“What do you mean?” Jack asked, his shoulders tensing. What was wrong with one of the nicest restaurants in Laramie?
“You haven’t seen her today?”
“Ah...no.”
“Well...” Tim stopped and broke into a wide grin. “There she is.”
Jack turned toward the entrance. Bess was there, all right. Dressed in the trim black uniform the rehab nurses wore. Looking gorgeous as could be.
And not at all like he remembered her.
She’d had her hair cut to chin length. Gold and caramel highlights shimmered in the sexy, tousled waves. Her makeup was different, too. Still subtle, but sexier somehow.
Really, really sexy, he noted on a wistful sigh.
“Hey, man, watch my tray for me, will you?” Tim said and rushed off to greet her.
Bess smiled as Tim approached. He accompanied her through the line, talking and flirting openly all the while. Getting her to smile. Laugh. Shake her head in amusement. He even tried—unsuccessfully, it appeared—to pay for her lunch. She had it packed up to go.
Jealousy coursing through him, Jack watched as the two stood talking for a moment longer. Then Bess gave Jack a small wave hello before she headed back out the door, clear plastic salad container and drink in hand.
Tim came back to the table. “She has to get caught up on her paperwork, so she’s going to eat at her desk.”
Jack wanted to think it was a likely story, that Bess just didn’t want to spend time with the eager young doctor and Jack simultaneously. But he knew it was probably true. Bess often worked straight through lunch.
Tim sat down. “So,” he concluded, “you can see now why I suddenly think I need to up my game.”
Chapter Six
Eight hours later, the girls were asleep, and Mrs. D. had settled down in front of the television. Too restless to prepare for the seminar he was giving at the Veterans Healthcare Summit in Dallas later in the week, Jack headed out to the detached garage.
He had just opened up the overhead door when he saw Bess out on a jog. It wasn’t unusual for her to run past his house; the residential part of historic Laramie had a labyrinth of quiet, tree-lined streets perfect for that purpose.
With a nod of acknowledgment, he headed toward her. Watched as she slowed her pace and came to a halt just in front of him. Clad in pink-and-white leggings, a zip-front hoodie and sneakers, her new haircut held back from her face by a pink headband, she looked as fit and sexy as ever.
Ignoring the urge to take her in his arms, Jack said, “A little late to be working out, isn’t it?” Usually, she got her miles in right after work.
Bess admitted this was so with an inclination of her head. “I, um, wanted to talk to you.”
That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
Maybe not, given the sudden rueful twist of her lips. Still working to catch her breath, she put her hands on her hips. “So I figured I’d wait until after the girls were in bed.”
“Which they are.”
“Okay, then.” She lifted her chin. “Are you the one who told Tim he needed to take me to The Laramie Inn for our first date?” she asked.
So he was playing matchmaker now? He put his hands on his waist. “No.”
“Then what were the two of you talking about at lunch?”
Unsure if he was betraying a confidence or not, Jack said hesitantly, “Briscoe asked me some questions about local eateries.”
The swell of Bess’s breasts rose and fell as she continued to slow the meter of her breath. “And you said...?”
With effort, he returned his gaze to her face. “The Laramie Inn is probably the nicest place around within a thirty-mile radius that wouldn’t involve driving all the way to San Antonio or Dallas.”
Her soft lips took on a downward slant. “Well, now he’s taking me there,” she reported unhappily.
Jack struggled to contain his envy. “And that’s a problem because...?”
“Going somewhere that fancy puts a lot of pressure on the date.”
Easy solution there. “So don’t go.” He dragged the shipping boxes, full of unassembled yard ornaments, to the center of the garage.
She followed him inside. “I have to.”
Methodically, he used a pair of scissors to cut through the mailing tape on the top of every box. “Why? If you’re already having second thoughts?”
She walked around after him, keeping her voice low. “Because Erin and Bridgett are right. I’m never going to get what I want if I don’t start putting myself out there again.”
He went to the spare fridge, got out a bottle of water and tossed it to her. Putting his own unwarranted jealousy aside, he advised, “Then go and have a good time.”
She uncapped the top and drank thirstily. Her eyes glittering with an emotion he could not identify, she studied him over the rim of the bottle. “You mean that?”
No, Jack thought. Actually, I don’t want you to go. And I really don’t want you to have a great time. And I really, really don’t want to know what that says about me and my own selfishness where you are concerned.
Forcing himself to sound much calmer than he actually felt, he said, “You deserve to be loved. We all do. And if Tim Briscoe is the guy who can provide that...”
She watched him take the pieces out of the boxes and set them on the garage floor. Her irritation apparently dissipating, she said, “Sorry. I’m just a bundle of nerves today.”
As was he. He walked close enough to inhale the lavender of her perfume. “You didn’t enjoy your weekend with your sisters?”
Bess lit up like the decorations already out on his street. Moving back and forth, probably to keep her muscles from tightening up, she said, “Actually, we had a great time. We went shopping and bought new dresses for the holiday. And then they gifted me a full day at the spa. Which, thanks to all the money I’ve been spending on my house and new puppy, I couldn’t begin to have afforded on my own.”
