Home Sweet Home: A Sweet, Texas Novella (5 page)

“Good-bye, Paige.”

GOOD-BYE, PAIGE?

Jesus.

Why hadn’t he just chucked her on the chin or given her a pat on the back with that lame-ass exit? He’d known what had to be done. He’d been thinking about it from the moment he’d boarded the plane back to the U.S. He’d talked it over with his brother, who had called him all kinds of crazy before relenting that maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to let go of the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Right didn’t make it hurt any less.

His form of a good-bye had been ludicrous and selfish. Especially when he’d said it to the woman who’d patiently waited years for him to come home.

He should never have had her get in his truck.

Should never have gone to her house.

Should never have looked at her the way he’d envisioned her in his dreams all those lonely months.

He should have kept his damn pants on and his good-bye brief.

But he hadn’t done any of that.

He’d taken everything she’d offered. Made love to her like a man who planned to stay. And then he’d walked away as if she meant nothing.

Hell.

She meant everything.

Which was exactly why he’d had to walk.

He started up his truck and backed down Paige’s driveway. When the tires hit the street, he looked up to the Victorian house and pictured Paige out on that big veranda, sipping sweet tea in the summer, or decorating for Christmas. Paige happy. Paige with a family. Paige with a faceless man who’d hold her close and make love to her whenever he damn well wanted.

Closing his eyes didn’t take away the vision. It only made it worse.

Damn him for having such a graphic imagination.

Pressing his foot down on the accelerator spun the tires and carried him away from the only woman he’d ever loved. But that had been before life had taken a left turn and destroyed his ability to bear anything other than grief, sorrow, and guilt.

AS THE ROAR of Aiden’s truck faded in the distance, Paige flopped down on the quilt that still bore his scent. The heat from his body. The sensation of being held in his arms. She looked up at the dark, cloudless sky and watched the stars twinkle as her heart shriveled into a crumpled mass. Her breathing came faster, harder, heavier, until, finally, a sob tore from her chest.

Cricket crawled onto the quilt and laid her head on Paige’s stomach. Her big brown worried doggie eyes watched while Paige’s tears fell.

Crying for herself was not a possibility, not when the man she loved was so completely torn up inside. Crying for him came easily. But her tears didn’t accomplish anything other than a red nose and stinging eyes. So how could she help? How could she make a difference—a change—that would help him find his way back?

She couldn’t change history. Somehow she had to find a way to help him move forward. To realize that the man he was is the same as the man he is now. Paige personally knew there were times that tasks seemed too great, too unreachable to see the brighter side.

She had learned that lesson too well when it had come time to pick the apples in her orchard. She finally figured out how to look at the orchard one tree at a time. One branch at a time. It often took her days or even weeks to put every tasty fruit into her basket, but she managed because she knew the end result–the accomplishment–would feel good.

Aiden needed to learn to feel good again. He needed to know it was okay to live, breathe, and enjoy life. She knew Bobby and Billy as well as she knew Aiden, and they wouldn’t want their friend to be so unhappy. They’d enlisted together and fought side by side with the same code of honor, the same goal. But neither of those boys would have wanted Aiden to die too. They’d want him to live well and be happy. He just needed to realize that it was okay for him to do so.

So no matter what it took, branch by branch, she’d help him understand.

Pulling Cricket into her arms, Paige buried her face in her loyal friend’s fur and completely opened her heart and imagination for the man she’d loved for as long as she could remember. Because living without him or not loving him wasn’t an option or even imaginable.

IF YOU WANTED to get the word out in Sweet, one method worked faster than picking up the phone. Luckily for Paige, today the Digging Divas Garden Club held its monthly meeting at Bud’s Diner. In two shakes of a can of whipped cream, the message would go out faster than a speedboat on smooth water.

Paige grabbed her keys up off Aunt Bertie’s oak dresser and jogged down the stairs. Just like when she’d gone for her college degree or made the purchase of Honey Hill, she had a plan. Before Aiden had come back home, she’d batted a hundred. She wouldn’t allow this goal to be any different. It simply meant too much.

