by Kay Stockham
MARLEY ENTERED her apartment with a sigh of relief and locked the door behind her.
Thanks to the steady rain, she hadn’t returned to work at the construction site, couldn’t go out to work on one of her other projects and didn’t have the brainpower needed to concentrate on designing. So she did the thing she hated to do most—clean.
She’d started by asking Eli and Amy to help her rearrange the display areas, both inside and out, to better showcase the merchandise either already in stock or on order for Christmas. Now the fall mums, gourds, pumpkins, straw and fodder she kept on hand for Halloween and Thanksgiving took up the covered area outside guarded by a colorful assortment of scarecrows, and the ten-foot barbed-wire-topped security fence that lined her parking lot and butted up against her building. The Christmas trees wouldn’t arrive until November 1 so she had nearly a month to block off a section of the lot.
Inside the main area, they’d rearranged the various concrete statues, tools and gardening accessories, and opened up the center of the room so that she could light several trees and decorate them with gardening and nature themes. Around those she planned to market miniature John Deere tractors and wagons, and various other outside necessities and accessories that also made great gifts.
It was quite an accomplishment for the day if she thought so herself. Too bad she’d still managed to find time to think about Beau.
“You going to stand there holding up the door all evening or come in?”
Marley opened her eyes and frowned at Angel where she sat in front of drape-covered windows. “Depends. Why is there a Roadster parked in my equipment garage?”
“Do you mind?”
She shook her head. “What’d Clay do?”
“Can’t you guess? Your brother doesn’t know when to quit. He keeps calling and he’s been by here twice. I wouldn’t open the door and the last time he left, I moved my car into the garage hoping he’d think I’d left town.”
Stifling a moan, Marley bent and unlaced her work boots, toeing them off and grimacing at the dirt that had coated her socks at the job site then soaked in when she was out in the rain. She pulled those off, too. “He’s not going to give up, you know.”
Angelique tossed a magazine aside and stood up, wrinkling her nose at the sight of Marley’s filthy clothes. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
Her stomach growled. “I haven’t eaten anything but granola bars all day. You really are an angel.”
Dressed in designer slacks, a beaded tank top and heels, Angelique looked as if she’d stepped out of the pages of the magazine she’d left on the couch.
“Yeah, well, no offense, but you smell like the bad end of a gym sock. Go shower while I serve.”
Marley didn’t argue. She headed to the bedroom and the attached bath, and moments later stood beneath the too hot water. She tried to rid her mind of all thought and disassociate herself from Beau and the pain of the past, but couldn’t. She’d lived in the depths of anger and despair for weeks after her baby’s death. The only thing that had pulled her to the surface was the fear she’d wind up like her mother if she didn’t snap out of it. She’d gone back to work and begged for more hours, quickly figuring out that keeping busy best dulled the wounds.
Marley’s stomach growled and she knew she had to get out and face Angel. Her friend had needed to talk last night and hadn’t been her usual astute self. Today, however, the inquisition was sure to begin. Ready or not.
Marley turned off the tap and stepped out onto the bath mat just as someone knocked on her apartment door. Uh-oh. She grabbed a towel and entered the bedroom. Angel hurried in, her eyes wide and expression indignant. “Who is the hunk and why didn’t you tell me about him?”
Marley secured the towel tighter around her and tiptoed to the open bedroom door to shut it. “You didn’t let him in, did you?”
Angel blinked at her. “Well, of course I did. Now, tell me who he is.”
She didn’t bother stifling her groan. “Angel—”
A soft knock sounded on the bedroom door. “Marley,” Beau’s voice emerged low and sexy from the other side, “don’t be mad at your friend. Come out. We need to talk.”
“Sounds serious,” Angel murmured. “Wanna clue me in so I don’t have to eavesdrop so hard?”
What to do, what to do? If Clay decided to stop by and saw a Buchanan & Son truck he’d go ballistic.
Marley opened the door and peeked out. “Say what you have to say and leave.”
His gaze focused on her face, his blue eyes troubled. “Come out and let’s do this right.” He lifted a hand that didn’t look quite steady and smoothed it over his head and neck, his Marine T-shirt straining at the seams across his broad chest in the process.
One would think the military supply their people with shirts that fit. “F-fine. Give me a few minutes.” She shut the door with a quiet click and locked it to make a point. Turning, she ignored Angel’s surprisingly silent presence and searched for clean clothes.
“Wow. He’s the guy, isn’t he?”
Nodding, Marley pulled out underwear and jeans from her dresser. A shirt from the closet. She turned her back to Angel and dressed with hands that fumbled with the hook of her bra and took four tries to snap her jeans.
“Have to say, I never thought I’d meet him.”
She’d never wanted any of them to meet him. “Why would you? I certainly never wanted to see him again.” She snorted. “But wouldn’t you know it, here he is. Not only in South Ridge, but on the building site. What are the odds?”
Angel’s perfectly plucked eyebrows rose at her tone. “What are they, indeed. Sounds sort of like, I don’t now, fate playing a hand?”
Marley rolled her eyes and donned her shirt. “For a recently divorced woman, you sound awfully romantic.”
