RaeAnne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer\Woodrose Mountain\Sweet Laurel Falls (30 page)

When he finished, he turned back to the thin old lady, her features now the same shade as her pink housedress.

“For what it's worth, Mrs. Redmond,” he said quietly, hoping Claire was too far away on the sidewalk to overhear, “I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. I'll be the first to admit that. But what happened with Lisa is one I regret the most. I was seventeen and stupid, but that's no excuse for what happened.”

“You're damn right it's not. You took advantage of a naive girl's hopes and dreams.”

He bit his tongue to keep from responding that he hadn't been Lisa's first boyfriend or sexual partner—or that she had actually done most of the pursuing in their relationship.

“I hope you're not doing the same with Claire, taking advantage of her,” the old woman's voice was pitched just as low as his own, thank the Lord. “She's a good girl who's had a hard time of it, just like my Lisa. She doesn't need the likes of you ruining her life.”

Her words sliced right to his gut, reinforcing everything he'd been thinking since they left Maura's. She was right, damn it. Claire didn't need him. She had a life here she loved. He would only complicate that for her.

He had to stop this. He couldn't trust himself around
Claire obviously. Every time he told himself he could keep their relationship on a friendly level, he ended up sharing another of those mind-blowing kisses with her.

He turned his back on Mrs. Redmond and strode back to Claire. After releasing the brake on the wheelchair, he pushed her back the short distance to her house.

“I'm sorry about Mrs. Redmond,” she said when they reached her driveway and that was all it took for his frustration to explode.

“Will you stop apologizing for the whole damn town, Claire? First your mother, now Mrs. Redmond. Give it a rest. We reap what we sow, right? Isn't that what Father Joe was always cramming down our throats? I made some lousy choices when I was a kid. Now I have to deal with those.”

“You shouldn't have them thrown back in your face every moment.”

“I was crazy to think I could come back and have any hope of functioning competently in my job, with all this latent hostility that's been simmering for years.”

He hadn't meant to say that, but the words were out and he couldn't take them back.

“People here have long memories, but don't underestimate the people of Hope's Crossing. They're capable of moving on and behaving with civility, even if they can't forget. Look at your mom and Harry Lange.”

He blinked a little at that non sequitur. “What
about
my mom and Harry Lange?”

In the light from her porch, he saw her eyebrows
rise in surprise. “They loathe each other. Didn't you know?”

He scoffed. “My mother doesn't hate anyone. I don't even think she holds a grudge against my
father,
for Pete's sake, after everything he did to her.”

“Harry must be the exception, then. She can't stand him and I've heard her say as much. I get the feeling he feels the same.”

“Why?”

“No idea. Mary Ella won't say. They're always polite when I've seen them together.”

He just couldn't wrap his head around the idea of his calm, even-tempered mother having a feud with anyone. If he had to pick someone, though, it would probably be Harry Lange. The guy was a lightning rod for resentment and anger. People in town either revered him or despised him. When he gathered the original investors together and sold his own large chunk of property in Silver Strike Canyon for what would later become the ski resort, people either seemed to think he saved Hope's Crossing from eventual extinction or ruined the small-town bucolic lifestyle forever.

“You just need to give the town a chance,” Claire went on. “Once they see the good job you're doing as police chief, once they have a little more time to get to know you, people will come around.”

She looked so sweet and earnest in the moonlight that his chest ached. “It's a nice theory, Claire, but don't you think I ruined any chance of that when I caused an accident that killed my own niece?”

“Riley—”

He cut her off, not eager to tug any harder on this particular thread of conversation.

“Come on. Let's get you inside.”

“You don't have to carry me up. If you could just bring the crutches down, I can show you how much better I'm doing on the stairs.”

With that, all the myriad emotions he'd been trying to keep capped and controlled burst out, a geyser of frustration. “Shut up. Just shut up, will you? I'm really not in the mood right now to listen to someone else tell me all the frigging reasons they don't want my help.”

Eyes wide, she opened her mouth but closed it again when he scooped her out of the wheelchair and stalked up the stairs and through the door, the dog bounding ahead of them.

“Where do you want me to put you?”

“Um, the family room, I guess,” she said, her voice low and he felt like a world-class jerk all over again for taking his sudden bad mood out on her.

He set her on the sofa she favored in her warm, cozy family room. “I'll bring in your crutches and the wheelchair and take Chester off the leash. Give me a minute.”

With guilt riding him hard, he lifted the wheelchair inside, setting it in the kitchen, then carried in her crutches. The hard metal retained the cold from being left outside and he appreciated the reminder. He had already done enough to hurt her physically, right? He didn't need to make things worse.

He walked into the family room and set the crutches where she could reach them. “Can you handle things by yourself from here?”

“I… Yes. Thank you.”

“Good night, then. Thank you for the walk,” he said, his voice more curt than he intended. He turned to go, but her words stopped him.

“Why are you mad at
me,
Riley?” She didn't sound angry, only confused and maybe a little forlorn.

He sighed. All evening, he'd done nothing but take his bad mood on her. He owed her better than that. He owed her the truth, no matter how difficult it was for him. “Again, because I'm an ass.”

He sat beside her on the sofa and took her hand in his again, although it took several moments for him to figure out how to word what he had to say.

“I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “I've still got a crush on you, Claire. Actually, that's not true and hasn't been since I came back to town. I think my feelings are deeper than that, though I'll admit I'm not positive because I've never been in this situation before.”

Her hand trembled slightly in his but she didn't pull away. “The thing is,” he went on, “I'm afraid friendship is not going to be enough for me anymore. At the same time, I know as well as you do that anything more than that is impossible.”

