by Melissa Tagg
He glanced away so he wouldn’t have to see whatever form of shock Raegan might exhibit—disdain, disgust, maybe just pure disbelief. “That’s my background, Rae. Can’t count the number of times my dad came home and told my mom to take me and Rio to the park or the pool or something just to get us out of the way so he could conduct the ‘family business’ right in our apartment.”
“Oh, Bear.”
“Violence, vandalism, stealing, all part and parcel. I tried to get Rio out of that world. Can’t even tell you the lengths I went to.” Or what it’d cost him. What it’d cost John and Elizabeth’s daughter. Annie. He couldn’t tell Raegan that part because he might just lose it entirely, fall apart right in front of her, if the words passed his lips.
No second chances.
Raegan touched his arm. “So the kids are with you because . . .”
He shrugged, looked to Erin, who’d climbed down from her chair and now hopped around the room. “Rosa said something about threats, but honestly, I don’t know what to believe at this point. She wouldn’t let me call the police. If you ask me, it’s because she’s scared of child protective services. She just begged me to take the kids. Their apartment is a wreck. Utilities shut off. Rosa got a thirty-day eviction. I’m starting to think there’s a lot more she didn’t tell me.”
“So you came here,” Raegan finished for him.
“Because I didn’t know where else to go. Or what to do. I still don’t.” He finally let himself meet her eyes. And oh, a man could live on what he saw there. Not pity or aversion or even surprise. Just pure, unadulterated respect.
But how . . . how could she look at him like that, so much esteem in her gaze, after all he’d just told her?
“You got those kids out of a bad environment. You probably saved Jamie’s life this morning. I’d say you’re doing just fine so far. And now you’re not alone.”
It was as if she knew the very words his soul needed to hear. He had to look away lest she see the grateful, tired tears pooling behind his eyelids.
“There’s just one thing, Bear.”
He blinked. “What’s that?”
“You can’t keep Jamie and Erin in the apartment, nor can you keep sleeping on that couch. Not if you’re going to be here for any length of time.”
“It’s that obvious how sore I am?”
“There’s that, yes.” Her laugh was an antidote he hadn’t known he needed. “And also, I kinda want my art room back.”
How many ways could a person say a kind but firm no?
Raegan pocketed her phone, choosing to disregard Mayor Milt’s latest message as she bounded toward the front door. He’d texted her three times today already, the gist of every message the same—he wanted her to reconsider the art show, his request for an original painting.
“Raegan, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
And then there was Beckett and his silly concern about the car pulling into the driveway this very moment. Or rather, the occupants of the car. One occupant in particular.
“I said I really don’t think—”
“This is a good idea.” Raegan interrupted her brother as she pulled open the door and stepped onto Dad’s front porch. “I know. I heard you the first seventeen times you said it.”
The rain from earlier in the day had finally let up, leaving behind a lingering cool and that loamy, muddy scent she loved so. Why did anyone ever want to move away from Iowa? Every season had its beauty. Every landscape had its gorgeous layers of color. Even the black soil of freshly tilled fields was pretty in its promise of new life waiting to push through in leaves and stalks of green and gold.
Beckett let out an aggravated snort behind her. “And yet, there’s the guy now, all ready to move in.”
“You say ‘move in’ as if he just pulled up in a U-Haul. They’ve got all of a duffel bag and one suitcase between them, Beck. Bear’s not moving in. He’s just staying here with the kids for a week or two. It’s not as if we don’t have enough bedrooms. Dad always says his house is open to anyone and everyone.”
Besides, Bear was clearly miles past exhausted. He needed help. Bear McKinley, who’d never seemed to need anything in the past, needed help.
It was as if he were a completely different man than the one she’d known before. That Bear had been calm, purposeful, peaceful. He’d always had a sage word of advice, always offered a gentle listening ear.
This Bear? He seemed almost . . . broken.
“I know hospitality is rule of law around here.” Beckett marched onto the porch beside her. “But this is Bear.”
“Who you’ve never even met.” Which meant his qualms were entirely illogical.
Beckett crossed his arms as Bear stepped out of the rental car. “Don’t have to meet the guy to know I’m not his biggest fan. You moped about the dude for months. Don’t forget, I was here.”
Strands of hair fluttered around her cheeks in the breeze as she watched Bear open the back driver’s side door so Jamie and Erin could spill out. “Yes, you were here, and if you’ll remember, you bought me a plane ticket and told me to run after him.”
Beckett rolled his eyes. “If you had run after him and the two of you had gone all happily-ever-after on us, then I’d obviously like him. But as it stands now, he’s just the guy who waltzed in to town years ago, played around with my little sister’s heart, and then ditched her. For all I know, now he’s back to do the same. Right under our own roof.”
“He didn’t play around with my heart and he didn’t ditch me.” If only she hadn’t texted Beckett. Then he’d most likely be off somewhere flirting with Kit instead of here. “You should talk to Logan or Kate. Better yet, Seth. Or even Dad. They all know Bear. They all like him.”
