Just a Kiss (7 page)

“I know someone who's perfect for the job,” he said. “At least temporarily.”

Her eyes brightened. “Really? Who?”

He planted his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. “Me.”

Her mouth twisted as she gave him a long look. “You.”

He bristled at the look on her face. Nice. Did she think he was incapable of answering the phones and running a credit card machine?

“What, you think I can't do the job? I'm missing a leg, not a brain.”

She gave him a glum look. “Will you stop that? I know you're perfectly capable, I just don't want you to overdo it and set yourself back.”

“Overdo? I'm bored to death. You'd be doing me a favor. Just for a while. Until you find someone permanent.”

She scratched her head. Fiddled with her necklace some more. He could see the indecision all over her face.

Really? “Come on, Paige. I want to help. I owe you big for letting me crash here.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Stop it. You don't owe me anything.”

“Okay, then. I just want to help out. The way you're helping me. You're always saying ‘that's what friends do.' Well . . . it's my turn.”

She looked him over skeptically.

“What, it only applies to you?”

“Of course not. I just—” She sighed hard. “I don't want anything getting in the way of your recovery. Or our friendship.”

Something was already in the way of their friendship, but she didn't need to know that.

“It'll be good for me. I need something to do, something to keep my mind busy. It's mostly sitting, right? Nothing I can't manage physically.”

“That's true.”

“As for our friendship, hey, we've weathered a lot worse. I don't think working together for a couple months is going to shake that foundation.”

She pulled her lower lip in, working it with her teeth. She really did have nice lips. They were full, especially the lower one. And the prettiest shade of pink. He knew for a fact they were soft and pliant and capable of the most exquisite give-and-take.

He dragged his eyes away as heat pooled in his cheeks. He focused on the napkin in his hand, trying to steady his heart rate.

“You're right,” she said.

He looked up at her.

“I don't know why I'm being so cagey about this. The job's yours if you want it, until I find a permanent replacement. But I want you to start part time—and you have to promise you'll tell me if it gets to be too much.”

Riley scanned Paige's beautiful face. The clouds had lifted from her blue eyes, leaving them clear as a June day. Her lip had
escaped her teeth, the pink color deepening. His eyes traced the chin he'd always thought so cute.

He forced a smile as he extended his hand. “Deal.” Her hand was small and delicate in his grip, and he wondered what the heck he'd just signed up for.

R
iley drew the plastic wand out of the bubble bottle, held it up, and blew. The two dogs in the yard with him bit at the iridescent bubbles, their jaws snapping like mad. They went for the same bubble and collided, but it didn't even faze them.

It was his second week at the shelter, and he'd slowly bumped up his hours. He had the hang of the office stuff, but when he was caught up he enjoyed entertaining the dogs. Poor mutts shouldn't be stuck inside on a nice summer day.

He blew another round of bubbles, watching the dogs bound around, snapping, tails wagging. Somehow happy despite the fact that they were lost or abandoned. Didn't they know things weren't all that great? That they lived in a kennel, and their future was completely up in the air? If not for Paige, it would be even worse.

Paige.

She was part of the reason he preferred the outdoors and the company of the animals. He'd overestimated his ability to be around her all day. He'd somehow imagined her shut away in her office with a stack of paperwork, but it wasn't like that at all.

She was always breezing past the reception desk, her flowery
scent trailing like an alluring shadow. Leaning over his desk, her hair teasing the back of his neck. Calling him in to see what one of the animals was doing, her laughter ringing out like a beautiful melody. In fact, she was rarely in her office at all.

Just when he'd think he couldn't take it anymore, she'd stop at his desk and tell him how relieved she was for his help. With gratitude shining in those baby blues, what was he supposed to do?

Movement caught his eye, and he looked up as she came outside, leading a boxer on a leash. She stopped in her tracks, taking in the sight.

Then she burst out laughing. “What are you doing?”

“Entertaining our guests.”

He blew out a fresh round of bubbles. The mixed mutt jumped up, going for a large, wobbling bubble. She snapped at it, and the bubble splattered in her face, making her sneeze. Both dogs turned to Riley, tongues lolling, waiting for the next batch.

Paige laughed again. “Where on earth did you get that?”

“At the bottom of the lost-and-found box.”

