More Than Words: Stories of Hope (17 page)

Not a cowering male in sight. “Anna?”

“I’m just so mortified!” She sniffled. “Only one day alone with Joey and I took him into the chilly pond. Now he’s sick. The laundry is out of control. I’ve been through three outfits of my own—although why my dad would send
this
for me to wear while watching a kid is beyond me. And you so don’t want to see where Joey upchucked on the comforter in your bedroom.”

She collapsed against Forest’s chest, bursting into shuddering sobs. He didn’t want to feel the incredible relief that surged through him as she leaned into him.

In a flash, he lost his battle with suppressing the desire to kiss the freckles on the bridge of her nose. He tried to remind himself that he wanted a peaceful, normal life—something a woman like Anna was incapable of.

Forest looked into her mossy green, heartbroken eyes, and knew he’d not only forsaken peace, but plunged headfirst into a hurricane.

A
nna stood wrapped in Forest’s arms and blinked back tears. She’d never failed at anything. She’d studied her way into A-plus achievements. Why then couldn’t she manage one tiny child? And why couldn’t she stop this attraction to that same boy’s totally uptight father?

Forest’s arms locked around her waist, anchoring her to him. His solid muscles beneath her palms turned her legs to half-set Jell-O. His head dipped toward her and she couldn’t resist the temptation to stretch up on her toes. His pupils widened, darkening his blue eyes to a murky sea.

Anna plunged in headfirst.

She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. Shouldn’t
she be pulling away? She’d barely formed the thought when his mouth skimmed along hers. How could she have forgotten the lovely sensation of Forest Jameson’s kiss?

He inched away. “Anna? What are we doing?”

“I don’t know. But I want to do it again.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest.

He nuzzled her neck, inhaling. “Why do you have to be so appealing?”

Anna resisted the urge to laugh. She’d never considered herself much of a femme fatale. Heaven knew, Forest could have his pick of the multitude of big-haired women with perfect makeup who strutted themselves through her father’s office begging for advice on their overdue parking tickets in hopes of snagging a lawyer husband. Were those same sorts of women trailing through Forest’s office? A chill settled over her.

“Forest.” She stepped back. “I think I hear Joey.”

“Joey. Right.” Exhaling long and hard, Forest glanced over at the silent nursery monitor.

She wrapped her arms around herself. “One of us really should check on him.”

The quiet house mocked her.

“Uh-huh.” Forest stuffed his hands in his pockets, his breathing ragged. “Give me five seconds to remember how to breathe and I’ll apologize.”

“I don’t want an apology.”

“I owe you one anyway.”

“Don’t be silly. We’re both adults. It was only a kiss.” A kiss guaranteed to peel the paint off the walls. “It’s not as if either of us is interested in a relationship. Right?”

Forest looked up fast. “No!”

“You don’t have to be quite so emphatic.”

“Sorry.” He gripped her wrist, sliding his hand along the length of her hair. “No offense meant.”

“None taken. Not much anyway.” Did he have to look so nice, so genuinely concerned that he might have hurt her feelings? “You were only being honest. We’re too different.”

Anna felt as if she’d swallowed a dryer sheet. Forest all moody and brooding was easier to resist. This man with twinkling eyes, mussed hair and a five o’clock shadow was dangerous. She canted toward him anyway. “Forest—”

“Of course you’re right, though. It didn’t work in high school. There’s no reason to believe it will be any different now.” The sparkle faded from his baby blues.

Anna hugged herself again, a poor shield against the emotions chugging through her. She should be long over the sting of insecurity caused by years of censure from her dad, but for some reason, hearing Forest question her judgment really stung. “It’s okay. I know we have to think of Joey. He and I formed a bond today. Besides, those big-haired bimbos would toss me into Lake Huron if they saw me as competition.”

Forest leaned back against the counter. “Big-haired bimbos?”

“You mean you haven’t noticed an increase in unpaid parking tickets lately? My dad always rolled his eyes over the phenomenon. It seemed as if every single female in town landed herself in trouble to garner his attention.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“No!” She blinked fast, banishing memories of the times she’d peeked through the stadium fence as a teen to watch him practice baseball. “I was talking about those spike-heeled jaywalkers who apply their makeup with a spatula before wobbling into your office.”

