“THE NEXT TIME someone asks for a volunteer, I will run the other way,” Lori told the heavy cardboard box as she shoved it away from the wall where it had been stacked. She heaved it into her arms and staggered over to one of the folding tables she’d set up, her footsteps echoing in the empty parish hall.
Pressing the button on her iPod, she let the music rip. Miranda Lambert might not be Wade’s brand of country, but he wouldn’t be here for a few minutes. She’d come early, needing a little time to gather her thoughts before he arrived. She felt guilty for asking him to do the job she’d signed up for. But it had been such a relief when he’d said he’d deal with the baby things.
Her plan tonight was to sort out all the clothes by gender and size so she would know where everything was on the morning of the sale. She pulled a faded men’s flannel shirt out of the box and fastened the buttons, trying to ignore the strange fluttering in her stomach.
There was no place for flutters here. She and Wade were friends. They’d talked about all the old hurt, and they could finally move on. Except now Lori had a new problem. Leaning on the fence with Wade, talking so intimately, seeing him so emotional and intent on making things right, had stirred that part of her heart he’d always held, reminding her that maybe she didn’t want to be just friends.
“Hey.”
Lori dropped the shirt, whirling around to see Wade at the door. He was wearing a clean pair of jeans and a faded black army sweatshirt. Her pulse kicked up another notch. “You startled me.”
“You looked like you were lost in thought.”
She flushed. What would he do if he knew what she’d been thinking about? Probably run away fast. He was here to help her because she’d asked. Because he felt obligated to say yes after finding out what she’d been through. She had to keep that in mind when her thoughts ran toward things like kissing him. Which they did when he was leaning on the door frame, looking as good as he did.
He held up a six-pack of beer. “Want one?”
“Sure.”
He came toward her, and she tried to remind herself that it was just Wade. She’d known him for almost her entire life. But her nerves weren’t getting the message. He set the beer on the table by the iPod. “Nice music,” he said, and she saw the glint of humor in his eyes.
“Too girly for you?”
“Hey, I was raised by my sister. I can take it.”
It was strange how she knew the big stuff about him. His family history, his attempts to get the ranch going, their shared trauma. But she didn’t know much about his everyday life. “What would we be listening to if this was your iPod?”
He grinned. “Not Miranda. Classic rock and classic country, mainly.”
“Old school, huh? Let me guess. Johnny Cash? Willie and Waylon?”
“You got it.” He twisted the cap off and handed her a bottle.
“Pilsner,” she said, recognizing the familiar label. “Thanks.”
“It’s what you ordered at the bar, right?”
It was a small thing, but she liked that he’d remembered. “Yup. I don’t like my beer any darker than this.”
“No Guinness?” he teased.
“Bleah.” And then she realized what she’d said. “Oh, wait, do you like it?”
“Occasionally.”
“To each their own,” she said, flushing a little. “I guess I don’t know much about you.”
“Strange, isn’t it? But we’ve got all night to learn.” He pointed to the boxes stacked in a far corner. “I take it the baby stuff is over there?”
“Yup.”
He went over to grab a box, and she couldn’t help but admire the ease with which he lifted a huge carton that she would have had to drag across the floor. The guy was strong.
He set the carton on another table and pulled out a baby blanket. “Well, here goes nothing. What do you want me to do with it all?”
“Sort it by size? And by boy or girl or stuff that could go either way like yellow or green? And maybe make separate piles for the blankets and bedding.”
“Will do.” Wade took a gulp from his beer and set it down next to him. She watched him fold the baby blanket with exacting care.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” she advised, while he smoothed out the corners and admired his handiwork.
He grinned and held the meticulously folded blanket out for her perusal. “Army, remember? They drill this kind of stuff into you.”
“Were you in any particular part of the army?” She glanced his way in time to see him flinch a little.
“I was a ranger.”
“That’s a ton of training, isn’t it?”
“A fair amount, yes.”
It explained so much. His composure, his strength. “And you fought in Afghanistan? Doesn’t that mean you were going into really scary places?”
“Sometimes.” He wasn’t looking at her anymore. All his focus was on the blankets he was folding so carefully.
“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
He glanced up then, looking relieved. “Thanks. Maybe some other time. Weren’t we going to learn all the little stuff about each other?”
“Sure.” She pulled out a big pile of clothes to hide her nervousness. This felt like a date all of a sudden.
“Okay, so, my turn to ask. Beer or wine?”
“I have to choose?”
She must have looked as dismayed as she felt, because he burst out laughing. “Okay, she likes her booze.”
“Sure. You?”
“Beer. In moderation.”
They folded for a few moments in silence. Then Wade asked, “Read or watch TV?”
“I feel like I should say read. But honestly, Mandy and I are addicted to a bunch of shows. You?”
“Lately I’ve been reading a lot. Westerns, mysteries, stuff like that.”
She thought about him reading. Lying in a hammock under a pine tree with a book. It suited him. “Vacation in the mountains or at the beach?” she asked.
