CHAPTER EIGHT
WHILE THE REST of Sweetwater slept, Bodhi painted the rec room and repaired the shelves in the pantry. If Bridgette continued to get under his skin, he’d have his mother’s house renovated in no time. He’d been so frustrated over how the night had ended, he’d finally fallen into bed around four in the morning. But the sheets had smelled like Bridgette, and when he’d finally dozed off, she’d invaded his dreams.
After too little sleep, he’d seen her leave for work this morning, and she’d looked exhausted. He wondered how many times Louie had been up last night. He wished she’d taken him up on his offer to watch the flower shop. He knew what it was like to be the sick kid of a single parent and to be stuck at home with a sitter. Granted, a grandmother was different from a sitter, but still. She’d made it clear that Louie didn’t do well with anyone but her when he was sick. He respected the hell out of her for doing what she had to do for her business and her family. She’d probably made the right choice. What the hell did he know?
Later that afternoon as he washed out his paintbrushes, he was still bothered by the way last night had ended.
Dahlia whined.
“What?” The dog was too attuned to his moods.
She pawed at him. He turned off the water and knelt to love her up. She covered his face with sloppy kisses. After last night they might be the only kisses he got for a while. He gritted his teeth against that reality.
“What do you think, Dahl?”
“Woof!”
“Yeah, no shit. I know I told her I can’t have a relationship, but we connected last night, and then I blew it by pushing myself into her life where I didn’t belong.” He stood and paced, thinking about what she’d said. For a guy who doesn’t want a relationship, you’re acting very boyfriendish. He should forget about last night and go back to being neighbors who rarely spoke. It was safer that way. But every time he thought about the pain in her eyes after she’d said it, he felt like a jerk. She was right. He was putting himself out there in ways he had no business doing.
He went back to cleaning out the brushes, but all he saw was Louie’s little face flushed from a fever. He could still feel his limp body on his shoulder.
Dahlia whined again.
He kissed her on the head. “She blew me off, Dahl. What was up with that?”
“Woof.”
“You know what? The hell with this wallowing shit.” He headed for the door.
Dahlia whined.
“Don’t worry. I’m not getting all wrapped up in her. I’m just letting her know I’m still around.” It was a bald-faced lie, and what made it worse was that he was lying to his dog.
A little while later he found out just how little he knew about five-year-olds as he walked through the children’s section of Everything and More, a small department store, looking for a gift for Louie. He had no idea if Louie could read, much less what would interest him. He tossed three comic books into the basket and added two books called Where the Wild Things Are and Splat the Cat. He put Where the Wild Things Are back on the shelf because the monsters on the cover looked a little scary, and tossed in a few packs of baseball cards, a stuffed dog that looked like Dahlia, and a couple of toy pirates. On the way out, he stopped in the sporting goods department to see what else he could find, and picked up a pair of long-distance walkie-talkies.
He stopped at the grocery store to pick up Gatorade and crackers in case Bridgette didn’t have any for Louie, and a few other things he needed. He wasn’t trying to be boyfriendish. He was just trying to brighten the kid’s day. There was nothing wrong with that. They were neighbors, and damn it, they’d had a connection, even if she’d pushed him away with her I-can-handle-it-and-don’t-need-you attitude.
By the time he left the store, he was wound as tight as a fishing reel. He probably should not stop at the Secret Garden until he had time to calm down, but he didn’t like how he and Bridgette had left things, and he needed her to know he was still around.
He grabbed the ten-pound bag of sugar he’d bought at the grocery store and headed into the bright and cheery shop. Every surface was covered with gorgeous flowers, throwing him back in time to when he’d worked in his mother’s shop. He’d loved every second of it, regardless of the kids who had called him a pussy for working there. Slamming one bigmouthed asshole against a locker had shut them all up. Nobody dissed his mother’s business. He supposed if life had been different, he might have continued working there instead of going into the military. But his father had lost his life because of a rescue gone wrong, and he’d known from that moment on what he had to do. If it were up to him, no other family would lose a loved one because of a botched rescue mission.
He spotted Bridgette talking with a tall brunette by the counter and stalked toward her. Did she always have to look so gorgeous? There wasn’t a woman on earth who could make skinny jeans and a white T-shirt look sexier. Her hair hung in loose waves around her face, and his fingers itched to feel those silky strands wound around them again. Hell, he’d give anything to just hold her in his arms one more time.
She looked over as he approached, surprise rising in her eyes. “Um, excuse me for just one second,” she said to the woman.
