by Amy Woods
“I was thinking,” he said, his words piercing through her thoughts, “that we could stop by the art gallery and take a look there. They have jewelry in the gift shop that I’ve seen her admire more than once when she thought no one was looking.”
“Sounds great,” Paige said, tossing him her warmest smile. The joy she felt around him was pure and simple, and she wished with all her might that she could sink into it without the fear that remained latched to her heart.
They walked the short distance to the small gallery, and Paige was thankful for the blast of cool air that greeted them inside. The building was beautiful and bright, with a skylight that let in all the sunshine without the accompanying heat. She had been there a few times before, including once at night for an event, and the stars had shone through then. It was incredibly romantic, actually—the kind of place she’d love to be in with Liam someday.
Someday. Maybe. There was no harm in dreaming, right?
Once inside, Liam glanced around, and then he did reach for her hand. Tentatively, she let him take it.
He led her around the gallery, telling her about each of the local artists responsible for the amazing creations on the walls. Though she’d seen them before, Paige had never experienced the paintings like she did now. Liam could see things in them that her eyes simply glossed over. To him, they were more than just colors on canvas—there was life in each piece. A bit of the artist lived there, right inside the tint and shading left behind by hundreds of brushstrokes.
She watched him as he spoke about the work, his eyes lit up with pure elation, and she could see why Owen had chosen to open up to the art teacher. He was a mature man, no doubt, but there was also the openness and lack of judgment she’d only ever witnessed in children. “Paige?”
It took a second for her to register Liam’s voice over the din of her own thoughts. He squeezed her hand gently to get her attention.
“Hmm?” She met his eyes and saw amusement and tenderness in them.
“I asked if you’re ready to go check out the gift shop yet,” he said, chuckling at her momentary lapse into her own psyche.
“Sure. I’m ready,” she said, taking a last look around the gallery, still amazed at how much she’d learned about its collection in such a short time.
Liam had a way of opening her eyes, of helping her to notice things that she would otherwise overlook. Maybe that was why Owen responded to him so well—perhaps he did the same for her child.
He led her to the small gift shop and helped her choose a pair of delicate, gorgeous turquoise earrings for Rachel. They cost no more than a decent bottle of wine, but Paige was pleased that her gift would be much more personal, though why it mattered so much, she wasn’t willing to admit just yet. After, they bought a Coke and shared sips on the way back to their vehicles. When they arrived, Paige looked around quickly before clenching his T-shirt into her fists and pulling him toward her, the small paper bag of jewelry the only thing between them.
She kissed him gently at first, but only a few seconds passed before they were both breathless and hungry for something they knew they couldn’t give in to, and she pulled away, despite every fiber of her being wanting to stay. Without saying another word, she walked to her car. Paige bet he was watching her leave, leaning against his pickup truck with his arms crossed, the afternoon sun casting shadows against the taut muscles his T-shirt did little to hide, and she knew she’d never again want anything as badly as she had in that moment.
Chapter Six
That Sunday, Liam pulled up to Rachel’s house and admired the place for the hundredth time. More than a century old, it sat on a few acres near downtown Peach Leaf. The house and property had been a gift from their great-aunt, and it bore its long life with pride. On the land still sat the gazebo where his parents had been married all those years ago, a small vegetable garden, a pool and the guesthouse where he’d made his home for the past few months.
Even though he’d been too proud to take the main house for himself when his aunt had died, he would look for something similar when he was ready to start searching for his own home. He loved that Peach Leaf kept its history alive, and instead of sprawling new housing developments, there were antiques to educate and be admired.
Lately, though, he had begun to hope that maybe he wouldn’t be alone when he started that search for a house. He thought of Paige and the way he’d kissed her the day before. He hadn’t planned to do it, but it had come naturally and felt easy, as though he was meant to do it for the rest of his life. And then there was the totally unexpected kiss she’d given him…
Even though she’d resist it if he pushed her, he knew Paige was beginning to feel the same way toward him. He’d seen her eyes shade with something intense when he’d touched her; he hadn’t missed the way she’d leaned ever so slightly into his hand. And she certainly hadn’t pulled away when their lips had met. He knew he was getting too close, and if he kept at it, there wouldn’t be a damn thing either of them could do except give in to their attraction. Doing so would change not just two lives, but three, and he wasn’t sure either he or Paige was ready for that just yet.
Liam parked his truck out front and straightened his clothes as he walked to the door. He’d given up the comfort of his usual jeans and a soft T-shirt for khakis and a polo shirt. He knew Rachel would give him hell for it, but he wanted to show Paige that he was more than just a paint-covered art teacher.
“Hi, Uncle Liam!” his niece, Kaylie, said as she answered the door. Cake icing covered her face.
“Look at you,” he said. “Did your brother attack you with the dessert?”
