Love Comes Home (7 page)

She was painfully aware of Josh leaning against the counter beside her. His big hands toyed with a napkin, distracting her. He had nice strong hands. When he touched her hand, it seemed natural for her to curl her fingers around his.

“You tired?” he asked.

“Yeah, a little.” She stared into his eyes.
He cares for you.
She was getting in way too deep. She slipped her hand away.

 

They said their goodbyes to Griff, who was snuggled in a sleeping bag on the floor of Will's room.

After promising Jennifer she'd see her again before leaving town, she followed Josh to the truck. He helped her in, his hand hot on her elbow, a shiver prickling her skin.

Alone with him in the truck, Rachel was acutely conscious of his masculine appeal. His muscled thighs and wide shoulders took up room, making her feel feminine in contrast. “It was a nice evening.”

“You surprised?” He slanted her a quick glance.

She shrugged. “I didn't know what to expect.”

Josh pushed a button on the dash and soft country music filled the cab. She couldn't tear her gaze from his profile. She liked the strength of his jaw and the line of his nose. Her gaze landed on his mouth, his lips. She clamped her jaw shut and turned away. She had no business fostering her attraction to him. No business wanting to kiss him.

They arrived at the hotel and Josh cut the engine. He shifted on the seat to face her, his arm stretching across the back of the seat, his big body leaning close. The tips of his fingers made little swirls on the top of her shoulder, setting off little sparks through her bloodstream. The light coming from the moon bathed his ruggedly handsome face in a soft glow, but couldn't disguise the magnetic pull of his eyes. She clenched her fist to keep from reaching for him.

“I have to go to the station tomorrow but I'll come back to help you at Mrs. G.'s as soon as I can.”

“That's not necessary.” It wasn't a good idea to keep seeing him when she knew it would only make leaving harder.

“I know it's not. But I want to.” The husky timbre of his voice slid along her limbs like a smooth caress.

“What are we doing, Josh?” she asked, hoping to
bring some perspective into the intimate atmosphere surrounding them.

His fingers stopped. He drew back slightly. “I don't know. Taunting disaster?”

“I'd say so,” she whispered, striving for calmness when her heart was beating wildly.

His mouth quirked up in a self-effacing way as he stared out the front window for a heartbeat. “I'll walk you to the door.”

He climbed out and came around the truck to open her door. As she slid out, his arm encircled her waist, drawing her up against the length of his solid body. She tipped her head and the smoldering blaze she saw in his gaze ignited an answering flame inside.

She felt exposed, vulnerable to the attraction coursing through her. But it was so much more than purely physical and it scared her because any way she examined it, they had no future together. Giving in to this thing arcing between them would only spawn more regret and heartache. She deliberately shut down her feelings and pulled away from him.

On unsteady legs she moved up the stairs of her unit and unlocked and opened the door. She turned to say good-night, expecting he'd be where she'd left him by the truck, but found herself staring at his broad chest. She quickly stepped inside, keeping the threshold between them.

“It's best if you don't come tomorrow, Josh.”

A look of implacable determination settled on his face. “Sleep well, Rachel. And I
will
see you tomorrow.”

She watched him stride away and climb back into his truck.

“Sleep well?” she muttered as she closed the door
and listened to him drive away. He might as well have told her she could perform surgery with her arms tied behind her back.

 

Josh drove home on autopilot. He was all tied up inside. Hanging out at Jennifer and Paul's with Rachel at his side—as if they were a couple, a family—had felt right and natural. He'd liked it way too much. He'd let it go to his head. Let his guard down and had been tempted to act on the attraction building between him and Rachel.

She'd relaxed a bit tonight, as she had earlier at the ice cream parlor. When she wasn't all frosty and controlled, he really liked her.

But liking her and letting himself fall for her were two very different things. He was grateful she'd turned on the ice and reminded him how painful freezer burn could be. He'd be more careful in the future. He had a promise to fulfill, and as long as she was within his reach he'd do what he could to take care of her. But that's as far as he could let it go without costing him his heart.

R
achel wiped perspiration from her brow with the corner of her oversize T-shirt and surveyed the pile of boxes filling the back of Mom G.'s car. Driving again had felt strange after living in a city where she utilized public transportation every day. She made a mental note to contact Pastor Larkin and see if he knew of a family in need to whom she could donate Mom G.'s car.

“That should do it,” she told the grocery clerk who'd come out to help.

“All right, you have a good day. And if you need any more boxes, you're welcome to come back and get them.” The young man smiled and disappeared back into the grocery store.

She closed the back hatch and moved around Mom G.'s station wagon to the driver's side. Thankfully she'd left the windows down. The high sun raged like an inferno, letting everyone know that summer had officially arrived in the Sierras.

Driving along the pine-tree-lined streets, seeing the
houses of those she'd once called neighbors, Rachel shrugged off the feeling of isolation. This wasn't her life and this wasn't how she wanted to live. But as she pulled into the driveway of Mom G.'s ranch-style house, a wave of loneliness swept through her and she realized with a start that the sensation was all too familiar.

