sounded uncomfortable saying it, and Lauren tensed. He might have been worried, but he clearly didn’t want to be. She’d accused him of being hot and then cold, and that certainly seemed to sum up the way he acted around her.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue,” she said as flippantly as she could manage.
His mouth flattened, and he passed her his phone. “You can call your parents if you like. Or your brother.”
She shook her head and placed the phone on the table. “They’ll only worry.”
“Well, they’ll know something’s up when you stay with them tonight.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, and pushed her shoulders back. “I’m sleeping in my own bed, in my own house.”
“No,” he said quietly. “You’re not.”
“Ah, yes I am.”
“I’m not going to argue with you about this, Lauren. You stay with your parents or your brother, or if you like I’ll drive you to Cassie’s. But you’re not spending the night in a potentially compromised building that has a huge hole in the roof.”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Right now, when you’re being stubborn and disagreeable, I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”
His words had ownership stamped all over them, and the fact he had the audacity to say such a thing when he’d made it clear they had no future only amplified her resentment. He really needed to stop interfering. Sure, she was grateful he’d gotten her out from under the table, but that didn’t give him open season on deciding where she would sleep.
“I’ll be perfectly safe.”
The pulse in his cheek throbbed. “No, you won’t...so you stay with your family, or you can stay here. Those are your only options.”
Of all the bossy, arrogant, bullheaded...
“Fine,” she said quickly, and saw the startled look on his face. “I’ll stay here.”
* * *
No way...
Gabe’s stomach landed at his feet. She wasn’t staying with him when she had a bunch of perfectly good relatives to rely on. She was simply being provocative. He was just about to say as much when the challenge in her eyes silenced any protests.
Instead, he called her bluff. “Okay...but you still have to call your parents and tell them what happened.”
Her brows came up. “That’s interesting coming from a man who won’t pick up the telephone to call his own family.”
“We’re talking about you,” he quipped, “not me.”
She shrugged. “So where’s my bedroom?”
“I’ll sleep in the guest room. You can have my room. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
“Familiar surroundings, you mean?”
His body tensed. “I haven’t finished painting in the guest room,” he said, and grabbed his cell. “I can order pizza if you’re hungry?”
She nodded. “Sure. No anchovies, please. And extra mushrooms.”
He half smiled. “Why don’t you rest in the living room, and I’ll place the order.”
She did as he suggested, and once the pizza had been ordered, Gabe grabbed a couple of ginger beers from the refrigerator and headed for the living room. He found her on the sofa, legs curled up, arms crossed, staring at the blank television.
“Everything all right?” he asked, and passed her a bottle.
“Just thinking about my wrecked house.”
“It’s a house, Lauren,” he said quietly, and sat on the other end of the sofa. “Houses can be fixed.”
“Not like people, right?” she shot back, and sighed. “Once broken, always broken.”
The tremor in her voice made his insides contract. “Is that how you feel?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Lately more often than not. I think I just need to...make some changes.”
“Changes?”
She raised her shoulders. “I was thinking of selling the store.”
He didn’t hide his surprise. “That’s a bold move. Are you sure it’s the right one?”
“Not really,” she replied. “I’m not sure of anything. If I do decide to sell, I know my mother will be disappointed. But I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending that it makes me happy. I’ve been pretending since...since...”
“Since Tim died?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes. Some days I find it so stifling. And then other days I can’t believe I’m having such ungrateful thoughts. I mean, what’s not to like about being around people who are looking to create the perfect, most special day and then sharing in that joy? But all I feel is tired and weary of plastering on a wide smile every time a bride comes into the store looking for the gown of her dreams.”
Her pain reached deep into his soul. “You’ve had a bad day...don’t make a hasty decision when you might not be thinking clearly.”
“Spoken from experience?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” he replied.
She shrugged. “I won’t.”
The doorbell rang, and Gabe got to his feet. “Our dinner. Back in a minute.”
They ate in the kitchen, and by eight-thirty were lingering over coffee.
“Are you okay?” he asked when he noticed her frowning.
“Tired,” she replied. “And sore. I think I strained my back when I darted underneath the table. Which is a small price to pay considering what could have happened.”
Gabe pushed his mug aside. “I don’t want to remember what I thought when I saw that tree crash.”
“I’m glad you were there to rescue me.”
Was she? Was he? It seemed as though there was no escaping the pull that drew them together. It had a will of its own, dragging him back toward her at every opportunity.
“Nothing’s changed,” he said, and hated how cold his voice sounded.
“Everything’s changed. I can’t pretend and just switch off my emotions.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
Her gaze was unwavering. “What are you so afraid of?”
Gabe sucked in a breath. “Hurting you.”
“People get hurt all the time. You can’t always control it.”
“I can try,” he said, and stood. “I won’t mislead you, Lauren. I won’t make promises I can’t keep. I’ve told you how I feel about you and—”
“Actually,” she said, cutting him off. “You haven’t said how you feel about me at all...only how you feel about relationships and commitment.”
Discomfiture snaked up his spine. “It’s the same thing.”
Her brows rose tellingly. “That’s a man’s logic,” she said, and got to her feet. “And I’m a woman, Gabe. I think and feel deeply. And I know what I want. For the first time in a long time, I actually know what will make me happy. And who.”