“Is it?” she finally asked quietly, her eyes a soft, glittery blue. “As crazy as it seems, I'm beginning to, um, have feelings for you, as well. I wouldn't have thought this a few weeks ago. Or even, maybe, a few days ago, but…I think maybe I would like to see where things go here.”

For one instant, joy burst through him, wild and
fierce, but as quickly as the next breath went cold and dark like a blazing mountainside doused in fire retardant.

He dropped her hand and eased away on the sofa. “I'll tell you where it will go. Where it always goes, when it comes to me and women. You said it yourself. You won't have a fling with me. That's all this would be. We'll have a hot, passionate relationship for a few weeks and then I'll start to feel edgy and restless, smothering in my own claustrophobia, and I'll do or say something colossally stupid and end up hurting you.”

“Nice of you to give me the program notes ahead of time so I can follow along.”

He glared at her glibness, at that hint of a smile on her features. “It's not funny, Claire. This is far beyond funny. I'm not willing to do that. This is different.
Every thing's
different. You're important to me. Besides that, you're my sister's best friend. You're practically part of the family. You deserve better than to be the latest in a long line of women I've ended up hurting.”

What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn't believe he was being so noble. After all her words a few nights ago telling him she didn't want a fling with him, Claire Bradford was basically giving him the green light to see how things might develop between them. He ought to just shut the hell up and kiss her, for crying out loud.

Did he have to pick this moment to do the right thing? Yes. When it came right down to it, he didn't have any other choice. The memory of Maura's pain and Mrs. Redmond's anger only reinforced that.

“I'm sorry, Claire. There's too much at stake here, for you and for me.”

He brushed his mouth against her cheek one last time, burning the scent of her into his memory, and then let himself out.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

F
OR THE FIRST TIME SHE
could remember, Claire was grateful for the rapid-fire pace of her life. Juggling all the whirling plates in her life left little time and energy for anything else.

Between end-of-school-year parent-teacher conferences, follow-up doctor appointments for her and the children, the business of running String Fever and the rapidly approaching service day and benefit, the only time she could spare for regret were those few moments just before she crashed in bed each night. She would lie under the Western Star quilt her grandmother had made when Claire was a girl and try to ignore the aching sense of loss for what might have been.

The rest of the time, she was frenetically busy, like now. With only two weeks before the Giving Hope benefit, Claire was pushing herself to finish the most ambitious necklace she had ever created for the auction, in between customers at the store.

She had two customers currently in the store, and they couldn't have been more different. Janie Hamilton was a plump, pretty, tired-looking woman who had recently moved to town. She sat at the worktable making a colorful pair of earrings out of wire wrap and lampwork beads, while the thin and elegant Sarah
Colville, a summer season regular, leafed through a beading magazine for ideas.

“Thank you again for letting me use your tools.” Janie smiled tentatively. “Somehow in the move, I've lost a box of supplies and I haven't had time to replenish them. They were really good quality and I hate to buy inferior products just to get by until I've had a chance to look through everything.”

Claire smiled. “No problem at all. I'm glad of the company. How are you and your children settling in after your first few weeks?”

“Good so far. Everyone has been very kind to us.”

Claire wondered about the other woman's story. She had heard from Ruth that the woman was a widow who had moved with her three children to be closer to her mother and aunt. Moving this close to the end of the school season seemed an odd choice for a mother, but Claire wasn't about to pry.

“If you don't mind my asking, what are you working on?” Janie asked. “It looks as if it's going to be exquisite. I love that big heart pendant. Is it rose quartz?”

Claire closed a jump ring with her pliers. “It is. It was found by a rock hound friend of mine not very far from here.”

“It's a great centerpiece to the design.”

“Thank you. I hope it will come together soon. I'm afraid I'm not at my best beading form right now. It's a necklace I'm making for the scholarship benefit.”

The challenging piece used various precious and semiprecious gems all found natively in the Rockies. She had designed it using a variety of beading tech
niques and right now, Claire didn't feel proficient at any of them.

“I imagine the cast makes things awkward.”

She smiled. “A bit, but I'll soldier through it. I'm hoping the piece does well at the scholarship benefit.”

“Oh, you are a wicked girl. Let me take a look.” Sarah shifted toward the table and Claire wanted to hide the whole thing suddenly. Sarah was a true artist, in every sense of the word. The renowned painter owned a vacation home in the area with her husband, but unlike most of those who purchased second homes in the area to take advantage of the skiing, they rarely spent time in Hope's Crossing in the winter. She said they preferred winters at their primary residence in Tucson, but both came to the cooler mountains to paint in the summer.

She was one of Claire's favorite customers and she always enjoyed having her in the store, except today when she was struggling so much with the necklace design.

“It's still a work in progress,” she said.

“Oh, don't be coy. You know it's going to be spectacular, especially the contrast between that aquamarine and the topaz. Why don't you let me just pay you for it now and forgo all the trouble of having to bid for it at this auction?”

“What's the fun in that?”

“You're going to be difficult, aren't you?”

“I've got to have
something
to auction off. I'm in charge of the whole thing.”

“I hadn't heard about an auction,” Janie said. “When is it?”

“Two weeks from tomorrow. We're actually having an entire day of activities to encourage people to help their neighbors. It's in honor of a girl who was killed in a car accident last month.”

Janie's eyes softened. “What a lovely idea!”

“You bought a house over on Sage Hill Road, right? If you have anything around your new home you could use help with, please let us know. Right now we have more volunteers than projects.”

“I can't think of anything. Our house is quite well-maintained, but I'd love to volunteer my children. If nothing else, it will get them out of the house and perhaps help them make some new friends.”

“We're hoping it's fun for everyone who participates. We've got raffles and giveaways, free food throughout the day. We're going to set up a bounce house and several other inflatable attractions like that over at Miner's Park and for every half hour of time they volunteer, the children get a ticket.”