“Oh, them. Yes, I’ve noticed one or two. Only an idiot would be attracted to women like that. They don’t really want me, just a husband. Any guy would do.”

“Whatever.” Didn’t he ever look in the mirror?

“I doubt I’ll get married again, anyway. I can’t afford another mistake. Joey doesn’t need more upheaval in his life.”

Anna got the message. He might as well have shouted it over a megaphone. She was fine as a temp sitter, maybe even a candidate for a tumble in the towels, but that was it.

She should have been mad. Instead, she was hurt. “I really should check on Joey. And don’t worry, Forest. I won’t throw myself at you again.”

Anna raced into the hall, wondering, wanting.
Why not?

Too bad she didn’t have a textbook answer.

Forest stuffed laundry into the baskets, cursing with each fistful of socks and towels. Kissing Anna had been beyond stupid. She’d spent only one day in his house and already he’d stepped over the line. If he’d kept his hands off her, he could have deluded himself that the attraction was all in his imagination.

Now he knew better. He wanted her, and nothing he could do would change that fact. All his life he’d tried to exert a strong control over his actions to overcome what he’d learned to think of as his irresponsible genes. But one simple, relatively tame kiss from Anna had made him want to do something really crazy. He had to consider his son and rely on willpower to get himself in control of his life once more.

Silence echoed from down the hall, broken only by the creak of an opening door. Forest couldn’t stop himself from listening, absorbing Anna’s husky voice.

“Joey?” she whispered softly. “Still sleepy? Enjoy your nap, precious boy. You can play ball with your daddy later.”

One of those Madonna images rose in Forest’s mind. He could imagine too well the way she would stroke her hand over Joey’s curls, drape the blanket over him, being careful to leave his feet uncovered the way he preferred.

Paula had struggled with motherhood right from the start because of Joey’s blindness. She’d traded Forest in for another
model, a high-powered international attorney. She’d never even asked for custody of Joey, and now her weekend visits had dwindled to accommodate those European jaunts. After the divorce, Joey’s pleas for his mama had just about torn Forest’s heart to bits. Now Joey never asked for her. Somehow that hurt more.

Anna’s voice continued to drift down the hall, “Sweet dreams. You’re going to feel better in the morning.”

Forest feared his world wouldn’t settle quite so quickly. He glanced up to find Anna standing in the doorway, quietly, so somehow he must have sensed her presence.

She tilted her head toward Mt. Washmore. “What did you think I was hiding in the laundry closet?”

He tugged his ear. “Nobody.”

“Nobody?
Nobody!”
She headed for the kitchen, indignation sparking from her. “You actually thought I would bring a man over while I was watching Joey? You should remember enough about me from that year we dated to know I’m not like that. Just because I don’t live by your uptight rules doesn’t mean I don’t have my own moral code.”

She dashed out the door.

Forest panicked. He sprinted after her, bounding down the steps. “Anna, I was just jeal—” No way would he admit that to her.
Swap tactics, Counselor
. “You can’t quit.”

She yanked her helmet off the handlebars. “I didn’t say that. I finish what I start. But I have a problem coming here if you think I’m not trustworthy enough to watch your son.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I know how much you care about kids.” If he kept her talking, she wouldn’t take off and he could sort things out.

“How big of you to concede that.” She spun to face him, helmet clutched to her like a shield. “Did you or did you not think I had a paramour perched on top of your perfectly matching washer-dryer set?”

“Well—”

“Quit tugging your ear.” She crinkled her nose. “It gives you away every time.”

Damn. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. His hand fell to his side. “The thought may have crossed my mind.”

“Apparently we don’t know each other at all anymore.”

With that, she launched her bicycle into motion, her hair sailing behind her as she made her way down the street. She pedaled slower than in the morning, her energy obviously depleted from taking care of Joey.

Forest kicked himself for not offering her a ride—not that she would have accepted it. But seeing her weary pace reminded him of how much she’d already given to his son.

And if for no other reason than that, he would keep his libido zipped up tight so she would stay.

On Friday evening, Anna stood by her front door and watched Forest park her bike beside the vegetable patch. Since he’d had to work late, past dark, he’d given her a ride home.

What a week they’d had. She’d gotten a Braille label maker and labeled everything in the house. After all, sighted children were exposed to words right away even if they couldn’t yet read them. Why shouldn’t children who were blind have the same experience?

