The Wishing Season (14 page)

She’d always scoffed at her lovesick friends, at her sisters, with their moony eyes and furtive smiles, but later that evening as Keaton walked her to her dorm, his body shielding her from the cold, PJ knew what it was all about.

When he touched her, her heart sighed. When he kissed her, she melted. They stopped by the deserted entrance, and he boxed her in against the brick wall. His eyes caught her and held her captive, and her body begged for a kiss. He didn’t disappoint. Her knees were as limp as overcooked noodles by the time he drew away.

“Thank you for tonight,” she whispered. “I had the best time. I wish you didn’t have to go home.”

“I wish I didn’t either.”

“I miss you when you’re gone.” His phone calls were sporadic, and their schedules made it hard to connect. It seemed she was always leaving voicemails. But when he was here . . .

He ran his finger down her cheek, and she felt it to her toes. “I miss you too. I’ll be back next Tuesday. Where would you like to go?”

She pulled a pout. “I have a class on Tuesday night, remember?”

A group of girls busted out the door, talking loudly.

He pulled away, but leaned back in for another kiss. “I’ll call you. We’ll set something up for Wednesday.”

“Okay. Night.”

As he turned, she pulled out her phone and punched in his number. When it rang in his pocket a few steps away, he checked the screen and turned, smiling.

“I miss you already,” she said into the phone.

He stalked toward her, his eyes like magnets. “You’re hard to leave, PJ.” When he was close enough, he lowered the phone and gave her a kiss to remember. She inhaled his spicy cologne and cuddled into the warmth of his body. For the first time she wished she had her own apartment. He didn’t draw away until she was trembling.

As she opened her eyes, they caught on the phone in his hand. “Where’s your iPhone?”

He glanced at the cheap-looking phone. “My, uh—this one’s for personal use. My iPhone’s for work.”

“Oh.” That was strange. She’d seen him texting a friend more than once. At least that’s what he’d said.

After they parted, PJ was in a funk. The phone bothered her. What if he had another girlfriend in Illinois? Kayla pulled it out of her when she was still tossing and turning an hour later.

“That is kind of odd,” her roommate said after PJ explained. “And I’ll be honest, there are other weird things too. You said you always get his voicemail when you call—”

“He’s just busy.”

“And he calls at odd times.”

“He works late.”

“Did he ever accept your friendship request on Facebook?”

“No, but he said he hasn’t been on there in ages. I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s a really good guy. We had the most romantic time tonight, Kayla. I think I might be—”

She looked at her friend and was sure she had that same moony expression Jade had worn the night Daniel proposed. “I’ve never felt this way.”

Kayla studied her from across the darkened room. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

As much as PJ wanted to wallow in the giddiness of new love, she couldn’t shake the suspicions from her mind over the next week. She hadn’t always chosen the best boyfriends in the past. Was Keaton a poor choice too?

His visit the following week did nothing to allay her concerns. In the middle of the Circle Centre Mall Wednesday night
he excused himself to take a phone call—on his iPhone. She couldn’t hear his words as he greeted the caller, but his tone of voice was gentle, like when he spoke to PJ.

When she asked casually who it was, he said it was his boss. The suspicions didn’t go away as her attentiveness picked up on other details over the next couple weeks. The way he turned his phone away from her when he texted sometimes. The way he always stepped away to make a phone call at nine o’clock.

Several times he asked her if everything was okay, and she brushed him off, afraid an unfounded accusation would ruin things between them. But when he visited her in early spring, she made a bold plan. She was going to follow him back to Illinois. It was only three hours. She’d be exhausted for classes in the morning, but she had to do it for her own peace of mind. For her heart, which shuddered in her chest at the possibilities.

She borrowed Kayla’s car, tucked her hair inside a baseball cap, and followed the silver Verano at a distance even though it was night.

Two hours later a traffic snarl caused her to get closer to him than she liked. She ducked behind a semi, her heart pounding hard. If he caught her following, what could she say? If he wasn’t hiding anything, he’d never forgive her.

What was she thinking, following him all the way home? A few minutes later the jam cleared, and she followed at a comfortable distance. Maybe she should turn around. She was being stupid.

But then he took the south ramp onto 57. Mount Vernon was north of 64. Her nerves clattered. She turned off the radio and turned the heat down, suddenly too warm.

Awhile later he took the Benton exit. PJ followed him
through a small town and into an older subdivision with nice, large homes. She lengthened her distance.

Please, God, let there be some reasonable explanation
.

His brake lights flashed, and he pulled into a drive. PJ tugged her cap lower and passed by, turning around at the cul-de-sac.

Her hands trembled on the steering wheel. Why had he lied about where he lived? Less than a minute later, she eased up the street and parked in front of the house next door in the shadows along the curb. She ducked down in the seat, watching as Keaton exited the detached garage and walked up the porch steps.

When he reached the top, the door flew open. A little pajama-clad boy barreled into him. Keaton swooped him up into his arms.

PJ’s breath caught in her throat, choking her. Then a woman appeared in the doorway, her willowy frame silhouetted by the light behind her. Light glinted off her short blond hair.

PJ couldn’t tear her eyes away as Keaton drew her close and bent for a slow kiss. As one mass, they disappeared into the house, shutting the door, leaving PJ out in the cold, broken and alone.

Keaton had been lying about everything. The realization carved out a hollow shape in her middle. Worse than that, she’d been dating a married man! Had been kissing a married man. She was in love with a married man. She was the Other Woman. The empty place filled with shame until it swelled, spreading to every space inside her.

Now a ding pulled her from the nightmare as a voicemail hit her phone. She waded through the shame, reached for it, and deleted the message, dropping the phone as if it were poison. Because really, that’s exactly what Keaton was.