“That is ingenious.”

She let the boxer loose, and he moped over to the other side of the lawn, sniffing at the grass.

“I was thinking . . . ,” Riley said. “What if you did a volunteer drive? A few volunteers would cover this position, and then you wouldn't have to pay anyone.”

The picnic table wobbled as Paige sat on the other side. “Not a bad idea. Lauren actually started as a volunteer. I also thought about trying to find a student who might be willing to intern.”

“That's smart.”

“A little late though. Summer's already under way.”

“Wouldn't hurt to check the local colleges anyway.”

The bell rang, signifying a customer, and Paige stood. “I'll get it. And I'll take these two back inside. Would you mind bringing Bishop back in when he's finished?”

“Sure.” It was cute the way she named some of the animals.

The dogs trotted next to her as she strode toward the building. Riley watched her go, admiring her purposeful gait and, yes, the gentle sway of her hips. Hey, he wasn't dead.

The boxer, finished with his business, wandered over and plopped at Riley's foot. A moment later he looked toward the building Paige had disappeared into, then looked up at Riley with soulful eyes.

“You got it bad too, eh, buddy? Yeah, I get it.”

The boxer blinked, looking away. Now here was a creature that knew how things stood. They weren't good, and he got it. No faking it here, or frolicking around like life didn't suck some serious egg.

Paige had mentioned earlier that the dog needed a bath. It was almost quitting time, but he could take that item off her to-do list easily enough, make sure she got out of here at a decent hour. The family was meeting up at the Roadhouse for supper.

He grabbed his crutches and stood, collecting the leash off the table. It was a challenge to use a leash when it took all his remaining limbs just to hobble around.

He gave the dog a look. “Am I going to have to put this on you, or are you gonna stick close by?”

The dog stared back with those solemn brown eyes.
I got nowhere better to be
, they seemed to say.

“Good enough.”

The boxer followed as he entered the shelter. Riley led him to the back corner of the building where the walk-in tub was. He
grabbed a towel and looked for the shampoo bottle, but didn't see it. Must be in the supply closet. He turned on the water to warm it up, plugged the drain, and hobbled out of the room and down the long hall.

The boxer's claws clicked on the tile behind him. Unlike the other animals, this one gave Riley the room he needed to maneuver. He gave the mutt another point for intelligence.

He entered the supply closet and located the industrial-size bottle of shampoo. He was just reaching for it when he heard Paige's laughter ring out. Then a male voice.

He shuffled to the doorway and listened.

Paige took a whiff of the fresh flower arrangement, trading a smile with Dylan. She'd been surprised to find him waiting in the lobby. He'd never stopped in before, and their texts had been sporadic since their last date.

“They're beautiful. Thank you.”

“I didn't feel good about how our date ended last week. I'm sorry if I was—out of line.”

His regretful tone and dreamy brown eyes gave her mood an instant lift. The gesture of flowers didn't hurt either.

She gave a saucy smile. “So these are apology flowers?”

“Apology flowers . . . you're-really-special flowers . . . can-we-go-out-again flowers . . .”

“That's asking an awful lot from a bunch of blooms.”

“What can I say? I like to shoot for the moon.”

Paige turned, setting the vase on the countertop in front of Riley's slightly cluttered desk. It was great having him in the
office. He was a fast learner, and he knew her so well he could intuit what she needed before she even asked.

But beyond that, something seemed to be shifting in her. She found herself seeking him out sometimes, wanting his opinion or even just his reaction.

She gave herself a mental shake. She just wanted him to feel needed and appreciated. His self-esteem had taken a huge hit. The loss of his leg weighed heavily on him, she could see it in his eyes.

“Shoot,” Dylan said. “I knew I should've gone for the roses.”

She turned, realizing he'd taken her silence for rejection, and offered a smile. “Roses are so predictable.”

He took a step closer. “Does that mean you'll go out with me again?”

For some reason Riley's face flashed in her mind, his green eyes beckoning.

Beckoning?
What was the matter with her?

She had to get rid of these silly thoughts. And what better way than the handsome man standing right in front of her? A man who wasn't her best friend. A man who actually seemed to be entertaining the thought of kissing her.

“I'd like that.”