She felt the loneliness at night when she headed home from the hospital, she felt it on Sundays when she attended her church in Chicago and saw families sitting in the pews. She felt it every time she left Josh and Griff.

She was lonely. There, she'd admitted it. But she couldn't do anything about it. Not now, not until she returned to Chicago. Then she'd be able to formulate a plan on how to end her loneliness. Maybe a dog or cat would help.

After dragging the boxes into the stuffy, closed-up house, she faced the task of sorting through all of Mom G.'s items and packing what she wanted to ship to Chicago. The rest would be donated to Goodwill. Forcing her tears away, she walked through the house, and with each step, with every effort to keep grief from overtaking her, the numbness returned.

“Might as well start in the family room,” she muttered, wanting to work up to the rooms that would be more emotionally difficult to face.

As she worked, her mind kept turning to Josh.

His steady strength appealed to her. Even when his overbearing behavior grated on her nerves, she found him compelling. Found comfort in his presence and in his sense of duty and honor. He was a man worth admiring. Worth loving. If only…

She ached for his loss, ached that he grieved for
the wife he'd obviously loved. Would Andrea always hold his heart? Or would he heal from her death someday and try to love again? What would it be like to be really loved by Josh, to have his stoic presence filling her life, balancing the irregularity of the E.R. with his unwavering strength?

Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she chided herself for thinking of Josh in terms of the future. His life was here—raising his son, working for the forestry service. Her life was across the country where her newest ideas in triage treatment were waiting to be implemented.

She reached for a platter from the cupboard and paused, remembering with vivid clarity the look in Josh's eyes the night before. He'd looked at her with such yearning and need. As if he wanted the relaxed and intimate atmosphere that had enveloped their time together to continue. As if somehow the past didn't matter, only the present. As if he could finally accept her for who she was. As if—

She slammed her thoughts down. Getting caught up in the moment was foolish. For both of them. Josh would never accept her for who she was. He would never accept that medicine was important to her and he would never leave Sonora. Allowing even a brief hope that somehow they could make a life together was beyond absurd.

She forced herself to concentrate on the job at hand. She moved with renewed purpose, her mind so focused that at first she thought a loud pounding on the door was merely an echo of the pounding in her head. She started out of her single-minded drive to get the job done. Hours had passed and dusk had fallen, creating shadows along the walls. She made
her way through the house turning on lights as she went. She peered out the peephole and froze.

Josh.

If she didn't answer the door, would he go away?

The loud knocking persisted. No, he wouldn't. She took a deep, shaky breath, opened the door and drank in the sight of him in faded denim jeans and navy polo shirt that revealed muscled biceps. His hair looked slightly damp as if he'd recently showered, and the clean scent of soap and man filled her senses.

“You okay?” he asked, concern etched in the lines on his face.

Under his considerate regard, her heart raced and her body heated. With more effort than it should have taken, she composed herself. “I'm fine. Just working on getting things packed. What can I do for you?”

His brows shot up. “You could let me in.”

“I don't think so. I asked you not to come.”

“And I told you I would.”

She couldn't argue that. She tried a different tactic. “I appreciate your trying to fulfill your promise to Mom G., but this is a little extreme. Honestly, Josh, the best thing you can do for me is leave.”

He stepped closer, consuming the air, making breathing suddenly difficult. She involuntarily stepped back, trying to allow more oxygen to come between them. “Josh, please.”

In a low, subdued voice he said, “Let me help. The quicker you're done, the quicker you can leave.”

So that was it. Never mind that his words reflected her own thoughts. All his offers of help were to hurry her along her way. She shouldn't feel this bubble of disappointed hurt choking her. Shouldn't feel betrayed that he'd want her gone. She should be glad
of the help, glad to move things along so she could leave and resume her life once again. A life without him.

The tumultuous conflict going on inside nearly made her stagger. But she drew herself up, arranging her features into what she hoped would appear as a polite, unaffected smile. “Of course. Leaving's my priority. But I don't need your help.”

“I'd think that you'd want the packing done quickly,” he grated out.

She bristled. “Am I not moving fast enough for you?”

“Frankly, no.”

She couldn't let him in. She'd put off working on her old room and Mom G.'s room for fear of being swamped by her grief.
Lord, I need Your strength.
She was almost done with the rest of the house. “I can do this on my own.”

He let out an exasperated breath. “Rachel, you shouldn't be doing this alone.” His voice softened, wrapping her up in its even tones.

She resented how much she suddenly wanted him to help, wanted him to take her in his arms and make all the grief disappear. “I've done perfectly well alone for years. What makes you think I need you now?”

His quick intake of air was unmistakable. She peered up into his face, trying to discern his expression in the porch light. A shadow obscured his features, frustrating her attempt to decipher why her words would cause him distress.

“I can't believe you're going to renege on your promise so easily. Let me take care of you.”

Stabbing guilt made her open the door wider and
step back. He stepped in, engulfing the house with his presence.

She hastily closed the door then moved to a stack of empty boxes and watched him survey the piles she'd scattered about the living room. “I've boxed up what I'm having shipped and the rest will be donated to Goodwill.”

