A Heart to Call Home

by Amanda Torrey

  He flipped his radio on and whistled while he worked.

  She tried to hide her irritation as she went from worker to worker, asking them to stop what they were doing. None of them listened. They referred her to their boss.

  Their boss.

  Reed didn’t trust herself to not rip Rogan’s handsome head off his lust-provoking body, so she went to her bathroom to splash some water on her face.

  He fixed her water. He fixed her water.

  A business decision.

  What contractor in their right mind poured money into a job? Especially without any sort of agreement or contract. With no promise of repayment.

  Was this how things worked in Healing Springs?

  Or was she right to be confused trying to interpret his mixed messages?

  The thumping of heavy boots on her kitchen floor alerted her to his presence.

  “I keep getting interrupted by the guys—they’re complaining about you telling them to leave. You’ve got to stay out of their way.”

  “I’m sorry—were you talking to me? Last I checked, I was the one in charge.”

  “You may be the owner, but I’m in charge. Now leave my crew alone so they can get their work done. We have an inspection to pass tomorrow.” Rogan didn’t wait for her reaction. He started toward the door. All business.

  “Rogan, wait.”

  He paused. When he turned back around, he crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. A frown and a wrinkled brow made him look more foreboding than usual.

  “I’m sorry to annoy you, and I appreciate what you’ve done. But I’m done here. I can’t afford to do anymore. I feel terrible that you put money into fixing the pipes, and I promise I’ll find a way to repay you. But we have to put an end to this.”

  “I told you not to worry. The guys are volunteering their time. They want this place up and running as much as we do.”

  “What?” She stumbled back. “Why?”

  Rogan studied the ceiling. Reed watched his chest rise and fall with each carefully measured breath.

  “We look out for each other here. Your success is their success. Just trust me on this.”

  Trust. The thing he couldn’t give her.

  She stiffened.

  “I appreciate all that you’ve done, but I must insist that you cease all activity.” Her chin darted up to support the strength she faked. His eyes burned into hers. She refused to back down. “It’s a business decision. Nothing more. I need what’s left of my money.”

  “To do what? If you don’t open, you won’t have any income.”

  “I’ll need it to relocate. I have enough to get me started in a new apartment somewhere.”

  “You want to leave?”

  He stepped closer, challenging her.

  She shook her head.

  “I have to.”

  “You don’t have to do anything. Even if you give up on this, there are plenty of apartments for rent around here. If you actually wanted to stay.”

  “Yeah, where I’d be forever labeled as a failure. And what would I do for work? I’m not qualified for anything but what I used to do.”

  “Funny, I never pegged you for a quitter.”

  Those words sent shivers up and down her spine. They made her gut roll. Made her want to spit. To kick. To punch.

  “I’m not a quitter. I just know when enough is enough.”

  “Are you talking about the cottages? Or us?”

  When had he become so damned insightful?

  And so close?

  His steel-toed boots practically touched her tennis shoes.

  “There is no us to talk about, is there?”

  She allowed herself to look up into his deep blue eyes. She searched for answers. For hope.

  But why? They weren’t meant to be together. She wasn’t meant to be in a relationship at all.

  “I see you shutting me out again.” His hands gripped her arms.

  She didn’t shrug him off.

  “I failed, Rogan.” The words didn’t feel right coming from her mouth, but they were the truth. She had failed in everything. Her marriage, her new start, this thing with Rogan. Hell, she had even managed to screw up helping a kid with his reading. Failure should be her new middle name.

  “You’ve never failed at anything before, have you?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Needing help isn’t failing. This was an impossible project to complete on your own.”

  Impossible.

  How many times in her life had she been told her ideas were impossible?

  Too many to count.

  She had proven them wrong every single time.

  She couldn’t allow them to be right this time.

  Rogan rested his forehead against hers. She reveled in his warmth, his closeness.

  “Even if you choose to reject our relationship, you’ve got to give this thing a go.”

  She searched her foggy brain for something to say. A rebuttal, maybe. A question, perhaps.

  He spoke first, putting an end to her search for the right words to say.

  “I won’t let you fail, Freedom Starshine.”

  And then he kissed her.

  She held on for dear life, sure that his kiss was potent enough to kill her.

  She almost forgot the fact that he had called her ideas impossible.

  Reed lost herself in the firmness of his lips, the gentle swoop of his tongue claiming her mouth. She pressed her breasts against his hard chest, wanting to eradicate any distance between them.

  She squeezed his arms, loving the feel of his muscles confining her in his embrace.

  He pulled away first. She wished she had been the one with the strength to do so.

  “I have to get back to work. We have an inspection tomorrow.”

  His voice was gruff, husky, deep. His face was flushed. He walked a little funny on the way to the exit.

  Rogan paused before closing the screen door and looked at her with the most longing expression she had ever seen.

  She had never been wanted so much.

  She had never wanted anyone else the way she wanted him.

  Why couldn’t life be more simple?