He moved closer, the toes of their shoes almost touching. “I'll call you next week?” His voice was deep and quiet in the stillness of the lobby.

“Sounds like a plan.”

The familiar tap-shuffle of Riley's gait reached her ears before he entered the room, Bishop on his heels.

Riley's gaze toggled between them as the guys greeted each other. Then his eyes settled on Paige. “You 'bout ready to shut down for the night?”

She checked her watch. They still had an hour before they had to be at the Roadhouse, but she wanted to grab a shower. “Sure.”

Dylan nodded at Riley as he took a step back. “I should get going. I'll call you about Friday.”

“Sounds good.” She walked him to the door and let him out, conscious of Riley behind her. When she turned, he was staring at the flowers on the counter.

He jerked his eyes back to her. “I'll put the dog back, then we'll head out.”

She watched him go, feeling oddly torn. Then she shook her head.
Stop it, Paige. You're being weird.

So weird. Her girlfriends had always thought it odd that she had a guy for a best friend. “Doesn't the girl/guy thing get in the way?” they'd asked. They'd gush about how attractive Riley was and marvel that Paige didn't even seem to notice or care.

But lately she was noticing. Noticing the sharp turn of his angled jaw, the deep olive tone of his sun-kissed skin, the amber flecks in his pensive green eyes. His build wasn't exactly a turnoff either, with those broad shoulders and corded arm muscles.

She walked to the window air conditioner and turned it on. Cool, stale air blasted her warm cheeks. She leaned against the window ledge.

It is not okay to be thinking this way, Paige Warren. He's your friend—your best friend. He doesn't have corded muscles or pensive green eyes.

Except he did. And now that she'd noticed, she couldn't seem to go back to seeing him the way she had before.

Okay, fine. He's a good-looking guy. He's well built. That doesn't change anything.

So why was she standing here dithering over this, needing an
air conditioner to cool her cheeks?
Gah!
She raked her fingers into her hair and tugged.

“Ready?”

She whirled around. The sight of her purse hanging from Riley's shoulder made all her previous thoughts tumble from her head.

“Goes great with your outfit,” she said with a smirk. “You can borrow it sometime if you like.”

“I prefer your white one,” he deadpanned. “It makes me look tanner.”

And just like that they were back on familiar ground.

I
t was Friday night, and the Roadhouse was packed. The dozen or so TVs hosted the Red Sox game, but Paige didn't care much about baseball. She did, however, take great delight in squeezing into the big corner Callahan booth. Dinner with the family was among her favorite things.

Riley settled in beside her, propping his crutches against the booth. They were the last ones to arrive, save Zac, who was in the kitchen, probably dealing with some crisis.

A pool game was under way in the back room, and someone had started a country song on the jukebox, making all the sports fans scowl as they strained to hear the game. Laughter, chatter, and the clinking of silverware filled the room, and the tangy smell of buffalo wings prevailed.

They ordered and settled into conversation, topics surfacing as quickly and randomly as air bubbles in a pot of boiling water.

“How's the center going?” Eden asked Lucy.

Lucy, who'd inherited her great-aunt's fortune, had put the money to use on a community center. She'd converted the old
firehouse into a pretty nifty hangout that mostly served kids and teenagers.

“Terrific,” Lucy said. “I scrounged up another volunteer. Ellen Mays is going to help out on weekends. And she's going to snap some professional photos for the website.”

“That's great,” Eden said. “Let me know when you have them, and I'll put them up.”

Zac appeared, squeezing into the other side of the booth next to Lucy. “Sorry. Got caught up in the kitchen.”

“Everything okay?” Miss Trudy asked.

“Just the normal Friday night chaos. Did you order for me?”

“A big ol' basket of hot wings,” Lucy said.

“Perfect.” He dropped a kiss on his wife's lips, then murmured something too quiet to hear. His palm found the curve of her cheek and he went in for another kiss.

“Here we go again,” Riley muttered.

Eden cleared her throat. “So . . . Paige . . . how are things coming with the bachelor auction?”

“Great. The community center is the perfect venue—and for the unbeatable price of free. Zac agreed to provide appetizers and drinks for free, and we have about—”

“Hey . . .” Zac stopped making eyes at his wife long enough to frown at Paige. “Nobody said anything about free.”