He nodded, his piercing, gold-specked gaze making a fire rise in her cheeks. She swallowed, fighting the attraction that always hovered close to the surface. He was a big, handsome man and it was natural for her to find him attractive.

Get a grip. She picked up a box and held it out to him. “We can finish the kitchen.”

In two long strides, he came toward her and took the box. “After you.”

She could do this. She marched past him and into the kitchen. They worked together in tense silence. Rachel found it hard to concentrate with only a few feet separating them. She'd catch herself watching his hands as they wrapped newspaper around dishes, those large masculine hands that with the slightest touch brought her comfort she'd never experienced with anyone else. She forced her mind to focus on her task. Soon the kitchen was packed.

“That's done.” Josh stretched, his navy blue shirt pulling taut across his shoulders, emphasizing the broad width.

Rachel blinked and quickly turned away as she rose from her position on the floor where she'd finished taping closed the last box. Her stiff legs ached, reminding her she'd hadn't exercised in a while.

“Now where?”

Her stomach clenched in nervous agitation. “The bedrooms.”

She hoped she could make it through this without breaking down. She didn't want Josh to witness any weakness.

Josh followed her down the hall to her old room. She pushed open the door, expecting Mom G. had already boxed most of her things and would have used the room for her own purposes, and was surprised to find it much as she'd left it. The frilly white bed coverings were neatly made, the shelves lining the walls held the various books and dolls she'd left behind.

Josh peered over her shoulder. “It's like walking back in time.”

She closed her eyes against the sudden images of herself as a teenager. With graphic clarity, she saw herself sitting at the desk beneath the window doing her homework, her hair held high in a ponytail, her feet tucked beneath her.

She could still remember the night Mom G. had opened her door and said she had a visitor.

Josh had walked in with his easy grin and gentle manners. She'd secretly had a crush on him since the first day of high school. She hadn't known he'd noticed her. She hadn't known that one day he'd break her heart.

She opened her eyes and deliberately stepped forward and began pulling books and dolls from the shelves.

Without further comment, Josh dragged in several empty boxes and placed them at her feet.

“Thanks,” she muttered, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

After a moment she paused and noticed his perplexed expression. The big, strapping male looked wholly out of place in the little girl's frilly room and clearly he didn't know what to touch and what not to.

Rachel stifled a smile. “You could strip the bed and pile it with the Goodwill items.”

He flashed a relieved grin that hit Rachel with the shock force of a defibrillator. Quickly she turned back to her shelves.
Focus, focus,
she chanted inside her head.

After those first few awkward moments, they worked together like a tenured surgical team. She'd load a box, he'd tape it closed and fill out the address label.

Slowly conversation started, tentative at first. Rachel sought for neutral subjects and Josh seemed eager to keep their talk light.

As teens they'd had similar tastes in movies and books. Rachel was mildly surprised to discover that as adults they still shared many common interests.

They relaxed into a sort of rhythm, where one thread of conversation quickly led to another and another. They laughed and companionably argued over politics, choices for the Oscars and which authors should appear on the
New York Times
bestseller list.

In an amazingly short amount of time, they had her old room boxed up. “Thank you, Josh, for your help,” Rachel said as they finished dragging the boxes into the living room.

“Sure thing.” He held out his large hand. “Just one room left. You ready?”

She swallowed back the sudden tears that burned at the edges of her eyes. His offer of support nearly
undid her. Clearly they both knew how hard this was going to be. She shored up her defenses. She couldn't show weakness, but she took his offered hand and allowed his warm palm to give her strength as they headed down the hall.

Mom G.'s room also was as she remembered. The double bed with its fluffy pink comforter, the dresser cluttered with trinkets and jewelry. The bedside table still held the picture of Mr. Green as a young man.

Rachel headed toward the closet, then stopped as she noticed the new pictures hanging on the wall. They took her breath away.

There were pictures of herself in beautiful frames. School pictures, pictures of her with Mom G., at the prom with Josh at her side, her graduation pictures from high school, college and medical school.

“She was very proud of you.”

Josh's softly spoken words sent shivers of fire down her spine. If only he could be proud of her. She frowned at the thought and began pulling the pictures from the wall.

Lovingly she wrapped each frame in paper and stacked them in a box Josh had carried in. This time they worked in reverent silence, occasionally sharing memories of Mom G. Rachel kept more of the items from Mom G.'s room than she had from any other.

The large armoire that graced the wall next to the closet drew her attention. She'd find a place for it in her apartment. She ran her hand over the gleaming wood.

“When I first came to live with Mom G. I was a very scared little girl,” she commented aloud. “Once again frightened by a new place, a new parent and a
new set of rules to learn. One day I hid inside this chest.”

“What happened?” Josh asked as he came to stand beside her, his presence comforting.

She smiled up at him, liking the way his interest was centered on her. “Mom G. found me. Instead of the anger I had expected, she lovingly held me and told me stories until the fear went away. She was an awesome woman.”

Josh reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was electrifying as his knuckles grazed her cheek. “She was.”

His gaze trapped hers. She was letting him get too close both physically and emotionally. She didn't want that, couldn't allow it. Only pain would result. She stepped back out of reach and gulped for air. “I'll have the shipping company pack up the armoire.”