*
An hour and a half later, after the doctor’s examination, an on-site chest X-ray and one nebulizer treatment, Conor, Shelby and Benjamin left the clinic with an antibiotic prescription and a noticeable breath of relief from Shelby. Once upon a time, he’d thought Shelby had the heart of a lion, and she’d proved it by beating a guy nearly twice her size in fourth-grade tetherball. Today, he’d been reminded of that while watching her with Benjamin: she was like a lioness with her cub. On guard. Protective. Obviously filled with love. That kid was lucky to have her as a mother. And he’d expect nothing less of the girl he used to know.
“I guess the pharmacy closest to my house should be good.”
“Okay,” he said, carrying Benjamin.
When they reached the car, she opened the back door, and Conor bent to place the boy in the car seat. Though he got quickly confused with the double harness straps and multiple buckles, especially since the seat faced backward. So much for teamwork. He gave up and let Shelby do the adjusting, snapping and clicking.
“You hungry?” he said while standing back and watching the expert.
She flashed him a look, as if thinking, Are we starting with that again?
“I’m hungry,” he said in his defense. And not ready to say goodbye. “That’s the only reason I’m asking.” Liar. He’d cut her some slack on her knee-jerk reaction. It had been a long night from what she’d told him, and she had to be exhausted. Which really was why he wanted to make sure she got fed.
“I could use something to eat,” she said, a near-confessional look on her face. Progress. She wasn’t going to fight him on this. Then she glanced at her protesting son in the car seat. “He’s probably starving, too.” Ah, the truth.
Conor kept his smile inside. “Okay, then, let’s do it. We can put in the prescription, go eat, then go back and pick it up after.” Wait a second, what am I getting myself into? Shouldn’t I be holding a grudge or something? He glanced at Benjamin Brookes’s pudgy hands and cheeks, at the boy without a dad. No way could he hold a grudge against him. He was a true innocent in their situation. Then he gave Shelby a long, hard look. She’d been rattled by her son being sick, he’d come to her aid, seen firsthand how deeply she loved that boy, how exhausted she was from being up all night. Shouldn’t he cut her some slack, too?
The grudge part, he could deal with later.
Looking grateful, she smiled. A smile he’d tried hard to forget ever since she’d stood him up. “Sounds like a plan.”
Whatever he was getting himself into, hanging out with his heartbreaker, and all the old feelings she dredged up, would have to get put on hold for now. At least for today.
*
Having Conor’s support all morning had meant the world to Shelby, and when he held out his hand, palm up, wiggling his fingers, silently asking for her car keys again, she tossed them to him. He’d driven over, why not let him drive back? If she was honest, she’d admit it felt great not to be in charge for a change. Not to mention Benjamin had really taken to having a big strong man like Conor hold and cuddle him. Yes, she’d seen it with her own eyes, and it’d done crazy things to her heart, so she had to believe it.
An hour later, after Benjamin had eaten and played with in equal parts two scrambled eggs, three fresh strawberries, and a whole piece of toast, and Shelby and Conor had spent another breakfast together—far more harmonious than dinner had been at the pub last night—they arrived at her house. She hadn’t needed to remind Conor how to get there, either, considering once upon a time it had been like a second home.
She was relieved everything had worked out okay with the doctor, that Benjamin was only in the early stages of bronchitis. She was also extremely tired: she could hardly keep her eyes open. Benjamin had fallen asleep in the car, and if she handled it right, he’d stay asleep so she could take a much-needed nap.
She got out of the car, yawned and stretched. Conor headed directly to the back seat. She dived to intercept him. Only a professional could carry out the task at hand: removing a sleeping child from a car seat and not waking him.
“I’ll do it!” she whisper-yelled, then opened the door. Gingerly, she unsnapped and unlocked the straps, slipped them over Benjamin’s shoulders, then unthreaded his arms, all while his head flopped sideways. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to get his hair cut yet, so she gently brushed his loose curls away from his face. He was noticeably cooler already, thanks to the magic of modern medicine. She pulled him to her chest, his head plopped against her shoulder, then stood. “The house key has a blue dot on it,” she whispered. Still Benjamin didn’t stir.
