He smiled the smile that had gotten him what he wanted more than once, the one that had earned him his Ranger nickname, Charmer.
“I just need to get away from the coddling and the big plans, Christian. Did you know they have it all mapped out that I’m supposed to be part of this rough stock business Rafe is starting up? Like I know anything about breeding bulls for the rodeo. Or—get this—Jackson says it’s not too late for me to go back to school and on to law school. Hell, if it would undo the fact that I ran off, I think he’d have me be the oldest living fraternity boy.”
“What are you going to do?” Christian asked.
She was the first person who had asked him that question. Everyone else had been intent on telling him what he should do.
“I don’t know yet, Christian. Two weeks ago, I thought I was going to go on serving my country doing the only thing I know how to do. I just need some space and some time to figure things out.”
“For what it’s worth, I think that’s smart.”
“It’s worth a lot. More than you know. Now, are you going to rent me that room?”
Without hesitating, Christian shook her head. “I can’t.” What? Never in the history of the world had Christian told him no.
“I don’t have a room to rent you. There’s no room at the inn. But you can have one of the guest rooms in my apartment on the third floor.” Apartment was not really an apt description. When they’d turned Firefly Hall into a B&B, Christian and her mom had turned the whole third floor into a private living space for themselves. It was more like a magical little cottage hung in the air.
Relief flooded through him. Sanctuary. Privacy. Safety. And a magical cottage couldn’t hurt.
But as he watched Christian’s bottom sway when she preceded him up the stairs, he questioned the safety.
Chapter Two
“Are you sure you have to be closed when we come back through?” Mrs. Ozbolt held out her coffee cup for Christian to refill. Though she had a cook and wait staff, Christian always made it her business to bustle around, pour coffee, and chat with her guests at breakfast. They liked that. It had been mentioned more than once in TripAdvisor reviews. “We love it here so much.”
“I appreciate that,” Christian said. “But I really do have to close on the twenty-third. I’ll reopen on December twenty-seventh.” Technically, she didn’t have to close. Her original plans had been to fly up and meet her mother in Virginia, where they would spend Christmas with cousins. But when she’d gotten the news that Beau was hurt and coming home, her first inclination had been to cancel her travel plans, so that’s what she’d done. She felt sorry for the Ozbolts, who were traveling for the holidays because their only son and his family were with the in-laws this year, but not sorry enough to give up her much-wanted break. Besides, she’d already given the staff the time off, and she wouldn’t take that back.
And if Beau really was determined to stay here indefinitely, she wanted him to have some peace and quiet for at least a few days. She would move him into Moon Glow, the best room on the first floor. It was a large, with a big, comfortable rice bed, and she wanted to spare him the stairs. More than that, she wanted to spare herself from trying to sleep with only a wall separating the two of them.
Last night hadn’t been her best night.
She moved down the length of the long dining table. “How’s your Bloody Mary, Mr. Cranston?”
“Perfect.” He took a sip. “And so is my ham sandwich. That’s one reason I keep coming back here. I don’t like regular breakfast food, and you never try to make me eat it.”
Christian smiled at him. “We want you to feel at home here.”
“But it’s your loss.” Mrs. Cranston raised her fork. “These cheese grits are divine.”
Christian moved to end of the table where newlyweds Weston and Julie Evans from Connecticut sat. They hadn’t been any trouble to anyone. “What are you folks going to do today?” she asked.
“We’re going to look at some of the shops in town,” Weston said. “And we’re going into Nashville tonight to see the Sound play.”
Beauford was a boutique town with some of the finest artisans and craftsmen in the country. The shops in town that sold handmade, one-of-a-kind goods were what brought most people there. And it didn’t hurt that Nashville, with its fine dining, music scene, and pro sports was a half hour away.
“So you’re hockey fans?” Christian asked.
Julie nodded enthusiastically. “We both played in high school. There’s nothing like an NHL game.”
Christian leaned in closer and whispered, “Be sure and go to my friend Noel’s quilt shop, Piece by Piece. Another of my friends, Neyland, is a jewelry artist, and she also works out of there. I’ll tell you a secret. Noel is married to Nickolai Glazov, the Sound center. And if you like pro football, Neyland is married to Gabe Beauford. I can’t promise, but they’ve been known to hang around Piece by Piece.”
Julie clapped her hands together.
“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” Weston teased her.
Christian had just set the coffee pot on the sideboard and reached for the pitcher of orange juice when the front door chime rang softly, followed by hard, quick footsteps in the foyer.
She’d been expecting this. But despite her long legs and determination to move quickly, Jackson Beauford barreled into the dining room before she could head him off. Tall, solid, and good-looking, he was breathing hard and wore a storm cloud on his face. The room went absolutely silent. Christian might have been impressed herself if she hadn’t seen him get turned around and fall in the pool while playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey at her eighth birthday party.
“Is that—” Julie Evans said.
“No!” Christian practically pushed Jackson out of the room. “Pardon me for a moment everyone.” She shut the pocket doors behind her. She looked around for Jackson’s bodyguard. “You got away from Dirk again, didn’t you?”
