Baby, Come Home
When she closed the door behind him, he felt trapped, which made him realize how long it had been since he’d been alone with a woman. The room was built and furnished similarly to others in the house—one window, a bed and dresser, love seat, chair, coffee table, writing desk, closet, and a bathroom.
But the otherwise tidy room was strewn with various pieces of clothing—a silky white nightgown, a tiny pink T-shirt that read “Maybe, Baby,” a denim skirt, a pair of tall black boots. Through the bathroom door, two pairs of panty hose were hanging over a towel rack. Kendall’s face warmed at the implied intimacy. He glanced at the door and considered bolting, but realized how idiotic that would look. Then he forced himself to relax. Who said Rachel was interested in anything more than a little decorating?
But she was looking at his crotch. “I see you brought your hammer.”
He blanched. “Pardon me?”
She pointed to the tool belt he wore so often, he forgot he had it on. “A hammer…for pounding in a nail?” She held up a picture-hanging hook, then pointed to a picture leaning against the wall.
He felt like an idiot. “Oh, right. Where do you want it?”
“Can you hold it up for me?”
“Sure.” He reached for the picture, then stopped when he realized it was a photograph of the old covered bridge that had once spanned Timber Creek. “Evermore Bridge,” he murmured. “If you don’t mind my asking, where did you get this?”
She stepped close to look over his shoulder. Her floral perfume filled his nostrils. “I was going through some photographs in the Lost and Found warehouse, and thought this one was really great.”
“It is great,” he agreed.
“So you remember the bridge?”
He nodded slowly, assailed with memories. “It was a fantastic piece of workmanship.” And it was his and Amy’s place.
“Don’t worry. This isn’t the original photo,” Rachel said. “I scanned it in—this is a color copy.” Then she bit into her cherry-pink lip. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course,” he said, irritated with himself that everything these days reminded him of Amy. “Do you want it hung here, over the dresser?”
“Yes, please.”
Kendall held the picture against the wall. He glanced down to see a lacy red bra of considerable cup size lying on the top of the dresser. He averted his gaze to Rachel to take direction from her, but all he could visualize was her wearing that red bra…or worse—not wearing it.
She lifted her arms, emphasizing her generous breasts. “Higher.”
He stifled a groan and lifted the picture higher.
“To the right.”
Good God, if he got an erection while his arms were up in the air, there would be no hiding it.
“No…too much. Back to the left.”
He moved the frame again, trying to think of something other than the sexy woman. But when he looked at the picture of Evermore Bridge, he was reminded of all the intimate things he and Amy had done in their special place. His groin tightened.
“How’s that?” he blurted.
She angled her blonde head. “Maybe.”
“Let’s try it,” he said, then handed her the picture with his right hand while marking the spot on the wall with his left. He was glad to turn his back because he was definitely sporting wood now, like a damn teenager.
“Can you hand me the hanger?” he asked over his shoulder.
Rachel came up behind him and reached around with a long, tapered arm. “How’s this?” she asked, her mouth close to his ear.
“F-fine,” he said, but almost dropped the hanger. He held it against the wall, then pulled a hammer from his tool belt. Her perfume was messing with his mind. “Um…you might want to step back a little. We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Oh. Okay,” she said, stepping away.
But the red bra was so close to his face he could take a bite out of it. He had to get out of here. He lifted the hammer and brought it down hard…
On his thumb.
Kendall howled, Rachel screamed, blood spurted.
“Oh, my God!” she shouted. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he managed to say through gritted teeth, but the jolt of pain shot up his arm and brought tears to his eyes. He dropped the hammer, which landed squarely on his foot.
He grunted, then lifted his injured foot to ease the pressure. Of all days not to wear steel-toed boots.
“You’re bleeding. Here.” Rachel wrapped something soft around his thumb, which instantly turned red from his blood. “Let’s get you down to the clinic. Can you walk?”
He nodded, feeling like a damn fool, then limped out of her room. He tried, but there was no talking her out of going with him. She trotted beside him, holding his wrapped hand as if it had been severed. Her lavish breasts rubbed up against him throughout. They attracted a lot of attention as they walked through the boardinghouse. He was sure the gossip had already started before the door closed behind them. God, he hoped his brothers didn’t see him. His hand and his foot both throbbed, but that was nothing compared to the beating his pride had taken.