Conor caught on and dutifully strode toward her porch, up the three steps, and proceeded to unlock the front door. Just before reaching the steps, she rolled her ankle on a rock or something on the cement walkway. Conor looked ready to pounce, but she caught herself in the nick of time. She tiptoed over the threshold and into her mother’s living room, made eye contact with Conor and, with her lips sealed tight, pointed with her head to the door in the corner, Benjamin’s bedroom. He opened it and she smoothly danced around him, holding her breath, heading straight for the crib.
Just as she leaned over to place Benjamin inside, his eyes flew open and he straightened up, looking around, wide awake.
Her shoulders sagged with disappointment. So much for her nap. He was awake. Wide awake. In defeat, she glanced at Conor and they laughed quietly together, which felt surprisingly good.
Once Conor got the okay nod from Shelby, he responded to Benjamin’s kicking legs and ready-for-anything attitude. “Hey, buddy, you’re home.”
“Pway-pway!”
Oh, God, he wanted to play. All she wanted to do was sink onto her mattress and drift into the abyss.
Conor reached for Benjamin. “Old Benny here and I have gotten to know each other pretty well this morning. Why don’t you lie down and I’ll entertain him for an hour or so.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not? You’re obviously exhausted.”
“Do you know how to watch a toddler?”
“I thought I might take him for a walk, let him play in the yard or something. You can change his diaper first, though.”
She shook her head, relieved, hesitant and hopeful all at once. She trusted Conor, had since elementary school. “Okay, but only because I’m asleep on my feet, and that’s not safe for either of us.”
After this morning, with Conor coming to her aid and proving to be nothing short of a hero since, she owed him more than she cared to think. And she still hadn’t told him all she needed to.
On a whim, before she reached the door, she rushed to his side, got up on her tiptoes, with Conor obliging without being asked by bending his knees, and kissed Benjamin. Then, without thinking things through, she pecked Conor’s cheek as well. The innocent act stirred old and confusing memories—his skin, her lips—and she immediately wished she hadn’t done it. Hesitantly looking up at Conor, she caught what she suspected was a bemused expression. She backed away, wishing she could take back the moment, not smell the scent of his aftershave. At least he didn’t seem angry.
“We should take a rain check on that hike” was all he said, as he and Benjamin left for their walk.
*
An hour later, still confused over his reaction to Shelby’s kiss, if you could call barely grazing his cheek a kiss, Conor delivered Benjamin to his crib. All the morning’s excitement had taken a toll on the boy and combined with his prior sleepless night and the fever medicine, he was out cold.
The front door had been ajar, and after a quiet knock, Conor had let himself in. From the angle of Benjamin’s room in the single-story 1930s beach-cottage-styled house, he could see Shelby in her old room, on the bed, sound asleep. A disturbing sight, considering how mixed up his feelings already were about her. He should still be angry, right? Hold that grudge and walk away.
But he’d spent the morning with her, gotten to know her son, who was a pistol
even when sick, and some of those resentful barriers had come tumbling down. Then, out of the blue, he’d asked for a rain check on their hike. Stupid. He knew it was a mistake the instant he’d said it.
Here he was, standing in the hall like a fool, watching Shelby sleep. Like he had the right to, knowing he didn’t, as an old sensation circled through his chest. Longing for something he’d never have again. Truth—he missed her.
Making an about-face, because what chump shouldn’t, he headed for the door to leave. Then, what the heck, he found a notepad and scribbled out the world’s dumbest idea—Meet you at Shoreline Cliffs trailhead tomorrow morning at 7 a.m., bring Benny if you want.
He was scheduled for the week on the p.m. shifts. If she didn’t show for the hike, or if things fizzled out on the interest scale if she did show, he had a good excuse to avoid her after that: work!