Jackson closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Where is my little brother?”
“Which one?” Christian asked slowly and deliberately.
“I only have one!”
“Well, technically …”
“Stop it, Christian. You know what I mean. Rafe and Gabe can take care of themselves. Where is Beau?”
Christian did not think this was the most opportune of times to point out that Beau was twenty-eight years old and an elite soldier. Was an elite soldier. That was over.
“Let’s go to my office.” She needed to get Jackson out of there. He was known as the true gentleman of country music, and he was unfailingly and sincerely warm to his fans. However, in just about two minutes, the Firefly Hall guests were going to put two and two together, come up with a superstar, and storm the foyer. Given Jackson’s mood, he could destroy his sterling reputation, and it wouldn’t do Firefly Hall any good either.
“I don’t want to go to your office. I want Beau. And, Christian, I swear on a stack of Bibles, if you don’t tell me where he is, I’m going to start opening doors.”
“That will be hard since they all lock automatically.”
“No lock has ever kept me out of somewhere I wanted to be.” She didn’t doubt that for a second.
“Jackson, please. Beau is still asleep. Let’s go talk.”
That seemed to take some of the wind out of his sales. “Asleep. Not gone? I thought you might have taken him to the airport.”
“Come on.” Christian led him to her small office in the back of the house. She sat down at her desk, and Jackson practically fell into the upholstered fan back chair. “Do you want anything? Coffee?”
He shook his head and sulked.
“Why did you think I might have taken Beau to the airport?”
“Because you would have if he’d wanted to go.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Figures.”
She took a deep breath. “Jackson, if Beau wanted to leave town, my refusing to take him to the airport wouldn’t
stop him.”
“That’s what Dirk says about the night Beau ran away the first time.”
“And that’s true.” Though the pain of that night was still with her, too. That had been a rough spring. It was hard to say if that graduation night or prom night was worse.
Probably prom night. Back in the winter when Beau and Mary Charles McAnnally had broken up, he and Christian had shared a bottle of Boone’s Farm strawberry wine. Near the bottom of the bottle, Beau had sworn he was done with women and proposed that he and Christian go to the prom together in April. She hadn’t even been put off by the backdoor invitation, but in an effort not to seem too eager, she had agreed, but only with the stipulation that if either of them found someone else to go with, they were welcome to back out. Not that she was looking. In fact, she was over the moon. Unfortunately, she had stressed the stipulation so rigorously and so often that when Beau and Mary Charles made up two weeks before prom, he did, indeed, feel welcome to back out.
She still had the dress. It had never been worn.
But back to the matter at hand. “Jackson, why did you think Beau wanted to leave town?”
He looked at the ceiling. “We might have had a little disagreement last night. I might have said some things I shouldn’t have.”
“Oh? Was it over the Porsche, the physical therapist, or the career plans?”
“Huh?” Jackson looked puzzled. “No. Emory said I was coming on too strong, but I don’t think so.”
“You wife is a wise woman. But never mind. Why did you argue, if not over that?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Obviously not.”
“So you don’t know he was in a military hospital in Germany from before Thanksgiving until last week? And that he didn’t see fit to tell any of us?”
Christian’s scalp prickled. “No. No. He didn’t tell me that. To have been in the hospital all that time, he must have been hurt worse than we thought.”
Jackson nodded. “He was paralyzed, Christian. They didn’t know if he would ever walk again. It took weeks for the swelling in his spine to go down. Thankfully, the worst didn’t happen, but he just lay there that whole time alone.”
Christian folded her hands and bowed her head. Beau alone, hurt, with no assurance that he would ever walk. And afraid. He must have been afraid. Or maybe he hadn’t been alone. He’d never wanted for female companionship. Maybe some exquisite, blond, blue-eyed Fräulein had been by his side every second, feeding him schnitzel and red cabbage. Or maybe it was a four-star general’s daughter, petite, polished, and Ivy League educated. Or perhaps—
Stop it! she admonished herself. Beau had been through this harrowing experience, and here she sat fantasizing about the phantom women who were her competition. And, aside from the self-centeredness of it, how absurd was all that anyway? First, there was no need for phantom women, because there had been plenty of flesh and blood ones. Second, there was no contest, and if there had been, she wouldn’t have even been entered. What were the lines of that old Eagles song? She couldn’t remember exactly, but something about the women on his mind. Some who want to own him, some who want to stone him, and one says she’s a friend of his. Yep. She was the women in that song—all of them.
“Why would he do that, Jackson? Stay there alone? Why didn’t he call you?” Christian asked. Or me? I would have gone to him, would have been there for him, like I’ve always been, without expecting anything.
“He said—” Jackson stopped and closed his eyes. “He said that I would have flown to Germany in my private plane and had him at Vanderbilt Hospital in some fancy VIP suite before he could sneeze. I asked him how he knew Vandy had VIP suites, and he said he didn’t know, but if they didn’t, I’d call them up and make them build one before the plane landed.”
“Sounds about right.” The pieces of the puzzle began to snap into place. “That’s exactly what you would have done.”
Jackson looked like he wanted to deny it, but he didn’t bother.
