by Leanne Banks
“Jump?” She shook her head. “Most of the time I feel as though you’ve been dragged into this by your ankles. So, I guess jumping into bed with me doesn’t count?”
“Of course it counts, and that’s exactly my point,” he replied. “But I can’t give you what you want. I can’t and won’t make that kind of promise. It wouldn’t be fair to you, Lauren. I’ve had eighteen months to think about this, and I didn’t come to the decision lightly. I’m not going to get involved here, only to...”
“To what?”
He sucked in a breath. “To die.”
Lauren stepped back and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. He knew she heard fear in his voice, and he hated the sympathy in her eyes. But she kept on, relentless.
“I don’t need that kind of promise, Gabe.”
He shook his head. “You do. You would. If we got serious, you’d want it. Hell, you’d deserve it. And I couldn’t give it to you.”
“How do you know?” she asked. “You’re imagining the worst when—”
He made a frustrated sound. “Because I just know. Because I’ve lived with it for eighteen months. I know what being sick did to the people around me. As a doctor, I saw sickness every day and didn’t have one clue what my patients went through until I found myself on the other side of the hospital bed.”
“I wasn’t one of those people.”
“No, you weren’t. But you know how this could work out.” He raised a hand dismissively. “You’ve been through it, you grieved...you’re still grieving for Tim and that life you’d planned for.”
“This isn’t about Tim,” she said quickly. “This is about you. Tim had a terminal illness. An inoperable brain tumor. He was dying...you’re not.”
“I might,” he said flatly.
“So could I. No one can expect that kind of guarantee.”
“Isn’t that why you married a man you didn’t love?” he asked. “Because he was healthy and could give you that kind of assurance?”
“I was—”
“You were looking for your happily ever after,” he said, frustrated and annoyed and aching inside. “You were looking for a man who could give you the life you’d dreamed about. I can’t do that. Damn it, I don’t even know if I could give you the children you want so badly.”
Her face crumbled. “Oh, I hadn’t thought about—”
“About the possible side effects of chemotherapy and radiation.” Gabe expelled a heavy breath. “Well, think about this...there are no guarantees. And as much as you say you don’t want them, we both know you do. Go home, Lauren,” he said coldly, knowing he was hurting her, and knowing he had to. “Go home and forget about this.”
Forget about me.
Seconds later, she was gone.
Chapter Eleven
Lauren left the store early on Thursday afternoon and arrived home to find two battered trucks in Gabe’s driveway and one in hers. The fence between the two properties, which had long since been hidden by the overgrown hedge, was now in piles of broken timber on both front lawns. She maneuvered her small vehicle around the truck and parked under the carport.
One of the workers came around to her car and apologized up front for the noise they were making and said they’d be finished for the day within a couple of hours.
“But that tree has got to go,” he said, grinning toothlessly.
The tree was a tall pine that sat on the fence line and often dropped its branches on her roof. It wasn’t much of a tree, and her brother had offered several times to remove it for her.
“Oh, really?”
“The root system will wreck the new fence. We’ll get started on it this afternoon, if that’s okay?”
Lauren shrugged. “No problem.”
Once inside, she changed into jeans and white T-shirt and set her laptop up on the kitchen table. She had invoicing and wages to do and preferred to do it without the inevitable distractions at the store. She poured a glass of iced tea and sat down to work.
By four-thirty, the contractors were still at it. And they were noisy. They were digging new post holes along the fence line with a machine that made a loud clunk sound with every rotation. And the buzz of dueling chainsaws didn’t help her concentration.
Not that she was in a concentrating mood. For two days, she’d been walking around on autopilot, working at the store, talking to her mother, pretending nothing was wrong when she was broken inside.
Gabe’s words still haunted her. His admittance that he might not be able to father children played over and over in her mind. In her heart, she knew that didn’t matter to her. Sure, she wanted children. She longed for them. But she wanted Gabe more. Even though he didn’t want her back.
At the store that day, she’d arrived early and took inventory on a range of new arrivals. When that was done, she’d dressed two of the windows with new gowns and played around with matching accessories. When she was finished, she’d stood back and examined the results. Not bad, she’d thought. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed her work? Years. Too long. After Tim died, she’d lost interest in the fashions and could barely tolerate the enthusiasm of the clients looking for their perfect gown. Her own fairy tale was over, and Lauren took little pleasure in anything related to weddings or the store. It had stopped being fun and instead became a duty.
Perhaps it was time to sell the business and try something new?
She’d once had dreams of taking a break from the store when she was married and had a family of her own. But Tim’s death had changed everything, and now that dream seemed as unreachable as the stars around some distant planet. Because despite how much she’d convinced herself it was what she wanted, her plans for a loveless, passionless relationship were stupid. If falling for Gabe had shown her nothing else, Lauren now knew what she wanted. Along with friendship and compatibility, love and passion were vital. In fact, she wanted it all. Everything. A full and complete relationship.
