Brenda Novak - Come Home to Me

Fortunately, those years were behind them. Pancreatic cancer had taken Anita, releasing those closest to her from the obligation of caring for her. Presley was taking a leap of faith by opening her own business, and fear sometimes threatened to paralyze her. But she could make it work. She could overcome anything as long as Wyatt remained healthy and happy.

At least here in Whiskey Creek she didn’t have to worry about his day-care provider hurting him. She hated that she was the one who’d left him vulnerable to that. But it wasn’t as if she’d left him to go off with some strange man so she could trade sex for money as Anita so often had. She’d had a legitimate job, and she’d kept him with her whenever she could. She’d do the same here. Otherwise, Cheyenne or a girl named Alexa, the fourteen-year-old daughter of Ted Dixon’s fiancée, would help out. Alexa wasn’t someone Presley knew well, but she seemed very sweet. Cheyenne was confident that she’d be nothing but kind to Wyatt.

A knock on the glass made her jump. It was after midnight, and she wasn’t expecting company.

It could only be Cheyenne coming to check on her, she thought. Cheyenne was trying so hard to be supportive. But when Presley turned, she saw Riley Stinson, Cheyenne’s friend whom she’d spoken to at the book signing, standing on the sidewalk in front of her store.

He waved. Then he blew on his hands to keep them warm as she walked over to let him in.

“Riley! What are you doing out and about at this hour?”

“I was on my way home from Ted’s and saw your light. Figured maybe I’d catch you working.”

“You did. Well, I haven’t really begun yet. But I intend to.” She glanced toward the street, where he’d parked. “Where’s Jacob tonight?”

Riley had a fifteen-year-old son he was raising, with a little help from his parents. Jacob’s mother wasn’t in the picture. She’d been sentenced to twenty years in prison for running down his next love interest with an old Buick just before they all graduated from high school. The last thing Presley had heard about Phoenix Fuller was that she was due to be released around the same time as Aaron’s father.

Presley wondered how Riley felt about his ex-girlfriend coming home at last, but she didn’t know him well enough to ask such a personal question.

“Jacob’s staying at a friend’s.” He whistled as he took in their surroundings. “So this is the new studio, huh?”

She felt herself flush. It wasn’t much to look at. But it was more than she’d ever had. “So far. There’s still a lot to do.”

“What do you have planned?”

“Repairing the drywall and painting, to begin with.” She folded her arms against the chill, wishing she’d brought a coat. Until Wyatt was up and no longer under a blanket, she was hesitant to turn on the heat, since she, and not her landlord, had to pay the utility bill. “After that I’ll create a reception area where I can book my appointments and clients can check in.”

She indicated the door leading to where Wyatt was sleeping. “That will be the massage room.” She also showed him the larger area on the other side. “This will be the yoga studio.”

“Nice.”

He seemed to approve, and that made her less critical. “There’s even a small kitchen in back,” she said, feeling some of the excitement she’d experienced in Fresno when she’d lain awake so many nights, dreaming and planning for her future.

“This space has everything you’ll need.”

“It’s a bit run-down,” she admitted. The shop had once been an antiques co-op. The individual co-op members rented booths in which they displayed whatever they could scrounge up to sell. From what Presley remembered, most of it was junk, and no one had done much to maintain the property.

“There’s nothing here a little work won’t fix,” Riley said.

“Work and money,” she added with a rueful smile.

“I’ve got some extra wood lying around my backyard. I’d be happy to donate it to the cause and build that reception desk you mentioned.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no! I wasn’t hinting for you to do that. I don’t have the money to pay you. Not right now. But Cheyenne told me you’re a good contractor. I’ll keep you in mind if things go well for me.”

He studied her. “Why not work out a trade?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Construction for yoga lessons?”

“No.” His grin slanted to one side. “Construction for massage.”

How had she guessed? “You don’t even know if I’m any good.”

“I’m willing to take that on faith.”

She might’ve thought nothing of his willingness to do so much work in the hope that he might like her massages, but she wasn’t used to that kind of generosity. She felt certain something had to be behind this, something other than what he’d stated. And because of the exchange she’d overheard at the bookstore, she suspected she knew what it was. Cheyenne’s friends—hopefully Aaron, too—weren’t aware of what she’d done when she took off two years ago. But it wasn’t a secret that she’d never been particularly circumspect. At times she wondered just where she’d be if she hadn’t had her sister to counteract her mother’s example. At least now, without the drugs, she could see herself as she wanted to be, as she could be, and thought she might eventually get there—if she stayed the course.

“I doubt you’d be interested in the type of massage I’m offering,” she told him.

He seemed taken aback by the flatness of her voice. “Because...”

She gave him a look that said he could stop pretending. “It’s just a massage, Riley. Nothing to get too excited about.”

His eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting... I mean, I didn’t think you were offering anything more.”

Maybe that was true. Maybe it was her own insecurities that made it difficult to trust even a guy like Riley. But, to be safe, she figured she’d be better off carrying her own burdens. “I’d rather do the work myself. But thanks.”

“O-kay,” he said, drawing out the word.

When she didn’t soften her refusal or make conversation, he started for the door. “I’ll get out of your way, then.”

She couldn’t help going after him. “Wait, I’m sorry if I assumed the wrong thing. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have too many sharp angles for someone like you, so there’s no point in becoming friends.”

He lowered his voice as if to add gravity to his words. “Who says you have too many sharp angles for someone like me?”

“I do.”

“You barely know me!”

“And yet I know I’m not what you want. I could never be what you want. If...if that’s what you were considering.”

“I hadn’t decided. But...why couldn’t you be what I want?”

Because she’d made too many mistakes. Was too jaded. Too suspicious and distrustful and defensive. She had a sordid past, an unfortunate upbringing, too much experience. He deserved a girl who’d once been prom queen, not a one-time addict. “I might be Chey’s sister but I’m nothing like her.”

“The panther tattoo on your arm gave that away at first glance,” he said wryly.

“So...why are you here? Because you’re tempted to take a walk on the wild side? If so, you need to understand that nothing comes cheap or easy with me anymore. If you heard otherwise, it would’ve been true...in the past. But I have a kid now.”

“People change. And I have a kid, too. That’s partly why I’m interested in getting to know you. I understand what it’s like to be a single parent. Or have you forgotten?”

The silence stretched out as they stared at each other.

“I’ll build your reception desk tomorrow,” he said. “After I get some sleep. And you don’t have to pay me anything.”