Almost Like Being in Love (30 page)

“It's inspiring—”

“No . . . no, it's humbling.” Kade took another bite of the sandwich and set it aside.

“I don't understand.”

“It's one thing to run a course when your arms and legs are working. Sure, I hurt my back. That's temporary. But to see Mitch . . . forgetting who he was before the firefight . . . and accepting who he is now . . . facing those obstacles. Refusing to let them stop him. He lives that every day. I couldn't stop him from being hurt . . . but if I can help him live the life he wants now . . . well, I'm all in.”

“You're a good friend, Kade.”

Kade swallowed against the burn in his throat, his eyes closing. “There was a moment today when I was carrying him on my back . . . and I remembered after the firefight . . . how I
wanted to just pick Mitch up and carry him as far and as fast as I could away from danger. But I couldn't. There was blood everywhere . . . and his legs . . . I needed to apply tourniquets. And he was conscious for a moment and I said, ‘You're gonna be okay, buddy. You're gonna be okay . . .' ”

The warmth of Caron's hand on his, the softness of her skin, saved him from going all the way back into a memory that still woke him some nights. Kade turned his hand palm-up, curving his fingers around her hand.

“He lost both his legs . . . I couldn't prevent that. But I made a promise that I'd help him any way I could.”

“Because that's who you are.”

“It's the right thing to do. You stand by someone when you love them.” Kade gave in to the need to lie down.

Caron adjusted the soft material of the blanket over his shoulders, her fingers brushing his skin. Why was she still here? Why had she come back? He caught her hand in his again.

“Why did you leave without saying anything?”

She stilled. Just like that, with one question, they were facing their past relationship again. “I thought . . . it would be easier.”

“Was it? Easy?” He tightened his grasp, determined to have an answer this time.

“No. No, breaking up with you wasn't easy, Kade.” With her free hand, she ran her fingers through his hair. “I did love you. It just wasn't going to work . . .”

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax as she continued to brush her fingers through his hair. “Are you happy with this other guy?”

A moment's hesitation and then “Yes.”

“Well then . . . that's that, I guess. You're happy. He's happy. And I'm . . . well, I'm sleepy.” Kade knew his voice was fading. “And
you can go on and leave. It's all right. I should be used to people leaving me by now . . .”

•  •  •

Even after Kade had fallen asleep, Caron stayed where she was, his medicated condition allowing her to dare to hold his hand.

His insistence that she leave—that it didn't matter because he was used to being left—kept her at his side, his hand in hers. She'd convinced herself that leaving him with no explanation would be easier. But she knew better.

She knew him.

As Kade tucked her beneath his arm, Caron leaned closer, falling in to step with him. Moonlight shimmered across the Gulf, creating shadows along the sand dunes.

“I like these nighttime walks along the beach.”

“Me, too.” Kade's voice was low. “No need to wear sunscreen.”

“That's not what I meant. I like the quiet. Just you and me and the moonlight.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So I was wondering something.”

“And what was that?”

“You know about my family. I mean, you work for my father, after all—”

“True. Although I haven't done the guess-who's-coming-to-dinner routine yet.”

“All in good time.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “You don't talk much about your family. You do have one, don't you?”

“Everyone has some sort of family.”

“Well?”

“I grew up in Maryland. My parents divorced when I was in elementary school. My father remarried and decided family number
two was more important than me. End of that story. My mom lives in Connecticut now, and we keep in touch.”

“She never remarried?”

“She has a long-standing boyfriend. It works for them.” Kade shifted, pulling her closer to his side. “The closest thing I had to family were the Neilsons.”

“And they were?”

“Neighbors. A military family that moved next door to my mom and me when I was ten. I became friends with their son, Drake. Man, they let me hang around all the time. Meals. Game nights. Took me to the base pool.”

Kade fell silent.

“Do you and Drake keep in touch?”

“I have no idea where he is now.”

“What? Why not?”

“When we were fifteen, Drake's dad was diagnosed with cancer. He died six months later. The family moved to be near relatives. End of story.”

“Oh, Kade, how awful—”

“It is what it is.” Lurking behind the flat statement, Caron knew, were all sorts of stuffed emotions. “I joined the military right out of high school. Mr. Neilson had always told me that he thought I'd do well in the air force. I'd like to think he'd be proud of me.”

Caron brushed Kade's hair back from his forehead—something she loved doing when they were dating.

She'd obeyed her father's demand and ended the relationship when Kade decided to strike out on his own. But in doing so, she'd hurt Kade even more than she'd allowed herself to realize. She'd proven to him once again that people leave.

But how could she not do as her father expected? Kade knew how much she valued her father's opinion. And he knew how invested she was in her father's company. He knew she'd
never imagined working anywhere else. She couldn't stand up to both her father's demands and to Kade's insistence that he loved her—that they defy her father. So she'd simply not shown up for their next date. Never returned a single one of Kade's what's-going-on phone calls. Deleted his texts. Every single one of them.

Yes, it was easier. For her. And as time went on she'd convinced herself that her heart wasn't broken. That what she had with Kade was nothing compared to what she found with Alex.

Then why were there times when she ached for Kade all these months later? Why were memories of their time together closer and closer to the surface of her heart? She couldn't still be in love with Kade. She couldn't be.