“That got his attention,” Beau said.

“Give me a break,” Zac grumbled. “I haven't seen my wife all day.”

“A whole twelve hours?” Riley said.

“So, anyway . . . ,” Lucy continued. “We have a venue, food and drinks, we're working on advertising plans, and we'll all pitch in with the decorations.”

“I'm making the bidding paddles,” Miss Trudy said.

“And I added a page about the auction to the shelter's site,” Eden said. “Once we have pictures of all the bachelors, I'll put those up, and we can post the link on our Facebook pages.”

“So what's the verdict?” Lucy asked, eyeing Riley. “Is your picture going to be up there, Riley?”

He frowned. “What?”

Lucy's eyes darted between Riley and Paige. “Oh. Sorry. I thought surely you'd have asked him by now.”

“I've been—busy.” Right. Like she hadn't had a chance, what with working together and living in the same house and basically being together 24/7.

Riley nailed Paige with a look. “What's she talking about?”

She shifted in her seat. “We thought, you know, you might be willing to help out with the auction.”

“As a bachelor,” Lucy added enthusiastically.

Paige aimed a scowl her way. This was not the way she'd wanted this to go down. She'd wanted to warm him up to the idea. Maybe hint around about it and give it a chance to sink in before she went in for the kill. Yeah, that's what she'd been waiting for.

“Um . . . ,” Riley said. “That would be a big fat no.”

At his answer some of the tension eased from Paige's shoulders, and she frowned at her reaction. She'd effortlessly talked three other single men into entering the auction and had been thrilled with their consent.

“Why ever not?” Lucy asked.

Riley's body stiffened as he wiped his palms down his pants. “I can think of about twenty reasons.”

“Well, we have to have at least one Callahan or the ladies'll be disappointed,” Miss Trudy said. “And these two are taken.” Her
gaze swung to Beau, who was nuzzling his nose in Eden's hair. “Clearly.”

Riley gave Paige a dark look, as if this was somehow all her fault. “Ain't happening.” His voice was low and growly.

“But we only have eleven bachelors,” Lucy said. “And we need an even twelve. Our theme is the Twelve Men of Summer.”

“Not my problem.”

“Come on, man,” Beau said. “Take one for the team.”

“You know what?” Riley shifted from the booth, his movements rigid and jerky as he gathered his crutches. “You take one for the team. I need some air.”

After turning another sour look on Paige, he hobbled away, through the restaurant and out the front door.

“Whoops,” Lucy said.

“Well, he can't go far,” Zac said, earning a scowl from Paige.

She scooted toward the aisle. “I'll go talk to him.”

Miss Trudy set a hand on her arm. “Now, now, give the boy some space. He needs to cool off.”

A while later, as they finished their food, Paige was still trying hard to keep Miss Trudy's advice in mind.

Zac had slipped off to the kitchen again, and Lucy had gone to the restroom, when Sheriff Colton came by the table. Beau invited him to sit a spell, and when Miss Trudy didn't budge, Paige scooted over, making room on her side.

The sheriff took off his hat as he sat, revealing his shaved head. He'd been coming around Miss Trudy for years, blushing and stammering, but Miss Trudy wouldn't give him the time of day. The others had found out only recently that the two had been secret high school sweethearts.

“How's the visitor center going, Trudy?” The sheriff eyed her
across the table, his usual flush working its way up from under his collar.

“As usual.” Miss Trudy took a delicate sip of her clam chowder.

“Our class reunion's coming up,” he said. “The emails have been flying back and forth. You planning to go?”

“I haven't decided yet.”

“Should be a good group of us. Sure be nice if you could make it.”

“You should go together,” Beau said.

Miss Trudy shot him the look of death. A long pause hung in the air.

“Oops . . . ,” Beau offered into the gaping silence.

“I'd be honored to escort you, Trudy.” The deep pink had worked its way up into the sheriff's cheeks, making them clash with his fiery red mustache.

Miss Trudy tossed down her napkin and stood. “If I decide to go, I can get my own self there, Danny Colton.” Back ramrod straight, she grabbed her purse and stalked off toward the exit.

The sheriff shrank in his seat, his face finding an even deeper shade of pink.

Beau gave a nervous chuckle. “Was it something I said?”