Guilt pressed onto his shoulders. “Don’t pin your hopes on me, Lauren. I can’t make you happy...because I can’t promise you a future.”
She stared at him, eyes glistening. “Is it because you think you might not be able to give me a baby?”
The burn in his stomach intensified. “You can’t deny that’s important to you.”
“It was,” she admitted. “It is. But there are other options, like IVF and adoption. I mean, no two people know if they’ll be able to produce a child until they try. And you said it was a possibility, not an absolute.”
Her relentless logic was butchering him.
“It’s just one more complication, Lauren. One that you don’t need.”
“But I’m right?” she asked. “So now you’re hiding behind this idea of potential infertility to keep me or any other woman at arm’s length?”
“I’m not hiding. I’m laying out the facts.”
“The facts?” she echoed. “You’re like a vault when it comes to the facts. Right now, in this moment, you’re well and strong and here...why isn’t that enough?”
“Because it’s not. Because it might not last,” he replied, frustrated and angry.
“But you don’t know what will happen...no one does.”
“I know what the medical data says. I know what the odds are of it coming back. If I can stay healthy for five years and not relapse, then I’ll consider my options. But until then—”
“Five years?” She cut him off and shook her head. “You can’t organize feelings to order like that.”
“I can. I will.”
“So you plan to avoid getting close to anyone for the next few years just in case you aren’t around to seal the deal? That’s absurd. What made you so cynical?”
“Facing the prospect of death.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said hauntingly. “There’s more to it. You had a career where you saw death all the time, a career that obviously called out to you because you’re mentally strong and compassionate and able to deal with grief and despair and hopelessness. I don’t believe that all that strength disappeared because you were faced with the challenge of an illness you’ve now recovered from.”
His chest tightened. “I can’t talk about—”
“What happened to you?” she pleaded. “Tell me...what happened that made you so determined to be alone?”
Gabe’s heart thundered, and he fought the words that hovered on the end of his tongue. He didn’t want to tell her; he didn’t want to admit to anything. But the pained, imploring look on her face was suddenly harder to deny than his deep-seated determination to say nothing.
“My dad died when I was seventeen,” he said flatly. “And I watched my mom become hollow inside. At first, I watched her become headstrong in her denial and refuse to admit the inevitable. I watched her use every ounce of strength she had to give him hope and keep him alive. I watched her argue with doctors and oncologists about his treatment and try every holistic and natural remedy she could to give him more time. And then when the treatment stopped working and he relapsed, I watched her care for him and feed him and bathe him, and then I watched her cry every day when she thought no one was looking. And when he died, part of her died, too. She was heartbroken. She was sad, and there was nothing anyone could do for her...there was nothing I could do for her.”
He drew several gulps of air into his lungs. It was the first time he’d said the words. The first time he’d admitted how helpless he’d felt watching his mother fall apart.
“And I’m never going to put anyone through that...not ever.”
She shuddered. “So instead you’ll shut the world out?”
“Not the world,” he said quickly. “Just...”
“Just me?” she asked, eyes glazed. “Or any woman who wants to be with you for more than a one-night stand?”
“Exactly,” he said woodenly.
She shook her head. “It wasn’t your job to fix your mother. No one can fix that kind of pain...only time can truly heal,” she said quietly. “Believe me, I know. If your mother didn’t recover, it’s not your responsibility or job to question why. And it must be that your dad was the true love of her life.”
“Like Tim was yours?”
Did he sound as jealous by that idea as he felt? He didn’t want to feel it. Didn’t want to think it. Didn’t want to be so conflicted and confused that all he wanted to do was haul her into his arms and kiss her over and over and forget every other wretched thought or feeling.
Her mouth softened. “I did love Tim, very much. But I didn’t honor that love when I married James. And when my marriage ended, I was determined to find someone who wouldn’t make me feel anything that might dishonor those feelings again. And I tried,” she said as tears filled her eyes. “And failed.”
“And that’s exactly why I won’t do this, Lauren. That look you have when you talk about Tim... My mom had that same look. You’ve been through it, too. You know how it feels to lose someone you care about. Why the hell would you potentially put yourself through that again? It doesn’t make sense. You need to walk away from this. And me.”
“So you’re doing this for me. Is that what you’re saying?”
He shrugged. “I’m doing this for us both.”
She inhaled resignedly. “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”
Bed? He groaned inwardly. “No.”
Her mouth twitched. “You’re not going to make love to me tonight?”
Gabe’s entire body tightened. She was pure provocation, and he wanted her so much, his blood felt as though it were on fire.
“No.” It was close to the hardest thing he’d ever said.
Her eyes shadowed. “Would you just...hold me?”
Pain and longing sat in his gut like a lead weight. But she didn’t know what she was asking. If he stayed with her tonight, there would be no turning back. He wanted her...he wanted her so much he ached inside thinking about denying that feeling. But Gabe wouldn’t allow that wanting to turn into needing. Needing meant giving everything. Everything meant loving. And that was impossible.
“I can’t.” His voice sounded hollow and empty. “I can’t give you what you want.”
She looked at him, and he saw the disappointment and regret in her eyes. She was hurt.
“No, I guess you can’t,” she said, and left the room.