Second Chance Christmas Page 7

  And no sign of Reese. And, just like high school, she was as hyperaware of his absence as his presence.

  That was so not good. She was over him.

  As she was running her code for the fifth time to make sure she had the results she expected, she felt him behind her.

  Maybe if she ignored him, he would go away.

  “Not going to work, Findlay,” he said. A metallic groan indicated he’d sat down.

  She made another notation in the progress log before she spun her chair around, ensuring her posture was straight and her legs were properly crossed.

  “How may I help you?” she asked in her most formal tone.

  He laughed.

  Her lips twitched in response, and she made the mistake of looking into his dark brown eyes.

  Oh, God.

  The sensations came flooding back—the smell of his freshly washed hair, the rough texture of his newly forming beard, the pressure of his fingers against her skull as he thoroughly kissed her.

  Loving him.

  Losing him that horrible day when he told her he didn’t want to see her anymore.

  She got control of her mouth.

  “Did you want something?” She repeated her request.

  “I want you to go running with me. Tomorrow. Six a.m. Maclay Flat. Like we used to when we were training.”

  “No. I told you. I don’t have time to go running.”

  “Won’t Kelly Anne still be asleep at that time?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Isn’t your mother there?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then meet me there.” He stood.

  Her last, “yes, but” echoed off his retreating back.

  • • •

  Findlay woke up groggy Saturday morning, like she’d gone on a bender the night before. She killed the alarm on her phone and rolled over with a groan. Meeting Reese was the worst idea she’d had in months.

  Seeing him outside of work was only giving him another chance to hurt her.

  She rolled over and shut her eyes.

  The easy way out. This way she’d never have to confront the past and deal with it. She wasn’t sixteen anymore. If she got him on her side, she’d be able to keep the job and prove herself to the judge. That was the only thing that mattered.

  Rolling back, she pushed herself up and tossed on the running gear she’d put out the night before. Everything was a little tight. Ugh. Motherhood had its costs.

  The sun dappled the maples as she drove down Brooks to the west side of town. Too early for the crowds at the strip malls, the street was relatively deserted. She turned by the fancy gym, past the mega house in the middle of the field, and down into the windiness of a rural road.

  Arms crossed, Reese leaned against the trunk of his Mustang, the shape of the image familiar. He grinned at her.

  A flutter of hope beat in her heart.

  She had loved him so much. Raw emotion churned inside her—innocent dreams entangled with the sting of betrayal.

  She was a fool to be here.

  Pulling into a space next to his, she got out and attempted to saunter over to him. From the way his grin deepened, she’d failed utterly.

  They faced each other, desire sparking between them, in spite of the water she was furiously throwing on the fire burning inside her.

  He moved his head toward her a few inches before pulling back.

  “Let’s go,” he said. His voice was rough, but whether from morning sleep or suppressed passion was unclear.

  “Okay.”

  They walked toward the gate and took the right-hand path.

  Like they always had when they ran here.

  His pace quickly picked up, making her strain for air. Damn, she was out of shape.

  “I’ll take it easy on you.” His grin was back.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “All right then.” As they reached the first tree grove, he broke into a trot.

  She followed his lead, her breath heavy in her lungs.

  Focus. Let the muscles take over. Get past the effort to the zone.

  Every mantra from high school track came back.

  Breathe it in. Run it out. This will not kill you.

  Her aching lungs and painful feet said the sayings were all lies. But she kept going. No man was going to see her weaken ever again. Especially not Reese.

  When they reached the spot where the path turned north, he slowed back to a walk.

  She opened her mouth to protest but shut it. Pushing would only hurt her, prevent her from doing this again.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Okay. Mostly.”

  “It’ll come back.”

  “Yeah.”

  A heron beat its slow arcing wings against the blue sky, long legs sticks behind him.

  Reese followed her glance.

  “They are strange-looking birds,” he said.

  “But very efficient.”

  “Kind of like you.” He touched her arm.

  The zing was immediate.

  “I missed you, you know,” he said.

  “You were the one who said good-bye.”

  “About that . . . ”

  “It was a long time ago.” She was so not having this conversation. Increasing her pace, she eased into a trot.

  Reese’s footsteps kept time behind her.

  For a few seconds, she made it into that Zen-like space where nothing mattered except the path in front of her. Not the past or the future, but the resounding present. The palette of late summer colors and sounds of animals storing up for the winter were merely background to the thud of soles on the ground.

  A discarded branch yanked her out of the moment. She stepped on it and careened off the path. With a slight pull in her ankle, she stopped and sank to the ground.

  “You okay?” Reese asked.

  “I don’t know.” She tested around her ankle, pressing in on the skin to locate any tenderness.

  “Let me see.” He brushed her hands aside. His hands knowingly probed the skin around her joint. “I took EMT training before I went abroad. With all the craziness over there at times, it seemed like a smart thing to do.” A small frown wrinkled his forehead. “Feels a little swollen there. Hurt?”