“Comes easy when it’s not the guy driving me nuts on the other side of the door.” Angel walked into the bathroom and grabbed a hairbrush from the basket by the sink. “Here.”
“I don’t care what I look like right now.”
“I do.” Angel studied her, shrugging her acceptance of a black Stones shirt and snug jeans. “To have the upper hand a woman always has to look her best. Trust me.”
Marley relented. She ran the brush through her hair, but left the length to hang around her shoulders to dry. She wasn’t fixing it for him, and even a ponytail meant putting forth an effort. Angel had stepped into the bathroom again, but when she returned with makeup, Marley put her foot down. “No. I’m not trying to impress him. I don’t even want to talk to him. I just want this o—”
“Um, I can hear you.” Beau’s voice carried from the other side of the door.
She smacked her hand to her forehead and groaned. “Oh, Lord, help me.”
“Calm down.” Angel grinned. “After everything you’ve said about him I had a mental image, but he actually seemed nice.”
“Really? And you base this on talking to him for how long? Two seconds?”
“I can still hear you,” Beau drawled, a smile in his voice. “Come on out, Marley.”
She glared at Angel before opening the door and stepping into the living room. Beau stood by the television set, a brace on his leg and a cane in his hand.
“You really hurt yourself today, didn’t you?”
“Temporary setback. It’ll be good to go in no time.”
Typical man. Never admit to pain. What was up with that?
“Why don’t you sit down,” Angel urged, taking on the role of hostess. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thanks.”
Marley waited, watched. When guys met Angel for the first time they always reacted the same way. They looked her up and down and couldn’t take their eyes off her. Then their expressions turned calculating and anyone watching could see them trying to formulate a game plan to get Angel into bed. Seconds passed, but strangely enough, Beau’s eyes never left Marley’s. Almost as though she were the only woman in the room.
Yeah, right. M
arley crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you.”
He paused, his gaze never wavering, and a part of her wanted to tell him to go ahead and look. The fact that he didn’t unnerved her even more.
“Alone, if possible.”
“So much for eavesdropping or sitting in.” Angel shrugged. “I’ll go downstairs and see what trouble I can get into there.”
“No. Angel—”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”
Marley shut her mouth with a snap and resigned herself to the fact that escape wasn’t an option. “Please tell me you didn’t park the company truck outside my door.”
Angel waited for Beau’s response.
His mouth lifted in a smirk. “Afraid to be seen with me?”
Neither woman said anything.
The smirk darkened into a scowl. “I drove my truck. Pop had the movers haul it here on a carrier when we relocated. There aren’t any signs on the side.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Angel whispered on her way out the door.
Thank God, indeed. People parked in the alley all the time because there were second-floor apartments all along this section of businesses. Without the Buchanan & Son signs on the sides, no one would pay any attention. She hoped.
Marley nodded toward the couch for him to have a seat. Beau gingerly lowered himself onto it, the cane he used for balance gripped tight in his large hand.
“I had to come see you. To make sure you were all right after what happened today.”
“You could have called.”
“You hang up on me.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“It’s also something I had to do in person. Marley, you can’t say what you did today and not tell me the whole story. You know that, right?”
She did. She’d known it the moment the words came out of her mouth, but it had been too late to take them back. Just do it and then he’ll leave. “There’s not a lot left to tell. It was raining. I slipped and fell. I went to the hospital and thought everything was okay, b-but the tests came back and they told me the impact had—it was too much. They started my labor after that.”
Beau shoved himself off the couch and paced across the room in angry, limping strides. “The doctor made you go through labor? They couldn’t just—”
“No.” Throat tight, she pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them close.
He was silent a long moment, but she could hear him breathe. Did he feel pain on her behalf?
“There’s no excuse for me not being there with you. For not supporting you and taking care of you. Maybe we weren’t a couple anymore, but she was still my child. My responsibility. I should’ve been there.” He turned to face her, his jaw tight, eyes bloodshot and full of regret. “It means nothing now. God knows it’s too late to hear me say this, but I should’ve been a better person, Marley. I should’ve been there for you and for our baby both.”
She didn’t move. Couldn’t. Life, the Marines, something, had helped Beau grow up. The moment was bittersweet because she found herself liking the man he’d become, the one able to stand before her and speak with such heartfelt sincerity and compassion. Too little too late, as he’d said, but true.
The pain in her heart eased, soothed by the knowledge that maybe she hadn’t been such a bad judge of character after all. Maybe Beau had panicked after she’d told him he was going to be a father. She’d certainly panicked after finding out she was going to have a baby.
And maybe Clay was right.
People deserved second chances if they were genuine in their desire to make amends. Nothing could be done to change the past, but everyone knew forgiveness worked both ways. To get it, she had to give it.
“Marley, I have no right to ask, but…go back further. Before the baby. What happened between us?”
Angelique’s outraged screech filtered up from within the stairwell and ended whatever response she was about to make. Multiple footsteps pounded up the steps, then the apartment door burst open and crashed into the wall with enough force to put the knob through it.
Marley gaped. “Clay, what on earth—”
Her brother didn’t stop. He crossed the room in a split second, grabbed Beau by his shirt and slammed him against the closest wall. “Nice to finally meet you.” He muttered the words between his gritted teeth. “You and I are long overdue for a talk, Buchanan.”