A perfect plan. And entirely ridiculous. Because he was playing with fire, even a fool knew that.
*
The next morning, regretting his stupid idea, Conor headed down the beach to the trailhead. Shelby had beat him to the meeting point, and stood in the grassy dune area with Benjamin in a back carrier, waiting. With his spirits annoyingly buoyed by relief, he waved. Already he was giving her too much power. Hadn’t he learned anything?
She also held a loud pink paisley patterned tote in one free hand, looking readier for a camping trip than a three-mile hike. Wasn’t that just like her.
“I think you overpacked,” he teased as he approached, fighting that good feeling that continued to bubble up over her already being there.
“I brought some goodies.” She squinted from the early sun, smiling.
Flashbacks of that expression he’d seen countless times yanked at him. He knew this wasn’t a good idea. He took a second to recover, then, closing the distance, focused on Benjamin. The boy wore something that looked like a fishing hat and cool kid sunglasses, and he squealed when he saw Conor. No way could he resent Benjamin for being someone else’s son. That onus was all on Shelby. Reality made his jaw tense, reminding him this wasn’t just like old times. Everything was completely different now. She’d moved on and come home with a baby…and he’d closed off, emotionally shut down, turned off the lights and pulled the shades. Except for still being angry. The one emotion he could depend on. But for the sake of the kid in alligator-green shades, he’d suppress it this morning.
“Goodies?” Good thing they were going for a hike so he could work off the resentment.
“Yeah, but you have to earn it,” she challenged, turning for the trailhead just when he reached her. “Besides, kids always need snacks.”
“Hey, it’s not fair with you loaded down with all the extra baggage. I’ve already got an advantage on height.”
She turned, giving her signature dirty look, complete with one raised eyebrow, daring him to pick on her height again. He couldn’t stop the twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Why not let me carry Benny-boy?”
“I’m completely capable, but if you want to prove your manhood, have at it.”
“Like I need to prove that,” he said over a forced laugh.
Without trying they’d slipped back into their old easygoing banter. The trick was to not look her in the eyes. He reached for the backpack-like frame, complete with kid, and helped her slide it off her shoulders. Then she helped him adjust the straps for his broader back and waist, and with Benjamin using his feet on the frame to excitedly push up and down, he adjusted his balance.
The lunch tote had a shoulder strap. Shelby crossed it over her chest, and they set off at a leisurely pace, with her leading the way. He tried his best to keep his eyes off her pert butt and natural sway. See? Playing with fire.
A quarter mile in, she stopped and turned to take in the ocean view. “Wow,” she said. “Look at those sunrays.” She pointed and snapped her fingers as though trying to think of the name.
“Crepuscular.” He finished her sentence, reminiscent of old times.
“Yeah, crepuscular.” She watched in awe.
The sunrays broke through a thick patch of cumulus clouds. Like a spotlight on the ocean. The sight made him think the Big Guy Himself was sending a message, but what? Stop? Turn back? Think about what you’re doing, numbskull?
“Remember the last time—” she said.
“—we hiked this trail?”
“Fourth of July.”
“Day after we ran into each other that summer after college.” They’d sat on the bench at the top and watched the fireworks display, along with fifty or so other people willing to make the climb for the view. Then they snuck off to be alone, and that was the first time they’d found the house.
He came up beside her, the view and the clouds lessening his tension, but the memories threatening the balance. “The last time I did this hike, Mark and I were looking for Peter.”
“Laurel’s son?”
“Yeah, he’d taken off without telling anyone, and we were grasping at straws as to where to find him.” Staring out at the ocean, he knew he could never live anywhere but here. “He’d caught Mark and Laurel kissing, and, well, you know how that goes.”
“Is he okay with them getting married?”
“He is now.” Conor gestured for Shelby to continue hiking and they went on awhile in easy conversation, mostly Conor catching her up on all that had been going on in Sandpiper Beach the past couple of years. But leaving out the part about Grandda’s predictions for his grandsons.