Did Seth even know Bear was back yet? Her cousin and Bear had been practically attached at the hip. Before Seth had gotten married, he’d lived here in the basement for a few years, which meant Bear had spent plenty of time at the Walker house. Seth said all the time that he never would’ve gotten his restaurant built without Bear’s constant help and encouragement.
That was the kind of guy Bear was—all strength and soft edges. If Beckett would quit with the overprotective big brother act for a second, he might see it for himself in the way Bear swung Erin up onto his back for a piggyback ride, placed his palm on Jamie’s shoulder, guiding him toward the house.
His nephew didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture, though. Jamie pulled away to walk ahead of Bear.
“Be nice,” she hissed to Beckett before their guests reached the porch steps. “Hey, guys. Welcome to the Walker B&B.”
“B&B?” Jamie’s forehead wrinkled. Hardly any of this morning’s swelling was apparent now.
“Bed and breakfast. My dad always jokes that he feels like he’s running one. If it’s not his adult children hanging around, it’s his nephew living in the basement or Colton Greene camping out in one of the bedrooms.”
“Colton Greene?” Jamie gasped. “Like the football player?”
“The very one. He’s married to my sister. They live in town now.”
Bear climbed the steps, Erin still on his back. “You’re sure your dad doesn’t mind this?”
“Are you kidding? He loves having a full house. He won’t be home from Chicago until later this weekend, but trust me, he’ll love having you here.”
Bear turned to Beckett. “You must be Beckett.” He shifted Erin in order to free one hand.
Beckett took his offered handshake. “The only Walker you haven’t met, apparently. But I’ve heard a lot.”
Raegan glowered at Beckett over Bear’s shoulder until her brother forced a grin. Fake, but at least it was an effort.
“Let’s get you all inside and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping. Bear, is the car unlocked? Beckett can get your bags, if so.” She ushered Jamie inside. “Feel free to explore.”
“I kinda get the feeling Beckett’s not feeling as good about this arrangement as you, Rae,” Bear said as he fol
lowed her into the house. He toed off his shoes just inside the door, then set Erin down. She went running off after Jamie, up the staircase to the second floor.
“Ignore Beck. It’s been like forty-five whole minutes since he last saw his girlfriend. He’s probably just in withdrawal.”
Bear trailed her up the few steps into the split-level home’s living room. It couldn’t look much different than the last time he was here—brown leather furniture, throw pillows and blankets in greens and blues, fireplace mantel crammed with photos.
And the framed family portrait over by the picture window, the one in which Raegan still had braces and teenage acne. But then why would anybody ever look at her in the picture when they could look at Mom? She’d still been healthy when that portrait was taken, years into her first remission. Her skin had a luminous glow, her blond hair had finally grown out, and her smile . . .
It was comfort and safety and faith and home.
“You look even more like her now than you did back when I first met you. Especially with your hair long.”
Her gaze shot to Bear. “Beckett said the same thing the other day.”
“Beckett who clearly doesn’t like me.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s just protective. He thinks . . . or assumes . . . that is, he’s under the impression that the two of us, that there might be more . . .” Great, now her cheeks were warming.
Understanding unfolded in Bear’s dark eyes. “Ah. Gotcha.”
“But I set him straight, don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“I mean, I have no thought that we, that you and I . . .” She waved her finger back and forth between them. “What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t offer to let you stay here because—” Bear was grinning. Why was he grinning? “What?”
An amused gleam took over his expression. “Just thinking about how funny it’d be if Beckett walked in the front door and saw us—”
“Uncle Bear, can we have the room with the bunk beds?” Erin’s voice bounded in, along with her footsteps on the carpeted stairway.
Raegan placed her hands on her hips. “If Beckett walked in and saw us what?”
Bear shrugged. “I can think of any number of things to set his suspicious imagination running wild.”
“Things like what?”
He only patted her head. “Never you mind. I don’t want to get you in trouble. Or myself. I’d hate for Big Brother out there to call me out.” He moved past her toward the stairway.
“Don’t pat my head like I’m five, Bear McKinley.”
“I’m five!” Erin called from the stairs.
Bear threw her a wink over his shoulder.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or glare, so she just stood there flummoxed and probably—definitely—blushing. Caught between delight and the disconcerting thought that maybe Beckett had a point. This might be a bad idea. All those months she’d spent trying to get over Bear and now . . .
“Where do the bags go?”
She hadn’t even heard the front door open, but there stood Beckett, suitcase under one arm and duffel over his shoulder. “Upstairs.”
They found her guests on the second floor, peering in the doorway to Beckett’s room. Jamie reached for her arm. “Please can we stay in here? I’ve always wanted bunk beds.”
“We’ve got two extra rooms up here, so you don’t have to share—”
“We want to share,” Jamie cut in, a sudden tension tightening the boy’s features.
For at least the tenth time since all Bear had told her in the hospital about these kids and their background, her heart lurched. “Whatever you want. Of course, this is Beckett’s room, but I’m sure he won’t mind temporarily relocating.” She shot her brother a cajoling look.
