The Wishing Season (34 page)
“Ow!”
The umbrella flew from her hands, clattering across the floor. A squeak escaped her throat as she turned to run.
Then the voice registered in her brain.
She stopped midturn, palming her chest. “Cole?” she whispered into the darkness.
“Why do you keep hitting me?” His voice was disgruntled.
Her breath left her body in an epic sigh. She flipped on a light.
He palmed his forehead, blinking against the brightness.
“Omigosh. Are you okay?” She pulled his hand away, wincing at the angry red knot already rising at his temple. “I’m so sorry. I thought—what are you doing here?”
He rubbed his head, glowering. “Second-guessing myself.”
She pushed the door shut and urged him to the steps. “Sit down. I’ll be right back.”
She retrieved the cold compress she kept on hand for burns and made her way back to the foyer. The man had probably come for his things, and she’d walloped him upside the head. Again.
Way to go, PJ. If you can’t talk him into loving you, maybe you can beat him into it.
When she returned, she sat on the step above him, putting her even with him, and pressed the compress gently to his temple.
He flinched. “That’s quite a swing you have there,” he said, sounding a little less peeved.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“I thought you had a class tonight.”
“It was canceled.” He must’ve planned to slip in while she was busy, take whatever he’d come for, and leave without having to see her.
He shifted, and his stubble scraped against the palm of her free hand.
She snatched it back. “You didn’t have to sneak in.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You thought I was busy, and you were going to slip upstairs and take your things. That’s not necessary. You can have whatever you came for.”
He gave her a penetrating look, something shifting in his eyes. “I hope so.”
Did he think she was going to put up a fight? That she’d claim his things just because he’d left them behind? Didn’t he know her better than that by now?
“Help yourself.” She took his hand, pressed it against the cold pack, and stood.
He dropped the compress and bolted to his feet, blocking her way. His eyes locked onto hers. Green, familiar, and so close.
Her insides fluttered. He didn’t even have to touch her to draw a response. He stirred so much with just a look. Always had, from the very beginning. How lame was she?
“What if I came for you?”
For her? Her heart turned over in her chest. A seed of hope sprouted inside her, but she was afraid to believe. She’d been burnt too many times before.
“What?” she asked.
“What if I want another chance?”
“You left.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed against the tightening in her throat. “You just up and left without even saying good-bye.”
His eyes softened as he laid his palm against her cheek. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I was wrong. I thought I could let you go. Thought you’d be better off without me—and maybe you would.
But I can’t do it. I’m done trying. I know I’ve got a lot of stuff to work out. But I want to work it out here, with you. I want to be the man you deserve.” His voice was as thick as honey, his eyes as solemn as she’d ever seen them. “Give me another chance.”
Her eyes prickled with tears. She couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat.
“Please don’t say no.” His eyes scrolled over her face, pleading. His thumb teased her lower lip.
She drew in the scent of him. Clean. Musky. All man. She missed that smell so much. Missed the husky texture of his voice, the gentle comfort of his touch.
“Going once . . .”
She was helpless to speak at the look in his eyes. There was no need for words anyway. Words were overrated.
“Going twice.” His breath feathered her lips as he drew near.
Her insides went to liquid. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than his lips on hers. She strained toward him as he neared.
His lips met hers, brushing softly. Once. Twice. She felt it clear to her bare toes.
“Gone,” he whispered against her lips.
She
was
gone. Completely, totally, irrevocably gone.
He deepened the kiss, and she savored the familiar taste of him. He was everything she remembered. Was he really here? Wanting her? Needing her? If this was a dream, she hoped she never awakened.
He pulled her closer, drawing her into his embrace. She wound her arms around him, taking comfort in the solid strength of his shoulders. Her hand found the warm beat of his pulse at his neck and rested there.
A moment later his lips left hers. She held back the whimper that rose in her throat. Their breaths came raggedly.
His eyes burned into hers as his thumb stroked her cheek. “I am so gone over you, PJ. I love you. So much.”
