by Mia Ross
“Yes.” She scrambled rather inelegantly to her feet, gathering up her crutches along the way. “I mean, no.”
“Which is it? Yes or no? Me or the dog?” He sounded angry. Angrier than a mama bear defending her cub.
Not that Posy could blame him. She’d had an eyeful of Aqua Net on more than one occasion, particularly in her early years with the dance company when she’d shared a cramped dressing room with every one of the other thirteen members of the corps. It wasn’t pleasant.
She forced herself to tear her gaze away from the dog. Not such an easy task. It was an enormous, hulking beast. Very bearlike in appearance, other than the lolling tongue and great swinging tail. She kept doing double takes to make sure it was, in fact, a dog. It let out a woof, and she finally felt safe enough to take her eyes off it.
“Again, I’m sorry. Very sorry.” Her cheeks flared with heat. “I thought your dog was a bear.”
He removed his hands from his face and looked down at her with incredulous eyes. Red, puffy, incredulous eyes.
Posy lost her balance for a moment, then righted herself. She found it difficult to breathe all of a sudden.
She stared at the man, sure she was hallucinating. A name—the name—from her past echoed in her ears, along with the pounding of her suddenly out-of-control pulse.
Liam.
No. It couldn’t be. It looked like him—same charmingly rumpled dark hair, same broad shoulders, same chiseled jaw. Except now those shoulders seemed even broader, the jaw more finely sculpted and covered with a dark shadow of masculine stubble. Six years was a long time. Long enough to change a boy into a man, apparently.
“Posy?” he said, the shock she felt down to her core mirrored in his expression.
And for the briefest of moments she was eighteen again, living in a snow-globe world of young love, cozy Alaskan winters and wild-heartbeat romance. Laughter. Long walks among snow-laden evergreens. The thrill of her frosty first kiss while swirling snowflakes gathered in her hair.
She swallowed. “Liam.”
His name felt somehow both familiar and foreign on her tongue. Like a favorite thick, cozy cardigan sweater that looked the same as it always had, but no longer seemed to fit once you slipped it on.
“Posy,” he said again, a coldness creeping into his voice.
She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but then Liam’s gaze dropped lower. To her foot. And the ugly anchor attached to it—her plaster cast.
Breathe. Just breathe.
Without even realizing what she was doing, she closed her eyes. Only five days had passed since her injury, but that was long enough for Posy to grow more than weary of the looks of pity that the chunk of plaster elicited from people who knew she was a ballerina. It was like walking around with your biggest inadequacy on display for all the world to see.
If Liam looked at her with even the smallest amount of pity in his gaze, the brave front she’d been putting on for the past five days just might crumble to pieces. Dancing had taught her a lot of things—determination, discipline, how to tolerate pain. But it hadn’t prepared her for this: coming face-to-face with her past.
With Liam Blake. The last person in Alaska she wanted to see.
Truth be told, she much preferred the idea of a run-in with a grizzly.
* * *
Posy Sutton.
Liam blinked. His eyes burned like a wildfire, and his vision was still a bit fuzzy, but even through the fog of hair spray he could see that familiar swan neck, those long, graceful limbs, those huge, haunted eyes.
Posy Sutton.
With a cast on her foot.
She was injured. Of course. Why else would she have come back? She’d danced away from Alaska as quickly as she could. He should have known there was a reason she’d returned. A reason that had nothing whatsoever to do with the past. With him.
Get over yourself. It was six years ago. She’s moved on. You’ve moved on.
He ground his teeth. He might have moved on, but that didn’t mean he had to ask about her foot. Or how it was affecting her dancing. If he so much as uttered the word ballet, he might sound like a jealous lover. Posy may have been his first love, but dance had been hers.
Her first love. Her only love. She’d sacrificed everything for it.
He’d never stood a chance.
He forced his gaze away from the cast. He’d seen a cast on the very same foot before. That first cast had been what started it all. The beginning of the end. He’d felt sorry for her then, which was how he’d let things get so out of hand. In the end, he’d done the right thing, and she’d never forgiven him. In a single bittersweet moment, he’d saved her and lost her at the same time.
If she expected sympathy from him now, she was in for a big disappointment. He’d been down that road before and had no intention of traveling that way again. He jammed his hands on his hips and paid no attention to the cast or the crutches she seemed to be struggling to keep from sliding out from under her.
The injury must be recent.
He chastised himself for wondering about it, pretended not to notice the foot and refocused on her face. Her eyes were closed for some strange reason. He pretended not to notice that, as well. “You thought my dog was a bear?”
“I did.” Her lashes fluttered open, and she met his gaze. Full-on eye contact.
Those eyes. Those luminous eyes, the exact color of a stormy winter sea. Misty gray. He’d never forgotten those eyes, no matter how hard he’d tried.
He cleared his throat. “Well, he’s not. He’s a dog.”
As if on cue, Sundog abandoned chasing his tail and bounded over to the two of them. Posy’s eyes grew wide, and she teetered backward on her crutches. By the look on her face, anyone would have thought the dog was about to rise up on its hind legs, grizzly-style, and tear her limb from limb.
Liam reached out to keep her from falling. Again. “Careful there.”
“I’m fine.” She wiggled out of his reach. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”
Fine.
She was fine. He was fine. They were all fine.
Except not really. This whole encounter was as awkward as it could be, and it somehow seemed to be getting worse by the minute.
“What kind of dog is he, anyway? He’s as big as a...”
“Bear?” Liam asked, grinning despite himself.
She offered him a hesitant smile in return. “I was going to say ‘house,’ but ‘bear’ works. Obviously.”