Wade shook his head. “Haven’t taken too many vacations. Once when I was on leave, I went home to South Carolina with a friend. It was pretty nice. So I might say beach.”
That’s right. His childhood hadn’t included perks like vacations. Or food. Or love. “I haven’t been to the beach much, either,” she said. “But my dad’s living by the ocean in Florida. I hope I can get down there and see him sometime soon.”
“Is he happy? Giving up ranching?”
“He likes Florida. And I think he might be in love.” Wade looked at her in surprise, and she went on. “Mandy and I sent him on a cruise to kick off his retirement and get him to do something fun for once. And he met this woman and they had some kind of shipboard romance. She owns a couple of gift shops on Sanibel Island in Florida, and he’d been dreaming of a life there. So he moved to Sanibel and they’re dating.”
Wade shook his head in disbelief. “Your dad was a rancher through and through. I don’t think I ever saw him without a truck or a horse. It’s hard to imagine him under a palm tree in some Bermuda shorts, selling trinkets to tourists.”
Lori giggled. “I know! But that’s what he wears now. And he loves it. Says he did the right thing, getting a new start.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, scrolling through until she found the photo she was looking for. Her dad holding some fruity drink, ocean and palm trees in the background. She handed it to Wade. “See? Proof that it’s real.”
He studied the photo. “Well I guess people really can change.” He handed it back to her. “He looks happy, Lori. That’s good news.”
She set her phone back in her purse and grabbed some jeans to fold.
“Coffee or tea?” Wade asked.
“Coffee, of course.”
“One of those latte things or real coffee?”
She grinned. “I’ll take one of those latte things when I can get it. But we don’t have espresso on the ranch. And I’ll bet I don’t even have to ask you what you like.” She stepped back and crossed her arms, pretending to scrutinize him. “Coffee. Black,” she announced.
“And you’re psychic, too.” He grinned. “Skiing or snowboarding?”
“Skiing. You won’t see me strapping into one of those ankle-breaking boards.”
“It’s fun! I’ll teach you if you want.”
She pretended to think about it for a moment. “No, thanks.”
He laughed. “Noted. Dating?”
Lori froze. Did he want to ask her out? Don’t read into it. He’s making small talk to take your mind off all this baby stuff.
“Single,” she said. “Very single. You?”
“Single,” he said, regarding her solemnly. “Very single.”
“Right,” she said. “Great.” Cheeks burning, she grabbed a new heap of clothing from her carton and sorted it into piles. For a moment she’d hoped that he’d ask her out. Which was stupid, because it wasn’t even what she wanted. Wade represented everything that could go wrong with dating.
She was getting caught up in the emotion of telling him about the pregnancy. He was the only person she’d ever told, and it was creating an artificial closeness. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t the guy she should want.
She set the clothing down and took a gulp of her beer. Then went to the iPod and changed the music. Waylon Jennings.
Wade glanced up, and she smiled at him. “For you,” she said. “Figured you’d had just about enough of Miranda.”
“She was growing on me,” he teased. “But this is good.”
Music he liked meant music he’d listen to—she turned up the volume so they wouldn’t have to keep chatting. She had to keep her distance. At least until this strange closeness between them passed and things were more normal. Whatever normal meant now that Wade lived next door. She forced herself to concentrate on the clothing, taking satisfaction in the organized piles growing around her.
She’d gone through three of the big boxes of clothes when she set down the sweatshirt she was labeling and glanced across the hall. Wade had made piles of neatly folded baby clothes on a big blanket on the floor. Baby furniture that he’d already priced was stacked along the wall. He’d insisted he work on the furniture far away from her so she wouldn’t have to face any of it.
He brought her a fresh beer, and she took a sip. “How are you doing over there?” she asked.
He reached into a box and held up a tiny T-shirt with a picture of a tractor on it. “This stuff is pretty cute,” he said. “They should make it in my size.”
Okay, he was not only rescuing her from having to sort baby stuff, but also being adorable about it. She didn’t need Wade to be adorable. “Is it weird, going through it all?” she asked.
“Not as bad as I’d thought. It’s really not horrible.”
He looked so at ease with it that Lori took the T-shirt from him. It was cute. “See?” he said. “It’s just a shirt. And that’s all it is.”
Lori held it up, marveling at how tiny it was. It didn’t make her want to cry, but maybe that was also because Wade was here and Waylon was singing and the beer was warming her up inside.
“Here’s what I’ve been thinking.” Wade motioned toward the furniture leaning on the wall. “All of this stuff, it’s just things. Pieces of wood. Furniture. There’s no special meaning to it unless we give it meaning. It’s not a sign that you should have done something different, or that you should feel terrible forever. It’s furniture some nice folks bought for their kid, and now they’re done and another family will buy it. End of story.”
She stared at the furniture. It was nice stuff. And it wasn’t scary. It wasn’t making her feel the loss. “Who knew?” she breathed, walking over to touch the rail on a crib. It had been painted kind of an odd gray brown. “It’s just wood. And I don’t even like the color.”
He laughed. “That’s the spirit.”
