Safe in His Arms (8 page)

“I am perfectly capable of doing this stuff myself.”

“I know you are.”

She'd taken a few steps toward the parking lot, but she stopped and looked back at him with a guarded expression, as if she expected him to make a joke. “I might move at a snail's pace, but I eventually get there.”

“You're doing just fine.” He meant more than about navigating a day at the beach, and she must have guessed that because she nodded, her gaze off to the side rather than meeting his. “You were doing just fine without any tips from anyone. Even me.”

“Thanks.”

Something must have caught her attention because her head turned and she focused on a bank of trees. Within seconds, a pair of runners emerged from the wooded area on the bike path, matching each other's stride.

“They're moving at a fast clip,” she said when she caught him watching her.

“You really miss it, don't you?”

“Running?” She shrugged. “There's nothing I can do about that, at least until I've healed more. What am I supposed to do, try to run using a cane? That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“But would you start running again if you could? And you did say that you're relying on your cane less and less, right?” He glanced at the sandy beach and looked back to her. “Except at the beach.”

“It just isn't a possibility right now. I'm not confident enough in my balance to even attempt to run. And if I were ready again, I would still have to find child care for Emma while I ran. I don't know my neighbors that well, and after last night, they're probably not going to volunteer to baby-sit.”

“But you would if you could, right?”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “I would if I could.”

Her face was so sad that he was sorry he'd mentioned it and even sorrier that he'd pushed the issue. He'd rubbed salt in one of her open wounds from the accident, this one on the inside where no one could see. She must have wanted to escape the sting of it because she suddenly took a few steps away from him, stopping where Emma had set her bags of toys and was playing again in the sand.

“Okay, sweetie. We're really going to go now.” She looped the mesh bag over her shoulder and took Emma's hand, relying a little on the cane in her other hand.

Joe helped them load the car and followed them in his truck to the ice-cream stand just outside the park entrance. He hoped they would make their stop a quick one. It wasn't as if he suddenly wanted to put some space between them, but the idea he'd just come up with was going to require him to be away from them for a while.

No, he couldn't take back the accident or restore Lindsay's family, but there was one thing he could return to Lindsay that she'd lost that day. He would help her to run again…with him. And maybe somewhere along the way he would find the courage to tell her the whole truth.

L
indsay closed her eyes as she sat on the front steps of her condo and tilted her head to feel the sun's warmth on her face. She relished a brief moment of peace. Today had been a series of rushes added to the serial scrambles of the past few weeks, from home to the day-care center to work, and the same list of stops in reverse.

So this was what parenting was really like. Not those tissue-inspiring moments, like on TV commercials. Day after day, doing the right thing. The responsible thing. It was tough, sometimes draining. She'd been told it was rewarding, too, but she hadn't experienced that part yet.

Opening her eyes, she twisted her body to look over her shoulder to the closed door behind her. Usually, by this time in the afternoon she would be hurrying to prepare dinner, but her effort would have been wasted today, since Emma had dozed off on the couch a half hour before. They were only having hot dogs and macaroni and cheese, anyway.

Lindsay dropped her head into the cradle her hands had formed as she rested her elbows on her knees. She
was a failure as a guardian on so many levels. Emma had only been living with her for a few weeks, and already Lindsay had resorted to feeding her junk just to keep the peace at dinner. And letting Emma nap this late in the afternoon would make it nearly impossible to enforce her 8:30 bedtime.

As she stared out into the street, she could almost see the approval disappearing from her parents' eyes. At church the day before, her mother had told her it was a “good idea” when she'd described her plan for creating a regular schedule for Emma. A schedule she was already blowing.

You should give yourself a break.
Lindsay bristled as Joe's words slipped into her thoughts uninvited. She didn't need him as her cheerleader here, but worse than that, she didn't need to be thinking about him one more time today. She shoved her hands back through her hair.

Wasn't she having a tough enough time balancing work and parenting roles without wasting time wondering why Joe hadn't called in two days? She shouldn't have been thinking about anyone at work, where her concentration needed to be on measuring gestational age and development on the ultrasound screen. She definitely shouldn't have been thinking about Joe.

He'd certainly managed to remove her from his thoughts, if the past few days were any indication. She hadn't seen or heard from him since Saturday. She shook her head. That couldn't matter to her…even if it did.

Straightening, Lindsay glanced out into the street again, looking for some entertainment. In this unique area of town, where modest older homes with established trees shared space with her newer condo com
plex, there was always someone out on the street, staying active. She used to be one of them.