Bodhi set the bag down at the other end of the counter.
“Bodhi?” Bridgette said. “What’s this?”
“Sugar. In case I need it.”
She smiled, and it warmed him to the bone. I’m not about to let my stubborn girl forget about me. He scowled at the thought. She wasn’t his, and couldn’t be even if he wanted her to. He wouldn’t do that to her or to Louie.
With a curt nod, he headed out to the car before he said something stupid.
Half an hour later, with Dahlia by his side, Bodhi stood in Bridgette’s living room with Roxie Dalton, Bridgette’s exuberant mother, watching Louie work his way, very slowly, through the presents Bodhi had brought. The poor little guy barely had the energy to pet Dahlia, who had parked herself beside the couch where Louie was tucked beneath a blanket.
Bodhi quickly assessed Louie’s pallor and the glassiness of his eyes. “Is he getting enough fluids?”
“As much as I can get him to drink, right, sweetie?” Roxie brushed Louie’s hair from his forehead and pressed a kiss there. “At least his fever is staying down. I think the yarrow tea bath I gave him helped.”
“Look, Grandma Roxie, baseball cards.” A weak smile lifted his lips as he turned to Bodhi. “I collect them, like my dad did. He’s dead.”
Roxie touched Louie’s shoulder, pity hovering in her eyes.
Bodhi knelt beside the couch with a heavy heart. Dahlia licked his face, earning a giggle from Louie.
“My father’s gone, too.”
“Are you sad?” Louie asked.
“Sometimes,” Bodhi said honestly. “Are you?”
“No. I don’t remember him. But I think sometimes Mommy is sad.”
Bodhi had seen that last night, even though Bridgette had tried to hide it. He glanced at Roxie, unsure of how much he should say, but there were no answers in her eyes. Only compassion.
“Luckily,” he said, “your mom has you, and that makes her very happy. I’d love to see your card collection someday. My father collected coins. I never got into them, but my mother has them all.”
“If my mom lets me show you my cards, do you think your mom will let me see your father’s coins?” Louie asked.
“Yeah, buddy. I’m sure she will.” He made a mental note to borrow the collection from his mother. Hoping to give Louie an incentive to drink more fluids, he took a bottle of Gatorade out of the bag and said, “You know, baseball players drink a lot of Gatorade. Do you like Gatorade?”
Louie nodded. A new glimmer of light shone in his eyes.
“Maybe you could be like them and drink a bottle this afternoon.” He winked at Roxie, who mouthed, Thank you.
“I will. I’m going to play for the Yankees when I grow up.”
“I bet you’ll be their best player ever.” He broke the seal on the Gatorade, then screwed the top back on and set it on the coffee table. “Let me show you what else I brought.” Bodhi opened the walkie-talkies. “These work for miles.”
“Can I call you on them?” Louie asked.
“If your mom says it’s okay, sure.” He showed both Louie and Roxie how to operate them.
“Can you hook it to your pants like G.I. Joe?” Louie asked.
“Maybe I should leave it here so you can use it with your mom.”
“I can call her on the phone,” Louie insisted. “Please?”
Bodhi glanced at Roxie, who nodded. “Okay, little dude. But you need permission from your grandmother or your mother before using it, okay?”
After they played with the walkie-talkies, Roxie walked Bodhi to the door. “It was really sweet of you to bring Louie all those gifts. Bridgette told me you drove her to pick him up last night. It’s been a long time since she’s had a friend like you. Thank you.”
“Happy to help.” He was surprised Bridgette had mentioned him. “There’s a paperback in the bag for Bridgette.”
“I’ll be sure she gets it. She also mentioned that you’re fixing up the house next door for your mother. I assume, like most hardworking men, your hands could use a little attention, and I have just the thing.” She dug around in a box sitting by the stairs and handed him a jar. “Think of this as a thank-you gift for all you’ve done.”
Dahlia nosed the container, trying to get a whiff. Bodhi read the label. CLARY SAGE & CINNAMON LOTION BY ROXIE. He wondered if she had any idea that clary sage was known for its aphrodisiac qualities, and whether she believed in the tales that cinnamon promoted warmth and spice in a relationship. Then he remembered she’d given Louie a yarrow tea bath and realized she probably did know those things.
“You made this? Thank you. It’s an interesting combination.”
“Oh, honey.” She waved her hand. “I made that and about every other lotion, oil, fragrance, or soap in this town worth its salt. I put a little extra love in every batch. I’ll bring something special for your mother when she settles in. I’m sure she’ll love it here. Sweetwater has a way of growing on a person. Once the people here work their way into your heart, it’s impossible to leave.”
