Willow Spring (31 page)

She drew back just enough to look into his eyes. “I know that. And same here.”

Their gazes met and held for a long, sad moment that threatened to paralyze Amy as much as the fear of fire had a few minutes earlier. Until finally Logan said, “Well, I should, uh . . .” And he withdrew one hand from her, pointing toward where sirens still sounded.

“Of course. Right,” she said, then watched him go jogging across town square.

While Logan was gone, Amy put both Mr. K and Austen inside the bookstore. As both cats stood at her feet, peering up at her, she said, “Okay, it’s like this. You two are going to have to spend the night together here, so be nice to each other. Use the time to work out your differences. Or at least don’t scratch each other’s eyes out before morning.” In a way, Amy hated forcing that on them, and she hoped being in a strange place with another cat wouldn’t freak Knightley out too bad, especially given that he’d already been through something stressful, but it was the only logical place for him tonight.

By the time Amy had locked the store back up, a flurry of activity was descending. Two Destiny firemen, already in full uniform, came to check out her apartment with Logan more thoroughly. And once the all-clear was given, as promised, Logan set up two large fans. She went inside with him, to open windows and pack an overnight bag—but she hurried when she realized how quickly the pungent smoke began to burn her eyes and throat.

“Don’t worry,” Logan told her, “that’ll be much better by tomorrow, and once you do some deodorizing you won’t even notice it. And by the way, you can come stay at my place tonight if you want.”

Hmm. For some reason she hadn’t seen that coming. And though she appreciated the offer, it seemed a lot more dangerous to her than a little smoke. “Um, thanks, but no,” she said as she grabbed up her purse and overnight bag and they stepped outside.

Though she often left her apartment unlocked—a habit she’d gotten into from living in the middle of a small town, and on the second floor—Logan took her keys from her hand and locked the door since her hands were full. “Why not?” he asked. “Gotta stay somewhere.”

“I’ll go to my mom’s,” Amy told him. “Or Sue Ann’s.”

As they started down the steps, he said, “But why bother
them
when you’re already with
me?
”

And, descending in front of him, Amy let out a sigh. The truth was, Logan was now her only real friend who was both single and childless, which made him an obvious choice—if only circumstances were different. If only they were still just friends. So as they reached the ground and walked side by side toward the front of the building, she decided to simply tell him what she was thinking. “Because if I do that, we might end up . . . you know, in bed together. And that would be a bad idea.”

When he responded by giving his head a cute tilt and flashing a flirtatious grin, it nearly buried her. “Maybe not
that
bad of an idea.”

She let out a breath, feeling his words all through her body, most notably in her breasts and in the spot between her thighs. Oh boy. It would be so easy to just say yes. So nice, so sweet, so hot. And Amy had had few opportunities in life to feel so deliciously tempted.

But you have to be strong here. Because you know what you need to be happy and Logan isn’t giving it to you. And one more night of heart-stopping sex, no matter how great, isn’t going to change that.
So she blew out another breath, hoping her duress wasn’t obvious. “Like I said the other night, Logan, I’m just not . . . interested in that kind of relationship with you anymore.”

They stood on the sidewalk in front of Under the Covers now, darkness having fallen over the town during the time it had taken for the firemen to come and go. Logan gazed down at her, appearing slightly perplexed. “Still? Because . . . ever since you said that, I’ve been thinking about you and—”

“Yes, still,” she cut him off. To make sure he got the message. If he hadn’t gotten it the last time she’d said it, maybe it was time to be more rigid about it. And sure, she wondered what he would have said if she’d let him finish—but she’d decided if he didn’t insist on telling her that it must not be very important.

Just then, Sue Ann’s car pulled up beside them on the street and her window went down. “What’s going on? I just got back from picking up Sophie and I saw the lights.” Even though it was quiet at the bookstore now, the firehouse remained lit up and open.

“I had a little mishap with a curling iron,” Amy said, then explained the situation. “And since I can’t spend the night here, any chance I could bunk with you and Sophie tonight?”

“Of course. You know Sophie’s always happy to see you. Come on over and we’ll make a slumber party of it.”

As Amy gave her thanks, she heard a small, “Yay,” from Sophie in the backseat and felt relieved that was settled.

