He slid off the stool and headed toward the storeroom. She followed.
“So what’s this clock look like?”
“It should be in a box about this big.” She demonstrated the size with her hands. “It’s for the gazebo.”
“You’re putting a clock in the gazebo?”
“Not in. On. It will sit near the top on the street side. It’s solar-powered, but it looks like an antique, so it will fit into the turn-of-the-century design I’m going for.”
“I hate to admit it, but you and your team have done an outstanding job so far.”
“Thank you.” Her smile burst into a full grin. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
It was hard all right. Then again, he wasn’t talking about a damned admission. “When I’m wrong, I’m willing to own up.”
“I like that in a man.”
He smiled and continued to look for her clock box amid all the other deliveries he’d received for her projects and had yet to put in order. Best to keep his hands busy searching so he didn’t have time to think about where else he’d like them to be. She followed him from the stack of boxes to bundles of boxes all arranged in a haphazard formation. The sweet peachy scent of her lotion tagged along as an added form of torture.
“Can’t find it?” she asked.
“It’s here somewhere.”
“Are you sure you didn’t unconsciously misplace it?”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“I’d prefer to think that I’ve just dazzled you, and you can’t think straight.”
He laughed. “Well, there is that.”
“I get how you feel about this town, Reno. I truly do.” Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt and she drew him close. Her luscious mouth hovered mere inches away. “But sometimes a little freshening up doesn’t hurt. You like what we’ve done with the senior center, the candy store, and now Town Square. I hope you’ll extend that same optimism when we get to your place. It’s only a few weeks away, you know.”
A few weeks away.
A few weeks closer to changing everything he loved about this store.
A few weeks of getting to know her better, falling for her a little more every day, only to have her toss everything out the window as she drove out of his life.
A few weeks until he found himself alone again. Wishing for something he couldn’t have and wanting it badly just the same.
Maybe he was getting way ahead of himself. But the idea of another devastating loss tightened around his throat. Sent a cold chill up his back. And pushed him back behind the wall he’d erected to protect himself.
“Yeah, well, until then, you don’t get to touch a damned thing. Here’s your clock.” He bent down, pulled out a rectangular box, and shoved it into her hands. “You might want to hurry so you can get that put up in time.”
He warned himself not to look into her eyes, but he did it anyway.
A deep furrow pulled those delicate brows together over eyes clouded with confusion. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just . . . burning daylight.”
“And that’s enough to make your mood do a one-eighty?” She settled the box on her hip and turned that confused look into a glare. “I don’t think so. What’s wrong?”
“Oh. You know. Just a good hard slap of reality.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to keep up with you, Reno. One minute we’re good. The next I don’t know where the hell you’re coming from.”
“Nobody’s asking you to keep up.”
“Wow.” Her jaw tightened. “Really?”
At his stupid silence, she said, “Fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got better things to do than deal with you and your P.M.S.”
As she headed toward the exit, Jackson walked in and held the door open for her—behaving like the gentleman their mother had raised. He, on the other hand, needed a good whack upside the head.
“Nice to see you, Ms. Brooks,” Jackson said.
She flashed him a hesitant smile. “Charli.”
“You need help with that?” Jack held out his arms to take the cardboard box.
“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” She turned her head and said to Reno, “Guess I’ll see you later.”
With an appreciative eye, Jackson watched her go. Then he turned back to Reno. “What’s up here, big brother?”
“Working on purchases until she showed up to collect her clock.”
“You could have offered to carry the box for her.”
“Apparently, she didn’t want help.”
“Hmmm.”
Reno glanced up from the computer monitor. “Hmmm, what?”
His brother lifted the straw Stetson from his head and shoved a hand through his hair. “Thought I saw something going on between you two at the party the other night.”
“Guess you saw wrong.” As cool as possible, Reno went back to perusing the company names and figures on the spreadsheet so as not to give his overly intuitive brother any ammunition.
“Bullshit.” Jack grabbed a stool and sat down.
“Don’t make something up that isn’t there, little bro. You’ll only be disappointed.”
“Yeah? Then how come you look like you’re stuck in an emotional blender?”
“You know, I’ve known you your whole life, and I still can’t make sense of some of the shit you say.”
“Hell you don’t.” Jack laughed. “When I walked in, there was enough sexual tension in here to kill a whorehouse cat.”
“Delusional. That’s you.” Reno pointed. “Look it up in the dictionary.”
“So . . . nothing going on?”
“Nope.”
“Cool.” Jack’s broad shoulders lifted. “Then I guess that gives me the green light to ask her out.”
Tension knotted the back of Reno’s neck. “What is it with you and Jesse wanting to take that girl out? She’s here for three more weeks. Pretty damned sure she’s not going to be interested in hooking up with either one of you.”
“Why? Because she’s already hooked up with you?”
“Yeah.” A rush of air pushed from his lungs. “Satisfied?”
“Are you?”
Several heartbeats passed before he could answer, then he did so with the truth. “No.”
