Who You Least Expect (12 page)

Some of the tension that had suddenly built in him eased a bit, but he still had a question that needed to be answered.

“So it’s not me…?”

She laughed. “Of course not. He doesn’t care about that. But while I think we just made this special place that much more special, he’d take a dimmer view, probably snap at me for doing something so ‘common’ here. But it’s a silly thought anyway. I don’t think that level of sharing is a part of me and Matt’s relationship, at least not right now.”

“What happened between you two?”

“I left him,” she said simply, some of the earlier humor fading.

He tilted his head, curious. “So you moved? That shouldn’t inspire bad feelings, should it?”

“It’s not that simple. The day of high school graduation, I left the auditorium and didn’t look back. I didn’t even say good-bye. For fifteen years, we were everything to each other. I relied on him, needed him and he did the same. We shared everything, knew that no matter what, we had each other. It was the only way we made it. But that last day, I just left like none of that had happened, like he didn’t know everything about me, like he didn’t matter. Fifteen years of friendship, something deeper than friendship, and I didn’t say a word,” she said wistfully. “It was awful to leave him like that, unforgivable.”

“Must have been a reason you needed to get out of here so fast,” he said, sitting up and facing her.

“Oh, there were a million. Maybe more. But he deserved more than that. I owed him more than that. That he even speaks to me shows what a good person he is.”

“If you were that close, he still cares about you even through the hurt. And Poole is all about his forgiveness and acceptance and making peace with the past, so it doesn’t surprise me at all.” He paused, debating whether to continue. “So you’re back now,” he said, excited at the prospect of Blakely opening up to him, even if just a little bit, but not quite willing to ask the question outright.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” she said simply.

“But you seem pretty unhappy here sometimes,” he said. “Why not somewhere new, start off fresh?”

“I tried, believe me. I’ve lived in Portland, Seattle, New York, San Francisco, Ohio, Tokyo, and even did two months in Belize, where I seriously considered ditching it all and opening a souvenir shop.”

“I don’t see you hocking three-for-eleven-dollars T-shirts.” He chuckled lightly and then went silent, watching her.

“Understatement of the century. But I eventually realized that the place doesn’t matter, not really. What’s the old saying, no matter where I go I’m always there? That’s so freaking true it hurts. And besides, coming back has proved something that I tried to ignore, that I spent almost twenty years running from, in fact. Good or bad, Thornehill Springs is my home.”

“Well, I, for one, am glad you’re back,” he said, brushing a kiss against her ear.

“And I’m glad you ended up here,” she responded with a luminous smile.

“So there’s enough accounting and actuarial work here to keep you occupied?”

She dimmed a bit, her face going thoughtful for a moment. And then she brightened. “Ha. Not by a long shot. But there’s tons of it in Charlotte, and since I’m self-employed now and consult, I can go anywhere the client is willing to pay me to.”

“So you’re out there by yourself, no one to depend on?”

“I have myself, and that’s the only person anyone can ever depend on anyway. I learned that the hard way. I had my fancy job at the big international firm, and at the first sign of turbulence, they had no problem showing me the nearest exit. The funny thing is, I knew better, but I still let myself believe that I mattered, that I was a ‘valued member of the team.’” She scoffed. “Bullshit and I knew it, but I rested on my laurels, trusted them and then I was screwed.”

She stopped speaking and looked away, her expression pinched as if she puzzled over some great mystery. Then she turned to him again.

“In for a penny, I guess. Cody, I have a confession to make,” she said.

“I knew it,” he said solemnly, wanting to do something to lift some of the tension that marked her beautiful face.

“What?” Her brows flew up in question.

“You like Delta Force guys better, right?”

She stared at him for a moment and then shook her head, a soft smile turning her lips.

“Nothing as drastic as that,” she said and then, more soberly, “but I am sort of between jobs. More unemployed than self-employed, despite what I tried to suggest earlier. I haven’t told anyone else about my murky employment situation. It’s so embarrassing.”

She looked away again, her shoulders bunched tight.

“Why? Lots of people lose their jobs, Blake. It’s not a personal failing,” he said softly.

“Yeah, but those people don’t have to run back to a place they swore they’d left behind forever carrying the knowledge that everything they’d hoped for themselves, all the things they’d dreamed, thought they would accomplish, didn’t happen, so here they are, exactly as they ever were except for being older.”

Her words were bitter, scornful, and Cody didn’t know what to say.

“Where do you go every day?” he asked, lacking a more meaningful question or any words of comfort that he thought she might accept.

“I do some consulting here and there, but it’s nothing steady,” she said.

“So where do you go every day?” he asked again.

“God, Cody, take a hint. I was ignoring that question,” she said.

“No such luck, and besides, my Ms. Bishop is very direct, so she wouldn’t give a hint.”

That earned him a grudging smile.

“Well, you know how people talk, and if I was home every day, everyone would assume that I didn’t have work. So I get up in the morning and go to different coffee shops. Never the same one twice in a week, though.” She dropped her face into her hands. “This is so embarrassing! Not only have I confessed that I’m essentially a bum, but I also let fear of gossip dictate my day. We can leave now, and I’ll lose your number,” she said, her voice muffled.

He put his hand under her chin, idly stroking the soft skin, and then tilted her face up, willing her to look at him.

“It seems like a lot of effort, but I guess I admire the tenacity,” he said, holding her gaze with his.

“That it is,” she said softly, her shoulders relaxing a bit as he stared at her.

“Well, I want to ask if you’re okay financially, but I wouldn’t want you to get all snippy with me for prying,” he said lightly.