Her breath left on a deep sigh. “I love you too.”
Her reward was the gentle upturn of his lips. “I missed you. I don’t want to be without you. Ever. Again.” He brushed her lips slowly, softly.
Warmth unfurled inside her as he moved his mouth across hers. She thought back to the beginning. She’d thought she’d known what she wanted. But all of her wishes were just falling stars, here one moment and gone the next. What mattered was right here, right in front of her.
When he drew away, she whispered, “I can’t believe you’re here.”
He gave her a penetrating look, the kind that reached deep inside and settled low and sure. “I’m never letting you go again. You’re stuck with me. I’ll find a job. We’ll make it work.”
PJ had other ideas about that, but it wasn’t the time.
“Promise?” she asked. Her eyes wandered over his beautiful face, taking in the familiar planes, the scruff on his jaw, the cleft in his chin. She met his gaze and saw forever in his eyes.
“Promise,” he said.
T
HE DEED WAS DONE
. L
ITERALLY
.
PJ slipped inside the house, the folders clutched to her chest, and dashed up the stairs. She knew Cole was here, had seen his truck in the back lot.
He’d spent the past three nights upstairs on the living room sofa and the past three days looking for work. In between classes and cooking and planning, they’d found quiet moments. Cole had gone to see a local counselor yesterday, someone recommended by PJ’s pastor. He was determined to work out his issues, and PJ was determined to be there for him as he did so.
There was no one else for her. She knew it with a certainty that grounded her. And the best thing? The feeling was mutual.
She practically skipped down the hallway and burst into the living room. Cole looked up from the newspaper, spread open on the dining room table.
“Whatcha doing?” Her voice crackled with energy. Her heartbeat was like a jackhammer in her chest.
He gave her an amused look. “Looking at the help wanted ads. What’s got you so wound up?”
“I just closed on the house with Mrs. Simmons.”
His brows shot up. “Oh, hey. Wow, why didn’t you tell me?” He rose from his chair and embraced her. “Congratulations,
baby. I’m so happy for you.” His hands moved across her back, doing nothing to settle her.
“Thanks. It was a big day.”
“Let’s go out tonight.” His voice rumbled low in her ear. “Celebrate.”
“I like the way you think. We do have a lot to celebrate.”
He took her hands in his and put them behind her back. “You’ll have to put me to work up here while I’m still unemployed. I could add that wall, make this into a suite, like you wanted.”
“Or I could just leave it like this.”
“Well, yeah, but a B & B needs a suite, don’t you think?”
“That’s a good point.” She pulled from his arms and reached for the folders she’d set on the table. “But before I go any further, there’s some paperwork you need to sign.” She opened the manila folder and set the pen on the top sheet, her hand trembling.
“Me? What for?” He took the pen and leaned over, bracing his hands beside the folder, his broad shoulders hovering over the table.
She watched his face. Watched while pensive lines furrowed his forehead as his eyes toggled across the page. His lips slackened as realization dawned.
“What?” His gaze darted to her, then back to the paper. He flipped the page, scanning it, then straightened. “No,” he said firmly. “It’s your house, PJ. You won it.”
“You gave it up for me. And you know what? I was going to give it up for you too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I went to presentation day prepared to make a case for why you should have the house. Why Crossroads should stay open.
It was an easy sell because you made a difference in the lives of those kids, but I never had the chance to give it.”
He dropped the pen. “I’m not taking your dream, PJ.”
“You’re not taking anything. I have my restaurant. That’s all I want. Well, not
all
I want. I want you to have your dream too. I want those kids to have a safe place to go. I want us to do this together. You with Crossroads, me with my restaurant. Both of us living our dream under the same roof.”
She pulled the second folder from beneath the manila one and opened it on the table.
His eyes fell to the rumpled pages, his face falling. “Where’d you get these?”
“I found them in the garbage after you left. Your Promising pile. Four kids who need a home . . .” She opened her arms wide. “And all this empty space just sitting here.”