Maybe a vacation was in order. She hadn’t been on a holiday for years. Perhaps that would quell her discontented spirit. In the meantime, she’d talk with her mother about putting on another part-time employee so she could take some time off. She thought she might even go back to college.
And she’d get over Gabe. She had to.
Lauren was just about to get herself a second glass of iced tea when she heard an almighty bang, followed by several loud shouts and then a crash and the booming sound of timber cracking. Another sound quickly followed—this one a hollow rumble that chilled her to the bone. The roof above creaked and groaned, and suddenly parts of the ceiling gave way as tiles and branches came cascading through the gaping hole now in her roof. She dived under the table as prickly branches and sharp barbs of shattered timber fell through the gap. Plaster from the ceiling showered across the room in a haze of dust and debris, and she coughed hard as it shot up her nose and into her lungs.
When it was over, she heard more shouts and the sound of heavy boot steps on the roof. She coughed again and wiped her watery eyes. Still crouching, she shuffled backward but quickly moved back when she felt a sharp sting on her left arm. A jagged branch had sliced her skin, and she clamped her right hand across the wound to stem the flow of blood. When that didn’t help she noticed her T-shirt was ripped in several places, so Lauren quickly tore off a strip from the hem and made a makeshift bandage to wrap around her arm.
She moved forward and tried to make another exit point, but the branches were thick and too heavy for her to maneuver out of the way. Lauren swallowed the dust in her throat and coughed again. The kitchen table was completely covered in branches and debris from the ceiling support beams, shattered roof tiles and plaster. Her legs started to stiffen in their crouched position, and she stretched forward, looking for a way out from under the table. She tried to push a few of the smaller branches out of the w
ay, but the sharp ends pinched her hands.
She could have been badly injured. Or worse. But she quickly put that thought from her mind and decided to wait for workers to come and help her. And finally, she heard a voice and heaved a relieved sigh.
“Lauren!”
Gabe. Her heart thundered in her chest when she heard footsteps down the hallway and then the sound of tiles crunching beneath his feet. She could see his jeans-clad legs through the twisted branches.
“Where are you?” he asked urgently, coming closer.
“I’m under here,” she said, and rattled one of the branches. “Under the table.”
“Are you hurt?”
“A few scratches,” she replied, coughing again and ignoring the throbbing sting from the gash on her arm. “But I think I’m mostly okay. I have a cut on my arm.”
“Stay still, and I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
He immediately made his way through the room, easily hauling fallen plaster and timber out of his path. The branches around the table shook and swayed, and she heard him curse under his breath. Within seconds, he’d made a space large enough for her to crawl through. He crouched down, and relief coursed through her veins. She pushed back the swell of emotion rising up.
“Give me your hand,” he said, and she reached out.
His fingers clasped around hers, warm and strong and lovely and safe. Lauren stifled a sob as he gently drew her out through the space and got her to her feet. And without a word, he folded her into his arms and held her close.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair as he gently stroked her scalp. “You’re okay now.”
Relief pitched behind her ribs, and as Lauren glanced around, the enormity of the destruction struck her like a lash. The room was wrecked. Plaster and timber were strewn over the floor, and benches and dust from the shattered ceiling plaster covered every surface. The huge branch that had fallen through the roof covered the entire table, and there were broken branches and foliage everywhere.
“Oh...what a mess.”
Gabe held her away from him. “Forget that for a minute. Let’s check your injuries.”
He quickly examined her and looked underneath her bandage. “I don’t think it needs stitches, but you should probably see a doctor.”
She smiled. “Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”
He stared at her for a moment, and then smiled back. “I guess so. I have a medical kit at home, so I can dress that for you. Now let’s get out of here.”
And then he lifted her up into his arms as though she were a feather.
“I can walk,” she protested.
“Humor me, okay?”
Her legs did feel shaky, so she nodded. Seconds later, he was striding down the hallway and out the front door. The contractors were all hovering by the bottom steps.
“I’m fine,” she assured them when she saw their worried faces.
“Don’t go inside,” Gabe told the workers. “There could be structural damage. I’ll be back soon, so wait here.”
She smiled at his bossiness and then dropped her head to his shoulder. It felt nice being in his strong arms. When he rounded the hedge, she noticed how his front door was wide-open, as if he’d left the house in a hurry.
“I really can walk,” she said once he’d carried her up the steps.
But he didn’t put her down until they reached the kitchen. Then he gently set her to her feet and pulled out a chair. Once she was settled and he’d grabbed a first-aid kit, he undid the makeshift bandage and examined the wound.
“It’s not deep,” he said, and cleaned the area, applied a small bandage around her forearm and then circled it in plastic wrap. “That should keep it dry when you shower.”