The labels were clear, with Braille bumps, like the see-through sheets Seedlings used in their toddler books. When Anna read to Joey, she was still able to see the words, but Joey could run his fingers along the raised bumps, working to heighten his touch sensitivity.

Forest had been surprised at first, then embarrassed not to have started to do this himself. She’d reassured him it was easy for her to step in and point things out when he’d been mired in the day-to-day routine of raising a special needs child alone.

Any young child was tough work.

Mostly she’d done her best to keep up with a very active little boy who wasn’t being challenged enough intellectually. She couldn’t fault Forest as a father. He’d arranged his whole house and yard so Joey could run off all that energy.

But their house was sadly devoid of a variety of children’s books. She’d found some fuzzy-textures board books for pre
schoolers. Most of the time Forest made up stories to tell his son. That was wonderful, too. Joey could create images in his mind. He didn’t “see” the world the way his father or Anna did, but he had a vision all his own.

What was missing was reading. Forest hadn’t been doing much with Joey, and Anna hoped that would change now.

Sheesh, the little stinker surely was working his way into her heart. The father wasn’t too far behind.

Maybe she was coming down with Joey’s virus.

She needed to get inside fast before she did something reckless like ask Forest to come in for a while. “Thanks for driving me home. That really wasn’t necessary. I ride around at night all the time.”

Leaving Joey snoozing in the truck, Forest ambled up the steps and leaned on the porch post with a weary sigh. “You’ve had a long day. We both have. It was the least I could do.”

Anna fidgeted with her key ring. “You’re such a nice man. You would probably rather be anywhere than here with me, yet here you are, doing the polite thing. When are you going to do something
you
want?”

Forest gave a half smile. “I already did that once earlier this week, and we almost ended up making out on a pile of laundry.”

Anna gulped. Having the kiss hang between them all week had been tough enough. Flinging it out in the open sent her stomach into a somersault.

And they were alone. “Uh, Forest—”

“Don’t worry.” He grinned. “I’ve used up my supply of impulsive moves for the year.”

She relaxed. A little. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it, if we were the types who could do that.”

“Do what?”

“Roll around in the laundry, get it all out of our system and move on with life.”

His blue eyes swept over her. “Yes, it would.”

“But we’re not that way, are we?”

“Afraid not.”

“Can we be friends?” she asked.

“I think we already are.”

“Then why didn’t you write me after you moved away from Oscoda all those years ago?” The words tumbled out of her mouth without her permission, but she couldn’t bring herself to call them back.

His eyes turned sad even as he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Because I was certain back then I wasn’t good enough for you. When I left town, I figured a clean break would be best. It was better to let you lead your own life than string things out.”

He’d broken her heart because he’d decided he wasn’t good enough? Hadn’t he seen how special he was then? Even her father thought he’d hung the moon. She’d even been a
little jealous, feeling as if Forest was the son her father had always wanted.

“And now?” There she went again, blurting out words without thinking.

“Now? We’re too different, and I have Joey to think of.”

“Right. So we’re friends.” She stuck out her hand.

“Friends,” he agreed, clasping her hand in his.

Why couldn’t he have argued with her? And why couldn’t she let go of him? “Then it’s all settled.”

Forest leaned toward her until Anna could feel the whisper of his breath against her skin, see every sweep of his long, black lashes.

Closing that last inch between them, he gripped her shoulders and pressed his lips to her forehead. Anna didn’t move, merely held herself still just as he did, and breathed in the delicious, tangy scent of him, Forest, her high-school ex, who was fast becoming her grown-up friend.

He stepped back. “See you tomorrow at the recycling drive.”

Forest pivoted away and loped back down the stairs to his truck. She watched him leave and wanted to cry with frustration. After this weekend to regroup her defenses, she still had one week left to fill out her contract.

Why did that scare her more than any extended stint in jail?

The next morning, Forest stared out over the library’s parking lot. Suburbans, minivans and trucks were parked at
odd angles while people unloaded bags and boxes full of recycling. Brown bins were parked near the tables for a recycling drive to earn money for the library—in particular, the children’s section. Anna’s doing, no doubt, after less than a month in town. He wove around the clusters of people. Smitty the cop held one of his daughters and a clear, blue plastic bag full of cans.