The only thought that cheered Kendall as he and Rachel stumbled in the direction of the clinic was that surely this day would get better.
4
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Nikki said, smiling wide over her mug.
“I should’ve told you that Sweetness is my hometown,” Amy said. They were sitting in the clinic lounge drinking strong coffee from the pot on the counter.
“So why didn’t you?” Nikki asked, her expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
“It’s a long story,” Amy hedged, embarrassed to hear emotion thickening her voice.
“Well,” Nikki said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “It sounds like you’re going to be here long enough for us to catch up.”
Amy nodded and seized on another subject. “This place certainly seems to agree with you. You look fantastic.” Nikki’s hair was highlighted and cut in a new style that set off her beautiful green eyes. Her cheeks glowed with vitality, although Nikki suspected her high color could be attributed more to Porter Armstrong than to the fresh mountain air.
“Thank you,” Nikki gushed. “I’m so happy. Sweet ness feels like the home I’ve never had.”
Amy’s chest pinged with mixed emotions to hear someone else talk about her own hometown with such obvious affection. She hadn’t felt a kinship with the place when she lived here before. In fact, she’d felt constrained and isolated. And she was already fighting that familiar closed-in feeling.
“So are the two of you going to get married?”
Nikki blushed. “The town doesn’t even have a church yet. But Porter said he was working on it, so I hope that’s a sign. After living with Darren in Broadway and that relationship going south, I don’t want to move in with Porter until we’re married.”
Amy smiled at her friend, remembering the feeling of living in this town and being hopelessly in love with an Armstrong. She hoped it worked out better for Nikki than it had for her.
The door opened and a young bespectacled man Amy recognized from the photo on the website stuck his head in. A pair of safety goggles sat high on his head. His hair stuck out at all angles. He wore fluorescent orange rubber gloves.
“Excuse the interruption, Dr. Salinger,” he said in a precise British accent. “We have a walk-in, and I’m stuck…er, I’m still giving flu shots to the elementary students.”
“I should let you go,” Amy said, pushing to her feet. “I need to see Marcus anyway.”
Nikki stood, as well. “I’ll handle the walk-in, Dr. Cross. May I introduce my friend Amy Bradshaw? She’s in town to build us a bridge.”
“Brilliant,” he said. “We British are very fond of bridges.” He gave Amy a flustered smile. “Very pleased to meet you. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to some miniature terrorists.” He lowered the safety glasses and backed out of the room.
Amy laughed. “How did he wind up here?”
“We worked together in Broadway. He’s a great doctor, even if he’s a fish out of water here.”
Amy felt a rush of sympathy for the man—she knew how he felt. “I’ll let you get to your patients.”
“I assume you’ll be staying at the boardinghouse?”
“I honestly don’t know. Marcus just said that accommodations would be provided.”
“It just dawned on me,” Nikki said as she opened the door and held it for Amy to walk through. “You must know the Armstrongs.”
“Yes,” Amy said carefully as she exited the lounge into a large waiting area. “We grew up together.”
Nikki grinned. “You went to school with Porter?”
“That’s right, although I knew his brother better.”
“Which brother?” Nikki asked.
“Nikki!” came a screeching woman’s voice. “Help!”
Amy looked up to see the owner of the voice, Rachel Hutchins, standing there in all her vivacious glory.
“You remember Rachel,” Nikki murmured in an amused voice.
“Yes,” Amy said, but her gaze was riveted on the man next to her, the man Rachel was holding on to in a very proprietary way.
Kendall Armstrong.
Her heart stood still. He was broader and taller than she remembered. His hair was still dark and wavy, and he was sporting a light mustache and beard, probably in deference to the cooler season. It suited him, she acknowledged, and emphasized his strong jaw. It was jarring to see the boy she remembered matured into a man she didn’t know. His deep blue eyes were still as intense, but framed with character lines that, if possible, only made him more handsome. Tony’s face flashed in her mind for a split-second comparison. She opened her mouth to gulp air and her heart resumed beating.
