RaeAnne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer\Woodrose Mountain\Sweet Laurel Falls (28 page)

“I have one I bought myself with allowance and so does Mace,” Owen informed him. “That one's from all of us.”

“Great,” Jeff said as he opened the door for their son. “The Escalade's unlocked. Go ahead and get in the backseat.”

Owen gave Chester one last squeeze, then raced for the Escalade.

“Thanks for the gift, Claire.”

“Sorry about the wrap job. I'm not at my best one-handed.”

“I'm sure I'll love it.”

She had thought so, too, when she'd purchased the framed photograph at a gallery several weeks ago.

He pulled her into a hug and she thought of all the history between them and how strange it was that, as much as she'd once loved him, she had no desire to share anything with him now except their children.

“Just be careful with McKnight, okay? Even a friendship with him might not be the best course right now, politically. I wouldn't be surprised if the city council
tosses him out on his can. This accident has people in an uproar. As a small businesswoman trying to make a living in this town, you can't afford to alienate people by aligning yourself with the wrong sort.”

She instinctively wanted to defend Riley, but she had no wish to prolong the argument with Jeff, so she gave him a polite smile. “I'll keep that in mind,” she said.

After he left, she closed the door behind him, then sank onto the bench in the foyer, her bones aching. She wasn't at all certain she had the energy to even move to a more comfortable spot. Working all day and then dealing with two frustrating males had completely wrung her dry.

Each creak and groan of the big old house seemed to echo as she closed her eyes and considered her options for the rest of the evening.

What she really wanted right now was a long, luxurious soak in the claw-foot tub upstairs in the master bath that she had insisted on keeping when they renovated the house. But because she still wasn't sure about her ability to handle fifteen narrow steps—and because she couldn't very well soak in the tub anyway given the blasted casts—she would have to settle for the pitiful alternative of a shower using the chair the home care nurses had rigged that first day she was home.

Chester apparently decided he was done with his outdoor nap and ready to try the sleeping accommodations inside. He gave his deep, yowly rarh-rarh-rarh bark and she climbed to her feet—well, foot and crutches anyway—and opened the door for him.

He waddled inside, his tail wagging with more
energy than the rest of him, appearing delighted to see her. “You're such a good dog. Yes, you are,” she cooed, rubbing his acres-long ears. “You love me, don't you, buddy?”

He gave her a doggy grin that looked so incongruous with his sad, droopy eyes and deep jowls. As she rubbed at the spot he loved just behind his collar, Claire could feel her shoulders relax and a bit of the tension of the past half hour seep away. At least one of the males in her life was relatively trouble-free. Food and a warm bed, that's all he needed.

“You want some dinner, don't you?”

In answer, he waddled toward the kitchen, his paws clicking on the wood floor and his tags jingling.

She followed him and refreshed his water and food dish, a bit of a chore with her limited mobility but not impossible.

When the dog's immediate needs were taken care of, she opened the refrigerator and considered her own options. Right now, that last piece of Alex's sinful chocolate cake with the layer of raspberry sauce and the chocolate curls on top looked mighty appealing.

She could have chocolate cake for dinner if she wanted. After the day she'd had, didn't she deserve it?

“You won't tell, will you, buddy?”

Chester barely looked up from his dinner and Claire decided to take that as a yes.

She pulled out the cardboard box with the resort logo and set it on the table. She was sticking a fork into all that chocolaty goodness when she heard a low rapping at the back door.

Chester didn't bark, only wagged his tail eagerly on the kitchen floor, moving around a couple of chocolate cake crumbs she hadn't realized she dropped.

With a sigh, she pulled out the fork and set it on the plate, then hobbled to the door and peeked through the filmy curtain. She supposed she wasn't really surprised to find Riley on the other side, hands in his back pockets.

He'd changed out of the trousers and dress shirt he'd been wearing earlier for work to jeans and a casual cotton red shirt, the sleeves rolled up to midforearm in the still-pleasant evening.