As if to prove her point, a pair of in-line skaters raced on the asphalt, their arms pumping furiously with the effort to get the edge. A helmeted cyclist in racing gear passed them on the left. She followed the biker's path with her gaze, appreciating his joy for speed, his commitment to the sport.

When he was finally out of sight, she turned her head the opposite way, catching sight of a runner approaching in the distance and pushing a jogging stroller. Runners were always the hardest to watch, their freedom and fluid movements making her wish for things she couldn't have right now, so she turned away.

But curiosity drew her gaze back to the runner, who wore a baseball cap low over his eyes. Because he was closer now, just beyond the first condominium building, she got a better look at him. And his empty stroller. Lindsay rubbed her eyes and looked again, just to make sure her vision wasn't playing tricks on her.

She was still wondering why a tall, broad-shouldered man who didn't have the lean build of a runner, would be running up her street pushing an empty stroller, when he came into view. Her breath caught. A chill she couldn't explain scaled her arms, though it was probably seventy-five degrees outside.

Joe? Maybe red-faced, but that could be him, right? She gritted her teeth, shaking her head. It had been bad enough that she'd been thinking about him at work, but was she going to start seeing him everywhere now? Then the man she'd almost convinced herself was only a mirage grinned and waved. After he stopped the stroller on her driveway behind her car, he gripped its padded handle and bent at the waist, gasping for breath.

Grabbing her cane from beside the step, she made her way over to him. “Are you okay?”

Joe took a few more deep breaths, still bent over and holding up his index finger in an unspoken request for her to give him a minute.

She couldn't wait that long. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn't it obvious?” he said as he straightened. “I'm out for a run. It's a great day for one, isn't it?”

“Nope. It is definitely not obvious what you're doing here ready to pass out on my driveway. The only thing that
is
obvious is you really aren't a runner.” She paused, studying him. “Just look at you. I'm tempted to call an ambulance.”

“Thanks. Way to beat a guy down while he's hyperventilating. Maybe I need more cardio.”

But he was grinning as he said it, and his face was losing its sunburned look with each breath.

“So…?” Stepping back, she leaned against the bumper of her car and propped her cane next to her leg.

He set the parking brake on the jogger and slipped the safety strap from around his wrist before waving his hand over the stroller. “Surprise.”

Lindsay looked from Joe to the stroller and then back to Joe. “That's for me?”

“Well, I don't have that much use for it, other than to have it drag me down the hill after I pass out, so if you could use it…” He let his words trail away, his face becoming serious. “You miss running. It's important to you. This is a way you could do it again. I just thought—”

Lindsay shook her head until he stopped, but there was nothing she could do to halt the feelings that bombarded her thoughts. Frustration and gratitude and
another feeling she couldn't define shot at her from different directions until she wasn't sure how to respond. No one had ever done something so kind for her before. Certainly not any man.

She'd never expected anyone to understand how much she missed running, how she craved that burn in her muscles and that brush of the wind on her face, but it seemed to register with Joe. Even if she couldn't accept his gift, she would never forget how special it made her feel.

“I'm sorry. I just can't accept a gift like that.” She could hear the sadness in her voice, so she didn't try to convince herself that he would miss it.

“That?” He pointed to the jogger. “That's not a gift. I don't count anything I could pick up off an internet classified ad as a gift. This was more like a need fulfillment. I saw a need, and I figured out a way to fulfill it.”

His explanation had her lips lifting. “I
needed
a running stroller?”

“Well, not needed exactly, but it could kill two birds with one exceptionally large, three-wheeled stone.”

“Which two birds?”

“The get-you-running one and gotta-have-child-care one.”

“Are those rare breeds?”

“Not quite extinct, but definitely endangered.”

“Can't argue with that.”

Even as she continued their silly banter, she reasoned through his logic and a bit of her own, already tasting the salty sweat of a good run on her lips.

“Gift or
need fulfillment
or whatever you call it, I still wouldn't be able to just accept it from you. I would have to repay you for it. Every penny.”

“That's not necessary—”

“It is to me.”

“Fine.” His frown quickly turned into a grin. “But remember, my loans come with interest. One point above Prime Rate. And I don't tolerate late payments.”

Lindsay shook her head, still smiling. Joe Rossetti was impossible and exasperating and frustrating and wonderful. He owed her and Emma nothing, and yet he was always doing nice things for them. She was trying to tell herself that this was just another one of those nice things, something really intended for Emma's sake, but the case was harder to make this time.

Could he really have done this just for her? Could he have feelings for her that went beyond friendship? No. She pushed the errant thought away. She shouldn't ruin a perfect moment with her friend by reading too much into what he'd done.