Kendall appeared to recognize her at the same time and froze. Time seemed suspended, the air between them thick and gluey. Her blood rushed in her ears. How many times had she rehearsed this moment in her mind? She wanted to say something smart and cool, but her tongue was paralyzed. Kendall’s mouth opened, but Nikki interrupted whatever greeting he’d been forming.
“What happened here?” she asked, gesturing to his wrapped hand.
“Kendall was hanging a picture for me and smashed his thumb with a hammer,” Rachel said, unwinding the cloth. “He hurt it really bad.”
“I just need a Band-Aid,” Kendall argued, still staring at Amy.
Hearing his voice again was a shock to her system. Years of travel and experience hadn’t changed his deep tone or his rolling accent. She averted her gaze to his pulpy thumb, fighting the urge to reach out to him. It frightened her how easily she could fall back into old patterns around him, but knowledge was power. She would endeavor to spend as little time alone with Kendall as possible.
Nikki was looking back and forth between Amy and Kendall. “Let’s get your hand cleaned so I can have a better look,” she said, leading Kendall away.
“I’m coming with him,” Rachel announced, confirming Amy’s suspicions that she and Kendall were an item.
“Why don’t you stay here and wash up?” Nikki suggested in a kind but firm voice, indicating Rachel’s own bloodstained hands. Nikki looked back at Amy. “Let’s have dinner tonight?”
“Sounds good,” Amy called.
Kendall looked back at her, too, as if she were an apparition, then disappeared with Nikki.
Amy exhaled. So much for a dramatic reunion. Apparently Marcus had kept his word to stay mum about her arrival. Was it because he knew that Kendall didn’t want her here?
“I hope he’s okay,” Rachel murmured. “His thumb was bleeding like a stick pig.”
“I think you mean ‘stuck’ pig,” Amy volunteered, still stung by the sight of Kendall and Rachel together. Although what had she expected? Of course Kendall had gotten on with his life. Probably many, many times.
Rachel squinted at her. “I know you…Amy, right? You were a patient at the dermatologist where I used to work in Broadway.”
“Right. Amy Bradshaw.”
“Rachel Hutchins,” the woman offered. “Are you just now answering the newspaper ad?”
“No. I’m a structural engineer. I was hired by Marcus Armstrong to rebuild the covered bridge over Timber Creek.”
Rachel’s face lit up. “You’re kidding? I love that bridge. In fact, the man Nikki took away was Marcus’s brother, Kendall. He was helping me hang a picture of the covered bridge in my bedroom when he smashed his thumb.”
“Really?” Amy was surprised at how normal her voice sounded. Evermore Bridge had been her and Kendall’s place. It hurt to know he was sharing the memory of it with someone else.
Rachel nodded. “If you need a picture of the way it looked before, I can get you one.”
Amy bit down on her tongue. Rachel couldn’t know she’d committed every detail of the bridge to memory. She glanced down at the bloody cloth Rachel held that had been wrapped around Kendall’s thumb—it was a cropped pink T-shirt that read “Maybe, Baby.” She’d also memorized every detail of the body of the man Rachel was apparently now cozy with.
“Thank you,” Amy managed to say.
“Hello, Rachel.”
The women turned to see Dr. Cross standing there, gazing up at Rachel as if she were a movie star.
“Hello, Dr. Cross,” Rachel offered as if she were addressing a pesky child.
“Do you need attention?” he asked, then stabbed at his glasses. “Medical attention, I mean.”
Rachel glanced down at her hands. “No…this isn’t my blood.”
His face fell. “Pity.”
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t mean it’s a pity you weren’t hurt…I meant…that is…” He cleared his throat, then tapped the clipboard he held. “I was going through my list of patients who’ve had a flu shot and couldn’t help but notice that your name is missing.”
Amy wryly watched the man’s bumbling attempt to flirt with the blonde who towered over him by a good eight inches. He was obviously besotted. Like Kendall.
Rachel made a face. “No offense, Doc, but I don’t like needles.”
“Ah, but you’ve never had a prick from me.”
Amy bit back a smile.
“When I want a prick,” Rachel said drily, “I’ll let you know.”
“You do that,” he said cheerfully, then wheeled away.
Rachel looked at Amy, then rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll find a ladies’ room and wash my hands. Will I be seeing you around?”