She looked around in wonder at the piles of baby clothes. “It’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, what I feel sad about, it’s more of a spiritual thing. It’s intangible. This is just stuff.”
“Yup,” he said. “And when the time is right for you, you’ll buy some furniture that you love for the child you are going to love. And that stuff will have meaning because your child will use it.”
“I don’t know if I’ll have a child,” she told him.
“You don’t want kids?” He looked at her, surprised.
“No... I do. I mean, it’s just...” Why did she have to open her mouth? What was she doing giving him so much information? “I haven’t dated much. Kids, if they happen, are a long way off. All that dating stuff has to come first.”
“The dating stuff?”
She was beet red, and she could only hope that the shadowy room hid some of it. “Yeah.”
He took a long swallow of beer and regarded her steadily. “Have you ever thought of doing some of that dating stuff with me?”
She froze. Tried to answer but it came out as a cough. “With you? Um...no. I mean, you and me, we have so much history. We barely even get along. But...”
“...but we’re getting along okay tonight,” he finished for her.
“Well, yeah. We’ve been on opposite sides of the room all evening,” she countered.
“True.”
He was watching her intently, and she forced herself to return his look. “Have you thought of dating? I mean, dating me?”
His slow smile answered for him. “I have. A lot. But now I’m not sure... I want to be there for you. To support you. And I know, logically, the best way to do that is to be your friend.”
Disappointment and relief were all mixed up. She nodded. It was safest to agree.
“But that kiss. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Her heart sped up, pounding so hard against her chest that she could hear it. “I think that was just a one-time thing. You know, because we were both upset that night.”
“So you’re saying we don’t have that kind of chemistry?”
“Yeah. It’s like you said. We’re friends.” It hurt to say it. It was a lie. But she had to do the right thing. And getting involved with Wade again couldn’t be right.
Wade drained his beer, then set the bottle down purposefully on the table. He held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
Her body warmed at the thought of being in his arms. “Why?”
He shook his head. “Damn, you are stubborn. Just dance with me. If you hate it, we’ll stop.”
He walked over until they were inches apart. She could feel him there, this energy, restless and edgy, but now she knew the kindness that held him steady underneath. There were a lot of reasons not to, but she ignored them and stepped into his arms.
His big hand behind her back held her up when she felt her knees go wobbly. Being this close to him now, after they’d shared so much, was just a lot. She drew a shaky breath and put her hand on his shoulder. He wrapped the other in his, and they swayed to the music.
His strength was magnetic. She’d prided herself on being strong, on keeping everything going on the ranch, on being the person everyone could count on. His thick muscles under her hands, the way he held her up so easily, were sheer relief. She closed her eyes. Her body relaxed into his. He pulled her closer, moving her with him. She laid her head on his chest and inhaled his scent: soap, spice, Wade. She took breaths of him.
She nestled closer, and he tilted his head to bring his cheek down next to hers. She could feel his end-of-the-day stubble against her temple, and her breathing went bumpy and troubled. There was so much heat inside her, as if muscle and bone long frozen were coming alive. She looked up, and he caught the movement and looked down, and his eyes... God, his eyes...serious and deep, dark brown with thick black lashes and then a tiny spark of humor when he whispered, “Do you hate it?”
“No,” she whispered back. “I don’t hate it.”
“Is there chemistry?” he whispered.
She let a few beats go by before she admitted it. “There’s chemistry.”
He didn’t answer, but she caught his smile, just a little triumphant, before he pulled her close again and danced her around in a circle.
When the song ended, he held her tight for an extra moment. She slid her arms around his neck and hugged him.
“Lori,” he whispered against her ear. “I want this with you, so much.”
She buried her face in his chest. Every particle of her was yearning toward him, wanting him closer, wanting him with her. Wanting to find a way to take this heat and sear away all the pain they’d caused. Wishing there was a way to quiet her fears that he’d walk away from her again. “I don’t know,” she whispered into his shirt. “I just don’t know.”
His hand came over her hair, sheltering, soothing, as he stroked it back from her face. He stepped back so he could see her. “I get it,” he told her. “I get why you don’t know. I’ll wait. I’ll be here. And I’m going to prove to you that you can count on me.”
Tears stung. Frustration that the choices of their past squatted ugly and solid between them, blocking something that felt like it could be so beautiful. “Okay,” she told him. What else could she say? She wouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep.
“Hey, let’s turn up the music and get to work,” he said, squeezing her shoulders gently and letting her off the hook. “Only this time, I get to choose.”
He walked over to the iPod and grabbed his beer again. Scrolled through her music and tapped. Miranda came back on. It was a sweet gesture, and she smiled her thanks for his choice. But she wished he’d stop being so damn sweet. It was hard to build walls when he kept tumbling them back down.
He gave her a thumbs-up and headed back to the piles of baby clothes. Her rummage sale savior. The man she’d loved, then hated and now, possibly, forgiven.
Dammit. She wished so much that it wasn’t true. She glanced over at him, smiling despite herself as he shook out a pair of miniature overalls. He was right. There was chemistry. But this was a whole lot more than chemicals. And that was what scared her.