Always My Hero (2 page)

“Well, this is a new year and I’m trying out a new me. And the new me says no more hiding behind books.”

“Nice to meet you, New Bree. Welcome to Scallop Shores. I think you’re going to like it here.”

The butterflies in her stomach had changed their pattern. No longer nervous, they were excited to start a new phase of her life. She was through punishing herself for the past. It was time to look to the future.

• • •

“I would have thought you’d have packed a lot more? Where are all your things? You only brought enough for a quick visit.”

Anne Pettridge, Ryan’s mother, puttered about her small kitchen, fixing a quick meal of sandwiches and soup. Her worried eyes flitted from Ryan to her grandson, Wesley, and back again. Ryan stretched his long legs out beneath the battered kitchen table and looked around the room he hadn’t seen in over ten years. Same wallpaper covered in little teakettles. Same yellow appliances that were probably older than he was. Same hand carved wooden clock on the wall, in the shape of an owl.

“I keep telling you, Ma, we’re only here to help you and Dad get back on your feet. My work gave me a leave of absence to help out after Dad’s stroke. Wes can finish out the school year here, but come summer, we’ll go back home.”

Her pinched expression said without words how
this
was his home. He was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. He’d come home to run the family business, a hardware store, handed down for several generations. It was his to do with as he pleased.

Wesley sat quietly at his end of the table, only eight years old and working his way through the fifth Harry Potter book for the second time. He gave his grandmother a shy smile as she set the grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup down in front of him. All but strangers they were, and Ryan only had himself to blame.

“So grown up. He looks just like you did at this age, sweetheart.” She brushed a lock of hair away from Wesley’s blue, plastic-rimmed glasses.

He supposed he could see some similarities. Wesley had the same strong chin, the same stubborn cowlick at the back of his head, the same feet that seemed too huge for his skinny body. But he had his mother’s bright blue eyes and golden hair. The rest of him? Wesley was definitely his own person. Ryan’s smile was tight as he watched his son tune out his surroundings, preferring the world he could escape to in his books.

When Ryan was his age, he was rarely without some sort of ball in his hands. Or he was knee deep in chores, paying for whatever damage he’d caused by tossing one of those balls around.

“By the time you were his age, you’d broken how many windows? And my reproduction Tiffany lamp in the family room.” Anne laughed, even if her sigh sounded a bit wistful.

Note to self
, he thought.
Buy Ma a new Tiffany lamp for Christmas.

“Hey, I worked off my debt. That entire weekend I had to clean out the garage? Or the time I had to stain the deck while Dad put up that hammock on the lawn and drank lemonade?”

“You broke windows?” Blinking owlishly, Wesley stared with wide eyes from his dad to his grandmother. “Why would you do that?”

“Well, not on purpose, buddy. It was all in fun. Tossing a baseball around.” Ryan shrugged.

“I believe my lamp was destroyed with a basketball.”

“Yeah, that’s right. It was winter. Couldn’t play out on the snow covered driveway.”

As one, they all looked out the window at the new fallen snow. He’d taken Wesley up to Big Bear a few times, but snow was still a pretty rare sight for a kid born and raised in sunny Southern California.

“How about we bundle up and go build us a snowman?” He leaned over and ruffled his son’s hair.

“Nah. I’m good. If I keep at it, I can finish this book by tonight.” Wesley returned his attention to the book cracked open beside his plate and bowl.

“It’s the funniest thing, but you know who he reminds me of?” Anne tapped a finger to her temple.

Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.

“Bree Adams. Remember her? Always more interested in reading back when you two were in high school. Guess it makes sense that she ended up running the children’s library here in town.”

“No, that can’t be right. Bree was going to be a teacher. I remember she was going to a teaching college up north.”

“Haven’t you kept in touch with her, sweetheart? She only went there for a semester. Then her stepfather was diagnosed with cancer. She came home to help her mom with the boys. I don’t know how she ended up getting her degree, but she’s been here pretty much all along.”