“Probably,” Amy said. Considering she’d be working with Kendall, and Rachel was attached to Kendall at the hip, it seemed likely. When jealousy toward the blonde beauty threatened to surface, Amy squashed it. She had no claim on Kendall. “Could you tell me where I might find Marcus Armstrong?”
“Marcus usually sticks pretty close to the construction office. It’s a trailer down the gravel road that runs alongside the dining hall.”
“Is it walking distance?”
Rachel looked down. “Not if you’re fond of those gorgeous boots.”
“Thanks.” Amy lifted her hand in a wave to Kendall’s girlfriend and walked out of the clinic tingling head to toe. “Kendall’s girlfriend,” she murmured. The words felt surreal on her tongue. That person had always been her.
Amy looked up and down the main street of the new town of Sweetness—also surreal…and different.
Both good things, she told herself as she opened the rear hatch of her SUV to remove a pair of sturdy work boots. Because without attachments, it would be easier to leave this place once Evermore Bridge was rebuilt.
5
Kendall squirmed as Nikki wrapped a bandage around his thumb.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
“No.” It did, and his big toe hurt, too, but he just wanted to get out of there.
“You look a little flushed.”
He wasn’t about to tell her it was humiliation. For years he’d imagined seeing Amy again, yet when the moment had presented itself, he’d been as tongue-tied as a teenager.
Nikki felt for his pulse on his uninjured hand. “Your heart rate is up.”
From seeing Amy. “I appreciate your help, Dr. Salinger, but I’m kind of in a hurry.”
She nodded. “Rachel is waiting for you.”
He grunted. “I need to get back to work.” He turned his head for a glimpse out the window through slitted blinds, yearning for another look at Amy, wondering why she was here and terrified she’d leave before he could talk to her. “That woman you were speaking to in the lobby…”
“Amy Bradshaw?” Nikki asked. “She’s a friend of mine from Broadway. I thought you might know her—she grew up in Sweetness.”
“I used to know her,” he said absently. “Did she say why she’s here?”
“She said Marcus had hired her to build a bridge.”
Kendall blinked. “A bridge?”
Nikki nodded. “Amy’s a structural engineer.”
He blinked again. “Really?”
“Really. I guess the two of you haven’t stayed in touch?”
“No…we haven’t.”
Nikki smiled. “Looks like you’ll have some time to get reacquainted.”
Kendall pressed his lips together and looked away, his mind churning.
Nikki patted his arm. “All done. Leave it wrapped for a few days. You’ll probably lose the nail, and it’ll be tender for a couple of weeks. Use the antibiotic ointment to stave off infection.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, then stood and walked to the door, trying not to limp.
“Kendall.”
He turned back.
“Why don’t you and Porter join me and Amy for dinner tonight at the boardinghouse?”
He hesitated. “I don’t know…”
“It’s the hospitable thing to do, don’t you think? To welcome her home?”
He nodded. “Okay. See you later. Thanks again.”
Kendall left the exam room and walked out into the waiting area, looking right and left. To his relief, Rachel was nowhere in sight. But neither was Amy. He practically ran to the door and out into the cool air. He spotted an unfamiliar burgundy SUV with a Michigan license plate and wondered if it belonged to Amy. The color reminded him of her deep auburn hair. It was empty. He glanced all around, but didn’t see her.
Kendall pulled out his phone and dialed Marcus, determined to get to the bottom of Amy’s appearance. When he didn’t answer, Kendall lit out walking toward the construction office. By the time he reached the steps leading up to the trailer, his foot throbbed and his temper had ballooned into something he’d never experienced. He burst through the door. Marcus was sitting behind his desk, just disconnecting a call on his cell phone.
“What did you do to your hand?”
Kendall fisted his injured hand. “Cut the crap, Marcus. Amy Bradshaw? You hired Amy Bradshaw to rebuild Evermore Bridge?”
Marcus sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Actually, she’s only going to design the bridge. You’re going to build it.”
“And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning to me?”
Marcus pursed his mouth. “You were busy getting the presentation together. I told you I’d find a structural engineer, and I did. I guess you ran into her?”
Kendall put both hands on Marcus’s desk, his blood pressure rising. “Blindsided is more like it.”
“Funny, she didn’t mention it.”
Kendall straightened. “She was here?”
