Almost Like Being in Love

by Beth K. Vogt

  Facing one way, needing to go in the exact opposite direction.

  He knew what he should do, but the “how” eluded him.

  Closing on several home sales—the discussion, signing of papers, the smiles and congratulations—had kept him out of the office and derailed his thoughts for the better part of the day. He’d even driven by Kingston’s house again as a distraction. He’d sat outside as the workers scurried back and forth, completing their frenzied tasks on the house.

  And now here he was, the woman who had rejected him without an explanation, without a goodbye, just down the hallway. Why had he let pursuing his dreams get him tangled up with Caron Hollister again?

  Avoidance was not the Ranger way. He needed to go forward, accomplish the task, and put it behind him. He could call Caron into his office and keep things on a more formal boss–employee status.

  But the memory of the few times he’d been summoned to Russell Hollister’s office kept him from buzzing Miriam. A brief nod from the older man, indicating that Kade was to sit in one of the chairs in front of the older man’s desk. Conversation kept to a minimum, mostly one-sided.

  Despite his admiration for Hollister’s business savvy, he’d never liked some of the man’s high-handed ways. And yet he sounded as arrogant as Caron’s father when he talked to her on Monday. His attitude had shadowed him like an unpleasant odor lingering in a seller’s home. He was the boss and he wanted to develop a certain type of relationship with his employees—even if Caron was only temporary. And what happened between him and Caron after he saw her talking with the gardener did not reflect his employer–employee mind-set. He’d handled Miriam’s silly crush better than he’d dealt with Caron. And if he was honest with himself, he’d overreacted.

  They were both here now. Mitch had left earlier with a get-it-done nod in the direction of Caron’s office. Kade might as well choke down his slice of humble pie and be done with it.

  • • •

  How had she so easily . . . so blindly . . . run from one set of expectations she couldn’t live up to only to collide right into another wall of expectations she had to scale?

  Caron dumped what was left in the box of Hot Tamales into a plain white bowl on her desk, the red oval candies clattering against the ceramic dish. She’d go shopping for something nicer to store the candy in if she was staying. But a twenty-one-day job warranted nothing more than a cereal dish found in the break room cabinets.

  She ought to toss the candies in the trash, but she needed the zing of her favorite snack. Let Kade Webster joke all he wanted to—chewing a few Hot Tamales did get her creative juices going. It was part of her regular workday routine. And despite Kade’s moronic behavior on Monday, she had a job to do. She’d work here as late as she could, and leave when Kade left, since he hadn’t given her a key to the building.

  She hit speed dial on her cell phone, waiting for Margo to answer. “Hey, I wanted to update you on my plans for tonight.”

  “Going out with your handsome boss?”

  “Just . . . stop.” Caron fisted a handful of Hot Tamales. “I’m going to work here as late as I can—”

  “But Emma and the other bridesmaids are coming over to start making their jewelry. We need you here.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot.” Not lying to her friend because she had truly forgotten the craft night planned for this evening. “I’m so swamped—”

  “Well, I’ll start your necklace, but you should come anyways! It’ll be fun.”

  “Um, yeah.” For someone who wasn’t craft-challenged.

  At that moment, Kade stopped just outside her office. Caron paused, waiting for him to move past. Even at the end of the workday, he still looked good in his charcoal-gray suit jacket and khaki pants.

  Caron closed her eyes. Not that she should be noticing how he looked.

  When she opened her eyes, the man still stood in her office doorway. He tilted his head, eyebrows raised, asking a silent “Can I talk to you?”

  Caron mirrored his head tilt, pointing to herself, responding with a silent “Now?”

  With two swift steps, Kade entered her office. That would be a yes.

  Margo interrupted the silent standoff. “Are you still there?”

  “Yes. But I have to go. I’ll see you later tonight.”

  Kade started talking as she disconnected the call.

  “I apologize for interrupting—”

  “No problem. It was just Margo.” Caron unclenched her hand. Ugh. Sweaty Hot Tamales. She needed soap and water. “I wanted her to know I’d be working late tonight . . . well, as late as I can.”

  “How late were you planning on being here?”

  “I’ll stay until you leave. I don’t have a key.”

  “I apologize again. I didn’t even think about getting a key made for you. I’ll have Miriam do that tomorrow.”

  “It’s not a big deal, but it would make it easier. I like to come in earlier, stay later—and my hours may be erratic, trying to get the job done as soon as possible.”

  “Understood.” Kade cleared his throat, tugging at his blue paisley tie as if it choked him. “I’ve managed two apologies already in this conversation. I can certainly manage a third.”

  Oh.

  “I was out of line the other day. I could give you all sorts of excuses, but none of them matter. Somehow I let my past feelings for you get mixed up with the reality of today.” Kade had maintained eye contact with her the entire time—and oh, how she recalled getting lost in Kade Webster’s gaze. Losing track of time . . . of what she’d been doing . . .

  “Caron?”

  Her attention jerked back to the present. “What?”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  She hadn’t. Not a single word. “I-I’m sorry . . . You lost me there for a moment.”