“Ah.” He took the opportunity to leisurely peruse her new, sophisticated appearance. “That’s responsible for the hair?”
She wrinkled her nose, slipping back into trusted friend mode. Fluffing the ends comically, she asked, “Well, Doc, what do you think? Do you like it?”
Oh, yeah, he liked it. He really liked it. Not trusting himself to speak, however, he merely nodded.
She peered at him. “You don’t think it’s too...?”
Sexy? Hell no. “Definitely not,” he said, sidestepping her obvious worry. “In fact,” he added gruffly, “it’s perfect.”
* * *
If Bess didn’t know better, she would think from the way he had just been looking at her that Jack was thinking about kissing her again. Knowing that would be a mistake, she gestured at the yard ornaments he was removing from the boxes. “What’s all this?”
Looking handsome as ever in a navy plaid flannel shirt and jeans, Jack exhaled. “The girls are worried Santa won’t be able to find our house, since he has ‘never been here before,’ at least that they recall. And they also want to decorate our yard on the outside this year, so I was hoping to take care of both things in one fell swoop.”
Bess knelt and looked at the photo on the outside of the boxes. “‘Charlie Brown and the Gang and The Musical Christmas Tree,’” she read aloud, smiling. “Wow, the girls are going to love this.”
“It’s their favorite holiday program.”
She grinned. “I’m aware.” She had sat on Jack’s sofa and watched it with them numerous times. “Lindsay especially identifies with Charlie Brown’s melancholy.”
“I know.” Jack shook his head, looking slightly melancholy himself. “She says Charlie is just like her daddy—he starts out sad at Christmastime and then gets ‘all happy in the end.’”
True, unfortunately. Bess surveyed her old friend, head to toe. “You seem to be doi
ng better this year.”
Jack perked up. “Think so?”
She nodded, easily slipping back into her sidekick role. “Just the fact you’re willing to do this...” She gestured at the two-foot-high figurines and the much larger Charlie Brown tree he was trying to wrestle out of the box. She moved in to give him a hand.
They brought out the comically spindly tree with the sparse drooping limbs, along with the ornaments. Jack furrowed his brow, as if suddenly not sure this was going to be so great after all.
Bess knew it was. “Want me to help you set this up outside?”
“Your run...”
Unwilling to admit just how much she wanted to spend time with him, at least for a little while longer, she shrugged. “Exercise is exercise.”
His gray-blue eyes sparkled with self-deprecating humor. “Sure. I’d love your help.”
The next half hour was spent finding the perfect place in the yard for the display and then anchoring the tree with green metal stakes pushed deep into the ground. When that was done, they arranged Lucy, Linus, Snoopy, Charlie Brown, Peppermint Patty and Sally around the tree, and then hooked it all up to an outdoor surge protector. Jack held up the end of the cord. “Ready?”
“More than.” Bess grinned.
He plugged it in.
The whole display lit up.
“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed.
He came to stand beside her. Then took her hand and drew her closer. On the back of the Charlie Brown character, there was a switch. He turned it on. The sounds of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” filled the air.
“Wow.”
And just that quickly, the feel of Christmas was upon them. They stood for a moment, drinking it all in. Ignoring the residual heat from his powerful body, not to mention her spiraling desire, she said, “The girls are really, really going to love this.”
Jack gazed down at her. Something real and intense shimmered between them. As the moment drew out, he gave her the look that said what he really, really wanted was to haul her close and kiss her all over again.
He cleared his throat and he stepped back. Once again, he respected the parameters they had set. “So.” He picked up a few tools. Then they headed back to retrieve the water bottles they had set down a while back. “When are you going on that date with Tim Briscoe?”
Talk about breaking the mood! “Wednesday evening.”
He quirked a brow in surprise. “Why not the weekend?”
Feeling restless and in need of a long, hard, adrenaline-draining run again, Bess capped her bottle. “Because I won’t be here. I’m going to the Veterans Healthcare Summit in Dallas on Thursday.”
“You didn’t want to wait until the following weekend?”
Didn’t great minds think alike. Now that Bess had agreed—more like, been pressured—into going out with someone else again, all she wanted to do was delay it. Indefinitely. But the more practical side of her knew that wouldn’t help. So now she just wanted to get it over with. Which was not a great thing to be thinking in advance of the date, she thought guiltily.
Still, she knew her sisters were right. She’d never be able to move on from her previous failed engagement, and this crush she had on Jack, unless she pushed herself.
She cleared the frog from her throat and explained, “I won’t be back from the conference until late Saturday afternoon at the earliest. Tim’s got weekend call. So Wednesday was the best we could do unless we wanted to put it off another ten days, and neither of us did.”
Jack nodded. An indecipherable emotion came and went in his eyes. “Well. I hope you have a good time.”
Bess did, too.
She didn’t know how long she could keep lusting after a guy who had vowed never ever to marry again.
