Forever This Time (16 page)

One son of his had to make the family proud, after all. And since service to Uncle Sam was the only path to that, David had packed away his drumsticks and headed to boot camp instead of a freshman dorm.

Ethan was torn between feeling guilty that his little brother had been practically forced into service … and jealous that Pops always met strangers with the words
My son's in the Marines
.

He checked his watch and punched the number to the critical-care floor at Mercy, getting a momentary jolt of panic when the receptionist told him Emmy was no longer with them. Then the phone was fumbled and Emmy's nurse came on.

“I am so sorry. She's subbing from orthopedics and doesn't realize what phrases like that can sound like up here. Emmy has been moved to the pediatric floor. She's up and jabbering this morning, eating up all of their lime Popsicles.”

Ethan sat back in his chair and blew out a relieved breath. “So she's okay.”

“Well, you and I both know that
okay
is a strong word to use right now, but she's stronger than she looks. She's fighting off a nasty bug, but it looks like this time she's winning.”

“Any idea when she'll get to come back here?”

“I imagine they'll keep her for a day or so and make sure she's eating and truly on the mend. Do you want me to transfer you down there?”

“That's okay. I'll get in touch with them later. Thanks.”

“She just loves that house of yours, Ethan.”

“I'm glad.” He craned his neck out the window, looking up the hill toward Avery's House, but it was hidden among the firs.

“Keep up the good work. I hope I won't talk to you again soon.”

Ethan laughed. “I hope that's true.” He hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Between David and Emmy and, dammit, Josie, he'd hardly slept last night.

In his heart, he knew she wouldn't be back. He couldn't believe he'd completely lost control and kissed her last night. What was wrong with him? He was old enough to know better, old enough to resist her. But the sight of her in that dress, the smell of her shampoo, the heat of her body as her cheeks practically glowed, had made him lose all sense of reason. And all he'd wanted to do was touch her, kiss her, see if she still felt as good as she always had.

He sent his hand through his hair, realizing as it stood on end that he badly needed a haircut. Like he had time to get one. He patted the hair back down as best he could, then sat back up and flipped the receipts over, forcing his attention back to them. It was beginning to look like Andy wasn't coming back anytime soon, so he needed to figure out how to run Snowflake Village without him. Starting today, starting now.

And that meant he needed to put Josie out of his brain. He needed to stop analyzing every look she'd given him, every little catchy breath she'd taken as he'd stepped closer. He needed to stop thinking about how her hair still glowed golden at the ends and how her eyelashes were still impossibly long, but not long enough to cover the green eyes that matched that damn mermaid dress she'd worn at prom.

Most of all, he needed to stop thinking about how damn kissable she looked in that stupid, ridiculous, puffed-up excuse for a princess costume, and how all he could think of when he looked at her was the night they'd discarded that same dress on the riverbank, then made love on top of it after skinny-dipping in the river.

No, those thoughts definitely had no place here or now. But he hadn't been able to look at her and
not
think of what had been … what could have been.

Because although he could transport himself back ten years just by touching the curve of her jaw, the facts remained. He still couldn't give her the kind of life she wanted, and he needed to keep that front and center in his mind. She'd never wanted to spend her life trapped here in Echo Lake, and even if he'd wanted to pull up stakes and try to follow her elsewhere, he couldn't now.

Dad needed him, and Ethan'd go to his own grave before he'd move him out of his house or—God forbid—put him in a nursing home. And though Molly and Josh were a stellar team at Avery's House, it was still
his
house,
his
project,
his
way of keeping Avery close to his heart. There was no way he could leave that behind.

“Good morning, Ethan.” As if he'd summoned her, Josie's voice bounced through the doorway. She stepped into the office looking all fresh and perky, dressed in dark blue jeans and a red Snowflake Village polo she must have dug out of a drawer at her mother's house.

How had he not heard her coming up the stairs? He glanced at her feet, snugged up in sneakers today instead of her ridiculous heels. No wonder.

“What are you doing here?” He knew his voice sounded gruff, but for Christ's sake, he'd thought she was halfway to Boston right now. “And why in God's name do you have a
plant
?”

Josie placed the green ferny thing near Andy's computer, then pulled a picture frame out of her purse and put it next to the terra-cotta pot. “It's dreary in here. Thought I'd spruce things up a little.” She hung her purse on the back of the door and turned toward him with a handled shopping bag on her arm. “It's gonna be another scorcher today.”

She hummed as she pulled out a bright yellow happy-face cup and dumped a handful of colorful pens in it, then pulled out a teal-green mouse to replace the standard-issue black one on Andy's desk. She hung a bright pink sweater on the back of the chair, then tucked the bag under the desk and sat down.

“There. That's better.”

“Josie, what the hell are you doing?”

“I'm trying to counteract the overabundance of … beige … in this office.”

“Beige is a perfectly good color. We happen to like it.”

“I'm sure you do, but since one half of your
we
isn't here right now, I'm taking his vote.” She fiddled around with the mouse for a moment, looking adorably awkward as her bravado faded.

He shut his eyes.
Adorably
should not be part of his vocabulary right now.

She looked up. “So … I was thinking.”

“Should I be scared?”

“No. Maybe? I don't know anymore.” She looked out the window, up at the ceiling, anywhere but at his eyes, it seemed. “I, um, I sent my partner Kirsten a note last night. To let her know I'm going to take a two-week leave. And stay up here. To be with my parents. And help. Here.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows. Was this the cool, calm, collected Josie? Stuttering out sentence fragments like awkward Nerf darts?

“And if it's all right with you, I think I'd like to be done with the costume gig. I'd like to be helpful in the office for the rest of my time here.” She paused. “If that would be all right.”