“Of course. She wanted to discuss the project. I told her she should get settled in first, then we could all meet tomorrow afternoon for a conference call with our contact on the Preservation Society.”
“So she’s at the boardinghouse?”
“No. She wanted to get right to work. She borrowed a four-wheeler to ride out to the site—”
Kendall didn’t hear the end of the sentence—he was already out the door. He bounded down the steps, jogged to where several ATVs were parked and climbed on one. Working the hand grips hurt his thumb, but he welcomed the pain—it cut through the mush in his head. He steered the four-wheeler toward a side trail that ran parallel to the main road and led to the site where the covered bridge had once stood. As the cool air rushed by him, he tried to think of what he was going to say to Amy, but everything sounded lame and inadequate. Long time no see. How’s life been treating you? I’ve missed you every day we’ve been apart.
As he approached the area and spotted the ATV she’d parked, his stomach churned. The fact that she’d known she was coming here and hadn’t contacted him spoke volumes, didn’t it?
Maybe there was nothing to say.
He pulled the four-wheeler next to the one parked and cut the engine. He couldn’t see her through the trees, but he walked toward the area where the old bridge used to stand. When she came into view, his feet slowed and his heart sped up. Amy had set up a tripod and was bent over, looking through the camera lens. Her trim, athletic figure was silhouetted against the blue sky. She was all business in her slacks, tailored jacket and field boots, but the wind ruffled her luxurious hair that had escaped from a clasp at her neck.
She was, in a word, breathtaking.
He was sure she’d heard the four-wheeler, probably knew she was being observed. But if he wanted proof he couldn’t rattle her, he had it, because as he walked closer, she didn’t move, just kept snapping away. He stopped a couple of yards away.
“Hello, Amy.”
She stopped and glanced up. “Hello, Kendall.” Then she picked up a folded screen and extended it. “Would you mind holding this in front of the sun so I can get a few more shots?”
Her voice was the same, but her accent had changed—her pronunciation was more precise and more…Northern. He stepped forward and took the screen, feeling thoroughly dismissed. He fumbled with it, but finally opened it and held it up.
“A little to the left, please.”
He obeyed, flashing back to earlier when Rachel had been giving him similar directions.
“More to the left…and higher.”
Kendall poked his tongue into his cheek. “Is this how it’s going to be?”
She lifted her head, but was looking at the future bridge site, not at him. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “I mean, it’s been ten years. Don’t you think we should talk?”
“Twelve.” She snapped a few more photos, then straightened and looked at him. “It’s been over twelve years.”
He swallowed under the full force of her stare. If possible, she was more beautiful now than the last time he’d seen her. Gone was the gangly freckle-faced teenage lover who’d followed him around. Here stood a woman who’d grown into her skin and her looks and who had an aloof air about her that…well, frankly, impressed him.
And worried him.
Amy’s eyebrow arched. “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”
He gave a little shrug. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine,” she said in a tone that indicated she was surprised he’d think otherwise.
“I hear you’re a structural engineer.”
“That’s right,” she said. “My resume isn’t as exciting as yours, but I’ve stayed busy.”
“Who said my resume is exciting?” Kendall asked, wondering if Amy had kept tabs on him over the years.
It was her turn to shrug. “I just assumed that if you’ve been in the Air Force all this time, you’ve been involved in some interesting things. Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t make the Air Force a career.”
I missed you too much. “I missed…my brothers.”
She offered a flat smile. “Of course. Well, it seems as if you’ve found a way to be together again. And always.”
Kendall detected censure in her voice. “You don’t approve of our efforts to rebuild Sweetness?”
“I don’t disapprove. I just don’t understand why you’d want to rebuild the town.” She leaned over her camera and snapped more photos. “I suppose you have better memories of this place than I do.”
“I do have good memories,” he admitted, thinking they were mostly of her and feeling disappointed she didn’t share his opinion. “And I think this town deserves a second chance.”
“Good for you.” She straightened and picked up the tripod, then walked to another location.
Nonplussed, Kendall followed. “I understand you’re going to rebuild the covered bridge.”
She set down the tripod. “That’s right. Marcus called me last week and offered me the job. I take it you didn’t know?”
Kendall bristled. “I’ve been working on something else.”