Kaylie laughed and Liam picked her up and set her on his shoulders to carry her into the kitchen, where he could smell his sister’s delicious cooking. His stomach grumbled at the thought of a homemade lunch. Rachel invited him to join her family every night for dinner, and he knew she and her husband, Jackson, meant it when they said they loved his company, but Liam made a point not to interfere too much. As much as he adored their family, their joy was a painful reminder that he’d lost the chance to make his own.
Liam grabbed Rachel’s shoulders from behind and wrapped her in a hug. She squealed and turned around to smack him gently on the arm, her smile giving her away.
“I see Kaylie’s decorated you too,” she said, and he noticed Rachel’s face had spots of the same pink icing covering his niece’s.
“What do you mean?” He did a once-over of his clothes to check for the sugary stuff.
“Should we tell him?” Rachel asked, lifting Kaylie down from his shoulders.
Kaylie giggled uncontrollably and pointed at his face.
“What?” he asked. Rachel joined in her daughter’s laughter.
“Unless you’re trying a new look and got into it with some dye,” she said, “I’m pretty sure it’s in your hair.”
Great. All his efforts for Paige had been shot by an eight-year-old covered in pink goo.
“I’m going to the bathroom to see if I can’t undo some of this damage. If Paige gets here before I’m back, don’t scare her away.” He stopped in the doorway and held out a warning finger; Rachel just rolled her eyes.
“Promise me.”
“Okay, okay. I promise,” she said, making sure he saw her crossing her fingers behind her back.
“I mean it. I know where you live.”
He left the kitchen smiling to himself and was on his way to the powder room in the front hall when the doorbell chimed.
“Can you get that, sweetie?” Rachel called out to Liam. “My hands are covered in this stuff.”
It was either clean up and leave Paige standing outside, waiting, or answer the door.
Liam ran a hand through his hair and hoped for the best as he pulled the door open.
“Well, hi there,” he said. Paige and Owen stood o
utside on the porch. Liam noticed the nervous way she patted down her hair and fidgeted with her purse. He ignored the anxiety that crossed his mind, hoping she didn’t have regrets about their time together the day before. He sure as hell didn’t.
But then, he supposed he wasn’t anyone to judge because it was very likely he had pink icing on top of his head at that very moment. He held only an inkling of optimism that Paige wouldn’t notice.
“I hope I’m not too early.”
“Not at all. You’re in for a treat with Rachel’s cooking. She’s just pulling lunch out of the oven.” He smiled at her and stepped into the house and out of the way so she and Owen could come in.
He thought he’d escaped without Paige noticing, but then Owen reached up a hand and pointed directly at Liam’s hair before turning to grin at his mother. Her eyes followed his arm and widened when they landed on his head. She covered her mouth.
“All right, what’s so funny?”
Her eyes sparkled up at him, their blue clarity shining like sea glass in the sunlight that swept the foyer. Any uneasiness between them vanished, unlike the icing.
“I see you’ve been doing some baking yourself,” she said and surprised him by poking a finger into his ribs. She turned to Owen as Liam jabbed at the goo. Instead of removing it, he succeeded only in spreading it further into his hair and all over his fingers. Now he would be forced to give in to Rachel’s prodding and get that haircut sooner rather than later.
“So much for making a good…third…impression.”
“The first wasn’t as bad as you might think,” Paige said before turning to her son. “And the second…well.” She caught his eye over Owen’s head as she tugged nervously on her child’s shirt, adjusting his collar.
Liam felt a stupid grin cross his face. Paige smiled herself before looking away.
“Owen, how do you like Mr. Campbell’s pink hair?”
The child looked between his mother and teacher, his smile melting Liam’s heart yet again.
“I think it suits me just fine,” Liam said and reached out to tousle Owen’s hair—a motion that felt completely natural.
Strange, how all of his accomplishments paled in comparison to the not-so-small fact of this kid’s smile. All of Liam’s education and high honors, his teaching awards at the school he’d left—none of it mattered next to seeing Owen’s face light up.
He knew he would feel the same way with his own child one day. But what would happen to Owen if he and Paige didn’t end up together? His throat tightened as thoughts of the little guy’s life passing by flooded Liam’s mind before he could stop them.
He cupped a hand behind Paige’s elbow and led his guests toward Rachel’s kitchen.
As he walked beside her, he stole a glance.
Her hair, which he’d mostly seen in the somewhat severe ponytails she favored at school, and the messy but cute knot she’d worn it in the day before, hung loose around her shoulders, which were left bare by the soft pink tank she wore over a white cotton skirt. She brought to mind summer days by the sea, and he wished so hard that he could lean over, push her hair aside and kiss the space behind her ear. It would be soft and warm—inviting to his hungry lips. She would taste even sweeter than she had yesterday, he was certain.
Liam was thankful when Rachel called to him from the kitchen to hurry up and bring her guests on in so she could meet them. He’d have to be mighty careful to keep such enticing thoughts at bay. He reminded himself that he was here to help Owen, which he fully intended to do. And if he wasn’t careful, Rachel’s keen eye would see right past his shield and she would find out in no time what was going on inside his foolish head.
With that in mind, he released Paige’s elbow to hold the French doors open and led them into the kitchen.
