by Lois Richer
Giving himself a stern shake, he decided to keep busy by gathering up the half dozen white coffee cups that had been abandoned when the local ranchers got wind of the accident and rushed outside. According to Rae, her Fresh Start Café was their morning gathering place. Check the herd, then head to Rae’s for coffee, discussions of the weather and the latest gossip.
Well, they would have had plenty to gossip about if Wes had acted on his instincts. When he realized it had, indeed, been Laurel out there, the urge to protect and comfort her had surged within him. Instead, he tamped it down and forced himself to return to the café.
Thankfully, she was all right. And her spunk was, obviously, still intact. The way she laid into that elderly driver... He couldn’t help chuckling. Not that he didn’t feel for the old lady, but it sounded like she had it coming.
Moving behind the antique wooden counter, a remnant of the building’s former life as a saloon, he set the cups into the gray bin designated for dirty dishes, guilt tightening his gut. He should not have been so happy to see Laurel. Not only was he moving overseas in just a little under a month, but the woman had a baby. Something that had initially given him pause. But the little thing couldn’t have been more than nine or ten months old. Not that he knew much about babies. Still, there was probably a husband in the mix. Yet that didn’t stop Wes’s pulse from kicking up a notch when Laurel’s gaze met his. The same way it had the first time he’d met the confident—not to mention beautiful—accountant with long, honey-blond hair and eyes that sparkled when she laughed.
He grabbed a rag and returned to the now-empty table to wipe it down. He was glad Laurel had found happiness and no longer had to face the world alone. A husband, family... It fit her. And Wes respected her too much to ever reveal their secret.
Still, it might be best if he steered clear of her to prevent any awkward situations. Besides, he didn’t need the onslaught of what-ifs that were bound to invade his thoughts. There were no what-ifs in his world. He’d determined a long time ago that he would never marry, never have a family... Those were things he didn’t deserve. Not after what he’d done to his parents.
The café door opened, and Wes jerked his head up to see Rae and two other women bustling Laurel and her baby inside. Just what he didn’t need.
“Paisley, pull out that chair for her,” Rae instructed the tall redhead. “Laurel, I want you to sit down so we can make sure you truly are all right.”
Still holding her child, Laurel complied. “For the thousandth time, I’m fine.”
A woman with chin-length brown hair pulled out the industrial-style metal chair beside Laurel and sat down. “You say that now, but sometimes things are delayed.”
“Christa is right.” The other woman with long red hair and a syrupy southern drawl peered down at Laurel. “Even if there’s nothing evident now, don’t be surprised if you wake up sore tomorrow.”
Smiling, Laurel reached for the redhead’s hand. “I appreciate y’all’s concern. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“All right, what can I get for everyone?” While Rae awaited orders from her three friends, Wes glanced from the exposed brick wall opposite him to the wooden stairway at the back of the space. If he were quick enough, he might be able to escape to Rae’s apartment upstairs.
Just then, Rae turned his way. “Wesley, come over here. I’d like you to meet my friends.”
Great.
Rag in hand, he sucked in a breath and forced his feet to move across the old wooden floor to join his sister at the front of the restaurant.
“Ladies.” Nodding, he skimmed the three faces around the square table, trying not to linger on Laurel’s. Still, he couldn’t help noticing that she did seem a little shaken up, amplifying his concern for her well-being.
“So, Rae’s little brother finally comes to Bliss.” The cute no-nonsense woman with short brown hair smiled up at him. “Christa Slocum.”
“Christa owns Bliss Hardware,” Rae added.
“That’s good to know.” He rocked back on the heels of his cowboy boots. “I’m going to be helping Rae make a few changes to her apartment—painting, removing a wall—so I’ll likely be paying you a visit.”
“Well, I appreciate the business.” Her hazel eyes drifted to Rae. “Almost as much as your sister will appreciate having that kitchen wall gone.”
“That’s for sure.” Rae motioned toward the next woman. “This statuesque redhead is Paisley Wainwright.”
More reserved than Christa, the stylishly dressed woman simply smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Wesley.”
“You’ll find folks lining up down here every day for some of Paisley’s decadent desserts,” Rae added.
Wes looked from his sister to Paisley. “Sounds like I’m in the right place, then.”
“And our heroic Mama Bear—” Rae set her hands atop her friend’s shoulders “—is none other than the fabulous Laurel Donovan.” His doting sister reached for the baby’s cheek. “Along with Sarah-Jane.”
Laurel Donovan. At least he got her last name this time. Albeit her married name.
“Laurel.” He nodded, not knowing what else to say. He certainly wasn’t about to let on that they already knew each other.