He shook his head to clear it. What in the
world
? “One kiss … and you're moving in a
plant
?”

“Actually, I think it's
despite
the kiss that I'm moving in a plant. Temporarily.” She clicked her little happy-mouse a couple of times, then looked over the monitor at him, the nervous spots on her cheeks growing. “Listen. I know we'd both rather I was back in Boston right now. We'd both rather I had never come back. But I did, and I'm here, and until Dad's better, I can't bring myself to leave.”

She clicked her mouse again, and Ethan peered at her eyes. Were those tears? “I can't pretend to have a clue how this will work, Ethan. And I'm sorry this situation ends up putting me right in your lap. Figuratively. But I need to stay. And I need to help.”

She paused and looked up. “But there will be no more kissing.”

Ethan swore under his breath. Here he'd thought she was on her way back to the city, was
glad
about it, and now? Now she was sitting a mere five feet from him and pretty much refusing to leave. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

There was no way he could work with her, no way he could catch the scent of her before she entered a room, no way he could have her a desk-length away and not want her, not want things to go back to the way they'd been ten years ago. This would be utter, sheer hell.

He cleared his throat. “Josie. Seriously. We're fine here. I appreciate your willingness to help. Really do. But I don't honestly see how it could work. We—you and me as coworkers—it isn't going to happen. We're not going to be able to share an office and pretend to be friends. Not with how things were … or how they were left.”

She opened Andy's bottom desk drawer and found a ball cap she must have remembered he kept in there, and she slid it onto her head, pulling her long curls through the opening in the back. It looked good on her, dammit. So did the curls. He liked them a lot better than the ironed-out look she'd arrived here with.

With the cap on and ponytail sticking out the back, she looked closer to sixteen than the twenty-eight she actually was. “We don't have to pretend we're friends, if that helps. We can barely talk to each other if that's easier. If we're lucky, I'll be out of your hair in just a couple of weeks.”

Ethan sighed. She wasn't kidding. She was staying. She'd brought a frigging plant, for God's sake. And she was sitting there with her arms crossed, daring him to be the bad guy and send her packing.

And seriously, a
no more kissing
rule? No worries there. He already regretted the first one. No good would
ever
come of kissing Josie Kendrew again. He hadn't been enough for her the first time around. He'd be damned if he'd let her make him feel that way ever again.

“So can I stay? Can I work in here? Please?”

He sighed.
No
. But another part of him couldn't refuse her. Still. After all this time.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head at the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “Two weeks? That's it?”

“Cross my heart.” She made an
X
on her chest.

“Please don't make me regret this.” Ethan opened his top drawer and pulled out a manila folder, then handed it over his computer. Fine. He'd let her try to tackle the crap he didn't have time for. First on the list, wheedling Old Man Lang for a part he'd been promising for two weeks.

“So what's the story here?” She took the folder.

“We need a part, and Lang's the only supplier in the area who can help us. The Twinkle Fairy ride's been down for two weeks while we're waiting on him, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get it here.”

“Ooh. Twinkle Fairy down. Critical problem.” Josie adopted a firm expression, but he could see the corners of her mouth trying to sneak upward. “I'm on it, Captain.” He watched her pick up the desk phone and tap in numbers, then sit back in her chair and twist her hair with her left hand. “Mr. Lang? Yes, it's Josie! Right! From Snowflake … Good! How are you?… Excellent! So listen. I think our poor Twinkle Fairy's out of commission, and I know you are just the guy to help us out … I know! It sure was my favorite! How did you remember?… Oh, you don't say…”

Ethan tried to block out her voice by concentrating on the spreadsheet on his screen. If she acted any sweeter, the woman would turn into maple syrup. Finally she hung up, looking at the phone almost affectionately, but also like she was a little surprised.

“So what's the story? He tell you he'll have it here as soon as he can? Which might or might not be a week from now? Or two?”

Josie closed the folder, erasing the surprised expression. “He's on his way over. Mary just baked a batch of her famous oatmeal cookies, so he's bringing us some.”

Ethan sat back. Apparently he'd been lacking the right chromosome to deal with Lang. “Mary's cookies are deadly.”

“Totally. But you
will
eat one.”

“Oh, no I won't. Last time I tried one, I had heartburn for a week. I think she put chili powder in them that time.”

“Mom and I had a long talk about the Langs last night. You will eat a cookie.”

“Can't make me.”

“You want Mr. Lang's parts after I leave here?” She raised her eyebrows.

“He has to know how awful they are.”

“Of course he does.”

“Then why does he torture others?”

“He's not torturing anyone. His wife is losing her mind, Ethan. She's been baking these cookies her entire life, and everyone has always loved them. Remember when we used to have school bake sales? Or the July Fourth auction? Her cookies were always the first to go, and got the highest bids.

“Mom said she doesn't have that recipe written down anywhere, but she's still baking them, trying to remember as she goes. She has no idea they're terrible. And if we eat them and pretend they're the same as they always were, then we give Mr. Lang a gift. For that moment, while we choke down
one
flipping cookie, his world seems normal.”

She paused, drilling Ethan with her eyes. “So you think you can do that? One cookie?”

Ethan stilled his hand on the mouse. She had no idea how hard that had just hit, in all the wrong places.

“Y'know what? I think maybe we'd both be better off if you did the elf thing today.”

 

Chapter 17

Eight hours later, Josie pushed away from her desk and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. It was five o'clock, and she'd been staring at the screen all day, doing one mundane task after another. Ethan had scrammed as soon as he'd handed her a giant pile of manila folders, and he'd somehow managed to steer clear of the office for the entire day.

His phone hadn't even rung, which meant he'd forwarded it to his cell before he'd fled the office this morning. Clearly he'd had no intention of spending even one minute with her.