Always My Hero

by Jennifer DeCuir

  They couldn’t hope to have any kind of honest relationship unless she was willing to tell him the whole truth about that night. About the baby they had made and she had eventually lost. And Bree had vowed never to burden Ryan with the kind of pain she’d carried alone all these years. Oh, it would have been so easy to tell him yesterday. The opportunity had been right there. But she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready.

  “Hey there. Grab a seat. Have you eaten?” Cady waved from behind the cash register as Bree stepped into the coffee shop.

  “Aren’t we headed out?” Maybe she had time to match models to background ideas, tab number three of her ever-expanding spreadsheet.

  “Yeah, but I’m waiting for my slave labor to arrive to finish out my shift. And I repeat, have you eaten?” Hands on her hips, Cady lifted a perfectly shaped brow.

  “Not since early this morning. But don’t worry about it. I’ll have seconds for dinner, okay, Mother?” She stuck out her tongue.

  “Sit. Eat.”

  The timing was eerie as Cady swept around the counter with a flourish, depositing a toasted ham and cheese panini on a table near the window. She pulled the chair out for her friend and refused to budge until Bree was settled. The smell of the wheat toast and the thickly sliced Vermont cheddar had her mouth watering and, to her embarrassment, her stomach rumbling.

  “Uh huh. Exactly what I thought. Bree, I swear you need a keeper.”

  “And I suppose you know just the man?”

  “Man? Who said the keeper had to be a man?” Cady turned her back, but not before Bree caught the twinkle in her eye.

  The bell over the door to the coffee shop cut their conversation short. Burke Sanders, Cady’s new husband, walked in, not stopping until he had scooped his wife up in a fiery kiss that had the shop regulars hooting their approval. A light bulb went off in Bree’s head and she let out a startled laugh.

  “Hey Burke, before you don that gorgeous pink apron, would you join me for a minute?” She patted the chair beside her.

  “Omigosh, why did I not even think of him?” Cady looked from her husband to Bree and back again.

  “Quiet, missy. You get him all to yourself most of the time. Now is my turn to borrow him.”

  Burke looked decidedly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. Sitting down beside Bree, he reached out and snatched a potato chip from her plate. The look on his face was unrepentant and she narrowed her eyes. Fine, let’s see how cocky he felt when stripped down to his abs in an embarrassing photo shoot.

  “I need your body. Well, at least I think I do. Kind of hard to tell beneath that jacket.” She didn’t normally talk like this, but the man was starting to blush.

  “Oh yeah, you want his body. Trust me.” Cady licked her lips and widened her eyes.

  “Call 911. I think someone has kidnapped Bree and left an imposter in her place.” Burke pushed his chair back from the table and gave his wife a hard look. “And you? What the hell? I’m not into threesomes.”

  At that the women could no longer contain their mirth. Cady laughed so hard she snorted, which made her laugh even more. Eyes streaming and stomach cramping from her own laughter, Bree tried not to fall out of her chair as Burke eyed them both like they were a couple of escaped lunatics.

  Once she could finally breathe again, she explained the fundraiser and why, exactly, she needed Burke’s body. He’d drawn in on himself and she knew he wanted to tell her no. Interesting. While the ex-football players in Ryan’s living room had preened and postured, Burke looked very ill at ease. Who knew Cady’s man was such a shy guy?

  “I don’t really have a choice in this, do I?”

  “You know it’s the right thing to do.” Her lips curled up at the corners as she reminded him, with only a look, of all the things she did to help him win Cady over.

  “Fine. But I get to choose the background and it’s not going to be lewd or lascivious.”

  “I promise it will be tasteful and aboveboard. Or as much as that can be when one is half-clothed.” Bree stood up and carried her half-eaten sandwich to the small kitchen behind the counter.

  As Burke wrapped a Cady’s Dream apron around his waist, both women snuck up and left a different colored lipstick kiss on each cheek.