  His concerned gaze met hers.

  She wanted to fall into their dark depths and get lost.

  “Hey, you there?” He waved his fingers in front of her eyes.

  “Oh.” She looked away. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It’s a little sore. But not really painful like childbirth or something.”

  Childbirth or something? What a stupid thing to say.

  His frown lines increased.

  “Well, that’s good then.”

  His touch on her ankle turned soft, almost a caress.

  He needed to stop that. Now.

  “I need to head back. Kelly Anne will be waking up soon.” She struggled to get to her feet.

  “Here.” He held out his hand and helped her.

  “So what was Paris like?” she asked as they started down the path. “Did you ever have to use your training?”

  “Fortunately, no.”

  He took in a deep breath.

  “Paris was lovely. There was something about it . . . the age, the sensual enjoyment . . . even a walk down a boulevard with an ice cream cone on a hot summer day was a joy.”

  “Was there anyone special?” Crap. She hadn’t meant to ask.

  “For a while, yes.”

  They were quiet until they returned to their cars, her mind spinning with pictures of Reese talking with, touching, maybe even making love to . . . another woman.

  Not her.

  Her chest spasmed with pain she quickly pushed aside. She had a job to do. And that didn’t involve rekindling an ancient romance.

  “Do it again next week?” he asked as she unlocked her door. “That should give enough time for your ankle to heal.”

  “Look. Reese. I can’t be doing this.” She turned t
o face him. “It brings back too many memories. Things we’ll never have a chance to recover.”

  “We could.” He took a step toward her. “Be friends, that is. Give it a chance, Findlay. Let me show you’ve I’ve changed. Grown up finally.”

  “Why? So you can throw me under the bus again when your father finds out I’m working here?”

  “My father doesn’t run me anymore.”

  “Really? Then why are you here and not in Paris?”

  “Because he’s still my father. You would have done the same.”

  “Except I didn’t get the chance, did I?” A big bubble rose in her throat. Crap. She was going to cry.

  “I’m so sorry, Findlay.”

  When he put his arms around her it was easy to lay her head on his chest and let the tears flow. He’d always been her safe haven.

  After a few minutes, her shoulders shuddered and she sighed. The tears stopped.

  She should step out of his embrace. Instead she looked up. His face was inches from hers. Would he still taste the same?

  She stood on her tiptoes and stole a sweet kiss, catching a whiff of mint toothpaste and spicy aftershave.

  He caught her head in his hands and took a kiss of his own, less innocent, his mouth moving, exploring her lips. She softened. Her hands moved across his tee, wet with sweat and tears.

  The muscles were firm underneath the thin cloth. He must lift weights. Did he go to a gym or use a spare room in his father’s house?

  Brian Moore.

  She broke away.

  “This is such a bad idea,” she said. “It’ll go nowhere. Somehow I can’t see us sitting on your father’s couch, sipping cocktails.”

  “I moved out,” he said, his hand lingering on her arm.

  There went that excuse.

  “Why?”

  He hesitated.

  “It’s complicated.”

  That made no sense. He was a grown man. It was only natural that he be on his own. Of course, that made his move here seem more permanent.

  “So not going back to Paris?”

  “No. That life is over. It was worth a try, but . . . let’s just say there are things I need to sort out.”

  “I see.” She actually had no clue what he meant. “I really do have to leave,” she said. “I promised Kelly Anne we’d ride on the carousel today. It’s one of her favorite things.”

  “That must be fun.” The wistful tone and sad eyes reminded her of a puppy that had been left behind.

  “I think we’ve already crossed too many boundaries today. See you at work, Reese.”

  He held the car door as she slid in the front seat. “How about next Saturday?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “C’mon. It’s only a run. You can still spend the day with your daughter.”

  She did need to get back in shape—in more ways than one. But she could do it on her own. She didn’t need a man she already wanted too much.

  She shook her head, and grabbed the door handle.

  He stepped away as she pulled out of the parking lot, a lonely figure by the Mustang that became smaller in her rearview mirror.

  Chapter 7

  Findlay finished reading the last of the journals she’d plucked out of her father’s box. She laid it on the desk in the small office and stroked the leather cover one more time. The entries had led up to the week before his partnership with Brian Moore broke up but had gone no further.

  She had a vague idea of how the pieces fit together, but she needed to re-read with a pen and pad by her side, like she did when she was analyzing misbehaving programs.

  Her dad had never picked up another journal. What would he have written if he had?

  What would have happened if he’d never been accused? Would she still be with Reese instead of initiating kisses that couldn’t go anywhere?

  Why the hell had she done that? It wasn’t going to help to keep her distance and avoid a repeat performance of one of the most painful days of her life.

  But still, she’d enjoyed every second of it. Given the opportunity, would she do it again?

  Probably.

  She was a masochist. If only he was moving on when his father came back to work. He was too distracting nearby. Pulling the string of the overhead light, she closed the door behind her. Water over the bridge. Daddy was gone. All her wishes wouldn’t bring him back.