Keeping in touch with Bree would have meant reopening a painful wound every time they talked. For his own sanity, Ryan had made it a point to tune out whenever his mother had tried to fill him in on town gossip during their weekly phone conversations while he was in California.

“Have you kept in touch with anyone in town? You really ought to take a drive around. I know a lot of folks who would be happy to see you.”

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the grimace off his face. His mom didn’t get it. She’d never understood why he didn’t come back home to visit, flying his parents out to California instead. He took a giant bite of his sandwich, giving himself time to brood as he chewed.

Scallop Shores was a tight community. They banded together when needed. They helped each other out. They celebrated victories as a town. When he’d taken the Wildcat football team to the state championships, it might as well have been a national holiday. Businesses closed down so that the townsfolk could attend the game up in Augusta. And when they’d won, Ryan had been lauded a hometown hero.

When he’d been accepted on a football scholarship to UCLA, he couldn’t go anywhere without a slap on the back, well wishes, and lots of “We’re so proud of you, son.” He had to admit that it was a pretty heady feeling. That last summer before college was the best of his life.

And then he’d failed them. In one day, one freak accident, he’d blown his chances of a career in pro football. Oh, the people of Scallop Shores were too polite to say anything. They had put him up on a pedestal, and there he would stay. Instead of coming home a champ, he was coming home a chump. Well, an accountant, but really, for someone who was supposed to be the town football hero, what was the difference?

“I’ll take Wes around tomorrow, show him my old stomping grounds.”

Wesley, the one thing in his adult life that he was supremely proud of. Maybe folks would be so distracted by his son that no one would want to rehash his glory days.

It couldn’t have been more than fifteen degrees as Bree and Foster shuffled down the deserted business district in Port Kitt. Her breath came out in great plumes of icy vapor and she could no longer feel her nose. She’d dressed for a dinner date, not the outdoors, and pantyhose did nothing for the winter chill. Her feet and legs were screaming at her.

They had eaten at Molly Malone’s, and as it was still early in the evening, decided to do a little window shopping. Hugging her arms around her middle, Bree stamped her feet while they paused in front of an art studio to study the portrait in the window.

“Here, let me help.”

Foster pulled off one of his gloves and one of her mittens. Wrapping her hand in his, he stuffed them both inside his coat pocket. It was a sweet gesture and she smiled up at him shyly. He returned the smile, those deep divots in his cheeks popping out in stark relief against his smooth skin. Bree waited. His thumb pressed a rhythmic circle into her palm. She should be feeling a bit breathless by now, right? Maybe it was just the bitter January night.

“Thanks, but I really think it’s just too cold to be out and about tonight. How about we head back to my place for some hot cocoa?”

“Sounds good to me.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

Too late, Bree worried that she might be giving Foster the wrong message. She hoped he understood cocoa meant cocoa. It wasn’t code for “please spend the night and see how I look wearing your shirt as I cook breakfast in the morning.”

On the way back to her place, she silently applauded the genius who invented heated car seats. Oh, happy bottom! She’d assumed that Foster’s parents were pretty well off, having such a successful restaurant in the harbor. But these luxurious leather seats and the satellite radio station tuned to soft jazz, not to mention the seat warmers and other fancy gadgets in this pricey hybrid, told her Foster wasn’t doing too bad for himself, either.

They were both silent during the twenty minute drive, and though that could have been construed as a little awkward, Bree was relieved to have a moment to herself to reflect. She leaned her head back against the headrest and tried to think positively.

She had been a busy beaver that week following the wedding, and should be patting herself on the back. It looked like fate was giving her a little nudge out of the starting gate. Just for kicks, she had stopped to check out the community bulletin board on her way in for her morning coffee at Cady’s Dream on Monday.

The first step toward a happy ever after was to get out of her mother’s house and start living her own life, in her own place. Ever since her stepfather had died, Bree had been more of a second parent to her little brothers than a sister. She told herself she was needed. But it was really an excuse to keep from dealing with her own issues. Sam, Perry, and Theo kept her so busy she barely had time to dwell on the pain she was hiding.