“So,” Logan began as Sue Ann drove away, “looks like you’re all set for the night.” But if she wasn’t mistaken, he sounded a little let down.

Though she didn’t let it sway her, replying only with a short, “Yep, looks like.”

After which he leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, which—as usual—vibrated all through her. “Goodnight, freckles.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered. And she couldn’t deny feeling a little sad, but it wasn’t about her decision to turn him down tonight—it was about the reason why. She loved him and truly always would, but she wouldn’t settle for someone who didn’t love her with the same passion.

“So,” he said then, shifting his weight from one foot onto the other, “aren’t you gonna say it?”

She blinked. “Say what?”

“How obvious it is that I’m supposed to be a fireman, that I was born to do this, yadda yadda yadda.”

She tilted her head, thankful for the gentle evening breeze that blew past. “I don’t have to,” she answered softly. “You just did.”

When she started her car a minute later, Pearl Jam was on the radio, singing “The Woman Behind the Counter,” about someone who . . . could be her. Someone whose small town predicted her fate. Maybe she would always
be
the woman behind the counter in the bookshop who never quite got the things she most wanted in life. But as she’d reminded herself earlier, she still had so much to be grateful for, and one of those things was knowing that she hadn’t sold herself short and never would.

Twenty-one

. . . and the day was concluding in peace and comfort to all . . .

Jane Austen, from
Emma

“I
f you need anything, Christy, anything at all, just let me know, okay?” Logan said into the phone. After the girl on the other end agreed, he added, “Take care,” and hung up.

Then he let out a heavy breath, ran his hand back through his hair, and leaned his head back onto the top of the couch as he tried to process the conversation he’d just had.

He’d known for a while now that there was one more thing he had to do before he could mentally move on from Ken and Doreen’s deaths—and it was to talk to their daughter, Christy. She’d been away at college in Cincinnati when the fire had happened, and she was still there now, staying with friends, because this summer there hadn’t been anything or anyplace to come home to. Christy was an only child and knowing she’d lost both her parents had been just one more source of torture for him through all this.

He could tell she was still going through a rough time, understandably, but she’d been amazingly kind to him, even appreciative that he’d gone to the trouble to call and check on her. But the thing that had affected him most deeply about the phone call was how utterly shocked she’d been to find out he harbored guilt about the way they’d died. “I see it completely differently than you,” she’d told him. “I take a lot of comfort in knowing the last person they had contact with was you, someone they knew and cared about.”

And—wow—he’d just never thought about it that way before. Because the whole scene had been so nightmarish, he’d never before found even one glimmer of anything positive in it at all. And, of course, Christy hadn’t been there—she might have a softer picture in her head of what it was like than how it really was. But still, what if she was right? What if Ken and Doreen also took a little comfort in the fact that it was him, not someone else? And at the very least, to know it brought Christy some comfort counted for a lot. It . . . it almost made him
glad
it had been him and not anyone else in the department.

Finally, he got up, called for Cocoa, grabbed her tennis ball, and walked outside with the chocolate lab on his heels. It was a hot day out, but he wanted to feel the sun on his face. Funny, he’d dreaded making that phone call—he’d refused to let himself think about it, he’d put it off, he’d completely avoided it—and he’d had no idea that he’d hang up with Christy feeling . . . better.

Reaching the dock, he sat down in his usual chair and gave the yellow tennis ball a toss into the water. “Go get it, girl,” he told the dog as she went splashing in. And damn, it felt good to have yet a little bit more of that ugly weight lifting off him.

Of course, a little lifted weight hardly turned his life simple. He still had concerns of different kinds to deal with.

Most notably, Amy. Who weighed on his mind almost constantly lately.

Plain and simple, he missed her. Worse yet, it had only been a couple days since he’d seen her!

And he couldn’t deny that it wasn’t just her friendship he missed—it was being close to her, holding her, kissing her, being inside her. Part of him still couldn’t believe how quickly that change in their relationship had come, but come it had, and he was realizing now that . . . well, it had affected him more deeply than he’d known.

He was still surprised how much it had wounded him when she’d refused to come back to his place the other night after her apartment filled with smoke. And she’d seemed so . . . sure about it, not even tempted. Was she over him that quickly? Was everything between them really finished, done?

