Just the Way You Are (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 1)

by Pepper Basham

  “I have no plans to let you disappear from my life, pet.” He tipped her chin up with his thumb and forefinger and brought his lips to meet hers in a gentle touch. “I’m determined. Quite determined.” He tugged her into his arms and rested his chin against her head, praying she’d believe him. “I know you must return home, but leave with a clear understanding. I have no intention of ending this relationship, no matter how large an ocean separates us.”

  She stared at him a long time as if gauging his sincerity, but as he expected, her smile won over her doubt. “Me either.”

  He pushed his palm through her hair and tilted her face up to his. “Then let me give you a proper goodbye.” His wiggled his brows. “One to tide us over all of the distance.”

  Which he proceeded to do for much too long, finally releasing her—three times—before she had to break from his hold to make her flight. He watched her fumble through the security queues, caught a view of the top of her head from a distance, and then she disappeared behind the crowds. Whatever part her presence carved in his life, it suddenly hollowed in his chest with vacated space. He missed her already and nearly vaulted over the security ribbon to beg her not to leave. He massaged the ache in his chest and turned from security toward the way out.

  His mobile vibrated.

  Miss you already. How is that possible? Here is the pic I took right after that lip-numbing goodbye kiss.

  It was perfect. She held the phone up, snapping the shot and staring up at it with eyes sparkling and smile wide while Wes buried a kiss into her hair. Their arms wrapped around each other as if they belonged together. He could still smell the mint in her hair.

  He texted back. They appear to fancy each other.

  He pictured her grin as she read his note, then he continued his walk. At least he could ring or text her. That allowed for some connection. His mobile alerted him to another message.

  The redhead is definitely smitten.

  He shot off a quick reply. I’m certain the brooding Englishman is too, pet.

  He passed a few paper stands on his way out, giving them an indifferent glance, but a tabloid headline snagged his attention. HARRISON'S FATHER NEAR DEATH. Was romance with a penniless American too much for Christopher Harrison’s father to bear?

  Wes snatched the magazine from the stand and flipped through the pages. A picture of his father in his hospital bed ignited his fury. Who would do such a thing? And how? His thoughts replayed each scene in the hospital. Each nurse or doctor’s face. Each moment by his father’s bed. Vivian?

  No, she wouldn’t risk her profession for this, would she?

  Without another moment’s hesitation, he rang Andrew Chesterton, one of his closest friends who held intricate connections. “Drew, I’m in need of your resources. I need you to investigate an article and a photo to locate the source. Can you do that for me?”

  “I’ll be glad to try, Wes. Send me the details and I’ll get some of my best men to work on it.”

  Wes finished the conversation and walked to his car, more determined with each step. No matter what it took, he’d find the person responsible for stripping his family of their privacy. It was one thing for him to bear the brunt of his professional choices, but quite another for his family. Whatever the cost or the consequences, he’d catch this mole and set the record straight.

  ***

  “Papa let me fire his rifle!”

  Neither a ‘hello’ nor a ‘we missed you, Mommy’ greeted her, but Nathan’s hazel eyes glimmered with more excitement than Eisley had seen since the first time he’d beaten her at checkers. She tried to rein in her annoyance at her father’s testosterone-driven grandparenting skills, but her overprotective mother instinct reared its ugly head without warning.

  Eisley walked into the kitchen and scanned the room for the barrel-chested culprit. There stood her father, dark brown hair in a shaggy mess, with a chocolate chip cookie halfway to his mouth.

  “I’m home a grand total of five minutes, and I find out my seven-year-old has been firing a rifle?”

  Nate, her stubborn-as-a-mule father, shrugged his wide shoulders and sniffed at the comment, his walnut-colored moustache quivering from the rush of air. “I was shooting a rifle by the time I was six and practicing on squirrels. Ain’t no reason why he can’t start.” Her dad puffed his chest out like a proud rooster and took a giant bite of his cookie. “Besides, you can trust your dear old daddy. I wouldn’t let nothing happen to my grandboy.”

  Eisley glanced over at her mom for help.

  “Don’t look at me, Eisley.” Mom placed a squirming Emily in her arms. “There was no talking to him. Did you get any rest on the plane?”