Ten minutes later, her red F-150 slid to a gravel-spewing stop in the lot beside Bud’s. She grabbed her work apron from the seat and jumped down from the truck. The lot was still half-full with late-morning coffee slurpers. In another hour, the lunch crowd would converge, and there would be standing room only. A perfect audience for when she sounded the alarm.

“I STAYED UP half the night doing Internet research,” Paige said, searching the focused expressions around the crowded tables. Her heart trembled with how much they cared about the situation and how eager they seemed to want to help.

“Early this morning, I made a few calls to the organization, and they said they would look into it. Well, they work fast. Before I left for work, they called me back with the news that they can make it happen. They don’t require a fee, but they do ask for donations to keep them afloat and able to help others in the same situation. I figure we need to come in around four thousand.”

“Dollars?” The brim of Ethel Weber’s lime green straw hat bobbled above her lavender hair.

“Hard, cold, American cash,” Paige answered.

“That’s nothing.” Ray Calhoun lifted his old farmer’s hand in a dismissive wave. “Hell, we raised ten thousand to pay for Missy Everhart’s funeral when she took ill so fast.”

“Can’t put a dollar amount on what this will do for someone who’s given so much,” said Jan West, owner of Goody Gum Drops, the candy store painted like a peppermint stick in the center of town.

“But the question is … can we get it done before the Apple Butter Festival?” Paige asked the crowd gathered inside the diner.

“Four weeks?” Hazel Calhoun scoffed. “Easy Cheesy.”

Bill McBride, Vietnam vet and local good guy stood, imposing in his leather vest and various military patches. “Consider it done.” He turned to the crowd. “Right?”

The unity in the agreement that echoed across the diner sent a ribbon of warmth fluttering through Paige’s heart.

Aiden might not ask for much, but the people who loved him the most were about to give him everything.

THE AXE ARCED high overhead, then slammed into the rotted tree trunk. Aiden pulled his hands back, yanked a bandana from his back pocket, and swept the cloth across his forehead.

Damn, the sun was hot today.

He’d promised his brother, Ben, that until he figured out what the hell to do with his life, he’d help out around the ranch. At the rate he was going, he didn’t imagine he’d figure things out anytime soon.

It had been nearly two weeks since he’d walked out of Paige’s life. Two weeks where he’d avoided anywhere he thought she might go. Two weeks since he’d slept little more than a couple of hours without dreaming of her. Two weeks where his instincts had screamed for him to get his stupid ass back in his truck and go to her. Take her in his arms. And beg her forgiveness.

Instead, he wrapped his hands around the axe handle again and dislodged the wedge from the tree stump. His instincts had been wrong before. So what the hell did he know?

Not to trust himself. That was what.

“Thought you’d be long gone by now.”

Midswing, he looked up, surprised to see Paige and her dog coming toward him. Damn. The woman managed to make a pair of jean shorts and a silky little tank top look hotter than some flimsy piece of lingerie. Her hair was pulled up into a just-out-of-bed tangle on top of her head, and her smooth skin was kissed with a golden tan.

While her white tennis shoes ate up the ground, her tongue darted out to lick the half-eaten cherry Popsicle in her hand. The sudden heat whipping through his body had nothing to do with the sun above his head.

“Yeah. Me too.” He watched Cricket plop her furry dog butt in the shade of a nearby tree, then he turned his gaze toward Paige. Bringing with her the scent of ripe peaches, she came to a stop in front of him. Her big blue eyes looked up at him, full of questions and a spark of her typical vibrancy.

“So why are you still here?” she asked. “Can’t seem to get those boots in gear after all?”

How could he explain that while he didn’t quite know where he belonged, he also couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing her again? Even after telling her good-bye. Even after dodging her for weeks. How could he tell her that despite his determined words, he couldn’t bring himself to just pick up and walk away?

A lump lodged in his throat as he thought of Rennie. He’d unwillingly walked away from the dog that had given him companionship and loyalty. Did he really believe he could willingly walk away from Paige, the woman who’d been there for him through thick and thin even if he hadn’t been willing to take her up on her kindness? The woman who’d waited for him even when he hadn’t been worth waiting for?

