“I know, but hell, a man will do anything to save his own heart.” Bob followed Jacob’s eyes to the trees.
Caroline played with the hem of her shirt. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Bob focused on her movements. “Yes, I’m taking care of him, but I stayed to be with my family.”
“You mean him.”
“No, I mean you, kid. Put that in your damn blog.” His shoulders sagged.
As he watched this family reunion, Roger realized something that had never occurred to him before: Life’s passions and purposes are insignificant without people around you to share them. People live and die for that one elusive need. He watched Caroline’s face as she struggled to come to grip with her father’s announcement, and his heart burned.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Caroline drove home in a dust storm of confusion. She’d always envied what Roger had—a big family. Not necessarily his family, but any at all. Her mother had been the steady force in her life. She’d encouraged Caroline to go after her journalism career with gusto, and there’d never been an inkling of doubt that there’d be a home to visit should a problem arise.
Then she’d died, and all of Caroline’s certainty evaporated in a few months. Her father had appeared from the outside edges of the earth, and now she had a grandfather who was a war hero with a disability? She sat in the car with the engine off and stared at her place, her fingers clutching the wheel. What a strange world.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She turned and stared blindly through the glass. Roger? She rolled down the window. “You followed me home?”
He nodded, not one of those silly nods with his dimples in full bloom either. His eyes were filled with concern, wary of what she’d do or say. An incredible feeling of appreciation filled her—gladness that he was there. Not home or at work where he should be—but right there, staring at her and making her feel like she mattered. “Yeah, you’ve had a rough day, and I thought we might talk for a bit.”
“I really don’t want to discuss today.”
He pulled on her door and wiggled his fingers for her to take them. “Neither do I—so let’s talk photography. I have some pictures to show you.”
“Of what? Some woman’s toes or belly button?” She couldn’t help but make at least one jab.
He half-grinned to acknowledge her bravado then sobered. “Nope, let’s look at the ones from our park outing, okay?”
“You mean the day we nearly fell to our death from a tree?”
He shoved the door shut behind her and drew her fingers into his. “That’s the one.”
She wasn’t really in the mood for company but looking at a bunch of pictures sounded harmless. Plus her curiosity wouldn’t let her say no, so she shrugged and opened the door. “You should know I’m not the kind of person who likes to air dirty laundry, so don’t expect me to spill my guts to you. Again.”
He dropped her fingers and held up both hands. “No worries. I figure you spilled enough to the rest of the world on that blog of yours. You met your quota for the day. I might just hang around and watch the fallout, if that’s all right.”
Great. She rolled her shoulders and sighed. “This one’s going to stay with me for a while, isn’t it?”
He winked. “Probably. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I’m willing to let it pass if you could give me a copy of Abby’s screensaver at the store.”
“Yeah, right, so you can post it on the Internet? Not happening, buddy.”
“Don’t worry. It would stay in my private stash.”
She gave him a skeptical frown. “Right, like you did those beach shots from several years ago? Nah, I’ll pass. Besides, it’s not you I’m worried about—it’s that creeper blog-guy that keeps harassing me.”
“I could rough him up if you want. What’s his name?” Inside, he cracked his knuckles and dropped onto the couch in a very non-threatening manner. Yeah, he was sooo intimidating.
“His name is Frederick, but I seriously doubt that’s his real identity. He’s been slamming me for ages on the blog, and I’m sure my latest post gave him great fodder for more abuse. I’m afraid to look. The only good part? Somehow our public arguing has been an advertising success. I guess people love to watch bloggers fight almost as much as they like watching boxers pummel each other into hamburger.” In fact, she had half a mind to block the guy this time. In the past, the cat and mouse antics were fun, and it helped the store. Now? She wanted to spar with Frederick about as much as she wanted to eat chicken livers.
“Hmmm. He’s probably eighty and thinks you’re hot.” Roger grabbed her remote and clicked on the flat screen. “I have the pictures on a flash drive. Can you load them on the screen, or should we use a computer?”