“I'm not even sure how it would work,” she said finally.

“The doctor said you didn't really need your cane anymore, didn't she? It's just there for extra support.”

Lindsay tapped the cane next to her. “My wooden security blanket.”

“This would be like that, too. Just like having a shoulder to lean on.”

Lindsay glanced sidelong at him, only to find him watching her. He didn't have to say it, but in these past few days, he'd become a strong shoulder for her and for Emma. That was the type of man Trooper Joe Rossetti was—someone who put his life on the line every day to benefit others. But he was also the man who'd chosen between her and Delia. She couldn't forget that. Otherwise, it would be just too easy for her to fall for him.

 

“Go faster, Aunt Lindsay.”

Emma kicked her heels inside the jogger and threw her head back in delight as they rounded yet another corner.

“This is the fastest I can go, sweetie,” Lindsay explained as she had several times before during their walk that had lasted closer to an hour than the thirty minutes they'd originally planned.

Still, as they began the return trip to Lindsay's condo, Joe felt tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with physical exertion this time. He didn't want the walk to end, but what was he supposed to do? He couldn't turn Lindsay into a marathon walker just because he wanted to spend more time with her. Them. He meant
them.

“Remember, Emma, that Aunt Lindsay wanted to practice walking with the jogger first before she tried running.” He reached over the side of the stroller and ruffled the preschooler's hair.

“But she practiced already,” Emma insisted.

“That's true, but she'll need more practice. Like when you practice writing your name. She wants to get really good at it, like you are with your writing.”

Joe glanced sidelong at Lindsay, who'd been even steadier than he'd hoped while walking behind the stroller, gripping the padded handlebar with both hands.

“Who knew that Emma had such a need for speed?” he said.

Lindsay grinned as she came to a stop next to him and pushed the parking brake. “And I thought she'd be worried about being H-U-N-G-R-Y.”

Both shot glances at the child in the stroller, just making sure she hadn't mastered the skill of decipher
ing oral spelling yet. But the girl only rocked forward and backward in her seat, as if to get her chariot going again.

“You see?” He gestured toward the child. “Nothing to worry about.”

They would have had a difficult time convincing Emma that she needed to wait until after dinner for their walk, anyway. When she'd awakened from her nap and discovered the new toy, she immediately wanted to try it out.

Lindsay glanced at the child and then at him again. “Guess not.”

With her face flushed from the exertion of the brisk walk and escaped tresses from her ponytail curling around her face, Lindsay had never looked prettier to him. He wondered if she'd always been this happy when training before the accident, her shoes tapping out a rhythm, her breathing slow and steady.

He realized with a shock that he would do almost anything to keep her smiling like that.

“Well, you look about the same as I did when I ran up to your house earlier.”

Her gaze narrowed, but then her expression softened. “Whew. I thought you were serious. My doctor wouldn't be happy with me if I started doing too much too fast.”

“No. You look great. Really.” Joe swallowed. It wasn't supposed to have come out like that. He sounded as if he was looking at more than how she was handling this new activity, and it would be hard for him to deny it.

Lindsay glanced at him, licking her lips nervously. An awkward silence lingered, and Joe searched for something to say to defuse the electricity sparking be
tween them. It wasn't dark enough for the stroller to require more than its reflectors, but the current between them could have powered headlights without batteries.

“Go, dog, go.” Emma pointed in the direction she wanted the jogger to move.

The adults chuckled, but Lindsay's was a nervous laugh.

Because Joe hated making her so uncomfortable, he changed the subject. “Didn't I see a book that said something like that in Emma's room?”

“It's called, strangely enough,
Go, Dog. Go!
It's her new favorite at bedtime.”

“Go, dog, go,” Emma repeated, louder this time.

“Oh, I think she meant it.” Lindsay released the parking brake and started forward again.

“You're doing a good job with her, you know. She's adapting well.”

“Thanks.” She didn't look at him, but her eyes were suspiciously shiny.

“I'm glad this running thing is going to work out for you guys.” He paused long enough to watch her movements, so much more fluid than they'd been with the cane. “You look happy when you're moving. Complete.”

“Is it so obvious?” Instead of waiting for an answer, she continued, “You must really think I'm shallow. My sister dies, my niece loses her mother, and all I can think about is that I can't run anymore.”

Joe reached out for the jogger's handle and pulled her to a stop.

“That isn't all you've been thinking about. You've been mourning the loss of your sister, and you've stepped up in every way possible to care for Emma. You've put yourself last in this situation. You probably always do that. But in this one thing, don't.”