The glimmer of mischief in her eyes reminded him of Bridgette. He’d just seen her in the flower shop. Was it possible to miss her already?
“Before I forget,” Roxie said, “would you mind leaving me your number? It’s always good to have a neighbor’s number handy.”
“Sure.”
She grabbed a paper and pen, and while he jotted down his information, she said, “Half the town is talking about you and Bridgette dancing together last night.”
His gut fisted, hoping no one had seen them kissing. The last thing he wanted was for Bridgette to be the center of gossip. He handed Roxie the paper and pen. “She’s an incredible woman. A wonderful neighbor.”
“Yes, she is. She was once a feisty little gal, my Bridgette. Maybe you can bring that out in her again.”
What did Bridgette tell you? “Roxie, I’m only here for a little while. I’m not looking to get involved in that way.”
“Yes, Bridgette mentioned that to me as well.” She glanced at Louie, who was drinking the Gatorade, and said, “I understand. But some towns are harder to leave than others.”
BRIDGETTE LAY ON her bed Saturday night, staring up at the ceiling and trying to figure out what to do about Bodhi. She’d been shocked when he’d brought the sugar into the flower shop and dropped it in his big, brooding fashion without so much as a simple conversation. But to come home and find out he’d bought presents for Louie and had spoken to him about Jerry and his own father? The man was a walking contradiction—and his phone number was like the apple in the Garden of Eden. Leave it to her mother to meddle where she didn’t belong. Roxie hadn’t even told Bridgette that Bodhi had left his number, or that he’d left her a copy of Any Time, Any Place, the follow-up book to the one she’d bought at the grocery store. The pages were dog-eared, and the book was signed by the author to Bodhi. Bridgette had found both items on her bedside table, with a note from her mother. Such a nice man. You should call and thank him for the gifts for Louie. Maybe invite him to dinner when Louie’s better? After all, he’s here by himself, and from what I hear, all the single women in town are hot on his trail.
She rolled onto her side and picked up the novel, turning to the inscription. Bodhi, I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you do for our country. Meeting you and knowing you enjoy my romances is truly an honor! Jen
She flipped through the pages, trying to imagine Bodhi reading the book, and she felt herself smiling. She wished she’d gotten a look at the titles on the table beside his couch. She eyed the walkie-talkie he’d given Louie and set the book down beside it. Louie had called him to say good night, and Bodhi had been sweet to him. She’d hoped he’d at least tell Louie to say hello to her, but no such luck. Good night, little dude. Feel better tomorrow, and remember to turn off the walkie-talkie so the batteries last. She looked at his phone number again, debating calling him.
Butterflies took flight in her stomach, and she chickened out. She went to check on Louie, hoping to distract herself from thoughts of Bodhi. Her boy was fast asleep, clutching the stuffed dog Bodhi had given him. He’d named it Jeter, after his favorite baseball player. His fever was down, but he still wasn’t himself. She tucked him in and went back to her room.
Unable to escape thoughts of Bodhi, she picked up the walkie-talkie, pressed the “Talk” button, and lay down on her bed, talking to dead air. “Listen here, Mr. Brooding Badass Booker. It’s not okay to make out with a woman and then walk away in a huff because she calls you on your own rules.” Feeling emboldened by getting this off her chest, she sprang off the bed and paced.
“And as for sugar? Well, I have something sweet for you, all right. You only got a taste of it last night. There’s a lot more where that came from. But you’re only here temporarily, and I have a little boy to protect, so there can’t be any more sugary goodness for you, Mr. Rule Maker.” She gazed out the window into the darkness and touched her forehead to the cool glass as the longing inside her expanded and her emotions continued to pour out. “Which is a shame, because it’s been a really long time since I’ve felt anything this big. This powerful and good. And I want to feel more of it. The worst part of all of this is that after five years without so much as a single butterfly in my stomach, you awakened a part of me that I wasn’t sure still existed. It’s like someone’s playing a horrible trick on me. ‘Here, you can love one man, and then I’m going to take him from you forever. But don’t worry, you’ll get a taste of another man who makes you feel alive again. And then I’ll take him away, too. Quicker this time, so you’ll never know what could have been.’”
She set the walkie-talkie on the bedside table and poured some of the jasmine massage oil her mother had given her into her hand, then lay on the bed as she rubbed it soothingly into her skin, willing the heartache away.