“Not sure.” He shrugged and felt the sting of a sunburn on his shoulders. “I promised Ben I’d help him out. So here I am, doing hard labor while he rings up purchases of tennis shoes and skateboards down at the sporting-goods store.”

Her red-stained tongue licked up the side of the Popsicle and triggered an instant reaction in his jeans.

“Is that so?” she said with a tilt of her head.

“Yep.”

“Well, I’m sure Ben appreciates your help cutting this tree down. Especially since he was never one who liked to get dirty.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, thinking of his brother’s fastidious ways. “Never knew two kids from the same parents could be so different.”

“And yet you both served in the Army.”

“True.”

“I always thought he’d grow up to be a lawyer or something. Some kind of professional, where he could wear a suit and tie every day.”

“That’s definitely more his style than cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirts.”

“Have to give him credit, though. He’s done a great job with the store and carrying on tradition since your father passed.”

“He has done that.” And why, exactly, were they discussing his brother? “So … what are you doing here?” he asked although he didn’t mind having her in front of him with next to nothing on, smelling like heaven, and licking that Popsicle like it was … tasty.

The corners of her soft lips tipped as she tossed the remainder of the Popsicle to Cricket. Then she turned her blue eyes on him, swept them down his body and back up again. “I’ve come to make you a proposition.”

A LAYER OF sweat glistened across the tops of Aiden’s broad strong shoulders and highlighted that soaring-eagle tattoo. It beaded down his chest and tight, rippled stomach toward the waistband of his low-slung Levi’s. Unlike the thugs one saw walking the streets of the big city, Aiden did not have a mile of underwear showing. Which only made Paige wonder if he had any on at all or if he’d gone commando. A blue bandana stuck out from his back pocket, and sawdust coated the toes of his work boots.

A low hum of need vibrated low in her pelvis. There was just something about a shirtless, sweaty, hardworking man that made her want to tear off her clothes. When that hardworking man was as gorgeous and amazing as Aiden, it was a wonder she hadn’t given in to the desire. It took everything she had to compose herself and stick to what she’d come here for in the first place. Which did not include gawking at him or being tempted to stick dollar bills in his shorts.

“A proposition?” A furrow crinkled between his brown eyes.

“Not that kind of proposition.” Although it had crossed her mind. “I’m going to respect what you said the other night even though I don’t agree. Are you willing to listen to my offer?”

He leaned the axe handle against the tree trunk he’d been chopping and folded his arms across that deliciously muscular, sweaty chest. “Shoot.”

She hopped up on the back of his truck and settled her behind between the steel ridges of the tailgate. “When I made the decision to buy Honey Hill, I knew I couldn’t have that much property or responsibility without a good business plan. And as much as I calculated …” She swung her legs back and forth in time with the thoughts swinging through her brain. “I might have dreamed a little too big.”

“Are you afraid of losing the place?”

“Oh. No. Nothing like that.” The concern on his face forced her to quit stalling. “Part of my plan is to expand the orchard. Instead of just trying to sell apples, I want to produce apple products—butter, jelly, cider. That kind of thing. I need to do more research. Crunch some more numbers. Come up with a marketing plan. And—”

“And?” Dark brows shot up his forehead. “That’s not enough?”

“Oh, you know me.” She waved her hand. “Complete one project, come up with ten more.”

“I do remember that about you.”

The smile and slow glide of his eyes over her body said that wasn’t all he remembered.

“I also intend to turn the house into a bed-and-breakfast.”

“Wow. You are ambitious.” He laughed, and the happy sound sent a little flutter through her heart. “But what has this got to do with me?”

“My sister has her own thing going on. And I need a partner. Someone who can help me with the follow-up, the labor, and keep the place running successfully.” She hopped down from the tailgate. “You interested?”

“I’m a soldier, Paige. What do I know about cider and running a bed-and-breakfast?”

“You’re smart. You love apples. You’re handy with tools. And you’d make a great host because people love you.”

He shook his head. “Not true.”

“Never disregard the way people feel about you, Aiden. Sometimes … it’s all you have.”