RaeAnne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer\Woodrose Mountain\Sweet Laurel Falls (27 page)

“You're really into this, aren't you?”

“I am. I think it's just what the people of Hope's Crossing need to…to begin to heal.”

She smiled a little and reached a hand across the space between them to cover his fingers with hers. He stared at their joined hands and his stomach swooped as if he'd just missed a couple steps and stumbled down a staircase. He didn't want her to move her hand. Not ever.

What was happening here? His throat felt dry, achy, and his chest was tight. He'd never felt this way about a woman before, he realized, this overwhelming urge to tuck her up against his heart.

He couldn't seem to look away, edgy and uneasy. All his instincts that had protected him through gang shootings and shaky drug deals were warning him to get the hell out of here now while he could.

Unaware of his turmoil, Claire smiled softly. “Riley, we want the proceeds to go into a scholarship fund to help the youth, in Layla's name. Don't you think that would be wonderful?”

“A scholarship.”

Layla should be planning her own college path. Instead his niece was dead and now Claire thought she could make everything better by throwing some kind of work party.

“We want to have it on what would have been her birthday.”

“That's less than a month away. How can you possibly pull off something this ambitious in that time?”

“It's definitely going to take work, but we're setting up committees to handle everything. We were thinking of having the benefit dinner at the Grand Ballroom at the Silver Strike. Since it's the off-season, I think we can swing it. And Alex of course can help with the food.”

Her voice dwindled when she must have begun to sense his less-than-enthused reaction.

“You don't like the idea,” she said, looking crestfallen.

“I didn't say that.”

“Is it the idea of a benefit? It doesn't have to be something fancy. In fact, it would probably be better if we kept the whole thing low-key, given our time constraints.”

He was angry suddenly. Angry at fate for sending him on that mountain road, at himself for ever thinking he could come home and make this work, especially angry at her for being so decent and good and therefore completely out of his reach.

“Look at you, Claire. You can't even walk, but you still think you have to save the whole damn town.”

She blinked a little at his sudden attack. “Not true. I'm not trying to save anyone. I just want everyone to come together. To remind the town that we can forget our pain a little when we're reaching outside of it to help someone else.”

“You want people to forget Layla is dead?”

“I didn't say that. Not at all.”

“You think if you have people mow a few lawns, wash a few windows, you can stick a bandage on the whole thing and everybody will forget the pain and loss. Just kiss the boo-boo and make it all go away.”

Hurt bloomed in her eyes. “No. Never. I want everyone to remember Layla. Honor her in a positive way. That's what the scholarship would be.”

“You want to pretend Hope's Crossing is this idyllic little valley town, full of peace and goodwill, hearts and flowers. Love thy neighbor and all that crap. Well, sorry to break it to you, but the people here can be just as greedy and selfish as anywhere else in the world.”

Her expression grew frosty. “I'm not an idiot, contrary to what you apparently think. I know life in Hope's Crossing isn't perfect. But what's wrong with trying to make it better?”

He had no idea why he was so upset suddenly, but it burned in him, fierce and hot. Frustration over his job,
over the charges pending with Charlie Beaumont, over his impossible attraction to Claire, all meshed together in one big ball of anger.

“It's a complete waste of energy. At the end of the day, you might have a few hundred dollars for some college scholarship that would probably be won by some annoying little overachieving punk. But the town will not change just because you want it to, because you think a few acts of service will suddenly make it so.”

“We might not change everything, but we can help a few people.”

“For what? At the end of the day, no matter how much work you put into this, nothing will be different. People here will still be as small and petty as they are anywhere else. You'll still be a divorced mother whose husband left you for a ditz with perfect teeth and a boob job.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to yank them back. He felt as if he'd just drop-kicked a kitten. She paled with a quick, indrawn hitch of breath as if he'd just shattered bone as surely as that accident.

He closed his eyes, hating himself. “I'm sorry. That was…”

Whatever he meant to say was cut off by the approach of a gleaming black Cadillac SUV that slowed in front of her house and turned into the driveway.

“That would be Jeff,” Claire said, her voice tight and hollow.

“Claire…”

She cut him off, climbing to her feet with aid of
her crutches to pull open the door. “Owen, your dad is here,” she called, and from inside he heard a distant “Okay.”

Tension simmered between them, harsh and angry, as Jeff Bradford climbed out of the SUV and headed toward them. He was wearing a tight Ed Hardy T-shirt and a pair of trendy jeans with a wide belt and artfully scuffed boots, something better suited for someone ten years younger.

He looked surprised and not at all pleased to find Riley on the porch of his ex-wife's home.

“Chief.” The word was cool and somehow edged with disdain.

“Doc,” he replied in the same tone.

The other man leaned in to kiss Claire on the cheek and Riley watched her force a smile, her color still high. “Happy birthday,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Your present is inside on the table.”

The woman could barely move, but she'd still managed to figure out a way to find a birthday present for her jerk of an ex. That weird ache in his throat returned, all that terrifying tenderness, and he knew he needed to get out of there.

“I'd better run. I'll see you later, Claire.”

He didn't want to leave while things were so tense between them, but he couldn't stay here and be polite to Jeff Bradford, not when he wanted to pound the guy right in the gullet of that stupid winged dragon on his T-shirt for ever hurting her.

As he hurried down the porch steps toward his patrol vehicle, he had to wonder which of the two adult males on her property was the bigger ass.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

H
IS WORDS SHOULDN'T HAVE
such power to wound her. Claire knew it intellectually, but that didn't keep the echo of them from gouging under her skin and even as she watched Riley drive away, she had to fight angry tears.

You'll still be a divorced mother whose husband left you for a ditz with perfect teeth and a boob job.

