Next Comes Love

by Helen Brenna

  A woodworker could disguise many mistakes with intricate carvings and complicated design, but on this bed with these graceful, understated lines even the slightest error, an uneven surface, a mistake of a few degrees, became glaringly obvious. King-sized with four tall pencil posts, a wide headboard and a footboard lined with old-fashioned rope pulls, the design he’d developed for this bed frame was simple and flowing, more Shaker than Mission, more contemporary than Shaker.

  Reminiscent of the graceful curves of a woman lying on her side, these lines were faultless. This was, hands down, the most stunning piece of furniture Garrett had ever made. Not a single slab of that wood had been turned, cut, drilled, pounded, stained or varnished without thoughts of Erica filling his mind. He imagined her now, lying there, the curve of her neck to her shoulder, her narrow waist flaring into her hips, the gentle curves of her long legs.

  “Garrett?”

  Oh, God. Sometimes he wondered if he hadn’t completely conjured the woman in his mind she seemed to have become so much a part of him.

  “Do you mind if I come in for a minute?”

  “Sure.” He closed his eyes and swallowed, composing himself before turning around.

  Something had been bothering her today and he hadn’t been able to put his finger on the problem. Near as he could tell, they’d had a damned near perfect morning sailing together, but she’d been preoccupied. By the time they got back to Mirabelle, she was barely speaking to either him or Jason. Figuring she’d talk when she was ready, he’d given her some space and come out to his woodshop.

  From the serious look in her eyes, she was ready. As if she were uncertain how to begin, her gaze moved past him and focused on the bed. “Did you make that?”

  He nodded. “Designed it, too.”

  “Can I touch it?”

  “Yeah. It’s finished.”

  She ran her hand along one of the tall posts and then the headboard. “It’s so smooth. The color of the wood is so warm. What is it?”

  “Cherry. With a very light, natural stain. It’ll darken over time to a rich umber color. The slight contrasts of light and dark you see now in the wood will intensify, creating something unique, something no man could ever plan.”

  Suddenly, he found himself hoping she’d be around in ten, fifteen, fifty years to see the wood age to perfection.

  “I’ll bet you’ll be able to sell this for an arm and a leg.” When he said nothing, she turned and looked at him. “You don’t plan on selling this?”

  Never. “No.”

  “So it’s your bed?”

  I made it for you. He nodded. Share it with me?

  “Well, I…it’s…beautiful.” As if she guessed his thoughts, she quickly glanced away. “Why did you become a cop?”

  “What?”

  “You’re so talented. Why a cop?”

  He looked down at his hands. “Remember I told you my dad taught me woodworking?”

  She nodded.

  “He taught himself everything he knew while he was in prison.”

  She glanced up at him. “Prison?”

  “Manslaughter. Killed a guy in a bar fight.”

  “How old were you when it happened?”

  “About twelve.”

  “So he had a temper.”

  He laughed humorlessly. “That’s putting it lightly.”

  “Did he ever hit you?”

  “Yeah. He didn’t drink often, but when he did, he was mean.”

  “Your mom?”

  “Never touched her.”

  “What does that have to do with you becoming a cop?”

  “I beat up a kid in high school. It scared me. Finding out what I was capable of doing. Of how much of my father was in me.” He stared at the bed frame. “Getting sent to the workhouse, though, for a month was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Listening, she waited.

  “There was a counselor there, who made me understand that it’s not strength that matters. It’s what a man does with his strength that counts. He made me believe that becoming a cop would put me on the straight and narrow. It worked for a long while.”

  “But?”

  “I was turning into the criminals I put in jail.”

  “You keep in touch with your dad?”

  “He passed a while back, but when he got out of prison, he moved back in with my mom. He was a changed man. So calm, so controlled. Almost happy. He said it was the woodworking.”

  “So you picked it up.”

  “Yeah. Guess I have the best of both worlds up here.” He paused, waiting to see if she was ready to talk. One minute flowed into the next. Whatever it was had her tongue-tied, and that was something. “Well,” he finally said. “Will you help me carry this inside?”

  “Up to your room?”

  “Your room. You might as well sleep on it while you’re here.”

  Several trips into the house later, they had all the pieces upstairs, the mattress and box spring off the old frame, and the space was ready for the new bed. Jason had joined them and had helped put all the pieces together. A short while later, they were finished.

  “That’s that.” Garrett stood back.

  “Looks nice,” Jason said. “Can I go watch TV now.”

  “Sure,” Erica said. “Thanks for your help.”

  The bed looked good in the big room, but there was something missing. “This room needs something.”

  “Color,” Erica said. “Red.”

  She’d nailed it. “A big red down comforter.” The color would set off the rich tone of the cherry. Not to mention her bare skin.

  “Exactly.” Her gaze connected with his. “I…need to talk to you about something. I think it’s time for Jason and I to start thinking about moving back into our old apartment.”

  Leaving him. He should’ve seen this coming. Instead, he’d allowed himself to get used to them, enjoy their company. Now the thought of living in his house alone filled him with a deep and consuming emptiness. He looked away, feeling too raw to face her. She’d see. She’d know.