“He’s a Newfoundland.” He watched Posy reach out a tentative hand and stroke Sundog’s head.
Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he’d one day be standing in church while a very adult Posy Sutton petted his dog. It didn’t seem real. He almost felt as if he was watching a movie about someone else’s life.
And what if it had been someone else? What would Liam say to the man standing there with puffy eyes? The man who suddenly had the beginnings of a smile on his face?
Don’t be an idiot. What’s past is past.
That was precisely what he would say.
He cleared his throat. “It’s the dead of winter. Bears are hibernating.”
“What?” Posy’s hand paused over Sundog’s massive head.
“You thought you saw a bear.” Liam shrugged. “Not possible. They’re all tucked in for winter.”
Her brow furrowed. “Oh, that’s right. I guess I forgot.”
After a prolonged beat of silence, Liam crossed his arms. “I’m sure there are a great number of things you’ve forgotten. You’ve been gone a long time.”
She flinched a little. Her stormy eyes narrowed. “Six years. Not that long.”
He lifted a brow. “Long enough to forget that bears hibernate.” What self-respecting Alaskan didn’t know that?
/>
But that was precisely the point, wasn’t it? Posy hadn’t been an Alaskan for quite a while. In truth, Liam envied her. Not because she’d left, but because she’d forgotten. There were plenty of things he’d like to forget.
Her cheeks flushed pink. “The bears are sleeping. Duly noted.” Her tone had gone colder than a glacier.
She was angry. Good. So was he. Why exactly, he wasn’t quite sure. But he had a feeling it had less to do with his stinging eyes than it did Posy’s sudden reappearance in their hometown.
His hometown. He was the one who loved it here. He was the one who’d stayed.
“So when did you get back?” If forced to guess, he would have said a day. Two, tops. Any longer than that, and he would have heard about it. Someone would have seen her and run to him with the news. Over half a decade had passed since they’d been high school sweethearts, but small towns like Aurora had long memories.
At the change of subject, her expression softened. Just a bit. “I came in with Bill Warren this afternoon on his mail run from Anchorage.”
“I see.”
He didn’t see. Not really. As one of only a handful of small-aircraft pilots in Aurora, Bill made a daily jaunt to Anchorage on behalf of the postal service. He never flew up there until after lunch, to be sure the mail was ready. Everyone in Aurora knew the drill.
Liam glanced at his watch. Three o’clock, which meant Posy had been back in town less than an hour. And her first stop was church? That seemed odd.
He started to ask her if he could point her in the direction of the prayer room or the senior pastor’s office, in case she was lost. If she thought there were bears in the trash cans, it wasn’t such a big leap to think she might have forgotten her way around, even though they’d spent a fair amount of time in this place as teenagers. In this very room, now that he thought about it.
“Listen.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got some things to do around here. Can I help you find someone?”
He still had an hour or so before the kids showed up after school. But he had an appointment on his calendar with an actual grown-up, a rarity since he spent most of his time with teenagers. A grown-up who he hoped would be the answer to his prayers—a long-awaited assistant for the after-school program.
“Oh. Well, thank you for the rescue, and I apologize again for macing you. I’m sure you have someplace you need to be.” She just stood there on her crutches, as if waiting for him to leave.
“Actually, right here is where I need to be.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, unease snaking its way up his spine.
He’d been so thrown by seeing her that he hadn’t thought to wonder why she was there in the first place. No. No, it can’t be. It just can’t.
Posy grew very still, as if contemplating the same uncomfortable possibility that was running through his head. “You followed your big unruly dog in here, right? That’s the only reason you’re here.”
She stated it as fact, as if any other possibility was a thought too horrifying to consider.
He gave his head a slow shake.
She swallowed. Liam’s eyes traced the movement up and down the slender column of her throat. She was elegance personified. She always had been. Those willowy limbs. Her every movement so fluid that she gave the impression she was made of liquid instead of flesh and bone. She didn’t just look like a swan. She was a swan.
“My dog might be big, but he’s not unruly,” he said.
Posy rolled her eyes. “He knocked over a trash can and ate half its contents.”
“He’s on a diet. It’s a recent thing.” Why were they making what amounted to small talk and avoiding the issue at hand?
Because I know what’s going on here, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.
“Why are you here, Posy?” he asked.
He knew the answer before she even opened her mouth.
“I work here,” she said warily.
A pain sprang into existence somewhere in Liam’s head. “You work here?”
He’d been asking the senior pastor to hire an assistant for the after-school program for months. There was a new city grant up for grabs, and with a little help, the youth program at the church might prove a worthy recipient. It would mean winter coats for those kids he’d noticed who were still wearing last year’s threadbare hand-me-downs. It would mean computers and internet for the teens who couldn’t afford such luxuries at home. How it meant that he would be working alongside Posy was a mystery.
What was happening?
He lifted his gaze briefly to the ceiling. Really, Lord?
“Yes. I’m looking for my new boss. The youth pastor. You don’t know where he is, do you?” She looked around as if waiting for someone else, anyone else, to materialize out of thin air.
Oh, how Liam wished someone would. “I’m afraid you’re looking at him.”
She shook her head, clearly unwilling or unable to believe him.
I’m not any happier about this than you are, darling.
“Liam, if this is your idea of a joke, it’s really not funny,” she said. Her voice shook a little. Nerves? Anger?
He wasn’t sure. It came as somewhat of a shock that he no longer knew what was going on in her head simply by reading her pretty face. It shouldn’t have. But it did.
He swallowed. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”
Copyright © 2015 by Teri Wilson
ISBN-13: 9781460378854
Finding His Way Home
Copyright © 2015 by Andrea Chermak
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