She clicked her fingers. “Hand it over—my laptop is synced to the screen.”
He gave her the drive, and she plugged it into her laptop and double-clicked the first image. He could change the pictures with the remote, so she joined him on the couch. With her toes curled under a hip, she glanced at the screen and gasped. “Those are from that morning? Really?”
He grinned, and she couldn’t help but take a quick look at the way his cheeks funneled around his mouth. “What do you think?”
“They’re amazing! Look at the iridescence of the water shining through the leaves.” She pointed at the screen but knew he’d already seen it—hell, he’d done the work. He flicked through a few more photos, and Caroline had a thought. “We could sell these in our shop, you know. You could enlarge them, and we could sell them. Because of your success at the fundraiser, we could even bill you as a local artist, and you’d make a mint. They’d sell like crazy.”
He put the remote down and turned to meet her gaze. “That’s not why I’m showing you.” The look on his face was apprehensive. Oh, hell, now what? What else could possibly happen today? She waited for him to speak. “Do you remember that tree, Caro? It was huge, and the limbs were ratty and worn.”
She nodded. “It looked half-dead to me.”
“We made it look like heaven in these pictures. Like a palm tree in the middle of the desert.”
She shook her head because she had nothing to do with the photos. “Not me. You did.”
“You were there with me. I would have never seen the opportunity had it not been for you.”
She seriously doubted it but wasn’t going to argue. He was leading her somewhere, and she was in no mood to resist. The day had been too long and tiring. “Okay, I was there. That’s all—you did all the work. Other than holding the camera equipment, I had nothing to do with your vision. How was I supposed to know you planned to do that?”
He pointed a finger her way, lifted his thumb, and gave a quick trigger action. “Bingo.”
“What do you mean?”
He stood, placed his arms beside her on the couch, and leaned in, giving her a wonderful whiff of his cologne. Wow, that Polo is one potent scent when it can overpower the grime she was encrusted in from her earlier tumble. He kissed her forehead and whispered, “Think about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He padded out the door and left her with the pictures and another puzzle.
• • •
At home, Roger let Conan out to water his normal spots and dropped to his favorite place on the steps. Taking advantage of the wait, he dialed his mother, his oldest sister, then Carter. Once he’d divulged his plans, he retrieved his laptop and read Caroline’s blog post again. He let out a couple laughs and thought for a few minutes before starting to type. Hell, if she was going to drop such a bomb on the world, he might as well join the ruckus. He only hoped she wouldn’t have a heart attack. Or shoot him.
Chapter Thirty
Caroline stared at the picture on her flat screen for another five to ten minutes after Roger dropped his riddle in her lap. The display held fifty inches of red, green, and brown with a smidge of yellow and two bright white dots glaring at her like—boobs. Oh. My. God. The leaves surrounded the pinpo
ints of light in perfect full-blossomed beauty. Had he intended such a curvaceous reference?
The leaves were ... voluptuous. She burst into laughter. Heat rose from her chest into her face. She laughed until tears surged into her eyelashes, and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to contain the hysteria. What would that picture sell for at the next fundraiser? How on earth had he managed to make something so ordinary become sensual?
She switched the flat screen off and wondered ... was that what he wanted her to notice? His puzzle? The man was hopeless. She shook her head and retreated to bed without viewing the remaining photos.
At work the following morning, Abby was quiet for the first hour, which amazed Caroline. She’d fully expected to be interrogated or chastised for running off, but nothing happened. The room was so full of silence it felt like outer space. When Abby finally opened her mouth to speak, Caroline felt a gush of relief flow from her chest. “You okay, friend?”
“Yeah, sorry I ditched you yesterday. I was a brat.”
Abby was concentrated on an arrangement for an upcoming wedding. Biting her lip with both hands working the ribbon around a bouquet, she shook her head. “Nothing compared to what I’ve done with the texting mess. Don’t worry about it. This too shall pass.”