He understood her point about wanting a guy who was crazy about her—but she’d hardly given him a chance to even figure out whether or not he was that guy. And now . . . now it seemed like she didn’t even care. And that hurt. Hell, it hurt more than he might have anticipated.

As Cocoa shoved the tennis ball into his hand and he flung it back out into the lake, he found himself flooded with recent memories. That moment at Mike’s wedding when she’d told him she was his secret admirer—how sweet and frightened and hopeful she’d looked, and how much he’d just wanted to . . . protect her or something. Waking up with her in his arms by Sugar Creek the next morning had felt like some kind of dream, but definitely a nice one. And on the boat—well, they’d connected the other times they’d had sex, but that time, wow. Just wow.

And every time he found himself looking back over the various aspects of their new romance, he was amazed all the more to remember that beyond all these new parts of her he’d seen recently, she was still Amy, still his freckles. He’d just never known, never dreamed, that Amy could be . . . so brave, so adventurous, so passionate, so sexy. And also so . . . tough.

Because God knew he had some regrets about how he’d dealt with all this—and in the end, Amy had handled it like an incredibly strong woman. And maybe that part shouldn’t surprise him, but it did. He’d known Amy was a lot of good things before this had started, but he never would have thought she was strong. And that, he realized now, was dead wrong.

Of course, for all her professions of romance and love, she sure had given up on him fast. A thought that kind of depressed him.

But on the other hand, he supposed a girl had a right to want to be pursued. And he supposed a girl had a right to want what she wanted, and Amy certainly knew what she wanted. And a part of him wanted to keep trying with her—but the fact was, he was afraid. Afraid of being in a real, honest relationship—he’d never been in one and he didn’t know how. And afraid of ruining what remained of their friendship—maybe forever this time. The last few months had been a jumble for him and he was just beginning to make his way through all the muck and mire in his head, but for now, the one thing he knew for sure was that he missed her. He missed her friendship. He missed her kisses. He missed all of her.

After chucking the ball back into the water one more time for Cocoa, he checked his watch. His shift at the Dew Drop tonight didn’t start ’til eight and he didn’t have much to do until then. The thought of a long, empty day ahead made him sigh. He was discovering he didn’t particularly love working at night, and that he missed coming and going from the firehouse during sunny days when Destiny was bustling—well, as much as Destiny ever bustled. And hell . . . maybe he missed feeling valuable, doing a job he was good at, where he felt qualified.

When Amy’s place had nearly caught fire, he’d experienced the instant compulsion to rush in and help. Though it had been stupid of him to go in without equipment, on his own without any backup, taking care of that situation had actually been the most satisfying thing he’d done in a long time. Except maybe for making love to Amy.

Either way, he knew now that he had still more changes to make. Amy was right—he had to pull himself together, get over his fears, and return to the work he was born to do.

A
s Mike pulled his squad car into a parking spot on town square near Dolly’s Main Street Café, he spotted his sister across the way, talking to Logan in front of the firehouse. It was good to see his buddy out and about, and hmm . . . at the fire station, too. He could only hope Logan was doing what they all knew Logan needed to do.

And as for Anna . . . damn, his heart pinched up all over again every single time he saw her. Emotionally, he’d been through hell and back over her and now that he had her in his life again . . . hell, he guessed he’d been holding onto the idea of her so closely for so long that now he just didn’t quite know how to ease up.

But as he stood leaning against his cruiser, watching her—stopping only to spare a warning glance to a teenager who went driving by slightly too fast for the square—it hit him that . . . she was an adult now. Not that this was news, but . . . well, maybe the new part was the sudden, clear understanding that he simply had to accept her as that, as an adult. She wasn’t his to train or discipline or mold or even to teach. She was already grown up, had already made all the big, important decisions about who she was going to be.

And for a strange, brief moment he saw her, once more, as a little girl again—as the little girl in that white Easter dress in his favorite picture of her. She was so far from being that same little girl now, and yet he loved her with exactly the same ferocity.

The fact was, he knew how to be a big brother to a little girl, but he didn’t know how to be one to a grown up woman. And he had a lot to learn. About holding on even while you let go.