“She’s no good?”
He shook his head. “Not going to go there with you.”
“I didn’t mean in bed.” The look on Jackson’s face was one of utter disappointment. “Give me a little credit would you?”
“Sorry.”
“I meant she’s no good for you?”
“She’s perfect for me. That’s the problem.”
“How so?” Jackson unscrewed the cap on the soda bottle in his hand and took a drink.
“For starters, like I said a minute ago, in three weeks she’ll say adios.”
“And you can’t take another loss,” Jack said bluntly.
The truth more than hurt. It knocked the wind from his lungs. “Nope.”
“Maybe she’ll decide she likes you enough to stay.”
“Not a chance in hell. We’re too different.”
“How so?”
“Do you know who her father is?”
“How would I know that?”
“General Thomas Brooks.”
Jack’s brows shot up his forehead. “United States Marine Lieutenant General Thomas Brooks?”
Reno nodded.
“Get the fuck out.”
“I’m serious. Do you know what that means?”
“That her father’s a mean-ass son of a bitch?”
“Besides that.”
Jackson took another slug of Pepsi. “Clue me in.”
“Means she’s used to moving around. Frequently. She took a job on a makeover show. A traveling job. One where she’s never home. And she loves her job. Which means she’s never going to be home.”
“And that kind of moving-around-from-place-to-place lifestyle is not okay with you.”
“
We both want something completely different. She’d never be happy staying in a Podunk town like Sweet.”
“Have you asked her that?”
“No need.”
“You sure?”
Am I?
If the ache in the center of his chest was any indication, then . . . “Yes.”
“Well, at least you put yourself out there.” Jackson studied him for a moment.
“What?” Reno asked, curious as to the reason behind his brother’s serious contemplation.
“I’m just trying to figure out where we screwed up in life so bad that it just seems like we’re always going to be on the outside looking in. Why you and I are never going to have the kind of relationship Mom and Dad had.”
Reno knew his brother referred not only to his loss of Diana but also Jackson’s divorce from a perfectly wonderful woman. Fiona’s only problem had been that she wasn’t Abby Morgan—the woman Jackson had been in love with since he’d learned to tie his shoelaces.
“You’re young,” Reno said, even knowing it was a ridiculous statement because he was only a few years older. “It’ll happen for you.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m not going to lay money down on either of us.”
Chapter 18
Forrest Gump had nothing on a box of chocolates when it came to weddings. Each was as different as the people who stood in front of friends and family and pledged their love. Charli had been to blowout weddings in Beverly Hills, where the bride and groom simply selected a wedding planner, wrote out a check, and showed up on the big day. She’d also been to intimate weddings held on a beach where waves crashed on the shoreline as the couple recited vows they’d written themselves, then celebrated the night away under the glow of tiki torches.
The wedding of Aiden Marshall and Paige Walker had been traditional right down to the very simple wedding bands they’d exchanged.
As the couple stood in the new Victorian gazebo beneath thousands of twinkling fairy lights, they spoke the same time-honored vows as millions before them. The bride wore a classic white gown. The groom wore a timeless black tux.
There hadn’t been a dry eye in the entire place.
Including the groom’s.
Charli wasn’t sure she’d ever seen tears spill from a tough soldier’s eyes before. Especially her father. Even on the day he’d buried his wife.
Aiden had cried.
He’d been secure enough in his masculinity that he could let the entire world know just how much he loved the woman at his side. In Charli’s eyes, that made him an exceptional man.
Paige was a lucky, lucky woman.
As the celebration continued, and the dancing began, Charli swiped a piece of cake and took her plate over to a quiet picnic table. She kicked off her shoes, then sat back to appreciate all the work her crew had accomplished to make this wedding transpire.
She studied the beautiful craftsmanship on the gazebo, the perfectly laid pavers that led to multiple areas of the park and created a nice walking path. She breathed deep the fragrance of the new rose garden and scented blooms. And her ears delighted at the splashing sounds from the new waterfall. Somehow, they had pulled it all together. And it was magic.
That she was enjoying it alone? Well, that sucked.
She speared her fork into the fluffy marble cake, pleased that the bride had forgone fondant for buttercream icing. She adored buttercream. As a habit, she seemed to indulge in the taste of things that were overly pleasurable. Things—and maybe people too—that might not always be good for her.
Or her heart.
Her gaze traveled across the lawn toward the gazebo, where the community chatted, couples danced a waltz, and Reno stood with his brothers.
Stubborn ass.
She hadn’t spoken to him in four days.
During daylight hours, he’d managed to stay inside the hardware store while she’d remained outside in the park. When she’d gotten home late, his lights had been off. In the mornings, she’d heard the roar of his truck fly down the gravel road well before the sun peeked over the hilltops.
They’d missed each other at every turn.
Accidental?
Nope.