“You sleep in a bunk bed?” Bear turned from the doorway.
Beckett grimaced. “Yeah, so? Raegan sleeps in a daybed.”
“I know, but—”
Beckett released the bags and they thumped to the floor. “Wait, you know? Why do you know what kind of bed my sister sleeps in?”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. “Because he’s been to our house before, Beck, like a hundred times.”
There was that impish grin on Bear’s face again. “Yeah, I’ve hung out in Raegan’s room lots.”
Was that scowl of Beckett’s supposed to look menacing? And what did Bear think he was doing?
“All right, I’m calling it. Jamie and Erin, you can have Beckett’s room. Bear, you can have the basement where Seth used to sleep. That way, you can have some privacy. Both of you men, stop being idiots.”
Erin giggled at that, and Jamie was already climbing the ladder to the top bunk. Beckett took off down the hallway.
“You know, if you’re trying to get my brother to like you, you’re doing an awfully lousy job.”
But Bear wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were on the kids, the look on his face somewhere between worry and wonder. “Jamie telling you he’s always wanted bunk beds—that’s about the most I’ve heard him say at once.” He swallowed. “I’ve been wondering if he’s just not talkative in general or if it’s me he’s . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence.
“He’s had a lot of change in a short amount of time, Bear. He’s adjusting. What can I do to help?”
He turned to face her. “You’re already helping. You’re putting us up.”
“Technically my dad’s the one doing that. Even if he isn’t here at the moment.” But she’d called him this afternoon and he’d said he was okay with it . . . as long as she was okay with it.
Dad hadn’t been overt as Beckett, but his underlying concern was there, all the same. She’d assured him she was more than okay with it. She’d keep a firm hold on her heart this time around. No whimsical emotions. No too-tight attachments. Just common sense and sisterly friendship.
“I’m really grateful, Rae,” Bear said now. “More than I can say.”
She could practically feel it, the depth of his gratitude. From the day she’d met Bear, he’d seemed a pillar of strength. And yet, he’d never talked of family, of friendships other than those formed while in Maple Valley. Who did Bear have to depend on?
“What else can I do, Bear? What do you need?”
He rubbed his hands over his cheeks—something she had seen before, his thinking move. “A shave, for one thing. And a job.”
“I can help with that. The job, not the shave. I know basically everybody in town and have worked for half of them. What kind of job do you want?”
He only peered at her, the soft polish in his opaque gaze nearly impossible to look away from. It’d always been like this with Bear—one look and she could swear he could read her every thought.
While she couldn’t begin to decipher his.
“I can’t believe you never told me you were an artist.”
Case in point. Where had that remark come from? “Were is the key word. I haven’t painted in years.”
“The current state of my apartment might suggest otherwise.”
A sheepish tickle crept through her. “About that—”
“But it fits. I should’ve seen it. You’ve got artist written all over you, even down to the way you decorated that basket with flowers on that turquoise bike you’re always riding around. Your bedroom is basically one big art project—not that Beckett would like me knowing that. And I remember when Seth was building The Red Door and you constantly had ideas for colors and furniture. I think you might be the most creative person I’ve ever met.”
She couldn’t find a single word to say in response. Not one word.
Finally, Bear leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I missed you, Rae.” He lingered only for a moment. Long enough for his warmth and the musky scent of his nearness to invade her senses. Long enough for her flighty heart to somersault.
Okay, fine, definitely a bad idea.
But it was too late now.
5
Raegan blamed Bear’s
smile. His voice. The look in his eyes when he’d called her the most creative person he’d ever met.
“There. That’s where I think the mural should go.” Raegan pointed to the old Hay & Feed Store, its reddish blend of brick and stone colliding with a sapphire sky. Mayor Milt’s head tipped beside her.
“You’ve got artist written all over you.” Bear’s words had done what Mayor Milt’s, even Mr. Hill’s, hadn’t been able to—they’d gotten her to ask, What if? A dusting of scattered possibilities, drifting in like windblown lilac petals—fragrant and enticing—had kept her awake past midnight last night. Pondering, considering, imagining, until . . .
The idea had taken root. A mural. A mural painted over the aged exterior of the building Mom used to love so. Now that would be a centerpiece for an art show.
Raegan had called Mayor Milt first thing this morning, before she could change her mind.
“I don’t understand.” Mayor Milt traced his white mustache with one finger, gazing at the building with a perplexed slant to his features. “I was thinking something more along the lines of that landscape painting you did in high school. The one that took first place in that show down in Des Moines.”
He remembered that? “You said you wanted something grand. You specifically mentioned a mural.”
“But—”
“And what better place for a mural than a vacant building that’s been in need of a facelift for years?”
“What if a business wants to move in someday?”
“And the likelihood of that is . . .”
Mayor Milt shrugged. “Fair enough. It’s a pit inside. But we’ve got less than two months until the show. You really think you can paint an entire mural in that time?”