Beau managed to break her brother’s hold, but Clay used the opportunity to slug Beau.
Marley grabbed hold of his arm before he could manage a second. “Clay, stop! Stop it!”
Beau let out an angry roar and shoved Clay backward, far enough to get a punch in himself. Neither of them listened to her and, not knowing what else to do, Marley pushed her way between the two men so they couldn’t get each other without hitting her.
“Get out of the way, Mar.”
“This is between your brother and me,” Beau growled, his hot breath hitting the side of her face and ear.
She shivered, hated the telling response, and prayed no one noticed. “I said, stop! Beau’s injured! It’s not even a fair fight!” Marley elbowed Clay in the ribs when they continued to struggle, drawing a grunt of pain from her brother. “Stop it!”
The men paused, glared at each other for a long moment, then released each other.
Marley was afraid to breathe wrong. “Beau, are you all right?”
“You’re asking him? He’s—”
“Injured!”
“Fine.”
She didn’t know who to be angrier at. Beau for refusing to admit he was hurt in the first place, or Clay because…he was Clay. “Then you should go.”
Beau’s cheek had already started to swell, his angular jaw puffing up. His gaze held hers, soft and warm with all they’d shared whether he remembered it or not. “Will you think about what I said?”
“You say another word to her and I’ll—”
“I will.” She tried to smile but couldn’t. What a mess. “Just go. Please,” she added when she saw Clay’s smug expression.
Her brother’s face reddened. “There you go again. Why are you saying please to him? He should be on his hands and knees—”
“Hush!” She elbowed Clay again.
Beau stared down at her and something passed between them. An understanding. Indescribable but…meaningful.
“Leave, Buchanan, otherwise I’ll take you out myself and we’ll finish this outside.”
Marley closed her eyes and groaned. “Will you just shut up? The last thing we need is for the editor of the South Ridge Sentinel to be charged with beating up an injured war veteran. Beau, go. Clay’s leaving, too, but not until after I know you’ve gone and aren’t duking it out in the alley.”
Without another word, Beau left the apartment. Marley pressed her palms to her forehead and focused on not breaking down. This was exactly what she didn’t want to happen. Exactly what she was afraid would happen.
“What the hell were you thinking letting him in here?”
“I let him in.” Angel lifted her chin. “And they were doing fine before you got here.”
“Fine? Fine? The man ruined her life!”
Angel tilted her head to one side and regarded Marley with a sympathetic stare. “She doesn’t look ruined to me.”
Marley heard the sound of a Hemi engine turning over. A second later it faded away.
Clay ran both his hands through his hair. “You’re doing this to get back at me. You’re both taking up for him just to—”
“Yeah, Clay, this is all about you.” Angel snorted. “What kind of egomaniac makes what just happened about himself? You men are all alike.”
“Don’t stand there and compare me to your ex.” Clay moved close to Angel, the words growled down into her face.
“Guys.” Marley couldn’t take it anymore. The tension, the fighting. The blame. Most especially the guilt. A moment? She’d actually thought she and Beau had share
d a moment? “Clay, your time’s up. This is still my apartment. Get out.”
“I’m not—”
“Get out!” The shrillness of her tone shocked her. She sucked in a ragged breath, her hands fisted at her sides. “Just get out.”
He frowned. “Mar, come on, take it easy.”
Tears she hadn’t released in much too long overwhelmed her. She couldn’t breathe. Her nails dug into her palms, but the pain didn’t distract her. Falling apart. She felt as though she was falling apart, and she was desperate to hold herself together. The past, the baby, her mother and Beau. Having to live it all again. She wrapped her arms around her stomach.
Angel pulled her into a hug, the words she murmured distant. All she could think about was that it should’ve been her mother comforting her, should’ve been her mother who cared.
“Clay, go. She can’t do this now.”
Marley sensed her brother’s anger and concern, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. She was angry at him, at Beau. At the world.
The moment the door closed the dam broke and tears slipped from her eyes. Like Angel, she hated crying. She hated the sign of weakness, especially since she’d cried too many tears for Beau Buchanan already. Why was she doing this again?
“It makes you human—and you didn’t cry in front of him. That makes it all okay.”
Angel’s words brought out a reluctant smile. When the tears had passed, Marley wiped her eyes and slowly managed to pull herself together. “What if those two idiots come back?”
“Then I tackle you so you can’t jump in between them again, and we let them kill each other. At least then they’ll be out of our hair.”
Marley snickered, the sound thick and rough. That was such an Angel thing to say and a horrible thought, but it kind of appealed. Things would be quieter that way. Her stomach growled loudly and she welcomed the distraction. “Please tell me you have something decadently chocolate for dessert.”
“What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t? Don’t we always take care of each other?” Making a goofy face guaranteed to make Marley smile, Angel held up her hand, pinky finger extended. “Cradle to grave.”
Marley sniffled and did the same. Their pinkies wrapped around each other, she thought of the many years they’d weathered as loyal friends, sisters and surrogate mothers all rolled into one and smiled wryly. “Friends till the end.”