  Eisley kissed Emily’s head and breathed in the sweet fragrance of baby shampoo. “I did something a lot better than sleep. I spent almost the entire flight writing down every memory and scene I could for Uncle Joe’s story. He’s going to love it.”

  “I don’t see why everybody thinks Nathan can’t handle a gun. He did a fine job.” Dad slapped his grandson on the back and Nathan nearly stumbled across the room. “A real fine job. Takes after his papa.”

  Nathan grinned up at Dad as if his papa was encased in gold and perched on a pedestal.

  Eisley groaned. “Oh great! Has Emily started biting bottle tops off with her baby teeth yet?”

  “Shucks.” Dad grinned and lightly chucked Emily’s chin. “I knew I forgot somethin’.”

  “Look, Mama.” Peter brought a paper for her investigation, his blue eyes sparkling with wonder. She knelt down beside him, bringing Emily with her. Pete’s usual Spiderman mask sat on top of his red head, with the rest of the costume covering him from neck to cloth-webbed feet. “I drawed a picture of Santa Claus comin’ to our house.”

  “You drew a picture of him?” Eisley gently corrected. “Oh yeah, that’s a great picture—well done, buddy.” She squinted and looked closer. “Hey, Pete, who is this with—is that a gun?”

  “Yeah.” Pete nodded, his round chin lifted with pride. “It’s Papa trying to shoot one of Santa’s reindeer.”

  Eisley released a long stream of air through her nose and squeezed an eye roll to a stop before it started.

  Dad peered over Eisley’s shoulder at Pete’s paper. “Yep, I see.” He jabbed the page with his finger. “I’m aimin’ for that one right there. He’s an eight-pointer.”

  Nathan pushed in between Pete and Eisley. “Did you get any cool presents over in England, Mom?” His golden brows danced a jig. “For your adorable children?”

  “Hmmm.” Eisley ruffled Nathan’s sandy-blond head and smacked a kiss on his cheek. Boy, had she missed them. “My adorable children will have to wait until Christmas to find out.”

  “Aw, come on.” Nathan pleaded, his hazel eyes rounding into puppy-like orbs and his lower lip quivering with well-trained precision. “How can you say no to this face?”

  She paused as if to consider the actor—after all she’d developed a certain fondness for actors lately— and then gave her head a shake. “Nope. Even with the most pitiful look in the world, these presents are too awesome to see before Christmas.”

  “Did you hear that, Nathan?” Pete nudged his brother, his voice rising into a near shout. “Too awesome, mom said. Oh wow, I wonder if she found the remote control Green Goblin glider.”

  “Mama go bye-bye.” Emily’s sweet voice rang with the angelic lilt of a two-year-old. She touched Eisley’s cheek with her soft padded hands, her dark blue, round eyes searching Eisley’s face as if to bring it back into memory.

  “Yes, I did, honey.” Chocolate pie and strawberry trifle couldn’t hold a candle to this sweetness. “But now I’m ready to find a Christmas tree. What do you say we talk Papa into going with us on Saturday? Only three days away?”

  All eyes lifted to Dad. He heaved an exaggerated sigh and patted his slightly extended tummy. “Oh well, I reckon I’ll have to find some time.”

  “Yay!” Nathan, Pete, and Eisley cried in unison, with Emily respon
ding two seconds behind.

  ***

  “Thanks for staying with the kids.” Eisley tossed her dad a smile as she entered the living room, all three kids snug in their beds. She collapsed into a nearby rocking chair.

  “Well, of course we don’t mind watching our grand young’uns.” Dad braided his fingers behind his head and leaned back on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table and a light of pure mischief twinkling in his expression. “Somebody’s gotta keep ‘em straight.”

  Eisley leaned her head back and closed her eyes, her own grin tempting her lips. “It’s a good thing I got back home then, isn’t it?” She didn’t have to open her eyes to know her dad was smiling. She could feel it. “Dad, words can’t describe how good this trip was for me.” She looked over at him. “Much more than discovering amazing things about our ancestors or fulfilling Uncle Joe’s life wish, but some real time for my heart.”