Rachel set a pan down on the granite island and removed oven mitts to shake Paige’s outstretched hand, which she covered with both of hers. The two women smiled warmly at each other as Liam did the introductions.
“You didn’t tell me Assistant Principal Graham was such a beauty,” Rachel said, winking at Liam.
Wow. She was even quicker than he’d thought. Best just to keep his mouth shut. He had no intention of making Paige uncomfortable. There would be time another day to figure out where this thing between the two of them was headed, but not today. Today was about Owen.
Liam left them to get sweet tea from the refrigerator where Rachel always kept a pitcher in the summertime, and he could hear his two favorite women chatting easily at the dining room table where they’d settled. He checked on Owen and was pleased to see that he had joined Jeremy and Kaylie in the living room. Liam’s seven-and eight-year-old nephew and niece were treating Owen as if he’d been their friend forever. They didn’t seem to even notice that he was quiet.
Liam chuckled to himself. Owen probably couldn’t have gotten a word in for all their chatter even if he’d wanted to. His niece and nephew were homeschooled so they were always glad to meet new kids their age, and their constant talk likely made Owen feel more comfortable because it removed the pressure to talk.
Liam returned to the kitchen and found a tray in one of Rachel’s many cabinets, propped four glasses and the pitcher on it—his brother-in-law, Jackson, would be home soon—and joined the women in the dining room.
“So he’s a teacher and you’re a principal and I’m capable of connecting the dots, but how did you two get to know each other so well?” Rachel asked, passing out the glasses and filling them all with tea. “Liam has talked nonstop about you since he started at Peach Leaf.”
Liam kicked Rachel gently under the table and she shot him a look that was half venom and half sugar. He made a mental note to get her for that one later.
Paige’s skin turned a shade resembling the apples resting in a bowl on the table, and she looked like she might strangle Liam given half a chance, but she recovered quickly. “We’re just colleagues, actually. Owen is in his art class.” Paige took a sip of her tea and her color returned to normal. “My son seems to have taken to him,” she said, her features relaxing.
“Well, he has that effect on people,” his sister said. “We certainly love him around here. Jeremy and Kaylie will be sad to see their uncle go.”
Paige’s face fell before she could cover it, and Liam’s heart jumped.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked. The concern in her features pleased him a lot more than it should have.
“She means when I move into my own place,” he said, though he would have liked to ask her what difference it made if he was going somewhere. “I can’t stay here forever.”
“Actually, you could. No one else uses the guesthouse, and it suits you just fine, little brother.” Rachel smiled over her tea glass, eyes filled with adoration for her sibling. “It’s nice to have you in there.” She turned to Paige. “We missed him when he lived in Abilene. It was too far for my taste.” His sister winked at him across the table and raised the pitcher to refill their glasses.
He smiled back at Rachel. “You know I love the guesthouse and being close to you all, but I need a place of my own if I’m going to make a life in this town.”
“Well, you’ve got me there. The guesthouse is way too small for a family,” his sister said, and he was tempted to kick her in the shin again.
Geez. She wasn’t even sneaky about it.
If Paige wasn’t so sweet, surely she’d run out and not look back. Thankfully, Rachel changed the subject.
“So Owen’s in Liam’s class?”
“Yes,” Paige said. “And he loves it. It’s his favorite. He talks to me about it all the time.”
“It has nothing to do with me really—it’s the art. It gives him a way to express himself without having to speak.”
Paige’s eyes flew to her tea glass and Liam felt like a jerk for opening his big m
outh about it before she had a chance to explain.
“Owen hasn’t said much since his father died several months ago,” Paige said softly. “He talks only to me. But recently, he was able to talk to Mr. Campbell. To Liam.” Paige nodded at him across the table, and he caught her eye, holding it for a long moment.
“We’re going to keep working on it and see if we can’t get the guy reciting sonnets by the end of the year.”
Rachel caught the glance between them and excused herself to fetch more tea. Liam excused himself from Paige and followed his sister into the kitchen.
As they left, he saw Paige smile. He knew her hopes were high, and he only wished he—and Owen—could live up to them.
* * *
“She’s lovely,” Rachel said. “And those earrings—be still my heart.”
She put down the towel she’d been using to wipe the counter and turned to face him. Her eyes, exact replicas of his own, stared back at him, the cheer from a few moments before replaced with a seriousness he hadn’t seen since he’d told her about his divorce.
“Honey, you know I love you with all my heart,” she said. “But I need you to be straight with me here.”
Liam braced himself for what was coming. Rachel had always been able to read him like a book—a fact that proved highly inconvenient when he didn’t want to be studied.
“Are you sure you’re helping her son and not yourself?”
“It’s not like that, Rach,” he lied. Her head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed. He needed to work on keeping his feelings off his face.
She continued, not listening to him. “Not that I wouldn’t love to see you with someone again.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You haven’t been the same since that woman left you high and dry.”
“Callie and I agreed on the divorce. We both had our reasons.”