  As soon as her legs stopped shaking, Reed splashed her face with water once again.

  Impossible? No way.

  She had work to do. If it meant staying up all night and selling her organs to pay for the work, that’s what she’d have to do.

  Freedom Starshine Peterson didn’t quit.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Several members of the crew stayed into the wee hours of the morning. The only time Reed saw Rogan was when the cow-head delivery jerk creeped over to complain about the noise around midnight. Rogan chased him off, then went back to work. She hadn’t seen him since. His vehicle remained parked in the driveway.

  Several members of the community showed up first thing in the morning to help out. Reed was reluctant at first, but Miss Molly insisted that they all be allowed to contribute.

  They completed the work with minutes to spare.

  Reed pretended not to notice that Rogan was nowhere in sight when the inspector showed up. She didn’t recognize the guy at first—apparently the guy she had been dealing with was out of town for a family thing—but Miss Molly and her friend, Mrs. Reynolds, made the introductions.

  Reed laughed and shook her head as the large crowd of volunteers followed the inspector around.

  She hoped he wouldn’t cite her for trying to use intimidation tactics.

  Her heart warmed at the love and respect she felt from every member of this little community. They had shown up to help a stranger in her time of need. No matter what happened, she’d never forget it.

  She’d also never forget Rogan and the outpouring of love he had shown her. Not the hearts and candy and expensive dinners and declarations of undying passion kind of love, but the kind of love where someone is there for the person they care about even when they don’t necessarily want to be. The kind of love that digs deep into p
ockets to pay for repairs on someone else’s property. The kind of love that works all night even when there’s uncertainty about someone’s loyalty.

  The kind of love that wouldn’t allow someone to fail.

  The inspector held out a paper, interrupting her poignant daydreams.

  “Congratulations, Ms. Peterson. You’re clear to open.”

  She shook his hand as the crowd erupted in cheers behind her. She wanted to hug the young man, but she didn’t want to be brought up on sexual harassment charges.

  Besides, she wasn’t a hugger. Or she hadn’t been, anyway. Did living in Healing Springs turn people into mush?

  As she accepted everyone’s congratulations, her only thought was with the one man she wanted to share this moment with. But he wasn’t here.

  “So excited, so excited!” Simplicity nearly knocked Reed over in her enthusiasm. “Let me see that paper! Woot!”

  Simplicity, lacking in her ability to filter herself and to respect boundaries, threw herself into the inspector’s arms. Caught unaware, he fell to the ground with her on top of him.

  Great. An impending lawsuit. Just what she needed.

  She rushed forward to pry Simplicity off the guy. Savannah Elliot reached them first.

  “If you two need a room, you’re in the right place,” Savannah joked.

  Reed, horrified at first, had to chuckle at the deep shade of red on the poor inspector’s face. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to have Simplicity removed, either.

  Simplicity finally climbed off the guy, and even she seemed flustered. Slightly embarrassed. Awakened.

  What the hell was in the water in this town?

  “Time for a speech, young lady!” Mrs. Reynolds shouted above the whispered comments.

  Reed cleared her throat and dug down deep for a speech she hadn’t ever imagined she’d have to give.

  “I’d like to thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I’ve never known this feeling of community before. Where I come from, people push and kick to get above someone else. You have all given selflessly to help me achieve my dream. I’d like to give something in return. One week from today, we’ll have a grand opening celebration. I would like to gift every one of you with a complimentary weekend stay—you can use it anytime. Please come for the celebration even if you don’t want to stay over that night.”

  The crowd’s cheering cut off whatever else she may have wanted to say, but their positive energy fueled her in a way little else could.

  And still, she wanted Rogan by her side.

  Days passed with no sign of Rogan.

  On Wednesday, three days before her promised grand opening celebration, a large box was delivered. She almost cried when she opened it—brand new marketing materials, similar to the ones that had been destroyed in the flood. The teenager who had delivered the package also handed her a card.

  It was from Rogan.

  “We don’t have a fancy printer, so they may not be of the same caliber as the originals, but I hope these will do for now.”

  No signature, but she could feel him in every curve and dot on the paper.

  She lifted the items one by one.

  Perfection.

  She brought the brochures to her nose, inhaling the scent of freshly printed paper.

  Better than the ones she had created.

  She tried to call him, but he didn’t answer. And he didn’t call back.

  She busied herself with the little details that would be essential for opening. Several locals had called to book their stay, and some of them would even be paying guests.

  The night before the big opening, Reed walked alone in the woods down back. She sat by the brook, enjoying the rush of water over her overworked feet.

  Everything was perfect. Better than could be expected. More amazing than she had hoped.

  She smiled on her way back to her home. She crossed her fingers that by some miracle, Rogan would show up. She wanted him to see the tribute she had planned for him.

  She wanted him to know how he had helped her to change.

  For the better.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Reed drifted around the property, checking items off her list and trying to ignore the dragon chewing her insides.