  “Oh, that would be perfect! The lipstick is just the right touch. Minus the shirt, I’m thinking. How about you?” Bree turned to Cady for her opinion.

  “Just the apron. And if you want to sell extra copies, a view from the back too.”

  “Out! Both of you, get out of here before I change my mind.”

  They took Cady’s pickup truck to their first stop. Bree had actually never been out to her friend Shannon’s place before. While Shannon and her triplets had been frequent visitors to story time at the library, they weren’t as close as Cady and Bree were. Shannon and the children used to live in the caretaker’s cottage next door, but once she married Dean Patterson, she moved into the ex-boy band singer’s stunning showplace overlooking the harbor.

  It was the middle of the week and Dean should have been at the elementary school, where he was now the music teacher. They had planned to drop by his classroom during a free period but Shannon had texted to let her know he was home with a cold. Armed with a container of Cady’s homemade chicken noodle soup, the friends rang the doorbell.

  Dean answered the door in a pair of navy blue sweatpants and nothing else. His blond hair was adorably rumpled and his poor nose was red and chapped. Eyeing them blearily, he stepped back to let them in. Before he could say a word, he was wracked with a nasty coughing fit.

  Pressing the back of her hand against his forehead, Bree tsked. They shouldn’t have come.

  “You poor baby. Shannon told us you weren’t feeling well. We should have rescheduled. Since we’re already here, why don’t we get you settled on the couch with some of Cady’s amazing chicken soup? Then we’ll get out of your hair. You can give me a call when you feel better.”

  “It’s just a stupid cold. I’ll be fine. Though I won’t say no to a little spoiling, since Shannon isn’t here to make me feel better.” He was going for cheerful, Bree was sure, but the poor guy looked purely miserable.

  She directed Cady to heat up some of the soup and ushered Dean through the marble foyer and back to his little nest on the couch. She lifted the trash can, overflowing with used tissues, and carried it into the kitchen.

  “I feel terrible imposing on him like this. He should be asleep.”

  “But did you see those abs? Sign that man up! Do it while he’s under the influence of cold meds and doesn’t know enough to say no.”

  “You are positively evil.”

  “Come on, Bree. The abs?”

  Cady was right. Dean Patterson did have spectacular chest muscles. She would be doing the women of Scallop Shores a favor by making sure he was part of the calendar. A summer month, she was thinking. Something on the beach. With a surfboard? It’d suit his coloring.

  They returned to the ailing ex-boy band singer, fawning over him since his wife couldn’t be there to take care of him herself. Bree brought him a fresh box of tissues from the hall bathroom. Cady set him up with a tray of soup, crackers, and some mint tea.

  Before she could lose her nerve, Bree plunged in, telling Dean about the library roof and the board’s unorthodox method of raising the funds needed for repairs. Between coughing jags and pauses to blow his nose, he nodded his understanding.

  “Well, it’s not like I’m any stranger to photo shoots. I could probably help the other guys out too. It’s actually kinda hard having people you don’t know look at you like a piece of meat. If you aren’t used to it, it can be pretty intimidating.”

  Lowering her gaze to her toes, lest he believe she’d been taking another peek at his chest, she blushed. Because she hadn’t peeked. Okay, maybe just a bit. Good grief. This calendar was going to kill her. Twelve hot men with no shirts on. Bulging biceps. Rippling abs. Soulful brown eyes and a touch
of stubble. Somehow twelve men had morphed into one in particular. And he looked suspiciously like the one who lived right next door to her.

  “Bree? I was saying we should thank Dean for his time and let him get some rest.”

  “Huh? Yes, thank you so much for helping me out, Dean. For helping us out. The library. The fundraiser.” Yeah. Time to leave.

  Her cheeks felt flushed and she was fairly certain that if she used the thermometer on the coffee table beside Dean, she’d find her temperature a few degrees higher than normal. Ignoring the smirk on Cady’s face, Bree covered Dean with a light blanket (something she should have done from the beginning, in retrospect) and led the way to the front door.