* * *
At ten thirty Wednesday evening, after a perfectly pleasant but painfully long date, Bess sat quietly as Tim Briscoe parked his BMW in front of her home and cut the engine. He turned to her with a mixture of hope and regret. “Tell me the truth,” he said softly, reaching over to take her hand in his. “Would it have made any difference if I had taken you somewhere...anywhere else...this evening?”
She knew what he was asking and chose to evade. “The Laramie Inn is lovely.”
Tim’s profile was handsome in the glow of the streetlight. “No question, our meal was perfect.” He paused and let go of her fingers. Down the block, holiday lights twinkled merrily. “It was the chemistry that was lacking.”
Bess drew a breath. As much as she wanted to assuage his ego, it wouldn’t do either of them any good for her to lie. She pressed her lips together regretfully. “I wanted us to click.”
“So did I. But...” Tim released his seat belt and moved to get out. “...sometimes the necessary sparks aren’t there.”
Bess waited for him to open her door for her, the way he had all evening. “We could be friends,” she volunteered as they moved up the walk.
He staggered comically, thumped his heart with his fist and groaned in dismay.
Bess couldn’t help but laugh.
“Anything but that!” he lamented.
This time, she caught his hand as they moved up the steps to her porch. He was funny and charming, and—on paper, anyway—everything she could want in a man. Except one thing. He wasn’t Jack.
She tried again. “I’m serious, Tim. I’d like to get to know you better. Introduce you around.” When he hesitated, she persisted, “Unlike you, I grew up here. I still know all the single gals. One of whom might very well be the perfect woman for you.”
He tilted his head, considering. “You’d do that for me?”
“Matchmake? Heck yes!” As the idea hit and her guilt faded, Bess leaned in close to whisper, “And this is how we’re going to do it...”
* * *
Jack’s plan was to bump into Bess as she was coming into work Thursday morning, and do what he could to learn how her date with Tim Briscoe had gone the evening before.
Did he have competition? Had they set up another date? If they hadn’t...as he hoped...that meant the way for him was clear. He could pursue her without stepping on another guy’s turf.
And he did want to pursue her, he had decided.
It was the only way they would ever know if they were meant to be more than friends.
Unfortunately, he was called in at shortly after two o’clock that morning for an emergency surgery. Another followed. When he went to the staff cafeteria for lunch, Bess was there, all right, seated intimately close to Tim Briscoe, their heads bent over her phone.
Disgruntled, he realized their date had probably gone better than even Tim had expected. Had he lost his chance with Bess? There was no way to know.
Except that the two sure looked thick as thieves now.
Neither Bess nor Tim looked up once. Just as well. With the jealousy roiling around inside him, Jack would have had a hard time behaving.
Clenching his jaw, he grabbed a two-liter bottle of water and a protein bar and headed back up to his office to eat in solitude.
Luckily, work consumed him for the rest of the afternoon.
By the time he had finished the two surgeries previously scheduled for that day, it was five o’clock, and he had to head home to pack up and get ready for the next day’s seminar in Dallas.
His mother was in the kitchen sitting at the table, doing something crafty and Christmassy with his three girls that seemed to involve a lot of glitter, construction paper, scissors and glue.
“Get done early today?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Since Gayle had passed, his tax attorney mother managed to sneak away from the office around four a couple of times a week, to spend a little time with her granddaughters before heading out to the ranch where she and his dad lived.
Rachel smiled. “Unlike you.” She paused in concern. “I hear you were up
all night.”
Mrs. Deaver busied herself at the stove, leaving the hefty lifting—of dissuading him from his previous plans—for his mom.
“Please tell me you’re not planning to drive to Dallas tonight after the exhausting day you’ve had,” Rachel said.
She needn’t have worried. She wasn’t the only one who didn’t want him to fall asleep at the wheel.
“Way ahead of you, Mom. I already called Garrett Lockhart—” former army doc and now physician-CEO “—at the West Texas Warriors Association, to see if I could hitch a ride with the group of attendees they have going.”
Of which, coincidentally, Bess was a member. As was he. And many others of the medical and former military professionals in town. All of whom worked to help current, wounded, and retiring military veterans and their families.
“Oh.” Rachel sagged with relief.
Jack glanced at his watch. “Unfortunately, the WTWA van will be here any minute, so...”
He raced up the stairs to grab his duffel bag and garment bag, which he’d packed earlier, then raced back down to the study to collect the data he needed for his presentation. He was just zipping up his laptop case when the doorbell rang.
“Your ride is here,” his mother called smugly from the foyer.
Only, as it turned out, it wasn’t the entire contingent from WTWA.
It was just Bess.
Chapter Seven
“Everything okay?” he greeted her as she came up the walk. Adorned in black jeans, fancy Western boots, a white silky blouse and a fitted evergreen suede jacket, she looked pretty as a picture.
Flashing a casual smile, she joined him on the porch. “We had two too many for the van, so I volunteered to drive and take you, since the two of us were both running late anyway.”
“That’s thoughtful of you.” More than thoughtful, actually. It was an amazing stroke of good luck. “Thanks,” he said, ushering her inside.
A Tale of Two Christmas Letters Page 6
