Somebody Like You (34 page)

She wanted to tell him that she didn’t mind his verbal slip. That she was getting used to how he cared for her—and Kit. Instead, she kept her emotions hidden behind a veil of humor. “If you wake her up, it’ll cost you all right—but I’m thinking more like yard work.”

“Hey, I’ve already volunteered for that. Who edged your lawn?”

“True. Well, we’ll have to think of something else when you get down here this weekend.”

Stephen Ames had a nice whisper—kind of sexy. And she needed to delete that thought immediately. As she readjusted her mindset, she realized Stephen had continued talking. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked, what are you up to?”

“Besides noshing on some chips? I just finalized my flight to Oklahoma for Sam’s memorial in June—sent the information to your mother.”

“Haley, I’ve been thinking about that.”

“What? The memorial service?”

“Yes. I know we haven’t talked about it . . . but I’d like to attend the service.”

She gave herself time to chew and swallow the spicy-sweet chip before she spoke. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Ever since you told me about it.” She could hear sounds in the background. The sound of water running. A door being
shut. The clang of metal pots? Was he cooking? Or washing dishes? “I didn’t get to attend Sam’s funeral—”

“Because you knew that was the best thing to do.”

“Yes, and I still believe I made the right decision. But things are different now. Between you and me—”

“But nothing’s changed between you and your mother.” What did he mean about things being different between them? They danced on the edge of their feelings for one another. At times something simmered just below the surface, something Stephen reined in. Her own emotions were too twisted up in her past with Sam and a future that couldn’t possibly include Stephen.

“I realize that. But it’s not as if my mother and I don’t talk to each other. We’re just . . . distant. What if I called and asked her—”

“No.” She crushed the bag of chips as she stood. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Who says you get to decide, Haley?” At last his voice rose to a normal level. “It’s not your responsibility to run interference between me and my mother.”

“The memorial is going to be hard enough for her, Stephen, without—”

“Without what? Without her other son showing up? Without Sam’s twin brother being there? Don’t you hear how absurd that sounds? Be honest, Haley. Who are you really concerned about—my mother or yourself ?”

His accusation, so unexpected, so unlike the man she’d come to know, hit with no warning. She closed her eyes against the ache centered in her chest, a burning that seemed to spread with each breath she took.

When Stephen spoke again, his words came out uneven. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean that—”

“It’s late. I’m tired. I need to get some sleep, so I’m ready for Kit when she wakes up.”

“Haley—did you hear what I said? I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

“I heard. Good night, Stephen. I’ll . . . see you this weekend.”

She didn’t hang up on Stephen—not really. She said good-bye. Told him that she’d see him in a few days. She’d been . . . civil.

But was she being unreasonable?

Stephen was Sam’s brother. He had every right—just as much of a right as she did—to be at the memorial service. Maybe more.

Haley needed to make a decision—another one.

She exited the shooting range, a dozing Kit on her shoulder, stepping out into the soft sunshine of the early-May afternoon. She’d hoped that coming to talk with her boss would give her clarity on whether to come back to work or not. But their conversation left her feeling as if she were firing mental blanks.

Her boss wanted her back—but he also wanted her to work more hours. Haley missed teaching the women’s gun safety classes, but did she want to work three nights a week and one half-day shift? It was still part-time, but the thought of being away from Kit that much unsettled her. If she didn’t go back to work, though, what would she do? Just sit around the house and stare at her daughter for hours on end?

As she buckled Kit into her car seat, Haley hoped her daughter would continue sleeping. She tucked a blanket around her body, noticing how her legs were finally getting little rolls of fat on them. Kit looked less and less like a preemie every day.

She backed out of the car—and found herself face-to-face with Chaz. “Oh, wow, I didn’t hear you sneak up on me.”

“Didn’t mean to startle you, Hal.” Chaz offered a quick smile. “I saw you leaving the range as I parked my car.”

Haley noticed the gun bag Chaz carried. “Getting some practice in?”

“Yep.”

“Meeting up with anybody?”

“Not this time. Just a quick hour.”

“Well then, I won’t keep you—”

Chaz put a hand on her arm. “Hal.”

“Something wrong, Chaz?”

“You tell me.”

Haley tugged at the brim of her cap, causing Chaz to drop his hand from her arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve heard some things . . .”

“You’ve heard
some things
—what, am I supposed to guess what’s bothering you?” The thought that people were talking about her and Stephen caused her heart to pound, while a flush worked its way up her neck.

“Are you involved with Stephen Ames?”

“Am I involved with— That’s a ridiculous question. He’s Kit’s uncle; of course I’m involved with him.”

“I mean romantically.”

“Do you hear yourself ? This conversation could be taking place between two middle-schoolers.” Haley shut the rear door. Stepping around Chaz, she walked to the front driver’s-side door, opening it and starting to slide in. Chaz followed her, preventing her from closing the door by grabbing on to it.

“You’re evading my questions, Hal.”

“I don’t have to answer to you.”

“You’re smarter than this—at least, Sam always said you were. Do you realize how wrong it would be if you got involved with Sam’s twin brother? It’d be like you were
dating—marrying—Sam all over again. Is that really what you want to do?”

“I’m not dating—or marrying—anyone.”

“You want to explain why Ames spent the night—two nights—at your house?”

