Always My Hero (7 page)

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Bree stood up, comfortable enough in her friend’s coffee shop that she didn’t think twice about heading behind the counter and refilling her own coffee mug.

“I can’t believe you aren’t more excited about it.” Cady tagged along behind her.

“Come on, look at me. I’m a librarian. A dowdy librarian. And I am tasked with finding twelve hot guys to sell enough copies of a calendar to fund a library roof.”

“You are far more beautiful than you realize, hon. But if that’s what has you worried, let’s do something about it.”

“Like what?” Bree turned around, coffee carafe in her hand.

“A makeover. Oooh, it will be fun!”

“You mean like doing each other’s nails and stuff?” She shuddered at the thought.

“I mean like taking you to Kayla’s Kut and Kurl and getting you a new look. Oh, and shopping! New clothes. New shoes.”

Bree gave her friend a considering look. She’d been telling herself the same thing lately. Somehow hearing Cady say it made it easier to admit. She returned the coffee to the warmer as she thought it over.

“I want highlights.”

“Yes! That’s perfect.”

“And layers.”

“See? I’m not pushing you into this at all. You’ve clearly been giving it some thought already.”

The bell over the door sounded and the women looked up in time to see Foster stroll in.

“Excellent timing, my friend. Bree has something she wants to ask you.” Cady sashayed over, hooking her arm in his and pulling him to the counter.

“Sometimes I could cheerfully punch you in the stomach,” Bree glowered.

“Do you do crunches, Foster?” Cady tickled him in the ribs.

“Really. I hate you.” Bree folded her arms across her chest.

“Quit hiding on the other side of the counter and come out here like a good girl.” Foster held out a hand. “We need to talk.”

Oh boy. Two birds, one stone. Bree took one last swig of coffee and prepared to face the music.

Foster led her to a quieter table in the corner, where they wouldn’t be disturbed. She looked up to see if Cady was going to come over with coffee for her latest customer, perhaps bring a pastry that she’d shamelessly ‘share’. Nope. The woman had the audacity to turn her back on Bree and focus on refilling coffee cups at the counter. No backup there.

“It didn’t go quite like we were expecting, hmm?” He stretched his long legs out under the table, nudging her foot with one. Whether on purpose or not, she wasn’t sure.

“I had a very nice time, Foster. Truly.” Guilt may have forced her to sound a little more enthusiastic than she’d meant.

“Enough to go out with me again? I could cook.” The crinkling at the corners of his eyes told her he was teasing her.

“Thank you for not insisting on a goodnight kiss. I just think that would have been incredibly awkward.” She blushed, recalling the sweet hug that Foster had given her on her front porch after he’d finished his cocoa and washed both their mugs.

“Can I ask you something?” Again, his foot brushed up against hers and this time she knew it was deliberate.

“Of course.”

“If we hadn’t run into Ryan, if it had just been you and me, with no interruptions, would you have agreed to go out with me on a second date?”

Bree’s breath caught in her throat. Foster couldn’t possibly know about her and Ryan. His flirty smile still in place, but she detected just a hint of resignation in his posture, in the tightness of his jaw. He already knew the answer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, with regard to Ryan,” she answered breezily. “But, a second date? Probably not.” She bit her bottom lip, unsure whether a pat on his hand would come across as an apology, as she intended, or a brush off. To be on the safe side, she remained still.

“Well, I hope ‘new’ Bree gets up the nerve to finally go after what she wants. You deserve to be happy, sweetheart.”

And with that, Foster stood up from the table, leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek. Those deliciously carved dimples flashed as he winked at her before heading up to the counter to order his coffee. She smiled. Foster Duncan wouldn’t be single for long.

• • •

Guilt. He couldn’t seem to get away from it today. First for dropping Wesley off with Bree for the morning while he headed over to his folks. When he reluctantly told his son that it would be better if he visited alone, it had been Wesley’s idea to ask Bree if he could spend the time there. The poor kid hadn’t made any friends at school this first week. The only real friend he’d made was Ryan’s former tutor. Oh, who was he kidding? She’d been a hell of a lot more than that to him once. His heart was all for finding excuses to see her again. His head reminded him he’d made some really bad choices where Bree was concerned and she deserved better than the schmuck who had left her. Okay, more guilt there.