  A decade later the pain had dulled, but the ache of a piece of her life missing was always present, a headache in the far reaches of her brain that aspirin was never able to touch. It became especially acute when she went to ceremonies that involved fathers—weddings, graduations, the birth of a first child.

  Grabbing a glass of wine, she went into the living room where her mother clacked her knitting needles.

  The wine soothed her but didn’t stave off the restless feeling in her bones. Although there hadn’t been any recent incidents in the financial applications at Gravitz Technologies, another one would point the finger of suspicion at her like a compass finding true north.

  Then what? Would she suffer the same fate as her father? The stakes were almost as high.

  But she never would take her life and leave Kelly Anne alone. Her heart squeezed. Dad had been selfish. How could he leave them?

  The pain of the false accusation by lifelong friends must have been so great he couldn’t live with himself.

  Or . . . what if she was wrong? What if he was guilty?

  That still wouldn’t answer the question of who was messing with the systems now. She knew she wasn’t.

  “What’s bothering you?” The knitting needles stopped.

  “I finished reading Dad’s last journal.”

  “Did you learn anything different?”

  “Not really. More questions than anything.” She turned the glass in her hand, the incandescent light reflected in its surface.

  “I thought as much.” The clacking resumed.

  How did she get her mother talking? There had to be more than the journals revealed.

  “What were the early days like?” she asked. “When Dad and Brian first got involved.”

  Her mother dropped her hands to her lap and stared at her, a frown on her lips.

  “You really are determined to get into this,” she said.

  “I think I need to know. It affected me, too.”

  “I’m going to need my own glass of wine.” Her mother sighed and released her grip on the needles.

  “Like the journals told you,” she began when she’d taken a sip from the glass Findlay brought her, “the start-up was intense but fun. We had all this hope. Young people with a mission usually do. Your father and Brian had come up with some new technology to strengthen metal, yet make it more flexible and lighter, so it could provide the same strength as what existed but use less energy.” She shook her head. “I never totally understood it, but Sally got it, immediately.”

  She stared out the window for a few moments, eyelids drooping.

  Biting her tongue, Findlay let the silence linger.

  “I always wondered if things would have been different if your dad had married Sally.”

  What?

  Again, Findlay waited, her heart beating faster.

  Her mother stopped her internal reverie and turned toward Findlay.

  “Oh, yes, your father and Sally were in love at one point—childhood sweethearts. They were going to conquer the world. Then Brian arrived in their high school town and swept her off her feet. He was everything your father wasn’t—football hero, popular, good-looking, and he came from a family of bankers.

  “And whip smart. Sally never would have fallen for the typical jock. What pissed your dad off even more was that when he got over his anger at losing his girlfriend, he actually became good friends with Brian. He realized Brian could do more for the girl he’d loved than he could ever hope.”

  Her mother fell silent.

  Mom had been runner-up for her father’s heart. What would it feel like, bein
g second choice, a consolation prize? As bad as being dumped? But Mom had to be around the other woman all her life. Findlay had only had to endure her senior year in high school after Reese dumped her.

  What if Chris remarried? She’d need to get along with the other woman for Kelly Anne’s sake. But in her heart, it wouldn’t matter. She didn’t love Chris anymore.

  Had she ever? Like she’d loved Reese?

  Did anyone love like a first love?

  “Once your dad and Brian got to know each other, they found all the things they had in common, including a burning desire to create something that would allow people to keep the conveniences they were used to having, like cars and planes, but cut down on the emissions and help save the planet.” She gave a wan smile. “Saving the planet was big back then.”

  “What about Sally? How did she fit in?”

  “She was just as interested in the science as the boys. In fact, she came up with a number of the techniques they needed to achieve what they were going after.”

  That didn’t square at all with the volunteering society maven she’d known as Reese’s mother.

  “So how did you get involved?”

  Her mother laughed and shook her head before taking another sip of wine. She took a long time swallowing as she once again stared out the window.

  “Life was different back then. Eastern Montana was, and still is, pretty conservative. Women weren’t expected to have huge careers or make dramatic changes in government. In fact, if they did, they were talked about suspiciously, like they weren’t true women. Sally was an anomaly in her field. They were all a bit nerdy—Sally, Brian, your dad.” Her mother’s voice was wistful.

  How different her mother’s life had been from hers.

  “It didn’t matter to me.” The developing wrinkles in her mother’s face deepened as she gave a sad smile. “From the time I was a little girl, I knew I wanted to find a good man, support him in his home, and raise his children. I didn’t really understand what all the fuss was about. I mean, why add a job to the one I’d already have taking care of my family?

  “When they first began, I helped them set up an office, did the books, that kind of thing. When they finally got their first big client, they phased me out of that role. Sally put together the office structure—pretty minimal for the manufacturing they were doing—and hired a full-time bookkeeper.”