There it was, stark and unadorned. Riley saw her as some pathetic figure who hadn't been enough for her husband, only as Jeff's castoff.

She tucked away her hurt and focused on what needed to be done at the moment, hoisting herself up on the crutches and hobbling into the house.

“Owen, hurry. Your dad is ready to go.”

“I know. I'm coming. Just a sec,” he called down the stairs. “I want to take some Lego guys.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “As if he doesn't have a whole box full of Lego junk at my place.”

“He's got his favorites, I guess. Can I get you something to drink?”

“I'm good.”

“I need to grab a glass of water. Excuse me.”

She wasn't surprised when Jeff didn't offer to get
it for her—not that she would have accepted anyway. Right now she was very sick of frustrating men.

She was so busy making her careful way down the hall that she hadn't realized he followed her until she was pouring a glass from the pitcher of filtered water in the refrigerator.

“You're getting along well,” he commented.

“I hate it.”

“It's a pain, I know. This is the point where all my patients want to cut off their own legs. But you should be able to change casts in a few weeks to one that allows you to walk around more easily.”

“I'm not looking forward to a whole summer of hot, itchy casts.”

“Relax. You won't have them all summer. I'm guessing you'll probably be ready to lose the cast on your arm in a month or so. The one on your leg might take a few weeks longer, but I'd still say by June you should be done.”

That was in line with what Dr. Murray had told her. “Good,” she said with a heartfelt relief.

He crossed his arms across his chest and changed the subject. “What was McKnight doing here?”

Besides shoving a knife into my heart and making me feel like a fool?
She shrugged. “He lives down the street, you know. In that small rental on the other side of the Stimsons. He was passing by and saw Owen playing hoops, so he stopped for a moment to join him.”

“I don't like him hanging around here.”

For a long moment, all she could do was stare. “Excuse me?”

“Ruth told me he was here the other night, that he's been hanging around. I don't like it. He's not a good influence on Macy and Owen.”

“You don't like it.” Her temper, which had already been simmering like Macy's red sauce after what Riley said, started to scorch and smoke.

“You know his reputation with women. You've been friends with Alex your whole life and you've heard the rumors, too. He's a tomcat and always has been. He goes through women like I go through exam gloves and then tosses them away with as little care. He's not good for you, Claire.”

She drew in a steadying breath, but it had little effect against the fury sparking through her. That her husband—currently married to a woman ten years his junior and dressing like he was on an MTV reality show, for heaven's sake—would dare lecture her about her choice of friends was beyond belief.

“I do not want to have this conversation with you.”

He ignored her quiet warning. “I care about you, Claire. I know how you can be when you pour your heart into something. You always go all the way and don't hold any part of yourself back. I would hate to see that happen with McKnight. Whatever game he's playing, I just don't want you to be crushed when he moves on.”

Did
everyone
see her as some pathetic loser who, first of all, couldn't keep a man and, second of all, fell apart when said man left?

She wasn't, darn it. She didn't need either of them in her world to be perfectly content. She had a great
life. Good friends, a thriving business, a comfortable home in a town she loved. She wasn't trying to fill any emptiness in her life with either unhealthy relationships or community events.

She sipped at her cold water in hope that it might cool her temper.

“Riley and I are friends, Jeff. That's all.” And right now, truth be told, she wasn't sure she wanted to claim even that.

“Are you sure? Because Riley McKnight does not strike me as the kind of guy who would hang around playing basketball with a kid and pruning your trees and fixing a roof for you unless he wanted to slurp you up with a spoon.”

“Apparently you and my mother have had plenty to talk about.”

“I'm concerned about you.”

She set her glass in the sink with a loud clank. “Funny, don't we have a divorce decree lying around somewhere that clearly indicates you decided you no longer wanted the right to an opinion about my friends?”

“I didn't stop caring about you just because we fell out of love.”

You
fell out of love, she wanted to yell at him. That was totally a knee-jerk reaction, though, and not even true. They had become roommates those last few years of his medical training and after they first came back to Hope's Crossing.

Anyway, she wouldn't go backward even if she could. She wasn't the same person anymore and probably wouldn't last a week married to him, always
catering to his opinion and working with tireless effort to make his life run smoothly, the same pattern she'd perfected growing up with Ruth.

“Be careful. That's all I'm saying,” Jeff said. “The kids don't need to see you making a fool of yourself over him.”

Oh, she so wanted to point out his Ed Hardy shirt and the Botox injections, but she was trying to be a nice person, right?

“Riley is my friend, that's all. He has been for years. When you think about it, he's been in my life longer than you have. I'm sorry if you don't like it, but I'm not going to hurt somebody I care about by pushing him away just because you suddenly have some ridiculous notion the two of us are secretly carrying on some hot, steamy affair.”

Jeff studied her for a moment, then he suddenly smiled in a self-deprecating way. “You're right. I'm being silly, aren't I?”

Conversely, his capitulation only made her feel more like that pathetic loser Riley apparently thought her.

Just once, maybe she would like to be wild, wanton, crazy. The kind of woman who could have a man make a fool of himself over her. She would prefer he didn't do it by suddenly streaking his hair and going for facials, like Jeff had done for Holly. But, hey, at this point she would take what she could get.

The sound of tromping feet down the stairs effectively ended their discussion and a moment later Owen burst into the kitchen.

“Okay, I'm ready.”

“Let's go, dude.” Jeff slung Owen's bulging backpack over his shoulder.

“I'll see you after school on Wednesday.”

“Love you, Mom. Bye.”

She hugged him and felt that little clutch at her heart as she always did when they were going to stay with their father.

“Don't forget your present,” Owen said to his father as they headed for the front door.

Jeff picked it up from the console table and gave it a little shake. “Heavy.”