“So? What’s wrong with that? Why shouldn’t I take care of my family?”
Christian picked up the millefiori star paperweight Beau had given her eight Christmases ago.
“You should,” she said slowly, “but I think this was where Beau was coming from. He knew that, paralyzed or not, his days in special ops were over. He was never going to settle for less. I think he needed to be in that military hospital while he worked all that out.”
“I thought you said he didn’t tell you about it.”
Christian shook her head. “He didn’t, but Beau and I have been friends for a long time.”
“I’ve been his brother even longer, but I can’t figure him out.”
You haven’t spent your whole life considering everything from Beau’s point of view. What would Beau order from this menu? Would Beau want to see this movie? Would Beau like that shirt?
“Well.” Christian put down the paperweight. “Take it with a grain of salt. I’m only guessing.”
“While you’re guessing, do you have any inkling when Sleeping Beauty plans to arise? I’d like to get this behind us and take him home.”
It would be so easy to play dumb and let Beau fight his own battle, but she knew she wouldn’t. She’d always smoothed the way for him, always made sure he’d gotten what he wanted and felt good about it.
Of course you should go to the prom with Mary Charles. That’s what we said all along. And really, that works out better for me anyway. My cousin asked me to go to the beach that weekend, and now I can.
“Jackson, about that.”
“Yes?” He went on the defensive. If he’d been a dog, his ears would have been laid flat against his head.
“Beau asked if he could stay here. For a while.”
“What?” Jackson stood up. “No. Not going to happen. He needs to come home where he can be taken care of. I’ve got everything he needs all set up.”
“And that’s the problem. He felt smothered.”
“Smothered?” Jackson slammed his hand on her desk in frustration. “That’s just great. We finally get him home, and we can’t even show that we’re glad.”
“Oh, come on, Jackson. Showing you were glad would have been having grilled steaks and banana pudding. You bought him an SUV—”
“Which he needed.”
“Hired a staff to coddle him.”
“He needs physical therapy! And the masseuse!”
“Installed a hospital bed.”
Jackson deflated a bit. “That might have been overkill, but I didn’t know.”
“Plus, you and the twins have a career all ready for him to slide into.”
“No. That’s Gabe and Rafe’s idea. They want him to get in the rough stock business. I want him to go to law school.”
“Look, Jackson. You mean well. You all do. But he just wants a little breathing room and some time to figure things out.”
Jackson collapsed back in the chair. “Why can’t he do that at Beauford Bend? And why did he drive that catering van over here instead of the Porsche I bought him?”
“You’re a smart man. I’m going to let you ponder that yourself. Or ask Emory. I wager she tried to tell you.”
“Well …”
“I thought so.”
Jackson sat forward. “Christian, was he mad when he said he wanted to stay here? Do you think he was just in a temper and will wake up with a changed mind?”
Again, it would have been easy to say maybe, but she knew better.
“I don’t think so, Jackson. I think he meant it.”
He picked up a pen and toyed with it. “I don’t suppose you’d tell him he has to leave, would you?”
She could have laughed out loud. Her? Tell Beau Beauford no? Not likely.
“Do you honestly think that would do any good? Do think he wouldn’t just run off to Nashville? Or Canada?”
Jackson frowned. “Why Canada? What’s going on in Canada?”
Lord love a duck. How had this man achieved h
is level of success, much less gotten the beautiful, brilliant Emory to marry him and become impregnated with his child?
“Nothing is going on in Canada. It’s just an example. The real question is do you want him to leave Beauford?”
“No.” He rubbed the place between his eyes.
“Then leave him alone. Don’t try to make him come back to Beauford Bend. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”
“Do you think he means to have nothing to do with us? Not even spend Christmas with us?”
“No. I don’t think that. I think he just doesn’t want a Porsche and a hospital bed. Besides, I’m having Christmas with y’all. It’s either go to Beauford Bend or be alone.”
Jackson opened his mouth to speak, but a quick knock on the door interrupted his thought, and Dirk Thornton stepped through.
“Christian.” He nodded in her direction before turning attention to Jackson. “Come on, Jackson. Leave Beau alone. I told you.”
“Who’s paying who?” Jackson asked. But they were idle words. Dirk and Gwen were like family.
“I’m doing what you pay me for. Gwen needs the van to make a grocery run, so Sammy came over with me to take it back. I’ll follow you in my truck.”
“That’ll leave Beau with no vehicle at all,” Jackson said.
“I guess he should have thought about that.”
But Christian knew he wouldn’t care. If she had a car, he had a car.
Chapter Three
His third morning at Firefly Hall, Beau slept until almost ten o’clock, which was the earliest he’d been awake since going to stay there.
Though he kept meaning to, he had not been back to Beauford Bend. Gabe had driven him to physical therapy two days ago, and that night he’d met the whole family for dinner at Mill Time. Yesterday Rafe had taken him to Nashville, where he’d bought a used Jeep. Jackson had been by a couple of times, but everyone was very careful not to ask when he was coming home, let alone what he intended to do with the rest of his life.
Healing Beau (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 6) Page 2