  Kade cleared his throat. “I admitted I overstepped our professional relationship saying what I did. I apologize.”

  “Thank you. I accept your apology.” How formal she sounded. “I guess this means I can stop looking for an assortment of bells to go with my different work outfits.”

  “I deserved that.” Kade’s smile gave way to a snort of laughter. “Look, let’s just both acknowledge the elephant in the room—that we dated once, a long time ago—and then show the elephant the exit door. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “I appreciate your help and I am well aware your boyfriend is counting the days until you get back home.”

  “Right.” There was no need to mention Alex’s messy attempt to propose to her before she left. But she could still maintain distance from the man she once loved by positioning her boyfriend between them.

  “You’re all good with your rental car?”

  “Yes, thank you. I kept it small, since it’s just for driving around town.”

  “And Miriam gave you the spreadsheet detailing our agreement, as well as the contract?”

  “Yes. I signed and returned it.”

  “Then we’re all good here.” Kade stepped back. “Let me know when you’re ready to discuss ideas for the tour house.”

  “End of the week good?”

  “Perfect. I’ll be a while longer if you’re still working—”

  “Thanks. I’m trying to move from brainstorming to specifics.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  Once Kade disappeared, Caron unclenched her hands that were hidden behind her desk. Apology given and accepted. Invisible boundary line drawn, thanks to Alex.

  Time to get back to work.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Caron rested her elbows on Margo’s wooden dining room table that was covered with magazines and the various pages she’d torn out for inspiration. They were scattered about like oversized bits of autumn foliage, adorned with glossy photographs and captions. The only hint of the jewelry-making party she’d missed were several stray pearls and the photo of her partially assembled necklace Margo had texted her.

  Caron leaned forward s
o her hair fell around her face, pressing her fingertips to her eyes, which were dry and gritty from lack of sleep. What time was it, anyway? The tiny clock at the top of her laptop screen declared it was four o’clock. In the morning.

  Kade Webster hadn’t asked her to work all hours of the day and night, but agreeing to stage Eddie Kingston’s home was a lot like facing the obstacles in the Emerald Coast MudRun—without the mud.

  And she’d run that course with a group of other Realtors from her dad’s office to raise money for charity. She’d had teammates who helped each other conquer the obstacles that demanded balance, upper-body strength, and the ability to slog through mud that sucked the shoes right off your feet.

  Her scrawled list of things to do was her virtual obstacle course that she faced all by herself. Kade might supply the finances to help her, but being her boss wasn’t the same as being her teammate.

  Or being her boyfriend.

  Kade had risked a lot calling and asking for her help after she’d walked away from him. She’d hurt him two years ago. While staging the house wasn’t an act of penance or payback, she wasn’t going to disappoint him again.

  Caron scanned her list again, rubbing her eyes when the words blurred.

  Decide how to decorate each room.

  Find the right furniture and accessories for each room.

  Transport furniture/accessories to Kingston home.

  Stage each room.

  Take it all down after the tour.

  That about covered it. Now all she had to do was make it come together. Do her job. Her absolute best. Make Kade happy. Make Eddie Kingston happy.

  Her brain buzzed like a light bulb that was about to short out. She needed to step away from all of these ideas for the living room, the bedrooms, the family room. Her mind swirled with furniture and fabrics, all hazy with fatigue and an overload of caffeine, carbs, and sugar.

  Caron dumped her watered-down glass of sweet tea into the kitchen sink and tossed the empty bag of white cheddar popcorn and its companion empty box of Hot Tamales into the trash. She couldn’t eat another piece of candy. Her tongue and teeth were coated with sugar and spice—and it was anything but nice.

  Her comfortable, still-made bed in Margo’s small guest bedroom tempted her, inviting her to snuggle between the blankets and pull a pillow over her head. Close her eyes for a few moments. But that would be a mistake, leading her to sleep through an alarm, ending up late for work.

  That would impress her boss.

  Kade.

  The memory of his apologies trailed behind her as she made her way to the bathroom to shower, the heat of the water washing away the tiredness weighing down her limbs. Why hadn’t he taken the easy way out and just let things blow over? Acted like nothing had happened at the tour house? But then, Kade had always been about working on their relationship when they were dating.

  Caron hurried across the parking lot. She’d kept Kade waiting. She was late for their dinner date because her father needed to talk with her. She should have told her father she had to go because she was dating someone. That she was dating Kade Webster.

  “I’m sorry.” Caron met Kade as he moved around to the passenger side of his car. “I didn’t realize I’d be this long.”

  “Something important?” Kade remained standing beside her, taking her hand in his.

  “I, um, had a meeting with my father.”

  “I know. I got your text.” He intertwined their fingers, his thumb stroking the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. “And you can’t tell your dad you had a date, can you?”