And what did a woman do if she realized she'd been wrong to walk away from one man in the hopes of keeping her father happy? That maybe . . . the perfect man for her . . . wasn't the right man for her after all?

C
aron backed out of the passenger-side door of Kade's car, exhaling as she stood straight. At only nine in the morning, the cement of the driveway was cool beneath her bare feet, the sky overhead still a mix of blue skies and white clouds.

And thanks to a small piece of sleight of hand, she'd retrieved Kade's car keys from the kitchen counter where he'd left them last night. Now the interior of his SUV gleamed. Maybe she didn't own a car with leather interior. Yet. But she knew how to do the basic detail of one. She'd ransacked Kade's garage until she'd found his plastic bucket of car-care supplies. If she was going to clean his car, she was going to do it right.

Of course, she could have just driven through a car wash, but there was no risking the muscle relaxers wearing off and Kade waking up to find his car missing and thinking someone had stolen it while he slept.

Her cell phone buzzed in the pocket of her jeans shorts. A text from Margo.

Where are you?

Instead of texting back, she opted for a phone call.

“You didn't see my note, did you?”

“What note?”

“I left you a note—never mind. I'm going to miss church today.”

“Why?”

Caron shut the car door, wiping away the sweat beading along her forehead. “I'm cleaning Kade Webster's car.”

“What? He's paying you to stage a home, not clean his car—”

“I'm helping him out, Margo. He hurt his back running the obstacle course yesterday.” Switching the phone to speaker and setting it on the front hood of the car, she released her hair from the pigtails she'd adopted for the morning, her hair falling to stick to her damp neck. “His car is filthy after driving to Aspen and back yesterday. He's going to want it clean come tomorrow.”

“You Realtors and your insistence that you have spotless cars.”

“Just part of the job. I've got the interior done, now all I need to do is wash the outside and I can get out of here before Kade wakes up.”

“Doing your good deed in secret, is that it?”

“I guess I am. I want to get this done and be gone before Kade wakes up. It's . . . it's best that way.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.” Margo and she always spoke the truth to one another. Why was she hedging now? “I mean, nothing I can talk about right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I will talk to you, Margo—”

“I know. Just finish what you're doing and then come on home. I'll be here, ready to listen when you're ready to talk.”

She should have gone to church with Margo today. Refreshed herself with the praise and worship music. Found some guidance from the pastor's teaching. But surely God understood that she was helping Kade, stopping him from hurting his back any further.

She'd left the now-empty plastic bucket near the corner of the garage where she'd spied the hose. As she turned away from the car, Caron tripped over her bare feet at the sight of Kade standing in the open garage bay.

“Good morning.” His dark hair was tousled, and he wore his long pajama bottoms . . . and a confused smile.

“What are you doing out here?” Caron pushed her sunglasses back up on her nose.

“Shouldn't I be the one asking that question? I mean, my house . . . my driveway . . . my car.”

“It's pretty evident what I'm doing. I'm cleaning your car.” Caron tried to keep things nonchalant. Go about her planned business of washing Kade's car. Not stare at him in half of his pajamas. Watching Kade take on the Mudder yesterday had reminded her how he benefited from his frequent workouts. Now she had another unobstructed view of his muscular torso.

Focus on something—anything—else. Liquid soap in the bucket. Turn on the outside faucet, and place the bucket beneath the steady stream of water. “I know you need your car cleaned up after the drive through the mountains yesterday.”

“I can handle that myself.”

“With a strained back? I don't think so.” Caron tossed a large blue sponge into the bucket. “Besides, I'm halfway done. I'll finish what I started . . .”

“All right, then. How about I rinse the car off?”

Kade still had to be groggy because he wasn't even arguing with her. With a swift motion, Caron retrieved the hose. “I'll rinse the car off.”

“Caron, I'm perfectly capable of—”

“Kade, you're barely awake, and besides, I know how sensitive you are to medication.”

“Hey, I'm awake. I'm walking.” He offered her a lazy smile that made it seem as if the sun had warmed her body. “Besides, I just invested in a fireman's nozzle for my hose—”

“A fireman's nozzle? Isn't that a little overkill?”

“So I bought into the advertisement.” He held out his hand. “I'll rinse the car and you can start soaping it down.”

“Bossy today, aren't we?”

“My driveway—my car.”

“I know, your house.” Caron relinquished the hose. “This is probably safer than letting you wash the car. Just take it easy with that thing, okay?”

“Of course. I've washed a car before, Caron.”

Caron jumped back when Kade pointed the nozzle toward her. “Hey!”

“Sorry. I wasn't pulling back on the grip.” His gray eyes seemed remarkably clear. “I promise to behave.”

For the next few moments, they worked in tandem, Kade moving around the car, aiming a steady stream of water at the exterior and the hubcabs, and Caron following behind him with the bucket and sponge, scrubbing the dirt off.

“I need some more water over here, boss.” Caron stepped back, motioning to the bucket with the sponge.

“Sure thing. You want to add more soap? The bottle's right near the rear tire.”

“Okay.” She squirted more soap into the bottom of the bucket. “There ya go.”

Kade aimed the stream of water into the bucket, adjusting the strength, but not before some of it splashed onto Caron's bare legs.