There was an ad for a duplex not too far from the library. Fully furnished and for less than she was paying her mother for the room she’d lived in since she was born. She checked it out on her lunch break and had signed the lease and received the keys by the end of the day.

Rather than get all melancholy over her daughter’s decision to move out of the house, Lyssa was thrilled for her. Perhaps a little too thrilled, when she boxed up all of Bree’s clothes, knickknacks, and personal belongings while she was at work the next day. They each took turns dropping a few boxes off at a time, during the day. Bree had the utilities switched over and spent her first night in her new place Thursday evening.

It was a lot quieter than she was used to. No little brothers running around like maniacs, body slamming each other off the walls and using every surface of the house as their own private jungle gym. The first night in her new place, she couldn’t sit still. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she walked from room to room, touching a couch cushion, the toaster oven, a roll top desk in the study, the carved wooden bedpost … “Mine,” she said with every caress. It was a great feeling.

Bree had been looking forward to her date with Foster on Saturday night. She was still riding the high she’d gotten from having the nerve to ask. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date and was abysmally aware that her wardrobe showed that. Just one more thing to add to her to-do list of what she’d need as she started her new life. Shopping for clothes and shoes was not her idea of a good time, but this was a year for changes. She’d find a way to make it fun.

He’d brought her flowers, held the door for her, and been incredibly attentive all evening. But as the night wore on, Bree waited for that connection, the spark that told her he was “the one.” She wanted to eagerly await the good night kiss on her doorstep. She wanted to feel … something. But the only time her heart started racing was from nerves and embarrassment, not heat and passion.

Foster was a great guy and she hoped he found the perfect woman to make him happy. All the same, she was disappointed, frustrated, and a little scared that she would have to put herself out there again in order to find her Mr. Right. Worried she hadn’t given the guy enough of a chance, she glanced over at him.

He flashed her those wicked dimples and she smiled back at him. Without saying a word, he reached over the console and squeezed her knee. Nope. Nothing. Oh dear Lord, what if she was broken? If a sexy guy like Foster couldn’t get her hot and bothered, who could?

“Looks like you have a new neighbor.” Foster pointed as he pulled into the snowy driveway.

“Who on Earth would choose to haul stuff around at this hour?” Bree didn’t wait for Foster to come around to her side. She opened the car door and headed for the stranger whose face was hidden behind a huge box.

“Excuse me. Can we help you?” Bree slipped her mittens off and stuffed them in her coat pockets, so she could get a better grip on the cardboard boxes.

She reached out and placed her hands on the box her new neighbor was carrying up to the porch. Her chilled fingers made contact with the stranger’s, the electric current of awareness causing her to gasp. She hadn’t felt that kind of reaction since ...

“I’m almost done here. But if you really want to help, there are a couple of boxes left on the tailgate.” He shifted the box to the side to peer around the edge. “I appreciate the ... Bree? Bree Adams?”

Even with a ski cap covering his hair and a thick wool scarf muffling his words, she recognized those soulful brown eyes, that gravelly voice. No, no, no. Not him. Anyone but him. Not here. This was her new sanctuary. Her new start. No old mistakes allowed. Realizing she still had her hands around the box he was carrying, Bree let go and took a few steps back.

Too late, she remembered the snowy edges to the driveway and the fact that she wore heels and hose. She squealed as snow filled her shoes, the icy sensation startling her so much that she lost her balance, her arms pinwheeling uncontrollably. She landed on her butt with a less-than-ladylike grunt, hoping she hadn’t flashed her white granny panties in the process.

“Whoa, sweetheart, are you all right?” Foster reached down and pulled her upright, brushing the snow from her wool coat and skirt.

Putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side, he acknowledged Bree’s new neighbor.

“Hey, there’s a familiar face. Ryan Pettridge, hometown hero. Good to see you again. Dude, I am so sorry about your dad.”

Bree’s face heated. She’d completely forgotten that his father had suffered a stroke. Of course he’d come home. He was probably going to run the hardware store for his parents now.