  The make-shift stage was set up and ready for the live local band. Door prizes from local businesses lined strategically placed tables. Tables and chairs were covered in a variety of bright colors to match the décor of the cottages. Flowers in planters graced the center of each table.

  Everything was perfect. Guests would be arriving any minute. Everything was ready to go.

  She had one decision to make.

  To unveil the special area she had designed with Rogan in mind, or to keep it a surprise.

  Would he show?

  She hadn’t heard from him in over a week. Not a peep.

  She had tried calling him numerous times. She had to tell him that she was wrong. That she had given up on him too quickly. That she had run from their relationship before she had realized how much she needed him.

  How much she loved him.

  But she couldn’t leave that message on a machine.

  Reed went through the motions of greeting her guests. Simplicity was in her glory, handing out flower crowns and boutonnieres. Reed’s smile remained firmly in place, but with every hand she shook and every face she glanced at, she couldn’t stop wishing it was Rogan.

  “Freedom—you’re up in five minutes!” Simplicity smiled as she led Reed toward the stage. “Do you need help rehearsing what you’re going to say?”

  Reed shook her head. She wanted to speak, but emotion clogged her throat.

  He wasn’t going to come.

  “You sure know how to throw a party!” Someone shouted as they passed by.

  “See? They love you already,” Simplicity said, grabbing Reed’s hands. “Are you okay? You don’t seem to be loving this.”

  Reed closed her eyes and tried to smile.

  She should have kept her eyes closed, because the sympathy and worry on Simplicity’s face was nearly her undoing.

  “Freedom, sissy. I know you want him here. That’s what this is about, right?”

  Reed nodded, studying their joined hands.

  “I’m sorry, Free. Really, really sorry. I’ve tried to get in touch with him, but—”

  “It’s okay. I’m okay. No time for a love life anyway.”

  She tried to believe her words, but the band started playing the song she had asked them to play for her entrance to the stage.

  Miss Molly had insisted on introducing Reed to the public.

  The crowd’s enthusiasm propelled her forward. In the business world, she hadn’t been entitled to bad days. She had become an expert at turning things, including moods, around. She used that experience to her advantage as she thanked Miss Molly and the cheering guests. Apparently the open bar had been a great idea.

  “Excuse me, mind if I take the mic?”

  Reed stiffened at the sound of the voice. His voice. Rogan’s voice.

  The oohs and ahhs of the audience made her cheeks fire up, but when she turned toward the sound of his voice, her legs nearly gave out.

  Dressed in formalwear, he looked like he had stepped off the cover of a romance novel. She watched in stunned silence as he closed the distance between them. His hand wrapped around her tense knuckles, sending shockwaves jolting through her melting body. He didn’t take his eyes off hers as he gently pried her fingers off the microphone.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered, but she might as well have shouted since the microphone remained inches from her mouth.

  He smiled that heartbreaking smile of his as the audience laughed and screamed out their appreciation.

  “Have you all seen the Herald today?”

  A few guests hollered, “Yeah!”

  Rogan pulled the paper from an inside pocket of his jacket. He held up the front page to the audience, then turned it to her.

  “Read that
headline,” Rogan said to Reed.

  She leaned in closer, shocked to see a picture of herself and a headline announcing the grand opening of the cottage motel.

  “That’s great—thank you, community.”

  “Read the name of the journalist.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she brought her hands to her mouth. Dylan Douglas.

  Dyslexic Dylan. The one who hadn’t had enough confidence to read a Dr. Seuss book.

  The brilliant boy had written an article. About her.

  Rogan turned back toward the crowd.

  “Some of you may know that my boy was being picked on for having dyslexia.”

  “Rogan, don’t…”

  “Dylan asked me to put it all out there.” Rogan held the paper up toward the sky. “He wrote this article on his own, with very little editorial input. Anyone want to guess how he was able to accomplish such a feat?”

  “Tell us!” A woman shouted, holding up a glass.

  “This remarkable woman. This beautiful, talented, intelligent, and block your ears if you’re easily offended, sexy-as-hell woman. Not only has she brought me to life, she has helped my son to succeed in something he never thought he’d succeed in.”

  Reed gulped and stopped trying to contain her tears.

  “Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!”

  The chanting should have embarrassed her, but she found herself wanting to join them in their demands.

  Rogan, her rough, gruff, seemingly introverted guy, turned toward the crowd with the microphone near his lips. His lush, delicious, tempting lips.

  “You guys think I should kiss her?”

  The crowd roared.

  “If you don’t, I will!” Someone shouted.

  Reed reached for the microphone. This was turning into a disaster. She’d need to hire an entire elite PR firm to undo the damage of this craziness.

  He held the mic out of her reach. Her breasts tingled when they grazed his well-dressed chest.

  She’d probably short-circuit if they had less clothes on.

  “Now, now. You’ll get your turn,” he promised. “But first, may I have this dance?”

  The crowd went wild as the band started playing a slow, romantic song.

  “You don’t dance,” she whispered, choking on emotion. Had he come here to make a fool of her?