  “You know I can’t. He’s not just my father, he’s my boss. If he calls a meeting—”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I was talking about us.” He motioned back and forth between them. “Are we going to skulk around like this forever, Caron? I feel like I’m some sort of teenage derelict, instead of a grown man in a relationship with a woman he happens to—”

  “I just don’t know what he’ll say—” Caron rushed past Kade’s words. As much as she wanted to hear them, she wasn’t ready. It would change everything. Demand things of her and force her to make tough choices. “—how he’ll react.”

  “Is there an office regulation that says we can’t date each other?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the problem? I’ve worked here for three years. Your father’s mentored me and helped me learn the ropes. I’m respected in this town because I’m associated with this company.” Kade pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. “And yet you won’t tell him that we’ve been dating for four months. Why?”

  “What if he thinks you’re dating me because I’m the boss’s daughter?”

  Kade’s eyes darkened. “Is that what you think?”

  “No, of course not. I’m trying to keep my father happy . . . trying to keep you happy . . .”

  Kade pulled her into his arms, up against his chest, locking her there. “Look at me.”

  His dark eyes glittered in the glow of the streetlight, the planes of his face a contrast of light and shadow.

  “This is our relationship. You. Me. I am sick and tired of feeling like your father is some invisible third person tagging along.” His words were low and intense. “I’m in love with you, Caron Hollister. And I don’t care what your father—or anyone else—thinks about it.”

  She expected his kiss to be as forceful as his words, but the touch of his lips was a gentle wooing. He sought and found a response she didn’t even know was hidden inside of her. His kisses left her breathless, and then his lips found the soft skin of her neck, just below her ear. Her breath caught, warmth flooding her body. As she struggled in his arms, he loosened his hold, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him even closer.

  But as he started to kiss her again, she pressed her fingers against his lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “If that was your apology—” Kade’s breath was warm against her skin. “—I may still be a little upset. Tell me again.”

  Caron risked kissing him—savoring the enticement of his kisses for a few seconds before pulling away. There was no reason to be afraid of this man. Of the future. “I do love you, Kade. I know we need to tell my father. My entire family. Just let me figure out the right time.”

  “Knowing you love me, I can wait.”

  And then Kade had decided to start his own real estate business, announcing his decision a mere two months later. And that was the end of their relationship. Her father’s accusations that Kade was untrustworthy, scheming, and manipulative had backed her into a corner. Who did she know better? Her father? Or Kade? Her dreams had been entangled with her father’s for so many years . . . how was she supposed to choose Kade over her family? She’d made the only choice she could.

  And that was all for the best.

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  Margo’s question followed a quick rap on the bathroom door, which she eased halfway open.

  Caron pulled her robe closed, tying the belt. “Come on, Margo! Do you ever knock and wait for someone to say ‘come in’? What if I was still in the shower?”

  “I knew you weren’t. I heard the water go off. You’ve been up all night, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. I’ve been thinking.” Caron towel-dried her hair.

  “About?”

  “Staging the house, of course.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “How does it feel to be working for Kade?”

  “It’s . . . fine.”

  Margo yawned, running her fingers through her short hair so that it stood up in little spikes. “Fine. O-kay.”

  The traitorous memory lingered in the back of her mind, not that she’d share it with Margo.

  “What do you want me to say, Margo? I don’t even recognize my life anymore. My father partners with Nancy Miller. My professional life looks like a house that’s been gutted for renovation. My boyfriend tosses an offhand proposal at me on the w
ay to the airport—” At the sound of Margo’s gasp, Caron paused. “I must have forgotten to mention his romantic so-do-you-want-to-get-married proposal.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t have time to say anything because we were almost to the airport. We’re okay. As soon as we figure out my destination wedding misstep and his blunder of a proposal, we’ll get married. Happily ever after. Simple, right?”

  “Caron, I’ve always been your honest friend—sometimes too honest. There is nothing simple about your life right now.”

  “On that we can agree.”

  “So back to my original question—it doesn’t feel odd, working for Kade?”

  “Kade is happy pursuing his career. I’m here temporarily. We both know that. And we both acknowledged, like two mature adults, that we dated once and that our brief relationship is all in the past.”

  “If you say so.”

  “That is hardly a rousing vote of confidence.” Caron hung the damp towel on the rod.

  “Sorry. It’s not even five o’clock. If you want more enthusiasm, you’ll have to ask me later today.”

  “Says the woman who did get to sleep through the night.”

  “How about if I go put some coffee on while you get dressed?”

  “That would be wonderful.” Caron waved her toward the kitchen. “Right now I don’t have time to discuss my messed-up past and the unclear future. I need to get ready for work. Concentrate on this project. And somehow figure out how to be productive after pulling an all-nighter.”

  “I’ll make the coffee extra strong.”

  “And I’ll have to apply an extra layer of makeup to try and hide the bags under my eyes.”

  “You primp. I’ll prep the coffee.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  It was going to be a good day.

  If he had a Superman T-shirt, Alex would wear it to work today. Under his uniform shirt, of course, keeping his identity hidden just like any other superhero.

  He was being ridiculous, but the knowledge that he would fix Jessica’s air-conditioning today had him fighting back a huge grin the entire time he showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth.