Heath's Hope (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 5) (7 page)

She’d read about people who hoarded yarn, had entire rooms filled with nothing but bins of yarn. Hope vowed she would not become that person, though it would be so easy. But she meant to have some of that qiviut yarn—enough to make a sweater. Maybe that mocha. Just looking at it gave her a cozy sense of well-being. But the emerald green made her think of a forest in a fairy tale. How could she choose? And how could she have thought qiviut was ordinary yarn like you could buy by the bale at Hobby Lobby? At any rate, she was going to have that soon—just as soon as she proved to the sisters that she was capable of knitting a sweater.

At the end of the row, she picked up her phone to check the time. 7:45 already. Heath should arrive in fifteen minutes—if he came. Maybe he wouldn’t. But if he did, she had progress to report. Eleven people had signed up for the knitting classes. So what if they were her mother, Aunt Vanessa, Neyland, and Neyland’s friends? Hope was not above using what she had. Plus, she’d talked Robin Reynolds into catering the soup lunches in exchange for the classes. Oh, she was on a roll.

“Are you ready?”

And she looked up into stormy, brandy-colored eyes.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Had it been fifteen minutes? She looked at her phone. Yes. How had that happened?

“That’s clear. I banged on the front door, and you wouldn’t even look up. I had to go around back and knock on the office window.”

“Welcome to my world ten years ago. When you were working on a piece of glass, there wasn’t anything else in the world.”

He looked away. You never got to keep his eyes for long. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“The Café Down On The Corner. I need to eat.”

“I thought you wanted to hear about the marketing plans.”

“I can listen and eat at the same time.”

She almost argued, almost said no. But, in the end, she just got up, put her knitting away, and put her shoes on.

The Café Down On The Corner served country breakfasts and lunches, but became a bar at night. Robin and Billy Joe Reynolds were known for having top-notch entertainment, so the place would be packed. Hope was surprised that Heath wanted to go there. He’d never been one for crowds, though maybe that had changed. A lot had.

She tried to tell herself that she’d mindlessly followed him because he had a right to know about her plans for String, and because she needed to talk to Robin again about the lunches for Savory Soup and Christmas Stitches.

But that was a lie. It was that damned place on his neck—the soft part above his collarbone. She’d become obsessed with wanting to touch it. Not that she was going to get to. At least it would be dark inside The Café Down On The Corner, and she wouldn’t have to look at it.

“Nice night.” When Heath said that one block into the three-block walk, Hope knew it was because he was truly enjoying the barely nippy fall weather. Heath didn’t make small talk.

“Yes.”

They continued on in silence—not exactly companionable silence, but not awkward either.

A few yards short of The Café Down on the Corner, Hope stopped short. “What’s going on here?” The restaurant sign was lit up, the bar sign dark, and the lights were on inside.

Heath looked impatient. “They keep the restaurant open after the high school football games so the team can go and people can bring their kids.”

“But it’s November,” Hope said. “High school football ends in October.”

Heath shook his head. “Not if you make the playoffs.”

“Why did I not know about this?” Hope asked.

It was a rhetorical question, but Heath had never understood rhetorical questions. Like any other question, he answered if he wanted and kept quiet if he didn’t.

“You don’t know about it, because you don’t care what’s important to the people in this town. You don’t pay attention, because Beauford isn’t your home. You’re just marking time until you can get away from here.” Oh, joy. He was in an answering mood.

“That’s a little cold.” Though it might be true. “My daddy is hurt. There’s the bank. And String.”

He nodded. “Your daddy would be deer hunting in a wheelchair next week if he could get away from your mama. I doubt if the bank is taking much of your energy, though I suspect there’s real work to be done there if you’d make it your business to find it. As for String, that’s trouble of your own making.”

“Do you delight in insulting me?”

“I didn’t set out to insult you. You asked a question and I answered it.”

Hope did not believe in hitting people, had never hit anyone in her life. But she understood why people wanted to. It was a good thing she didn’t have her knitting needles; she might stab him.

She gestured to the red and gold sign in the restaurant window that urged the Beauford Broncos to, “Go, Fight, Win!” “Since when do you care about football?”

“I don’t,” Heath said. “I’m the one male in the South who does not. But I donated a signed window to an auction to raise money for new weight room equipment because this is my home.”

She wanted to scream. “Which is why it’s not mine anymore.”

“You caused that,” he said evenly.

And you got married before I could even entertain the thought of dating someone else.

But she wasn’t going to say that. She would
never
say that.

“So you came out to The Café Down On The Corner to support the Beauford Broncos?”

“No.” He opened the door and ushered her inside. “They don’t need my support. They have your uncle Conrad, Gabe Beauford, and cheerleaders for that. I came here for barbecue and corn light bread. I’m hungry.”

Aside from a few people who had probably driven over from Nashville because they didn’t know open mic night had been canceled, the place was deserted.

“I guess the game’s not over yet,” Hope said to Billy Joe as he seated them.

“We’ll be buzzing pretty soon,” Billy Joe said. “Hope, you didn’t go to see your uncle coach tonight? I wish I could have.”

Billy Joe was one of the most beloved men in Beauford, but right now Hope wanted to smack him, too. Why did people ask questions with obvious answers when what they really wanted was an explanation?

“Maybe Hope could come run this place next week so you can go to the game,” Heath suggested. “If we win.”

If
we
win?
Since when had he become the quarterback?

“Oh, we’ll win all right.” Billy Joe took out his order pad. “Heath, large pork plate? With slaw, beans, corn light, and an extra side of boiled okra? Sweet tea?”

“And chess pie. Hope wants the same.”

“No, I—” But Billy Joe was gone. Apparently her punishment for not going to the football game was not being allowed to choose her own food. “Heath, get him back here. I can’t eat all that. And I don’t like boiled okra.”

“I’m not planning on you eating all that. I plan to take your leftovers home so I can eat them tomorrow.”

Raw, icy wind blew through her, chilling her soul, freezing her heart.

She’d forgotten. In their college days, though she’d had more extra money than he had, Heath had always insisted on paying, and he always wanted her to order more than she could eat so he could have the leftovers.

He shrugged, sat back in his chair, and folded his arms over his chest. “Old habits die hard.”

Harder than your feelings for me, for sure. You let those go easily enough.

She couldn’t stand any more. “Since when have you become Chatty Cathy? Please, just stop talking to me. Can we just eat in silence?”

“I thought we came here to talk about the plans you’ve got for String.”

“Fine!” She pulled the folders out of her bag and tossed them on the table. “But can we talk about
just
this?”

And they did. They ate, and Hope outlined her plans for the classes and the yarn tasting. Surprisingly, after she explained that yarn tastings were common in the textile world and no one was actually going to eat yarn, Heath didn’t question her decisions.

“And I already have eleven people signed up for the classes.”

“Will they all show?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know and I don’t much care. They paid in advance and it’s non-refundable. We have to order the supplies.”

He swallowed the last of his pie and nodded. “Good job.”

“Thank you.” She busied herself with packing up her leftovers in the polystyrene container Billy Joe had brought her.

Heath picked up the check.

“I’m not going to try to pay for my food,” Hope said in an attempt to lighten the mood. “After all, you’re taking most of mine home and you make a lot more money than I do.”

He almost smiled. “And who would have ever figured that?”

So much for lightening the mood.

“We should go.” She rose and handed him the takeout box.

Just as they were leaving, they ran into Rafe Beauford and Abby Whitman.
Ran into
wasn’t far from the literal truth. Rafe and Abby were laughing, holding hands, and Rafe seemed to be closing in to kiss Abby when Hope and Heath stepped out of the door.

Rafe didn’t get his kiss, because when the pair saw Heath and Hope, they broke into delighted laughter the way annoyingly blissful people do.

The way she and Heath had at one time.

“Hope! I heard you were back in town.” Rafe hugged her. She couldn’t recall that he had ever hugged her before. Then he shook Heath’s hand and laughed some more. “Hope, have you met Abby, my fiancée?” He said
fiancée
like it was the best word ever invented. He hugged Abby closer to him.

“We met when Abby signed up for the knitting classes at String,” Hope said. “It’s good to see you again, Abby.”

Abby laughed, and though she had struck Hope as the reserved type before, she threw her arms around Hope like they were long-lost twins. If she didn’t know better, Hope would think these two were the fools of the century.

Not fools; just in love.

Looking slightly panicked, Heath backed out of the hug zone. “Game over?”

“No. Not yet,” Rafe said. He blushed a little. “We needed to run home for something, so we left early and came to get a table for everyone.”

“Why don’t you both come back in and join us?” Abby asked. “We would love that.”

“We would!” Rafe agreed enthusiastically.

Because people in this state of euphoria enthusiastically loved everything.

“No,” Heath and Hope said at the same time.

“Thank you,” Hope said. “I have some work to do.”

And they watched Rafe and Abby make a loud, happy exit.

“I bet I know what they went home for,” Hope said.

“Yeah.” Heath sounded grim. He was probably thinking about their night at her apartment and regretting it. “Come on.” He took her arm to lead her down the steps. It was the first time he’d touched her since that night.

Hope pulled her arm away as they made their way down the street. If she continued to let him touch her, she might kiss him, and that wouldn’t be productive—or sane.

“They certainly are happy,” she said.

“Yeah. Abby’s husband was my apprentice. Did you know that?”

Hope stopped in front of Eat Cake. “No.” She’d heard Abby’s husband had died in a spelunking accident. “I’m sorry. Were you friends?”

Heath seemed to consider the question. “Yes,” he said hesitantly. “But my apprentice first. You know how that goes.”

She didn’t, but why go into it? “Rafe’s a good guy. It’s good they’re happy.”

“So you’re not jealous?”

Oh, good cow. That again? “Heath, listen to me. I mean it. I was a kid when I had a crush on Rafe. We never even went out.”

“I guess you’re as good at getting over a guy as you are at banking. Maybe better.”

Do not rise to the bait. It’s not productive.

“Well, he and Abby are getting their happily ever after. And good for them.”

Heath looked at her, narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head to the side. “That would have been us.”

Enough. She’d had enough. He’d baited her all she was going to allow.

Heath knew immediately when he’d pushed Hope too far. She snatched the takeout food from him and threw it in a trashcan with both hands. Then she drew herself up like the queen of the mermaids rising from the sea.

“It would have been us, huh? If not for me? If I hadn’t broken up with you?”

He’d dealt with worse than mermaids, even royal ones, and he was going to stand his ground. “That’s right.”

 “Really? That’s what you think?” She put her hand on the middle of his chest and shoved him toward the bench in front of the bakery. “Sit your ass down. I’ve got some things to say to you.”

Oh, hell no. He was not going to participate in a scene in the middle of town. “I don’t think so.” He started to walk away, but she seemed to grow three feet.

“I said sit!”

And for some reason, he did. She loomed over him, flailing her arms like a giant bird about to take flight.

“Now, you listen here, Heath Beckett. You’ve been making snide remarks ever since I hit town, and I’ve listened to it all without defending myself.”

“You have no defense.”

“That’s what I thought, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to have my say, and you’re going listen.”

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. If only she weren’t so damned beautiful. When she opened her eyes again, she seemed calmer, though he doubted if she really was.

“First off, I’m sorry. I have wished an hundred million times that I had not left you. I was kid. If it’s possible, I was even more rigid then than I am now. We had a plan and you blindsided me. I should have believed in you or at least believed that you should take a chance. But in my defense, quitting school with a grade point average like you had, that close to graduation, bordered on crazy.”

His academic advisor had said as much, and he’d received countless phone calls from his professors, high school teachers, and family. Truth be told, his parents still weren’t over it. But he had expected more from Hope.

 “But still, if I had it do over again, I would do differently.”

“Hindsight, Hope. It’s easy to say all that now that I’m successful. I’m sure you mean it now.”