He swallowed, his eyes fixed on the papers, on the pictures of those kids.
“We should really do something about that, don’t you think?”
He met her gaze. “I can’t believe you’d do this.”
“It’s actually kind of selfish. I like having you under the same roof.”
He gave a wry smile, rubbing the bruise at his temple. “I’m not sure it’s safe.”
PJ pursed her lips. “If you sign these papers, I will solemnly swear not to wield weighty umbrellas or ceramic pots or any other inanimate object as a weapon against you. So help me God.”
He moved his hand over his jaw, his eyes turning serious. “This is a big decision, PJ.”
“I’ve given it a lot of thought.”
“Are you sure?”
She cupped his cheeks, loving the roughness of his jaw under her palm. “I couldn’t be more sure. It was all I could do not to call those kids days ago.”
He gave her a long look. Green eyes had never looked so warm. “You’re an amazing woman, Sunshine. And I am one lucky man.”
Smiling, she moved into his arms the same way Cole had moved into her heart.
1. Which character did you most relate to? Why?
2. PJ found herself so busy with her new restaurant that she didn’t make time for important things. Have you ever been too busy for God? For your family? How did this affect you and others?
3. PJ felt shame over her former relationship with Keaton, a married man. Discuss her feelings on this. Is it a sin to be tempted? Did PJ do anything wrong?
4. Cole spent years blaming himself for his family’s accident. Was it his fault? Have you ever been in a situation where you blamed yourself for something you had no control over?
5. What did you like about the McKinley family? What did you dislike? Every family has its foibles. What do you love about your family? What annoys you?
6. Sometimes we absorb lies about ourselves that we come to believe as true. PJ’s lie was “I’m not capable.” Cole’s was “I don’t deserve love.” Is there a lie that you believe about yourself? How has it affected the decisions you’ve made?
7. PJ and Cole both dealt with guilt and shame. Have you ever dealt with those feelings? How did you handle them?
8. What’s the difference between guilt and shame? Should they be handled differently?
9. PJ’s mom talked to her about the thorns in her life that kept her from growing. Do you have thorns in your life? What are they and what can you do about them?
10. Cole lost his family at a young age. The foster kids Cole took in had already faced traumatic events in their young lives. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. How is this consistent with a view of a loving and compassionate God?
Find the recipe for PJ’s Wildberry Cheesecake at
www.DeniseHunterBooks.com
W
RITING A BOOK IS A TEAM EFFORT
,
AND
I’
M SO GRATEFUL
for the fabulous team at HarperCollins Christian Fiction, led by publisher Daisy Hutton: Ansley Boatman, Katie Bond, Amanda Bostic, Karli Cajka, Laura Dickerson, Elizabeth Hudson, Jodi Hughes, Ami McConnell, Becky Monds, Becky Philpot, Kerri Potts, and Kristen Vasgaard.
Thanks especially to my editor, Ami McConnell. Woman, you are a wonder! I’m constantly astounded by your gift of insight. I don’t know of a more talented line editor than LB Norton. You make me look much better than I am!
Author Colleen Coble is my first reader. Thank you, friend! I wouldn’t want to do this writing thing without my buds and fellow authors Colleen Coble and Kristin Billerbeck. Love you, girls! This is my first finished book since the death of our dear friend Diann Hunt. She helped us brainstorm every book, including this one. I miss you and love you, Di!
I’m grateful to my agent, Karen Solem, who is able to somehow make sense of the legal garble of contracts and, even more amazing, help me understand it.
Kevin, my husband of twenty-five years, has been a wonderful support. Thank you, honey! To my sons, Justin, Chad, and Trevor: you make life an adventure! Love you all!
Lastly, thank you, friend, for letting me share this story with you. I wouldn’t be doing this without you! I enjoy connecting with friends on my Facebook page,
www.facebook.com/authordenisehunter
. Please pop over and say hello. Visit my website at the link
www.DeniseHunterBooks.com
, or just drop me a note at
[email protected]
. I’d love to hear from you!