“Thanks,” she said, and fought the urge to fall into his arms again. “I need to get back to my house and call my insurance company.”
“Later,” he said. “I’ll go and check it out while you rest here.”
“There’s no need to—”
“There’s every need,” he said, and grabbed her hand. “You’ve just been through a frightening ordeal, and you’re injured. Plus, there’s a great gaping hole in the roof and there could be structural damage to the house.”
Lauren ran her free hand down her torn T-shirt and jeans. “I need some fresh clothes, so I’ll go home and change and then call the—”
“Stop being so damned obstinate,” he said impatiently. “Let me check out the house, and I’ll get your clothes while I’m there.”
She pulled her hand free. “I’m not sure I want you rummaging through my underwear drawer. It’s private and—”
“Lauren, I have seen you naked,” he reminded her. “Remember? It’s a little late for modesty. Go and take a shower, and I’ll be back soon.”
“A shower? I don’t know why you—”
“Once you look in the mirror, you’ll see why,” he said, and smiled. “I’ll be back soon.”
He left the room, and Lauren tried not to be irritated by his high-handedness. She cradled her sore arm and headed for the en-suite bathroom. And worked out why he’d insisted she shower. She was covered in grime and plaster dust. Her face and hair were matted with the stuff, and her clothes were speckled with blood and dirty smudges.
Lauren stripped off the soiled clothes and stepped beneath the warm water, mindful of the plastic-covered bandage. She washed her hair as best she could, and by the time she emerged from the cubicle, wrapped her hair up in a towel and slipped into his bathrobe, she heard him striding down the hallway.
He paused in the doorway carrying a short stack of clothes. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he said, and placed them on the bed.
She nodded. “Thank you. How does my house look?”
“Redeemable,” he said, and half smiled. “I’ve told the contractor to tarp the roof so there’s no more damage overnight. And I’ve arranged to have a certified builder assess the damage in the morning. Get dressed, and I’ll make you a cup of that tea you like.”
Lauren had to admit he’d done a fair job at choosing her clothes. Gray linen pants and a red collared T-shirt, a sensible black bra and brief set and slip-on sandals. As she stepped into the briefs, she didn’t want to think about his lean fingers touching her underwear. Gabe’s take-charge attitude should have made her as mad as ever, but she was actually grateful for his kindness. What had been a frightening experience was eased by him coming to her rescue. When she was finished dressing, she headed for the kitchen. He’d made tea, as promised, and was staring out the long window, mug in hand.
“I think I inhaled a bucket of plaster dust,” she said when she entered the room.
He turned and met her gaze. “If the cough keeps up, let me know.”
“I will. Thanks for the tea.” She saw her handbag, dusty laptop and house keys on the counter. “Oh, that’s good. I wasn’t sure the computer survived the tree crashing on top of it.”
“It seems okay,” he said quietly. “I found your bag but couldn’t find your cell phone.”
She shrugged. “That’s fine. I don’t need it, anyhow.”
“So how are you feeling now?” he asked.
“Pleased I dived underneath the table.”
“Me, too,” he said, and set the mug down. “I’d just gotten home when I saw the pulley snap and then saw the branch nosedive into your roof.”
“Apparently, that tree was going to mess with the fence,” she said, and grinned. “They didn’t warn me about what it might do to my house, though.”
He chuckled, and the sound warmed her blood. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”
He sounded uncomfortable saying it, and Lauren tensed. He might have been worried, but he clearly didn’t want to be. She’d accused him of being hot an
d then cold, and that certainly seemed to sum up the way he acted around her.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue,” she said as flippantly as she could manage.
His mouth flattened, and he passed her his phone. “You can call your parents if you like. Or your brother.”
She shook her head and placed the phone on the table. “They’ll only worry.”
“Well, they’ll know something’s up when you stay with them tonight.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, and pushed her shoulders back. “I’m sleeping in my own bed, in my own house.”
“No,” he said quietly. “You’re not.”
“Ah, yes I am.”
“I’m not going to argue with you about this, Lauren. You stay with your parents or your brother, or if you like I’ll drive you to Cassie’s. But you’re not spending the night in a potentially compromised building that has a huge hole in the roof.”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Right now, when you’re being stubborn and disagreeable, I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”
His words had ownership stamped all over them, and the fact he had the audacity to say such a thing when he’d made it clear they had no future only amplified her resentment. He really needed to stop interfering. Sure, she was grateful he’d gotten her out from under the table, but that didn’t give him open season on deciding where she would sleep.
“I’ll be perfectly safe.”
The pulse in his cheek throbbed. “No, you won’t...so you stay with your family, or you can stay here. Those are your only options.”
Of all the bossy, arrogant, bullheaded...
“Fine,” she said quickly, and saw the startled look on his face. “I’ll stay here.”