He waited as she parted ways with Logan and strode toward him across the square, looking as tall and sleek and beautiful as always, today heightened even more with a pair of the summery high heels she liked to wear. She was dangerously gorgeous, which made him want to beat guys off her with a stick—
but you can’t do that. You can’t. She keeps telling you she can take care of herself and you have to let her.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she said with a bright smile.

It made him flinch since, when she’d called him to arrange lunch today, he’d been afraid to find out why. For all he’d known, he’d done something else she found offensive in him as a brother and was going to tell him off or announce she was leaving town.

“Always glad to,” he told her, following her to the café’s front door, then holding it open for her to step inside.

A few minutes later, after they’d ordered, she plopped the laminated menu back in its holder at the edge of the table and said, “Don’t you want to know why I called you?”

Mike tilted his head, gave her a small grin. “So it’s not just because you were dying to see your big brother, huh?”

She rewarded him with another pretty smile of her own. “It’s actually because I have some big news.”

The statement tightened Mike’s chest. Especially when it hit him that just because she was smiling didn’t mean he was going to like what she had to say. “What’s the news?” he asked, wanting to cut to the chase.

“Here’s the deal,” she said. “A few days ago, I decided to leave. To just pack my suitcase, go home to Indy, and move on with my old life. And I even did it. I didn’t tell anybody—I just took off, heading home.”

Of course, with every word out of her mouth, Mike’s heart crumbled a little more, but he did his damnedest to just sit there and listen and not let his reaction show on his face.

“But something made me turn back,” she went on—and he started breathing again. Though he really wanted her to get to the point now.

“And it was realizing that I actually really love you guys now—even you,” she said playfully, “and that I’m actually even starting to like this town.”

Mike resisted the urge to reach out across the table and squeeze her hand—Rachel had told him she thought Anna found his affection overwhelming—and instead just said, “Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

“But here’s the thing, big brother,” she continued, now sounding very take-charge. “I’m staying in Destiny, but I refuse to be under anyone’s thumb, especially yours. And I’m getting my own place, doing my own thing.”

“Your own thing?” he asked.

“You know my other mom left me some money, and so far, all I’ve done with it is take time off work and buy the Mustang. But now I’ve bought something else, too. Do you know that old Victorian house on the hill that overlooks Blue Valley Lake?”

Mike had to think for a minute, but then he realized the place she was talking about. It had been vacant and on the market for years now, and he was pretty sure it was in a serious state of disrepair. But he had no idea where she was going with this. “Um, yeah.”

“Well, I bought it. And I’m going to restore it and make it an inn. This town
needs
something like that. And
I
need something like that. And I’ll be
good
at something like that. So what do you think?”

It was all Mike could do not to bound across the table and give her the biggest hug of her life. But again, he restrained himself and said, “I think
that’s
the best news I’ve heard all day.”

Her response? To narrow her eyes, point at him with one long, tapered finger, and say, “You just stay out of my business unless you’re invited into it. Got it?”

“Got it,” he said.

I
t was Thursday evening by the time Amy got everything back into place in her apartment. As she stood on a step stool, rehanging the freshly laundered curtains in the front window, she breathed in deeply, pleased that everything smelled nice again.

And she felt happy inside because it was a good day in Destiny. Tessa and Lucky were getting married in two days, and when she’d talked to Tessa earlier, she’d sounded on top of the world. She knew from Tessa that Lucky, Mike, and Anna were all picking up their parents at the airport this evening, and she also knew that Anna had bought the old house on the hill above the lake with plans to make it an inn—and she was signing the papers with Sue Ann at Destiny Properties tomorrow morning. She was glad she’d made peace with Anna, and even glad Anna was staying and finding her place in Destiny.

And there was still one more thing creating Amy’s happy mood, too. When she’d returned to Under the Covers the morning after the curling iron incident, she’d found her two favorite cats actually curled up in a ball together sleeping! They’d been friendly to one another ever since! And now she’d even moved Austen into the apartment, bringing her up when she closed the shop tonight. She’d fed the cats dinner in two separate bowls, but placed them closely side by side, and a few minutes later had spied them companionably sharing the same water dish. And now, from her spot on the stool, she glanced over to the couch to see Austen and Mr. K curled up there together again—and the sight warmed her heart.