Chapter Nineteen

M
ONDAYS WERE QUIET WITH THE RESTAURANT CLOSED AND
the kids in school. The perfect day to finish PJ’s closet.

Cole grabbed the wire shelf and began attaching the top one into the clip. The extended closet was tight for two people with the shelving in stacks. The sweet flowery scent of PJ teased his nose. He’d put in a brighter light, but now the heat it gave off was too much.

“A little lower,” PJ said. “I can’t reach.”

“Here?”

PJ edged around him and rose on tiptoe, reaching up. “Should be fine. The purse cubbies are going over here, right? With the wire cubbies under them?”

“Uh-huh.” He popped the first end into the slot and proceeded to the other side. “Excuse me.”

“Sorry.” PJ eased into the corner. “Need help?”

“No.” The shelf popped into place. He jiggled it to make sure it was secure before moving on to the next.

“Not there.”

“Why?”

“I want to hang dresses on that side.”

He eyed her up and down. “You own dresses?”

She narrowed her eyes in a mock glare. “Just move it down.”

“Just saying, I don’t remember moving any dresses out of here.” Never mind the red skirt she’d worn to her presentation. He happened to know those long legs deserved to be on display.

“What do you call this?”

He glanced over his shoulder and frowned at the pink ball of froth in her arms. “A cotton candy explosion?”

“It’s a bridesmaid dress. It was a lovely wedding—and the happy couple are still together.”

He squatted down. “I find it hard to believe that anything that started with that could end happily.”

“Marriage cynic.” Her eyes teased. “I had you pegged from day one.”

He couldn’t help thinking of his parents. “Marriage is fine for some people.”

“Not you?”

Anxiety swirled through him at the thought. He craved that kind of intimacy. Nights got lonely, even with a houseful of kids. Sometimes he just wanted someone to pull close, to hold against him and know she was his alone. Someone like PJ.

You don’t deserve it, Evans. Not after what you did.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” PJ said.

He couldn’t even remember the question.

“Well, when I get married someday,” she said, “I’m not going to pick some ugly confection in a hideous color.”

“So you admit the dress is ugly.”

“It’s . . . aesthetically challenged.”

He looked for the next shelf. “Why do brides do that anyway? Are they trying to make sure their friends don’t outshine them by putting them in the silliest thing they can find?”

“Doraphine would never do such a thing.”

“Doraphine? Well, that explains it all.” He squinted at the dress. “Are those feathers?”

She set it aside. “So I won’t wear it again—ever. I still plan to buy dresses someday, and I’ll need a place to hang them.”

“Fine, fine. This suit you?” He held the shelf against the wall.

“Perfect. No, wait, up a little. Down, down. Right there.”

“When you said ‘supervise,’ I didn’t think you meant it so literally.”

She shoved his shoulder, hardly enough to budge him. He liked this side of her. She was playful and fun when she wasn’t working so hard to prove herself.

“This is my first real closet. I shared with Jade growing up, then with my roommate at college. And now I finally have a whole big closet all to myself—with purse cubbies!” She gave a happy little clap.

His lips twitched as he stood, moving to the next shelf, high enough to accommodate stacked rows of shirts and pants. His mood had been in danger of a major dip, but somehow she made him forget all that.

He worked the wire into the clip, but this one didn’t go easily, and the longer shelf was making it awkward.

“All right, Sunshine, settle down and help me with this clip.”

She moved in closer. “Where? Here?” She reached around and began pushing with him. “No leverage. Let me in.”

He moved aside, letting her in front of him, his arms on both sides of her. Big mistake. Her sweet scent wafted up his nose and seemed to curl around every cell in his body.

Arms extended, she pressed against the shelving unit, her back coming up against his body. He held the shelf in place, swallowed hard.
The shelf, Evans. Focus on the shelf.

But she was so close. She felt so good against him, and if he lowered his arms, his palm would fit right into the curve of her waist, her back into the cradle of his chest. He could slide his hands around to the planes of her stomach, draw her flush against him, and bury his nose into the side of her neck. That spot he was always wanting to kiss.

His arms trembled as he pushed the shelf, leaning into her.

Pop.
The wire snapped into the clip.

“Got it.” PJ turned to him, her lips turning up.

She was inches away. His lips nearly grazed her temple. A strand of hair, resting against her cheek, fluttered under his breath.

Her smile fell away.

His eyes scrolled over her face, stopping at her big brown eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had looked at him like that, like she was melting under his gaze. He didn’t allow himself in these situations.

He should pull back. Step away. Now. But then he made the mistake of inhaling her sweet scent, and his body was having none of that.

Instead he tucked the strand behind her ear. Then he couldn’t seem to stop his fingers from following a path down her long hair. It was so soft. Like silk.

She shivered. “What—what are you doing?”

He swallowed hard. Denial. Denial was always good, especially when it let him keep touching her. “Installing shelves.”

If installing shelves felt this nice, he’d do it every day. Heck, every hour.

“We probably shouldn’t be . . . you know.”

Was it his imagination or had she just leaned a fraction
closer? His fingers took another heavenly trip down the silk of her hair. Last time. Then he’d step away. But his hand continued its trail down her back, settling at the curve of her waist. And he was right. It fit there like the hollow had been made with him in mind.

With him in mind? What was he thinking? PJ hadn’t been made with him in mind. No woman had. He’d had a family once and what had he done? Who was he to think he deserved a woman like PJ? Any woman at all?

His hand fell to his side. He stepped back, clearing the thickness from his throat. “I need to—go.”

PJ blinked, a look coming into her eyes he didn’t want to see.

He left the closet, strode from the room, and escaped out the back door. He was in sore need of some fresh air.