“Like that’s ever stopped you,” she said. “It’s tight, but I’m okay for a moment. I might be collecting cans if things don’t improve in fairly short order though, but I’ll be all right. If nothing else, I know how to survive.”

“I’m here for you, Blake,” he said, and she cut her eyes at him sharply. “No offense intended. Just wanted you to know that you have someone who cares about you.”

“I appreciate it,” she said stiffly, the tone of voice saying she did anything but.

He felt a surprising ache of sadness. He had his team, people he trusted with his life, and he couldn’t imagine how it would be to have no one, or to believe that you had no one. The thought was so utterly depressing that he pushed it away, wanting to salvage at least some of the day’s fun.

“I guess I could make a joke about how much it sucks that I haven’t found my sugar mama, but I don’t think you would appreciate it as much as you should,” he said instead.

“You would think right,” she said and then turned her lips up in a smile.

“Well, then, I will focus on sustenance,” he said, reaching for one of the bags.

He pulled out a small can of cheese and pack of crackers. As she looked at the items, her eyebrows hitched higher and higher, and he couldn’t stop the wild burst of laughter.

“You really thought I brought canned cheese and crackers, Blake?”

She had the decency to look away sheepishly. “Well…” she said, her tone slightly embarrassed.

“I don’t know what kind of guy you take me for but only the best for you.”

He pulled out a block of Velveeta.

“I’m leaving,” she said, deadpan.

“Fine, Ms. Bishop. Here’s your fancy cheese,” he said, again reaching into the bag.

“Oohh. Gruyère!” she exclaimed.

“And fruit pie.”

“Torta! Excellent choices, Sommers.”

“Be careful, Blake. You’re going to spoil me.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” she said, her eyes bright with humor.

Chapter Ten

Cody was nervous.

There was no reason to be, he knew. Things were going great, better than he’d ever hoped. That connection between him and Blakely only seemed to deepen with time, and he felt an ease with her that he’d come to appreciate and look forward to. And the sex was off-the-charts fantastic. As he’d suspected, her neat and orderly exterior in no way reflected the passionate woman within. She was incredible.

She was also still somewhat of a mystery to him. They’d talked, shared personal, intimate things, but Cody sensed resistance, could tell that she held some part of herself away from him. And he’d still never been inside her house. He loved having her in his place; when she was over, she gave his home life noise, something he’d missed since he’d left his sisters. But without fail, she always came up with a reason that he couldn’t come to hers. He’d teased and coaxed, but every time she’d been on the verge, she pulled back.

Which was why he found himself headed there this morning. He wasn’t going to ambush her, well, not exactly. He just hoped that if he came over, she’d invite him in, see that whatever the hang-up was didn’t matter, and they’d end up laughing it all off. That was his wish, anyway, though if the nerves that sizzled across him were any indication, things might go a little less smoothly than he’d anticipated.

He rounded the corner and strode up her porch and rapped on the door before he lost his nerve. Faster than he would have thought, he heard someone unlatch the door, and Blake’s face, beautiful as always, appeared in the small crack that was created when she opened it. He smiled as he gazed at her, though the expression dropped when he saw the surprise and shadowed tension in her eyes. She covered it quickly and smiled at him.

“Cody, good morning!” she said, though she made no move to step back or invite him in.

“Good morning, Ms. Bishop. I found myself in the neighborhood, thought I’d drop by.”

“Great to see you,” she said and while her eyes reflected her pleasure, she still didn’t invite him in.

Inviting himself in felt wrong somehow, so he held his tongue and didn’t speak, leaving the ball entirely in her court, and after a few tense moments, she finally spoke.

“I was just going to have a drink on the porch. Care to join me?”

“I’d love to,” he said.

She turned her lips up. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll be right out,” she said.

He nodded, and she closed the door.

Cody stared at the portal and listened to her receding footsteps and then sat on the wood swing and waited, anticipation of spending time with her somewhat mitigating the strangeness of their interaction. He rocked on the swing and looked at the tranquil street, feeling peace and contentment seep into him. There were no planes, no helicopters, no shooting, no voices. Just a quiet street on a quiet day in a quiet town. Cody should have hated it. He thrived in chaos but he could get used to this.

And her.

Before the thought settled, he heard Blakely approaching the door, and he stood quickly and moved to it. She practically thrust the small tray carrying drinks into his hand and closed the door behind her before he could even glimpse inside.

“Thank you,” she said as she quickly moved away from the door. “You can just set it there.” She gestured toward the rattan table in front of the swing.

Cody sat and then patted a spot next to him that would leave an inch, maybe two, between them.

“Have a seat, Ms. Bishop.”

She handed him a glass and then sat, making a big show of keeping space between them.

He moved, closing the space, and she chuckled lightly and then took a sip of her drink. He did as well, loving the strong, sweet drink. After Blakely Bishop, iced tea might be his favorite thing about North Carolina.

“Excellent,” he said, glancing over at her.

She shrugged. “It’s basically like walking. They wouldn’t have let me get my high school diploma if I didn’t know how to make sweet tea,” she said.

They drank in silence, the bench gently rocking and a light breeze flowing through the spring air. It was idyllic, almost unbelievably so. He wondered what the guys would think if they saw him, crazy-ass, cocky-as-fuck Sommers, sitting on a porch drinking sweet tea. He knew what his sisters would think and could hear the squeals and boisterous chatter as if they were here now, the thought making him smile.

“So what brings you to my neck of the woods, Cody?” Blakely said, breaking into his thoughts.

She wasn’t suspicious or defensive, but there was a distinct curiosity in her eyes, and her slightly narrowed gaze let him know that she was searching for any whiff of bullshit.