  “The Board thinks Ryan is the coup de grace for this calendar, and I do have to admit I’m more than a tad biased, but having Dean attached to this project is going to be a huge hit,” Bree ruminated, once they were back on the road.

  “I wonder how many women in town had Five of Hearts posters hanging over their beds when they were teenagers.” The soft smile on Cady’s face was nostalgic.

  “Uh huh. Don’t you mean, how many other women?” Bree giggled.

  “I still can’t believe I served that man coffee for months and never realized he was a freakin’ celebrity!”

  “And now I get to see him pose without his shirt. Have I thanked you, yet, for giving Martha such a fabulous idea?”

  The two friends laughed as they drove back into town.

  • • •

  “Just so we’re clear, we aren’t committing to anything by putting the store up for sale, right? It’s just a trial run, to see what the market is like. My parents are on the fence right now.” More like he needed to do a little more in the way of convincing them that this was for the best.

  Ryan followed the Realtor down the aisles, trying to look over the man’s shoulder as he stopped to jot down notes. He’d meant to do this days ago but had got caught up in helping Bree plan her calendar shoot. He wasn’t procrastinating … much.

  “You’re looking to sell the hardware store because your father will no longer be able to run it, is that right?”

  “Well, yes. But I’d have to get a damned good price for it, for them. This is their nest egg. Their future.”

  “And there is absolutely no chance you’d want to run it for them?” Toby Horace had lived next door to Ryan’s folks for as long as he could remember. He was the only Realtor in town that his father would entrust to put his store on the market.

  Until the other day, he wouldn’t have even given it a thought. Now, after asking Bree for another chance, the idea of selling the hardware store and rushing back to his lonely condo in California held surprisingly little appeal. Sure, he could say it was in Wesley’s best interest, but was it?

  At his parents’ house last night for dinner, his mother had told him the visiting nurses reported a marked improvement in his dad’s health since he and Wesley had come home. He was happier, less irritable over things he couldn’t control. He would never be able to run his business again, but if his old man could have a quality of life that let him enjoy himself and just relax, Ryan would be happy.

  “Nah. I’m a numbers guy, it turns out. Who knew, huh?”

  “So I’ve heard.” The man set aside his clipboard for a moment. “Your dad spoke very highly of you, you know.”

  “About what?” Ryan turned to face the shelf nearest him, making sure everything was tidy and pulled forward, even though it was already neat as a pin.

  “His son, the accountant. Making a life for yourself on the other side of the country.”

  “It’s not exactly glamorous. Certainly not compared to a career in the NFL.”

  “I don’t think he cares one way or the other if you ended up in football, son. But you struck out on your own. You went to UCLA. You got a degree. Did a sight more than your pop ever did.”

  “Dad never went to college? I didn’t realize.”

  “His father owned this store before he did. Sure, he took a few business courses here and there, but mostly learned the ropes right at his dad’s elbow.”

  Ryan paused. He’d had his eye on a career in football from the time he was about ten years old. It wasn’t something that he had ever discussed with his father. It was just a given. And his dad had been behind him one hundred percent. They never talked about him taking over the hardware store one day.

  Then after his accident he’d been too ashamed to come back to Scallop Shores, to face the people that he’d let down. Thinking back, Ryan realized it was his own father he’d let down the most. In selfishly putting his own dreams first, he didn’t even think about what his father might want for him, or of the legacy that the man would have to let go because he had no one to pass it down to.

  “Maybe this was a mistake. I can’t sell his store on him.” He shook his head, running a hand jerkily through his hair.

  “Hey, let’s not be hasty, son. Give it a test run. You know you don’t want to run it. You know he can’t. At least get some money for it and give your old man the retirement he deserves, huh?”

  He jotted a few more notes down and clipped his pen back on the sturdy board he’d been writing on.