  “Lynn’s college kids will be gone in a few weeks,” she went on, “so the apartment will be open again. Billy’s made no attempt to come back to Mirabelle—”

  “No.”

  “I’m not asking your permission, Garrett.”

  “It’s not safe.” He stood and paced. She couldn’t leave. What would he do without her? Without Jason? Without the sounds of their voices? Their laughter, their little arguments.

  “I appreciate all you’ve done for me and Jason, but he’s getting very attached to you and…it must be confusing for him. I plan on talking to Lynn tomorrow and then at the end of this month, we’ll be moving out.”

  “You need to stay here.”

  “Why?”

  Tell her. Tell her you want her to stay. Tell her you need her. “You know why,” he whispered.

  “Do I?”

  “I can’t protect you at your old apartment. I can’t protect Jason.”

  “Well, it’s time for me to protect…a couple of hearts.” She walked toward the door.

  “Erica?”

  She stopped, but didn’t turn. Her shoulders rose and fell quickly as if she was taking deep breaths, as if she were holding back. If he asked her to stay, would she? And if she stayed, what then? Next week, next month, next year, what would happen the first time he lost his temper? What would happen if he ever got angry with Jason?

  Jason. Damn, he’d gotten unexpectedly attached to that kid. What had he been thinking? Starting something he couldn’t finish? He clenched his jaw. “I…” He sighed. Even he could hear the resignation in the sound. “This is exactly what Billy is waiting for.”

  Without so much as a backward glance, she left the room.

  Anger built inside him until he felt as if he might burst from the pressure. Break something. Go pound your hammer. Do something. Blow it off. But in his heart he knew there was nothing that would make a difference, nothing that would take awa
y the—not anger—but pain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE STORMS forecasters had been warning the public about for the past few days hit Mirabelle early in the evening. The massive band of severe weather now stretched across the entire Midwest from Missouri all the way up to Canada and would be hitting Chicago about the same time as Mirabelle.

  Wind battered the trees, blustery clouds formed overhead, and a biting cold cut through Erica’s coat. She flipped the collar of her jacket up, hugged the grocery bag tighter and tucked her head down as she climbed the hill to Garrett’s house.

  “You really don’t need to walk me home,” she said to Arlo. “I’ll be fine.”

  After Billy had shown up on the island, Arlo or one of the pub regulars had insisted on walking her up to Garrett’s house every night after work. “No point in fussing about it,” Arlo said. “We’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

  “But it’s such a terrible night out.”

  “All the more reason you can use the company.”

  After passing Arlo’s stables, the golden glow of incandescent lights twinkled through the tree branches, and as she walked up his drive there was Garrett sitting at the kitchen table with Jason, talking and laughing. They looked to be playing a game.

  “Thank you, Arlo.” She reached up on tiptoes and lightly kissed his cheek. “You’ve done so much for me.”

  “You’ve got that all wrong, dear. You’ve done so much for Lynnie and me. See you tomorrow.” Pulling his jacket tighter, he headed back down the hill.

  Erica couldn’t shake the feeling that Lynn and Arlo felt like the parents she’d never had.

  She turned to go into the house. Her feet hit the porch steps, and Garrett spun around, his guard raised by the sound. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with gratitude. First Arlo and now Garrett. He hadn’t owed her and Jason anything and yet he’d opened his home and had promised to protect them. Making a special meal for him tonight seemed grossly inadequate for all he’d done for them, but it was all she could offer.

  “You’re home early,” Garrett said after she’d shut the front door.

  Home. If only.

  As if he realized what he’d said, his smile disappeared.

  “No one’s out and about with the storm coming,” she explained. “Lynn gave me the night off.”

  “Sweet!” Jason smiled. “Garrett’s teaching me how to play chess.”

  “I can see that.” She set the groceries on the counter. “Isn’t that hard?”

  “I almost beat him once,” Jason said.

  “If I’m not careful, he’ll be crushing me the next time we play.” The next time. Garrett’s grin was laced with sadness.

  “Have you two eaten?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good. I stopped at the grocery store, thinking I’d make a special meal.”

  “Special, huh?” His thoughts appeared to have drifted firmly away from the chess game.

  She did her best to ignore him as she emptied the contents of the grocery bag. “A pasta dish. Something you two have never eaten before.”

  “Why not?”

  “Yeah, why?” Jason said, following Garrett’s lead in teasing her.

  “Because, smart alecks.” She smiled. “My order for special sausage from my favorite Chicago butcher only just arrived at Newman’s.”

  “Ah.”

  “Your turn,” Jason said.

  Garrett moved a piece. “Check.”

  “Dang it!”

  “In one move you can put me in checkmate. Do you see it?”

  “Where?”

  “You want me to show you?”

  “No,” Jason said quickly. “Not yet—there it is. Checkmate!”

  “You did it.” Garrett chuckled.

  “Can we play again?”

  “How ’bout some other time. Let’s help Erica.”

  Jason hopped up on a stool at the island counter, but Garrett came to her side of the counter. “What can I do?” he asked, coming close. Very close. Too close.

  She put the bottle of Chianti she’d purchased between them. “You can open this and pour two glasses.”