She’d decided whatever had crawled up his pant leg and set him off needed to cool down. So she’d decided two could play at his game—though it was a lonely one. In just the few short days they’d been together, she’d gotten used to the sound of his voice. Anticipated his laughter. And basked in the warmth of his arms.
She missed him.
But she also knew that with a man like Reno, you couldn’t push. He had to come at things on his own, in his own time. She was willing to wait for a little while. But if he thought he could just pretend like she didn’t exist for very long, well, she wouldn’t let that happen.
She was the daughter of a Marine general.
She didn’t just let things go.
She went after them with combat skills and stealth reconnaissance.
If all else failed, she wasn’t above resorting to tears.
A sigh slipped from her chest as she dug into the thick buttercream with renewed vigor. All she needed now was a pint of caramel-chunk ice cream, and she could just drown her frustration in saturated fat.
She took a bite, and the hairs on the back of her neck tingled. She looked up and forced the cake down her throat. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
His dark eyes searched her face.
She watched him.
Waited for him to say something.
Anything.
All the while wishing he’d just reach down, pull her up into his arms, and kiss the living daylights out of her.
“You’re right.”
Yeah. Not really what she wanted to hear. “Well. You may have excellent Cheshire-cat vanishing skills, but at least you’re honest.”
Dark eyes guarded, lips flattened together in an impassive slash, his expression was unreadable. His hands disappeared into the pockets of his dress pants. His shoulders stiffened beneath his crisp blue shirt. His highly shined boots shifted in the grass. “You’re upset.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Your face is all scrunched up.”
“Maybe I’m just tired.”
“I don’t doubt that. You and your team did an incredible job here. And I’m thankful you gave my friends the wedding they deserved.”
“Thank you.”
He glanced away. When his eyes came back to hers, they were shadowed with unspoken words. “Can we talk?” His voice was low. Apologetic.
Her heart dropped into the glob of buttercream in her stomach.
She knew that tone. Had heard it before. Maybe not from him, but she’d been the recipient of what was about to come often enough that she could almost recite it line for line.
The last thing she wanted to hear was him telling her that being with her had been a monumental error in judgment. So she had no choice but to beat him to it. Even though getting the words out might be impossible.
“Look . . .” She prayed the tempo of her heart would slow enough for her to speak in a rational tone. “You don’t have to explain. I pretty much threw myself at you. Obviously, I forced you into something you either weren’t interested in or comfortable with. It doesn’t take a sledgehammer for me to get it that you . . .” She couldn’t speak the words. “And that’s okay.” Liar. “Really. I understand. I’m—”
“Do I look like the kind of man who could be forced into anything?” His words came out in a growl.
“Not really.”
“Do I look like the kind of man who’d be with a woman he wasn’t interested in?”
His dark brows pulled together. Eyes churned with turmoil. Hard to say what was going on in that handsome head. “Ummmm.”
“No,” he answered. “I’m not. I don’t know what you think I’m going to say, but why don’t you just give me a chance to say it anyway?”
She pushed away her half-eaten cake and tried to ignore the Mexican Hat Dance goi
ng on in her gut. “Okay.”
“You scare the hell out of me, Charli.” After a moment of silence that drew out like the evening tide, he folded his strong arms across that magnificent chest. His gaze pinpointed her until she squirmed and resettled on the picnic bench.
“I look at you, and all I do is want you,” he said. “And not in just a sexual way. And that makes me start thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking. Wanting things I shouldn’t want. You confuse me. And you tempt me until I can’t think straight anymore. So I had to back off.”
He took a deep breath like he was gearing up for round two.
Charli bit her lip to keep from bursting out with “I love you” or something equally as crazy.
“I had to give myself time to think.”
“And what did you conclude?” Wow. She amazed herself at how composed she sounded.
He sat down on the bench beside her, and she scooted over to give him room. He smelled clean. Like soap, and aftershave, and warm, sexy male. His heat seeped into her, and they weren’t even touching.
“I don’t know.” He looked away.
When his eyes came back to hers she could not only see the confusion ripping him apart, she could feel it.
“I’ve been fighting myself for so long, I don’t know how to do anything else. That’s why the Marines were so good for me. I finally got a chance to fight something else. I got to fight for something for a change.”
Fight for me, she wished silently.
“Then the endless shit cycle began. My brother was killed. My father died . . .”
His pause was so heartbreaking Charli wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go.
“And when the woman I loved was killed, I thought maybe it was all my fault. Like somehow they all died because they knew me.” His hands curled into fists. “Like I was the connecting factor, and they all disappeared from my life because they’d touched some evil part of me left over from when I’d lived with Angela in that crack house,” he said, unaware that she even knew the whole story.
“Reno—”
“You’re leaving in a couple of weeks,” he said starkly. “When people leave my life . . . they don’t come back. Logic tells me it’s better to let you go now. To not get any closer.”
She laid her hand over the bunched muscles in his forearm. “Sometimes you just have to take a chance. To live your life and let the shadows disappear.”
Candis Terry - [Sweet, Texas 01] Page 24