She tilted her head, sending her long hair spilling over one shoulder as she peered up at him curiously. “It really is you.” The corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. “For a second, I thought I’d hit my head.”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t.” A nervous smile played at his lips. “Things could have turned out a lot worse.”
A baffled Rae looked from Wes to Laurel and back again. “Um, why am I getting the feeling you two already know each other?”
Laurel continued to watch him with those eyes that lived in his memory, as though studying every nuance of his face. “We met in Las Vegas a couple of years ago. We were both there for conventions.”
Something Wes would never forget. Watching a frustrated Laurel plop down on the edge of that hotel pool in her all-business dress had been intriguing, to say the least.
Turning away, she continued. “I mistook him for a waiter and asked him to bring me a soda.”
“Oh no.” Christa put a hand to her mouth to cover a chuckle.
“In her defense,” he said, “we were at the pool, and I was wearing shorts and a polo shirt. So it was an honest mistake.”
“It wasn’t until I attempted to pay him that I realized he was another guest.” The color in her cheeks heightened, just the way it had that day by the pool.
Again, she looked up at him through those thick lashes he remembered so well. “I never dreamed that Rae’s Wesley could be the Wes I’d met that day.”
Hands perched on her hips, Rae continued to watch the two of them. “Yeah. Talk about a small world.”
Laurel averted her attention then. “You’ll have to excuse me. I think I need to go home.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” The redhead promptly stood to help Laurel. “Are you feeling ill? Why don’t you let me drive you?”
“Just a little shaky. But a ride would be wonderful.” Standing, Laurel held her daughter close and offered a weak smile. “I think I just need to rest for a little bit.”
“Let me get that stroller for you.” The one who owned the hardware store shot to her feet and started for the door. “Pop the hatch on your SUV, Paise.” She waved toward Rae. “I’m going to head on back to the store.” She continued outside, pausing to grab the stroller that now sat in front of the window and aimed it toward a silver SUV.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital and get checked out?” Rae visually scrutinized her friend.
“No, I’m okay. Just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.” Laurel glanced from Rae to Wes. “Thank you for coming to my daughter’s aid out there.”
“No problem. I’m glad I was there to help.” Wat
ching her, he wondered if she really was okay. Like her friends had said, sometimes things were delayed. She was obviously still dazed.
No wonder Rae watched her like a hawk—or an overprotective mother—until Laurel again gave Rae her full attention. “I just need to rest for a little while.”
“All right, sweetie.” Rae gave her a quick hug and kissed the baby’s cheek. “I’ll be by to check on you later.”
Rae watched as the women emptied out of the shop before moving behind the counter to start a fresh pot of coffee. “I guess you and Laurel didn’t stay in touch, huh?”
“Why would we?” He pushed in the vacated chairs and gave the table a quick wipe with the rag he still held. “We only met once.” Not that he wouldn’t have contacted her if he’d known how. Then again, with all of his regrets about that night, it was probably just as well.
“When was that again? That the two of you met.”
“A couple of years ago.” He started toward the counter. “Not long after I got out of the navy.”
“I see.” As the coffee brewed, filling the café with its enticing aroma, Rae narrowed a scrutinizing gaze on him.
“Why are you looking at me so weird?” Moving behind the counter, he handed her the rag.
One capable shoulder lifted. “No reason.” She leaned her backside against the counter. “So, did anything happen after you and Laurel met, or did you just shake hands?”
He shot her a warning look. “We had dinner, all right.” They were two lonely people in need of a friend. Laurel was easy to talk to. She made him smile. And stirred feelings in him that he’d never had problems ignoring before. “There’s no need to worry, though. I promise not to reveal anything to her husband.”
“Husband?” Rae’s expression morphed into something incredulous. “Laurel isn’t married.”
“She’s not?” Why did that bit of information spark hope inside him? “I mean, I just assumed, with the baby and all.”
Rae continued to study him. “And all, huh?”
“What is up with you? Why are you giving me the third—?” Wagging a finger toward her, he dared a step closer. “Wait a minute. I don’t know what kind of cockamamie ideas are rolling around that pretty head of yours, Rae, but if you’re trying to play matchmaker, you can just forget it. Yes, Laurel is a sweet person. And, yes, she’s attractive, but I’m not interested in a relationship with Laurel or anyone else.”
Scowling, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Because you think you’re not worthy of a family.”
“No, because I know I’m not. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” he turned and started toward the stairs “—I have a wall to destroy.”
Copyright © 2020 by Melinda Obenhaus
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ISBN-13: 9781488060274
Home to Heal
Copyright © 2020 by Lois M. Richer
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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