Caroline doubted that, but nodded and grabbed a watering tin to begin reviving the plants on the floor. There was something rejuvenating about their little endeavor. Every morning she walked in and inhaled a deep breath of roses, carnations, lavender, and all the other fantastic smells. It was comforting and yes, rejuvenating.
Abby finished the bouquet, added it to a box, then began the next. “Besides, your little rant was nothing compared to all the crap our followers wrote. I wonder if we’ll see a barrage of customers today—people whose curiosity got the best of them and who want check out the local pariah.”
Great. “A bunch of busybodies wandering around watching me as if I’ll eventually lose it and go on a rage—I could have fun with that, you know.”
Abby chuckled. “As long as you don’t chase off any of our hard-earned and paying customers, go for it. Just warn me so I can film the whole thing. I’ll be right back. I want to go enter our receipts from yesterday into the computer. You okay here?”
Caroline darted a glance around the empty store. “Does it look like I’m swamped?”
Ignoring her sarcasm, Abby disappeared to the back office. She hadn’t asked how things went with her father. Nor had she hovered, expecting her to break down at any moment. She’d only shown concern for her well-being.
Caroline appreciated her nonjudgmental acceptance. Cars buzzed by on the street outside, many of them police cars in the process of a shift change. Overhead, soft rock oozed from the speakers. Their little shop felt more like home than her tiny two-bedroom. It also felt ... empty. And too damn quiet.
“Hey, did I tell you I have a family?” She shouted the words toward the back. “It’s so crazy, but I chased my dad down—and guess what? Not only has he waltzed back into my life after years, but now, on top of that drama, I have a grandfather living with him. He’s old and somewhat handicapped—and a decorated war hero. He’s also prone to wandering away. Can you believe that?” Her words echoed in the empty room.
The door to the office creaked. Abby stepped forward, crossed her arms, and leaned against the doorjamb. “How do you feel about that?”
Caroline stopped watering and met her gaze. “You sound like a shrink. How do I feel about it? Confused. Angry. Disbelieving. I don’t know—pissed off more than anything. Why the hell did they not tell me all this earlier?”
Abby dropped her hands and walked to Caroline’s side. “Who knows, but does it matter? You know now. Question is, what’re you gonna do?” Abby rubbed a warm hand up Caroline’s arm and squeezed her shoulder. “You should go take a look at the computer. I was reading the blog a second ago, and—”
Caroline put the watering can down. “I know. I know. I accidentally posted something I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. It was an accident.”
“No, I hit the post button. I thought you were ready and hadn’t even read the words, but that’s not what I was talking about—there’s more.”
Caroline started toward the back. “I saw the responses. Why don’t I take the post down? That way we won’t get any additional bad publicity.”
“Just read the responses. They’re not all bad. Then do whatever you feel is best.”
That was cryptic. A few seconds later, Caroline stared at the computer screen. She drew a hand over her mouth and reread the next-to-last post—from her buddy Frederick.
Hey, gorgeous. How dare he start like that?
Regarding the daisies: They’re perfect, and if you like what I’m about to say, I’ll give them to you at least once a week—can’t promise every day.
Uh-oh, that sounded a little creepy.
Regarding your dad, we can’t pick our family, but we can either choose to love them or not—love them or leave them, so to speak. He came back into your life for a reason, and that reason could only mean that he felt he needed to be with you and know you. That’s a gift.
Regarding do-overs, a few years ago a woman I adored left me to pursue a dream that was important to her. Recently I found her again, and I’ve debated how to handle the situation. She’s annoyed me, angered me, humored me, and made my heart split in two. But the one thing I know with certainty, now that the years have passed, is that being with her and experiencing all those crazy emotions fills a void in my life. I NEED her more than I need to breathe.
Lastly, some may think me an eighty-year-old grumpmeister with nothing better to do than pester a young shop owner. Deduct fifty years from that, and you’d be right—I have nothing better to do because that shop owner, a petite little brunette in crazy clothes and crazy hair, is the woman I need. The woman who left me years ago.