  “Give me a few weeks, see what I can come up with. If we don’t get a nibble, then we’ll try to come up with some other ideas. I’ll be in touch.” The Realtor pulled at the brim of his hat and nodded as he headed for the door.

  Ryan ground his palms into his eyes. What he wouldn’t give for a decent night’s sleep! He eyed the ancient coffee maker in the office, debating whether or not it was worth the energy to make a pot. He didn’t normally need a caffeine fix at this time of day, but a little jolt sure would do wonders.

  The bus would be dropping Wesley off any time now. Where had the day gone? Yeah, if he was going to help the kid with his homework, he needed a shot of something. Slapping at his cheeks, he stumbled down the aisle and into his dad’s office to start a pot.

  His old man was proud of him. For being an accountant. Go figure. He supposed running the hardware store would be somewhat gratifying if he got to do his own books. That is, if he never got an offer, or one worth accepting.

  “Dad, Dad! Guess what? I got invited to join the chess team at school. It meets on Tuesdays and Allen said his mom could drop me off here on their way home.”

  Wesley blew in like a hurricane, tossing his backpack just inside the door of the store as he charged past the empty counter.

  “Whoa, take a breath, little man. What’s this about a chess club? And who is Allen?”

  “It was so cold out that they let people stay in from recess if they wanted today. So I hung out at the school library. There was a group of kids playing chess and they asked me if I wanted to play. They’re really nice. And Allen is in my class.”

  For a moment, the only sound in the room was the drip of coffee filling the small carafe. Wesley watched him, expectantly. His eyes were shining with excitement. Ryan swallowed down the urge to shout out in victory.

  His kid had made a friend. By the sound of it, a whole group of friends. Forget that it was chess, another activity that he never would have considered when he was his son’s age. The boy was stepping out of his walled off shell.

  “Let’s sign you up then.”

  “Sweet! I have the permission slip in my bag.” The kid’s huge grin was contagious.

  Wesley ran off to retrieve his backpack, which had Ryan sighing in relief. He had been about to reach out to pull his son in for a hug, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t have stopped until there were some touchy-feely words thrown in and maybe a tear or two. Chalking it up to being overtired, he doctored a mug of coffee with some powdered creamer and half a packet of sweetener and took a big sip.

  “Bree’s here, Dad. She’s walking up the sidewalk.”

  Aw shit. The source of his sleep deprivation, and while he was having a particularly emotional day to boot. Ryan pasted on a smile and carried his mug with him to the counter in the c
enter of the store just as Bree pushed open the door and breezed in. A sweet floral scent teased his nostrils and he stifled a groan.

  “Hey, Wes, how was school?” She put an arm around the boy’s slight shoulders and gave him a quick hug.

  “Awesome. I’m joining Chess Club. Dad said I could.”

  “That’s great!” She looked over the boy’s head at Ryan, the smile on her face showing just how huge she realized this was.

  The things just her smile could do to a man.

  Wesley continued to chatter on about school as he gathered his homework materials without being asked. Ryan had set up a second stool behind the counter for him to work, just as he’d done when he was the same age. Sucking down another fortifying sip of coffee, he finally addressed Bree.

  “So what brings you in today? Any more luck with filling slots for the calendar?”

  “I got two more, thank you very much. I’m hoping I’ll fill the last two tomorrow. Come with me?”

  Anywhere.

  She reached into a tote bag and pulled out a book. Sliding it across the counter, she stopped when it reached him. Ryan looked at Bree then at Wesley, before finally looking down at the book. Ah. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

  “For me?”

  Nodding, she waited for his reaction. He picked up the book, leafed through the pages.

  “I suppose there are enough pictures that I can muddle through. Or would that be ‘muggle’ through?”

  Bree clutched at her chest like she was having a heart attack. “Wes, your dad just made a Harry Potter joke!”

  “It’s a miracle!” his son chortled.

  “Maybe I’ll give it a try tonight, when I’m having trouble sleeping.” He didn’t mean that to come out as snotty as it had.