Her stomach did a long, slow roll and she was tempted for a moment not to answer the door. All she wanted was to eat her chocolate cake dinner in peace, have a lousy, awkward shower with half her body wrapped in plastic and then crawl into bed. Was that too freaking much to ask?

Fighting with Riley again didn't fit into that agenda whatsoever.

The only trouble was, he knew she'd seen him. They'd made eye contact, so she couldn't just go back to her cake and ignore him, much as she would like to.

With a sigh, she opened the door.

“I saw the lights on back here and took a chance you were in the kitchen,” he said. “I didn't want you to have to make your way through the whole house to the front.”

Drat him for being so thoughtful and kind sometimes. And for making Jeff's pretentious attempts to
look young and hip seem so ridiculous in contrast to Riley's completely natural deliciousness.

She wished again that she were that sexy, wanton woman who could fling open the door and jump into his arms without any regard to the consequences. Not that she would do that. Despite their few heated kisses, Riley was only a friend, right?

Still, a girl appreciated choices.

“Come in,” she finally said and held the door open farther. After an awkward sort of pause, he walked past her into the kitchen, bringing the scents of the May evening, of sage and pine and loamy dirt.

He looked at the solitary slice of cake on the table. “I'm interrupting your dessert.”

“Right. Yes. My dessert. That's exactly what it is.” She wasn't about to admit the cake comprised the totality of her nutritional intake for the evening.

“I'm sorry. This won't take long. I just came to apologize.”

She said nothing, not sure if she was ready to forgive that easily. He had made her feel small and pathetic and she wasn't sure she could get past that to act as if nothing had happened.

“I'm an ass.”

Since his words still stung, she wasn't about to disagree. “I can see where that might be a problem for you, generally speaking.”

He smiled a little, although his eyes were still dark with regret.

“I'm sorry, Claire. What I said before, completely uncalled for. I don't see you that way.”

“You must or you wouldn't have said it.”

“I think I'd like to see you that way,” he admitted. “It would be…safer to help me keep some distance.”

“Why?”

He didn't answer her and electricity suddenly crackled in the air. She found her gaze on his mouth again and quickly jerked it away, but not before a couple of wild fantasies flashed into her head, the two of them tangled together, his mouth exploring her skin….

Right. No. They were friends. She wasn't going to wade into those dangerous waters.

“It's a pretty evening,” he said abruptly. “Feel like getting out? I thought we could take a walk, if you're up to it.”

She should say no, return to her backup plan of cake and a shower. But the night was lovely and the idea of a solitary evening had lost most of its appeal. Riley's presence seemed to have blown away her exhaustion like cottonwood puffs on the breeze.

“Sure. Okay. A walk would be nice,” she said quickly before she could let common sense change her mind.

“It's cooling down now that the sun is setting. Do you want a jacket?”

“Probably.”

“I'll get it for you. Just point me in the right direction.”

She had a half-dozen lovely sweaters she couldn't wear over the cast without stretching out their left sleeves irreparably, so her buttery-soft apricot pashmina would have to do.

“I've been using a wrap. I think I left it hanging over the back of one of the chairs in the living room.”

He found it quickly and returned to the kitchen. “Now the wheelchair.”

“I can walk, if you have the patience to wait for me.”

“I don't mind pushing. I was thinking we could walk over to Sweet Laurel Falls. That's probably a bit too far for you to handle on your sticks here.”

She hated the wheelchair, but he was right. She could maybe make it to the end of the street and back, but that was probably her limit before she lost feeling in her arms.

“Okay,” she finally said with reluctance.

“What about Chester? Where's the leash?”

At the magic word, Chester let out a single deep bark and his morose expression lifted a fraction of a degree. Riley grabbed down Chester's retractable leash and hooked it onto his collar. The dog gave a snuffle of approval and did a little stubby-legged sidestep of excitement.