Now he’d reached his parents’ house, only to discover that their driveway and porch were perfectly snow free, meaning someone else had done it for them. More than likely his mother had hired somebody local. He’d been so focused on Wesley this week, and getting the hardware store back open that he’d completely forgotten that his father couldn’t clear off his own driveway or steps anymore. Worst son in the world.

To top it off, his mother seemed to feel obligated to feed him whenever he stopped by. So while Ryan took off his boots and ski jacket at the door, his mother hurried into the kitchen to fix him a snack. He’d love it if she could just sit down and relax, but that just wasn’t in her nature. Knowing it would make her feel better, he waited while she put together a roast beef sandwich, potato chips, and a dill pickle on the side.

“Heard you stopped by the fire station,” he mentioned between bites. “Luke says you’ve spoiled the whole department, baking them cookies like that.”

“I refuse to apologize for pushing you to spend a little free time. Wes told me you never went out while you were living in California. He wasn’t even sure you had any friends out there.”

“Little traitor. It’s not like he could talk. We Pettridge men are loners. That’s all.” There was a fine line between being a loner and being lonely, but he wasn’t going to explore that just now.

“Rubbish. So what brings you by today—without my grandson?”

“Can’t a son come check on his father without the third degree?” Ryan took a big bite of sandwich and blinked innocently as he chewed.

Anne shook her head, watching him speculatively as she puttered around her spotless kitchen.

“How’s he doing?”

She twisted the dishtowel in her hands, lowering her voice as she glanced anxiously toward the living room doorway.

“He’s frustrated. He can’t speak. He can’t communicate what he wants unless I ask him yes or no questions.”

“Has there been any progress? Do they think this is the best situation for him?”

Ryan knew his father’s doctor had recommended he go into a nursing home. His father had become extremely agitated and, in order to calm the man, the hospital agreed to let him return home. But he had to show progress. The doctors needed to know that the homecare nurses and physical therapists were worth it.

“I think so. It’s really too soon to tell.”

“Well, I’ve got some news that will brighten his day. A chance for a good laugh at my expense.” Ryan winked at his mother, sweeping the crumbs off the counter onto his plate and carrying it to the kitchen sink.

“We could use a good laugh around here.” Anne pounced on the dirty dish in the sink, like she’d been waiting for something to do.

“Ma, come sit down. That plate will be there when you get back.”

He only wanted to have this conversation once.

The couch had been pushed to the far wall to make room for his father’s hospital bed. There was just enough room to edge through between them in order to sit down. The large screen TV had been mounted right beside the big picture window overlooking the front yard and the street beyond. Ryan’s dad, Bo, could watch television and still be able to see everything going on outside.

At the moment, the Patriots were playing the Bears. Ryan nodded when he saw the score. Ten, zip. Brady’s team was in good shape this year.

“That Super Bowl’s ours this year, Dad. Stupid Seahawks were a fluke last year.”

His father grunted something unintelligible, but his head bobbed up and down, which Ryan took to mean he agreed.

“So you want to hear something utterly ridiculous? Guess who has been roped into posing for a calendar? The Sexy Men of Scallop Shores.”

“Posing?” Anne asked, pointedly.

“Yep. Shirtless.”

“Good heavens!” She rolled her eyes while Bo made a choking noise in his throat.

Ryan wasn’t sure if he should be alarmed or not. But his dad had a twinkle in his eye. As he watched, the man lifted one shaky hand and turned it over slowly until he had one thumb sticking straight in the air. Yes!

“Oh, honey, good for you!” Anne gushed to her husband.

Bo dropped his hand on the bedspread as though disgusted. He was a grown man used to his independence. To be praised for something as little as a thumbs up must have been humiliating.

“Yeah, you’ll never believe who’s running the whole show, either.”

“I imagine it’s that little snip of a thing that runs the new coffee shop downtown. Cady?”

“Nope. Bree. The calendar is raising money for the library. A new roof.”

Anne looked torn between laughing and feeling bad.

“She came up with the idea of men posing shirtless for a calendar? That doesn’t sound like Bree at all.”

“Wasn’t her idea. But she jumped in to help.”

“What a nice girl. She’s always there to pitch in whenever someone in town needs her.”