  “Your mama said you’ve met some British fancy pants.” Dad crossed his arms in front of his broad chest, his nose curled into a snarl.

  “Nate Jenkins.” Mom glided into the room and smacked her husband’s thigh before sitting down. “I never said such a thing.”

  “Dad, he’s not a fancy pants.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her smile stretching to the hurting place. “He’s a great guy. Solid. Good.”

  Dad’s accusing finger popped back into the air. “You need to find somebody who can understand where you come from, Eisley. Who’s a real somebody, not fake as your grandpa’s hair. I think you’d have learned from the low down, sorry man you called a—”

  “Nate, honey.” Mom placed her hand on Nate’s knee, a laugh in her eyes. She turned to Eisley. “I think your daddy’s concerned you don’t make the same mistake twice. We want to see you happy. That’s why we’ve been praying God would bring someone to you.” Mom leaned forward and touched Eisley’s knee. “You’ve known Wes for fourteen days. Time and space will tell whether you’re meant to know him longer.”

  “You are absolutely right.” Eisley sat straight up in the chair. “He told me he believes I’m God’s gift to him for a second chance.”

  “That’s a bunch of—”

  “Nate.” Kay warned.

  Eisley shook her head, unexpected tears warming her eyes. “Believe me, I don’t want to make the same mistake twice, either.”

  Her dad’s jaw twitched and he cleared his throat. “Girl, I just want you to get somebody who’s worth somethin’.” Dad stood to his feet and patted his hands against his jeans. “I ain’t gonna be around forever to teach your boys the things they need to know. If you marry some namby-pamby, then who’s gonna show them how to hunt and fish?” He nodded his head in a self-satisfied manner. “You need to think ‘bout those things.”

  “Number one, Dad.” Eisley lifted to her full height. “I can teach them how to hunt and fish like you taught me, right?” She poked his belly and watched his grin expand. “Besides, what if Wes can hunt and fish…and other very manly things? He may be your equal, even.”

  Her dad exhaled air between his lips in a raspberry sound. “I’ll eat my words if some hotshot English actor knows anything about real-life stuff. Hard work? He probably don’t know his hammer from his chain saw.” He pointed his finger at Eisley. “And if he comes over here—”

  “When he comes,” Eisley corrected.

  “If he comes over here,” he repeated more loudly. “I ain’t gonna make it easy on him. He’s gonna have to prove himself. If he can’t stand the heat, I’ll send him back home like a sissy boy to his mama.” He took a pose that reminded her of the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz. “I’m still your daddy. I still have some say in who’s gonna mess with my grand-younguns, and no prissy pants actor is gonna sweep in here and try to—”

  “You talk a mean game, but I know you. You’re really mush in the middle.” Eisley rocked up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Hey now, don’t you go talkin’ about my mushy middle.” Dad pursed his lips together. “What on earth can an actor do besides act and talk pretty?”

  “I feel sorrier for Wes all the time.” Mom patted Dad on the back. “Come on, Mr. Optimist, let’s get you home before you turn into a grouchier bear than you already are.”

  “I ain’t grouchy. I’ve been in a good mood today.” Dad feigned an offended glare, tucked one hand in his jeans, and patted Eisley on the shoulder with the other. “Eisley knows her daddy loves her.”

  Eisley eased into her dad’s arms. “Yeah, I know. But just wait till you meet him, Dad.” She lifted her head, her grin exploding anew. “Hey, if you really want to see him, I can let you borrow his latest movie. It’s over here on the bookshelf somewhere.”

  “Naw.” He shook his head and grimaced like he’d eaten a lemon whole. “I ain’t watching one of them movies you and your sisters sit down and ‘ah’ over. ‘Specially the ones where they talk with them accents. No siree.” He thumped his fist against his chest. “I’ll be just fine with Indiana Jones and Rocky. You can keep Fancy Pants at your house.”

  Eisley’s mind jumped over to Fancy…er…Wes at her house and her pulse wiggled up a beat, but her Dad seemed to catch his slip of the tongue.

  “Naw, Fancy Pants ain’t staying at your house. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? If he comes, that boy’s staying at our house.”