Next, Riley wheeled in the chair from the family room where she'd left it and carried it down the stairs. Claire followed him on the crutches, but after watching her unwieldy efforts, he shook his head, scooped her into his arms and let the crutches fall away with a clatter as he started down the steps.

“Riley,” she exclaimed, feeling heat soak her cheeks. “Completely not necessary. I can walk.”

“Humor me.” His arms tightened around her and she tried not to notice that sexy afternoon shadow on his features or the enticing scent of him, musky and male. She wished again that she could be light and foolish, could kiss him right here on her back porch.

He carried her easily down the stairs and set her in the stupid wheelchair, gripped the dog's leash and they were off.

The moment they hit the sidewalk, Claire wanted to tell him to turn around. She only needed a pair of granny glasses to look just like an old lady being pushed around the yard of her nursing home, especially with the wool pashmina tucked around her shoulders.

She glanced at her watch, the chunky beaded one Owen had made her, and saw it was past 8:00 p.m. Families on Blackberry Lane were settling down for the night, working on homework, relaxing in front of the television. As the sun slid down behind the mountains, the air took on a bit of a nip, as nights did here even into July and August.

“Tell me more about your plans for this benefit,” Riley finally said after they reached the corner and turned toward the mountains.

She tensed, the echo of his harsh words still loud in her ears, then forced herself to relax. She didn't want to fight with him. Not tonight when the evening was so quiet and peaceful.

“Let's talk about something else,” she suggested. “What's been the toughest thing to get used to again about coming back to Hope's Crossing?”

“Old friends who ignore my questions. Seriously, I want to hear about the benefit. Is this a one-woman show or are you setting up committees?”

She turned her head to look at him but found no trace of sarcasm in his expression or his voice. He sounded genuinely interested. “I'm organizing the
auction portion of the evening and the service project side of things. Alex agreed to arrange the food for the dinner, with her contacts among the local restaurant scene. Evie's handling the decorations and, uh, Holly, Jeff's wife, insists on doing the publicity.”

“You seriously just came up with this whole thing today and now you've got a full raft of committees, and on the very day you returned to work. How is that humanly possible?”

“I told you, once we started talking about it at the store, everything sort of snowballed and everyone jumped on board to help. Everybody we talked to has been really excited about it.”

“Except me.” His voice was low in the cool air and in the hazy light, she couldn't see his features clearly.

“Was it the benefit you objected to or just my involvement in it?”

“Neither.” He grew silent as they approached the twenty-foot waterfall and she could hear the muted rumble. “I'm a cynical jerk, Claire. What you're doing sounds nice and noble on the outside. I'm just not sure it will make any kind of difference in the town or the way people are dealing with the accident.”

“I can't say whether it will make a difference or not, but what's the harm in trying? I only know whenever I'm serving some need outside my own inherent selfishness, I always feel better.”

He pushed the wheelchair to the small weathered bench some civic-minded person in years past had placed here where it had a lovely view of the falls in
one direction and the city slightly below them in the other.

Riley sat down on the bench facing town and the flickering pinpricks of light in the gathering dusk. Chester sniffed around the bench, in full hound-dog mode.

“St. Claire. Always so willing to see the good in people.”

“Not true,” she protested. She thought of her tangled relationship with Holly, how she tried very hard to like the other woman but just couldn't seem to move past her negative feelings to be truly friends.

“Nobody's all good or all bad, Riley. I'm sure you've seen that in your line of work.”

“Yeah, point taken. I've seen hardened criminals sob their beady little eyes out at those made-for-TV movies on Lifetime.”

She smiled, enjoying the cool night and the rippling sound of Sweet Laurel Falls and Riley's company.

“Is that really true?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “When have you ever known me to stretch the truth?”

She laughed. “Oh, I don't know. How about the time you told Alex and me you heard on the radio every New Kids on the Block had been killed in a plane crash? We cried for an hour until we turned on the news and figured out you made it all up.”

“All right, I may have prevaricated on that one. Give me a break here. I only wanted to make you notice me.”