  For a breathtaking moment he looked as if he might take her by the arm and ask her to stay, but then he grabbed the bottle and took an opener out of a nearby drawer.

  She brushed off a package of mushrooms. “Jason, can you slice these like I showed you before?”

  “Yep.”

  She placed a cutting board and paring knife in front of him along with the package of white-capped mushrooms.

  Garrett handed her a glass of wine. “I’m at your service.”

  She took a sip of wine and got Garrett going on slicing onions and various peppers. After getting the sausage browning on the stove, she set about cutting up the chicken breasts, sautéing the vegetables, and then simmering them in various spices and wine.

  Garrett grated a chunk of Romano cheese. “Whatever this is, it smells amazing.”

  “I hope you like it.”

  “I love everything you make.”

  Erica set the food on the table as Garrett and Jason dove in, piling one thing after another onto their plates. The first meal she’d made for Garrett, she’d scoffed at the domesticity of it all. Maybe because it was something she’d never had, never knew she could have. Now, though, she was glad to be able to do something for this man.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’re not eating until you sit down.”

  She joined them at the table. The family feel of Garrett’s house was getting more and more comfortable with every passing day. While her apartment back in Chicago had fit the bill for many years, that place wasn’t the picture that flashed in her mind when she thought of home. Home had somehow become this house, this kitchen. Family not only included Jason these days, but Garrett. These were things she didn’t have a right to expect.

  She hadn’t even told Jason yet that they’d be leaving to go back to their own apartment, hadn’t packed a single bag, and already her heart was breaking. Suddenly, she missed having a home. A family. A place where she belonged. How can a person miss something she’s never had?

  BLACK CLOUDS CHURNED overhead as a wall of driving rain made its way across Lake Superior. Erica stood by the window in Garrett’s bedroom and watched the weather hit with amazing force, feeling an affinity with this natural phenomenon.

  Rain slashed against the windowpane, wind whipped the nearby branches of a maple tree into a frenzy, and lightning lit sporadically over the water. She walked across the hall to check on Jason. He was sound asleep, oblivious to the storm. What a change from the boy who’d woken up crying in the middle of a rainstorm when they’d first come to Mirabelle.

  Restless, she crossed the hall again. Lightning flashed, illuminating the lines of the headboard Garrett had made, curvy, sensual and bold. What she wouldn’t have done in that moment to see his head on a pillow near that headboard, or any headboard, when it came right down to it.

  A sense of desperation overwhelmed her. She’d be leaving soon. Out of Garrett’s home. Very likely out of Garrett’s life. This was it. Before she left, she wanted a taste of being with him. One taste. Who could blame her?

  She crept back into the dark hallway. As she went down the stairs to the spare bedroom where Garrett was sleeping she worried she’d waited too long. What if he was asleep?

  Quietly, she tiptoed toward his room. All of the shades were open to the storm outside. Lightning flashed, showing his bed empty, the blankets twisted and mussed as if he’d tossed and turned for some time. She stood in the doorway, now at a loss. Where was he?

  Lightning flashed again. He was sitting in a chair by the window, watching the storm. But now his gaze was focused on her.

  GARRETT WOULD’VE BEEN lying to himself to suggest that he was surprised to see her in his room. As he’d been getting ready for bed, he could practically feel her upstairs thinking about him. Knowing she was planning on leaving him, the tension culminating in the house was matched only
by the storm gathering outside.

  So when he heard her light step in the hall outside his room, it was all he could do to keep himself still. The hard-on, he could not stop. “You’d be doing everyone a favor by going back upstairs,” he said, not moving a muscle, “and forgetting whatever it is you have in mind.”

  Without a word, she moved toward him.

  “Erica, don’t. This will only make you leaving all that much harder. For both of us.”

  She faltered, but then kept coming.

  He didn’t want to look at her, but when she knelt in front of him, he couldn’t take his eyes off her face. He touched her cheek and pulled back. “My hands. They’re too rough.”

  She snatched back both his hands and entangled her fingers in his. “I love your hands. Every single rough edge and callus. Every line.”

  “Don’t do this,” he whispered.

  “You’ve known practically from the first moment we met that this was going to happen. You want it. I want it.” She pushed his knees apart and inched toward him.

  She kissed him and cupped his erection at the same moment and he expelled a breath into her mouth. “You don’t waste any time, do you?” Breathing hard, he pushed her away. This woman was everything his body needed, but she’d rip his heart to shreds. “You may be what I want, but you’re not what I need.”

  “No ties. No commitments. That’s every man’s dream.”

  “Not for this one.” He flung her hands off him, pushed back his chair and stood. “Believe it or not, now I’m the one who wants the fairy tale. Having you and Jason here, with me, has made me see the possibilities. Now I want a wife and a houseful of kids. Happily ever after.”

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m not asking for forever.”

  “Erica, I lose myself when I’m with you. I—”

  She silenced him with her mouth, and like a blazing hot ember her kiss burned away every one of his good intentions with its heat. Then her hands were pulling off his shirt, her fingers working the fly on his jeans. Once she’d touched him, stroked him, all caution left him. He couldn’t get her naked enough fast enough. “You’re crazy, you know that?”