Haley straightened up so that she stood eye to eye with Chaz. How did he know that? Did Finn say something? “I do not have to explain anything to you—or anyone else. Stop assuming things.” She ducked into the car, hoping Chaz didn’t see the red staining her face. Because she and Stephen had slept together—but not in the sleazy way he was thinking. “Could you let go of my door, please? I’d like to get home before Kit wakes up.”

“I’m talking to you as Sam’s friend—”

“This conversation is over.” She slammed the door and started the engine, staring straight ahead until Chaz stalked past her and into the building.

So she and Stephen were now the hot topic among Sam’s friends. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Hurt, yes, but not surprised. The military was a close-knit family and Sam’s buddies cared about her. They’d offered to help her in so many ways after Sam’s death—to mow her lawn, help her move, unpack, paint rooms. But her repeated refrain of “I can handle it” had stalled their efforts. After all, she was Sam Ames’s wife. He’d told everyone how independent she was. She wasn’t going to let him down—in life or death.

S
tephen stood on Haley’s porch, hands on his hips, and stared at the front door. He’d knocked and waited. Knocked again. Had they gone all the way back to square one, with Haley avoiding him?

They hadn’t talked in three days—not that he hadn’t tried. All of his calls went straight to voice mail. He’d never thought Haley would be a coward, but what other explanation was there for her avoiding him? She knew he was coming down this weekend—and that he usually pulled into her driveway around ten in the morning. Surely she didn’t think he’d back out just because they’d disagreed about Sam’s memorial service.

Stephen did an about-face and looked up the street. Sunshine backlit the pale green leaves budding on the trees throughout the neighborhood, the outline of the Front Range stretching across a cloudless blue sky. Was she running errands? Or had she been lured outside by the warm spring weather? Maybe taken Peanut for a walk to the park?

He could camp out on the porch. Or he could get back in his car and cruise around the neighborhood, but the thought of
getting back in the Mustang after a two-hour drive from Fort Collins made his backside ache.

Looked like he was going for a walk, which gave him more time to rehearse what he was going to say to Haley. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry” and “Please understand.” All they needed was a chance to talk about the memorial service again. He didn’t want to upset her, but he did want this opportunity to honor his brother. Surely they could figure out a way to agree.

When he first showed up on Haley’s doorstep back in January, Stephen wanted to discover who Sam had become. Now he wanted more—he wanted closure. He knew his brother was gone. Stephen carried the weight of his loss with him every hour of the day—a silent companion that shadowed him, in the same way Sam had shadowed him during all the years of their estrangement. He could only hope if he sat among a group of fellow mourners . . . if he let the ache soak into his soul through someone else’s memories of Sam . . . if he leaned into the chords of music . . . if he listened to the truth-filled scriptures chosen to comfort hearts torn asunder by such a violent, sudden loss . . . then he could let his brother go—and embrace the future.

As he neared the park tucked inside the shade of harboring trees, Stephen spotted Haley, sitting on a wooden bench, using her foot to push Kit’s stroller back and forth. Her loose hair spilled across her shoulder, shining against the green long-sleeved top she wore over a pair of jeans that were torn at the knee.

How had he fallen in love with this woman?

The question ambushed him so he couldn’t deny the truth any longer: He loved Haley. Not as a sister-in-law. Not because she was Kit’s mother. But simply because of who she was—an intriguing, independent, junk-food-eating, funny woman who sometimes admitted she needed his help. The visits to check on
his niece had become mere excuses to see Haley, to spend time with her.

Did he dare reveal his heart? Was Haley ready to love again—and was it too much to expect that she could love him when he was a walking, talking replica of Sam?

The sound of his footsteps on the sidewalk drew Haley’s attention. A smile skimmed her lips, but he saw how she glanced away, unable to hold his gaze. How she grasped the edge of the bench as if to steady herself.

“Hey.” Nothing like a basic, nonconfrontational greeting.

“Hey, yourself.” Another half smile that disappeared before her eyes met his. “Kit was fussy, so I took her for a walk. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“No problem. I found you.”

“That you did.” She scooted to the end of the bench as he sat down beside her. He was not going to read too much into that. “If you tried to call, I’m sorry. I walked out without grabbing my phone.”

“It happens.” Stephen nodded toward the stroller. “Peanut enjoying the outdoors?”

“She’s sound asleep.”

Stephen leaned forward to peek at his niece, catching the outline of her face as she nestled in the stroller, tucked beneath a quilted blanket, her head covered with a pale purple hat. “She gets more adorable every time I see her. I didn’t think that was possible.”

As he spoke, he turned his head, unaware that Haley had moved forward to look at Kit, too. Any effort to maintain a casual front disappeared as the air around them stilled. Filled with something he no longer wanted to deny—or control.

“Haley—”

“Yes?”

He forced himself to go slowly, watching Haley’s reaction as he allowed himself to finally dare . . . to risk . . . kissing her. He reached up, sliding a hand beneath her hair, along the soft skin at the nape of her neck. She stared at him, her blue eyes wide. She didn’t move toward him—but she didn’t back away from him, either.

For all the reasons the kiss was wrong, the rightness of it overwhelmed him. How had he waited this long to kiss this woman? They watched one another as he urged her closer, tangling his fingers in the soft strands of her hair, until he closed his eyes so he could savor the feel of his mouth against hers. He only allowed himself to touch Haley’s hair, the soft curve of her cheekbones, even as he fought the urge to pull her into his arms. Her lips parted beneath his, and he explored how she tasted of something sweet . . . something warm—and how she responded to him, her arms circling around his back and pulling him closer.