Caroline, it’s me, Roger. I’m crazy about you.
Her mouth popped open. “Are you fricking kidding me? Frederick is Roger?”
“Yeah, isn’t that sweet?” Abby popped up beside her.
“No. It’s not. It’s a mean, mean prank. Stupid. Selfish. That self-absorbed, self-righteous, uh, asshole.” Caroline felt the hair on her neck bristle.
“You’re the one being stupid now. The man just bared his soul—publicly, might I remind you—and expressed his feelings for you to the entire world. That may be a little crazy and risky, but it’s definitely sweet and very, very romantic.”
Caroline rested her hands on the keyboard and tapped her leg up and down. What should she do?
Abby grabbed her wrists and focused on Caroline’s face. “Don’t you dare thrash him on that blog, you hear me? If you have a problem, you get your ass out there and face it. Don’t be a coward and send off a rant that’s shielded between layers of technology.”
Caroline lifted a brow. “Seriously? This is coming from you? The woman who carried on weeks and weeks of texting deception?”
Abby released her wrists with a mean little shove. “That’s exactly why I said that—face him and talk. In person.”
“We’re working.” She reminded.
Abby whirled the chair around and pulled Caroline from the cushion. “No, I’m working—you’re officially off for the day. Move it.”
“But I was gone yesterday.”
Abby shooed her away. “Get going. I’m a big girl. I can handle this.”
Chapter Thirty-One
When Caroline arrived at Roger’s office, the receptionist gave her a puzzled look. “It’s not Tuesday.”
“I’m not here for the plants. I’m here to kick someone’s ass.” Caroline stomped past and strode to Roger’s door. Without knocking, she shoved her way inside and slammed it shut.
Roger blinked and reared back in his seat. “Heyyy, there.”
“Don’t hey there me, buddy. Where do you get off putting all that stuff on our blog and pestering me for weeks and weeks?”
A cough startled her, and Caro
line whirled to see Carter. “Oh, hi. You should probably leave—this is going to get ugly.”
Carter needed no further prompting. He bolted out the door, leaving it wide open. Roger stood, rounded his desk, and eased it shut before leaning forward—right into her. “How ugly?”
She raised an index finger and poked his chest. “You. Have. No. Idea. What the hell, Roger? You’ve been harassing me all this time? Baiting me and criticizing and—”
“I wasn’t criticizing.”
“Oh no, you were just debating every comment or analogy I wrote. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
He backed her against the doorframe and anchored himself by placing his palms on the door, one on each side of her face. “No, actually I don’t. Did you read what I said, Caro?”
“What you said? Or what Frederick said? And where did you get such a stupid alias anyway? Couldn’t you have picked something normal like Anonymous or Bob?”
“Frederick was the last name of a guy I knew. Conan was his first name.”
“Oh. So, you’re blogging as a dog.”
Roger shot his eyes toward the ceiling then leaned closer and moved his palms to her cheeks, holding her hostage with his hands and body. She should wriggle free, or push him away, but the urge to do so wavered. Then it disintegrated. God help her, but she loved the feel of him melded against her. Her body betrayed her by moving her legs open so he could nestle closer. “The name doesn’t matter, honey. Did you read the words? I meant them. I need you in my life, Caroline Sanders. Every crazy, mean, funny, beautiful inch of you. Did you get that?”
She felt the steady bump, bump, bump of his heart pressed against her chest and his legs strong and solid between her own. Her stomach clenched, prompting her to answer. “Yeah, I got that.” She had no idea what to say next.
“Good.” He leaned in and kissed her, soft and loving pecks that deepened into wet, hard kisses that made her want to undress him. When he finally stepped back and gave her air, her fingers were inside his shirt, circling the little hairs around his navel. His shirt hung loose from his pants.
Need Me Page 18