  Eisley’s spine straightened with a tremor of faith, a dash of hope, and maybe a little bit more of that pixie dust. “Well, then you’d better get the guest room ready, Dad, because Wes Harrison is a guy who is true to his word. He’ll be here soon.”

  ***

  Wes retired to his room after helping his father, who had been home for an entire day, to bed. Relief chased sleep, but couldn’t battle the worry rolled into a stone in Wes’s stomach. The dark marks beneath his eyes and his pale complexion reminded Wes of his father’s frailty at each glance. Another close call. His thoughts shifted to the photo in the tabloid and enflamed concern into a simmer. His friend Andrew reminded Wes that following a lead like this could take a while, but Wes was nearly full-up of waiting.

  The buzz of his mobile redirected his weltered thoughts. Eisley’s name played across the screen and pushed some of his anxiety to the background. He opened her message and a photo of her and her children trying to fit a tree through their small front door inspired his grin. A broad-shouldered man, recognized as her father from previous photos she’d shown him, held the base of the tree, a laugh captured on his face. Cherub Emily rode on Nathan’s back, her small arms squeezed around her brother’s neck, and Pete trailed behind, pointing some sort of red box he had fastened to his arm at the tree, while a Spiderman mask sat atop his ginger-head. Wes studied the box a moment. Ah, must be some sort of web device.

  He couldn’t help smiling. Everything about this photo turned his heart inside out. His gaze moved to Eisley, who guided the top of the tree through the door, her head back in a full laugh. Pressure built from a pinpoint in the center of his chest and branched out, filling up every space between his shoulders. Home. He belonged there—precisely in the midst of all the chaos and laughter. Somehow, the weight of his father’s recovery became lighter, knowing she waited on the other side of the world for him. Her note followed the photo. Ready for something crazy like this?

  He typed back a reply. Without a single doubt.

  A few moments passed before the mobile buzzed again. I miss you.

  The size of the ocean tripled. I miss you too, pet.

  Off to decorate the tree. Talk to you tonight.

  Tonight. They’d begun a routine of video calls every other night, and though they were both distracted by various other things, his feelings for her had only grown over the past few days since she’d returned home.

  When would his father be well enough for Wes to take a trip? His father refused to cancel the annual Christmas party, which proved a good sign toward his recovery.

  If all worked out as he hoped, and his father recovered in
good time, Wes would be sure to make a surprise visit to Virginia for Eisley’s birthday. One month, and all those challenges she’d warned about with her family would come. He couldn’t wait to prove to them, and to Eisley, that his heart was hers to keep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Uncle Joe’s house welcomed Eisley with the aroma of pipe tobacco and leather, almost convincing her mind to forget her uncle’s illness until she passed by the cane, shadowed near the door. She paused in the foyer, closed her eyes, and breathed in strength. She’d done the research. Advanced myeloma cases had a life expectancy of less than a year. The latest specialist’s report hadn’t come in yet, so the whole family prayed for a miracle. For more time. Anything.

  Please, Lord, keep him with us for a little longer. Please.

  “Are you going to stand around in there all day or actually let me see the excitement on your face?”

  Even though her mom had warned her he wasn’t as spry, an immediate weakness almost buckled her to the floor. She bit a smile tight and turned the corner. He sat on the old leather couch right where she’d left him before her trip, and nothing had changed. She released her breath. He looked the same…maybe a little thinner.

  He peered over his wire-rim glasses, his dashing smile etched with the mischief of someone much younger than sixty-five. “I saw you walking across the field. Did Greg steal your Jeep again?”

  She laughed. “No, I’ve learned how to keep my Jeep safe from my crazy brother.”

  He gestured toward the window, concern in those pale blue eyes belying his lighthearted tone. “It looks like rain, Pippy. You ain’t gonna walk all the way home in a winter rain, are you?”

  A rush of warmth enveloped her at his familiar endearment. She cleared her tightening throat. “Dad’s coming to pick me up in a little while. Mom took the kids Christmas shopping and Dad had to drop a few items off at Julia’s bakery, but then he’ll stop by and help you move your trunk downstairs.”