Page 23 of Almost Home
“I’ll be out most of tomorrow, too, but back Wednesday. Feel free to take the day tomorrow, if you want.”
“Take the day?”
“Off.”
“Wilder, I’m not going to take the dayoff. I just started, and you’re a brand-new business. Don’t you think it’s important to have someone physically occupying the space? To answer questions if they come up or be here if someone calls or needs to stop by?”
Another pause. “Sure. That’s fine.”
Um. Okay. I guess he didn’t really agree with me, but whatever. I wasn’t going to take a day off. “Great. Then I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“See you then, Sarah.”
My insides cartwheeled as I hung up, enjoying setting the handheld phone in the receiver. When was the last time I’d called someone on an actual phone instead of a mobile? Kind of crazy and definitely long enough to make me feel old. Thirty-six was by no means old, and yet ever since Wilder returned, I’d had this tunneling feeling. Like time had passed in an instant instead of slowly and sometimes wretchedly over the years.
But maybe that was the simple nature of coming back to your hometown after decades and seeing the man you’d grown up believing you’d spend your life with. The person you’d planned on being with and then ran from.
Particularly when that man turned out to be even better looking than he had been before, a generous employer, and still kind of grumpily appealing despite my best efforts?
Yeah. No wonder I had such a feeling about things lately. And yet… not all bad. I hardly dared acknowledge that glimmering thought way out on the horizon of my mind, but as I packed up my bag and locked the back exit before leaving out the front door of Saint Securities, I let my mind whisper it.
Maybe I’d ended up back in Silverton for more than just forgiveness.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Wilder
Ihad lost my damn senses.
I couldn’t think about anything but Sarah this morning. I had fifty things to do before Bruce arrived tomorrow, and I wasn’t going to manage any of them, especially not now that my mom was about to show up for her visit in the next five minutes.
But at least I had an excuse to talk to Sarah.And there it is again.
Somewhere between her apology Friday and not seeing her for most of the last two days, I’d truly lost my ability to keep my thoughts from her. Especially since she had been here at the building. I had all kinds of security and surveillance equipment set up and had gotten the notification right at eight when she showed up yesterday. I’d resisted the urge to pull up the video feed and see what she had been wearing becausethatwould be creepy.
Instead of berating myself for touching her, getting close enough to catch her soft scent, I cast it out of my mind. I’d spent two decades learning the discipline to focus on the mission at hand, and here, today and for the foreseeable future, that was to reconnect and rebuild with my family and get my business up and running.
Apparently, all it took was a few smiles, a minute or two talking about her love of books, and feeling the warmth of her hands, and all my highly trained skills took a trip. I’d kept myself from checking the security cameras, and I’d forbidden myself to get within six feet of her in case that gravitational pull dragged me in like it had earlier this week in the break room.
Wouldn’t be as much of a problem to do the same thing by wandering up the hallway and past her desk to prepare for my mother, right? Right.
Decided, I pushed back from my chair right as I heard Sarah’s laugh. The sound hit me in the solar plexus at the same time the realization hit me in the face: Mom had arrived. I hadn’t headed her off at the pass, which left Sarah to deal with her.
Jane Saint was the definition of a good woman. Even as tense as some of our communication had been over the years, I’d never resented her or even disliked her. If anything, I’d admired the way she’d managed our lives without a spouse to help her in the daily grind. But she was also a meddler. She used to revel in reminding me that I got all my stubbornness from her, and it faded with each generation so she could outgun me any day of the week if she wanted.
In my almost thirty-seven years, I’d learned not to doubt that.
While I had no idea how often Sarah and Mom had interacted, I couldn’t imagine they did with any frequency based on Mom’s reaction to her working here. So I needed to get in there and keep things from going sideways.
Jogging to the front, I saw her slim figure clutching her purse, and in a way, that told me she was purely delighted to catch me unprepared. She wore practical boots, jeans, and a big sweater with a light rain jacket over top. The early spring day here would’ve been downright cold in North Carolina, but I savored the chill every time I felt it, because I’d missed it. Between Carolina winters or deployed stints during the rainy seasons in the Middle East and elsewhere, nothing felt more like home than Utah seasons.
Except maybe seeing that gleam in my mother’s eye and being thrust back into my youth, bracing for whatever she had up her sleeve.
“Mom, hey. You’re a few minutes early.” I rounded Sarah’s desk and pulled my mom into a hug.
She held me to her, then released me and glanced over at Sarah. “Such a good hugger, isn’t he?”
Sarah’s cheeks immediately brightened with a blush. Mine probably would’ve, too, without the beard. “Mom, you can’t—”