Three quarters to the top of the trail, Shelby stopped and gasped. She glanced over her shoulder, making eye contact with Conor and pointing. “Look!”
In the distance stood the Beacham House, set back from the bluff, in full disrepair. His gut twisted. He went quiet, refusing to share her enthusiasm.
“The Beacham House!” she said. “I wonder if it’s still empty.”
“It is.”
She waited for some kind of reaction from him about “their” old playhouse, where all kinds of amazing sexual escapades had taken place. His ears got warm, but he refused to show any other response. She didn’t need to know he’d been saving up for a down payment to buy the house. She had nothing to do with that anymore. It was going to be his house, and he was going to work his way up to sheriff, and he was going to spend the rest of his life staring at that damn beautiful ocean with those occasional crepuscular rays. Alone? Being around Shelby again made him think living there by himself could be the worst idea he’d ever had.
He ground his jaw and swallowed the notion of that being his only option.
After a few more moments of silent standoff, they continued up to the top of the mountain trail, where someone had placed a bench so others could enjoy an even more glorious view of the Pacific Ocean. Conor let Shelby sit while he stood by with Benjamin on his back. This wasn’t a good place to let a little tyke down, especially since one of his favorite games, which Conor had found out about yesterday on their walk, was to run away and play “try to catch me.”
She opened her box of goodies and first gave Benjamin a bright orange cup with built-in flip-up straw, and a mini muffin that looked to be in the bran family. He grabbed it instantaneously as though it might disappear otherwise.
“Plo bloche,” Benjamin said, getting right down to business, drinking his water and nibbling on the snack.
“Power muffin,” she said, like she knew her kid’s toddler language. “Thank you?”
“Ta tu.”
That was good enough for her. Next she took out a thermos and unscrewed the lid. Steam swirled out. “Coffee?”
“Smells great. Thanks.”
She poured them both a cup, offering his in peace and silence. She’d already mixed in cream, the only way he drank the stuff. Mmm. “I made some croissants this morning. They should still be warm.”
She handed him one and his watering mouth clued him in how hungry he suddenly was. “Thanks.”
“Ta tu,” Benjamin corrected, from over his shoulder. Conor c
ouldn’t help but smile.
“Jam?”
Apricot. Also his favorite. She remembered. “Sure.”
“Jam!” Benjamin liked it.
Shelby put a minuscule sample on his “power muffin,” which seemed to satisfy the kid. Conor took a bite, nearly consuming half of his croissant, and his taste buds shot straight to the leftover half-moon dangling above the sea.
After she took a few small bites and sipped her coffee, she set things down, crossed her leg and laced her fingers over one knee. “So, the reason I asked for us to take this hike,” she began in a businesslike call-to-meeting manner, “was to apologize in person.” Her head dropped, like her lap had become a huge point of interest. “Something I should have done a long time ago.”
He thought about stopping her, because it really was old news, over two and a half years ago, but he wanted to hear it. Needed to. So he kept his mouth shut and let her explain her way out of why she’d stood him up that day.
“We’d fallen out of touch, probably mostly my fault,” she continued.
“I’d been bad about that, too,” he said, willing to accept his part in their slipping apart.
She gratefully acknowledged his comment with a nod.
Silently, he admitted he’d hoped what they’d shared back then was so special that they could just magically show up on one appointed day and everything would be the same. Just like it always had been. Perfect.
But today, logic kicked in. Just show up. Right. Without putting any work into a real relationship, allowing for dating others in the meantime, while leading up to the big day. What kind of cockamamy plan had that been? He’d pinned his hopes on a fairy tale. Like a big dumb dreamer, and had done nothing more than prove his immaturity.
He scratched the back of his neck, the image of an immature, big dumb dreamer hard to swallow.
“Anyway, I’d gotten totally wrapped up with the restaurant world, and the year before, this opportunity came up to go to France. What cook doesn’t dream of going to France?” She lifted her shoulders, her palms up, needing him to understand.
Reunited with the Sheriff Page 7