Ryan looked away. He’d never stopped to ask Bree if they were interrupting her plans for the morning. For all he knew, she had something to do, somewhere to be. But she’d been wearing her glasses again, and a sleepy smile. So understatedly sexy. He’d had to beat a fast retreat before he did something stupid.

“Listen, we need to talk.”

He sat down on the end of the hospital bed, his back to the game. Patting the opposite side, he motioned for his mother to join him. Her lips pressed firmly together, she looked back and forth between husband and son before she finally took her spot on the bed.

“I wasn’t completely honest with you when I arrived in town. I told you about the temporary leave I was able to get through work. I know you want me to stay, to run the hardware store so it stays in the family. But I left part of my agenda out.” Daring a brief look at each of his parents, Ryan steeled his nerves and pressed on. “I didn’t come out here to run the store for Dad. I came out here to try to sell it for you guys and then Wes and I are going back to California.”

Anne gasped and Bo made a low growl in his throat.

“You need to think about the future. Both of you. Dad, you aren’t going to be able to run the store again. I’m not saying that to be cruel, it’s just a tough fact that we all have to face. Ma, are you going to do it? With the help you’d need to hire, it wouldn’t be cost effective. I’m not trying to be cruel. I’m trying to help you.

“I want to set you up with a nest egg. Dad, you’re gonna get better. Not perfect, but we’ll get you out there fishing again. And you always said you wanted to take up golf. I think you ought to sell the house too. Get out of this harsh weather and move somewhere more temperate.”

“You want us to move in with you?” Anne asked, confusion warring with anger on her face.

Holy crap, no!
“Southern California is beautiful this time of year. But so is Florida. The Carolinas even. You’ve got lots of options.”

“We like it right here, thank you very much.” Her tone was on the waspish side as she grabbed Bo’s hand. A show of solidarity?

“But you had to hire someone to clear the snow. You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ryan! You hire people to perform a service. That’s their job. If we didn’t hire them, they wouldn’t have any work. It’s how the economy works.”

“But ... ”

“What is so awful about living in Scallop Shores? Why can’t you stay? I would understand if you had a girlfriend back home. Someone that you can’t live without.”

Unbidden, Bree’s face floated into Ryan’s subconscious. He wanted to swat it away.

“We do have a life in California. Wes thrives at his school. It’s good for him.”

“Scallop Shores is better. The boy needs to learn that there are more things in life than his books. He needs to experience ice hockey and camping, swimming in the cold Atlantic and making homemade flapjacks with the berries he picked himself. And family. You’d finally bring Wesley here and have him get to know his grandparents, only to yank him away again so quickly?”

He couldn’t disagree with any of this. His need to leave town as quickly as possible had nothing to do with Wesley and everything to do with himself. Ryan watched his father clench his one working hand into a fist, relax it and clench it again.

It wasn’t his intention to yank the man’s control away. He was trying to be practical. And sometimes practical sucked. No way around it.

“I’m going to contact a Realtor. Maybe if you could see some actual numbers, find out what you could expect to get for the house and the business, that might help put things in perspective. Just think about it.”

Not having anything more to add, Ryan squeezed his dad’s shoulder and muttered a quick goodbye before he stood up and hurried for the hallway. His mother raced after him.

“Ryan? I know you don’t want to run the hardware store. We never wanted that for you. But this job that’s waiting for you? Do you really want to be an accountant? Don’t be in such a rush to get back there unless it’s what will make you truly happy.”

“It’s what I know, Ma. And here’s a shocker, I’m good at it.”

“I’m just asking you to consider staying. Spend a little time here. Remember what it felt like to belong.”

“I’ve got to go pick up Wes, Ma. Tell Dad I love him. We’ll stop by sometime tomorrow.” Ryan shoved his feet in his boots, grabbed his jacket and flew out the door with a careless wave.

His mother was right on all counts. He had nothing waiting for him in California, beyond a job that he could really get anywhere else in the country—including Scallop Shores. And the more time he spent in town, the more he did remember, and enjoy, the closeness, the sense of community, and belonging. Which just made him all the more anxious to leave. His hometown only served to remind him that he’d done nothing with his dreams—especially the dream he had that involved the pretty town librarian.