Into the Blue (A Wild Aces Romance) (4 page)

Ten years was a long time to be gone, but at the same time, part of me felt like I’d never left.

I drove through downtown Bradbury, surprised to see that some of my old favorites were still in business: Casey’s Diner where I’d taken Becca on dates in high school, the ice cream shop where she’d always ordered scoops of salted caramel ice cream, the hardware store where I’d worked my senior year of high school. Other places were long gone, windows boarded up, “For Sale” signs in the window. A fast-food chain that definitely hadn’t been there before sat on the corner.

But more than that, Becca was everywhere I turned, on every street, in front of every building, the ghost of us floating around me, reminding me of why I hadn’t come home before.

I hadn’t really thought through what I was doing once Loco granted the leave—just gone on my computer and booked a flight to Columbia for the next day, renting a car
to drive the rest of the way to Bradbury. I’d managed to book a room in one of the three hotels in town, thrown some clothes into a suitcase, including my mess dress for the wedding, and then I’d been off. Now I was here, pulling into the grocery store parking lot, wondering if I’d lost my mind.

I’d told Loco I was coming home to get my shit under control, not stir up a hornet’s nest. The town was too small to avoid running into Becca, and with the gossip chain being what it was, she’d definitely hear about my return. I told myself it would only complicate things, even as a part of me wanted to see her again.

I was a mess, felt cracked and broken inside, and she’d always been the one I’d counted on. It seemed like my entire adult life had been spent either running from or to this one girl. She was the compass when I was so lost I couldn’t find my way.

So I’d come here. To a place that held so many memories for me. My parents were gone, my father leaving first for parts unknown when they divorced the summer before my freshman year of high school, my mother for Florida a year later, but I still had my grandmother. Still had friends that I’d mostly lost touch with over the years.

I wasn’t a fighter pilot here. And I didn’t know if it was something in the air, or the sensation of coming home, but I couldn’t help feeling like I could breathe again.

I parked the car and walked into the grocery store, planning on grabbing a few things to keep in the mini-fridge in my room. Part of being in the military included regular fitness tests, so I made a point of eating healthy and working out daily. Sometimes it was tough to fit in with our schedules, but I’d lived with the habit for so long that it was tough to break. My hotel had a small gym that would make do for
the next few weeks, and I still remembered some of my old running trails from high school and college.

I grabbed a basket, walking toward the produce section, figuring I’d pick up some fruit and vegetables. And some flowers. I’d called my grandmother on the drive over from Columbia and told her I’d be in town. I figured flowers weren’t nearly enough of a peace offering, but it was better than coming empty-handed. I’d seen her at holidays over the years, the few times I’d spent Christmases and Thanksgivings at my mother’s home in Florida with her new husband and kids, but I’d never made it back home.

“Eric? Eric Jansen?”

I jerked in surprise at the sound of my name, realizing how long it had been since anyone had called me anything other than Thor.

A pretty blonde with a baby on her hip stared at me with a big smile on her face.

“It’s Katy Russell. Well, I was Katy Muller. From Bradbury High?”

It took me a second to place the name and face, but I remembered her. She’d been a cheerleader and we’d had bio together. We’d hung out a few times, and when I’d left Bradbury for the University of South Carolina with Becca, Katy had been dating my buddy, John. And by the last name, she’d married him.

I returned the side hug she gave me, careful to keep from jostling the baby on her hip, surprised by how good it felt to see her. We hadn’t been close or anything, but I had solid memories from high school.

“How are you? How have you been?”

She grinned. “Good.” She lifted her hand and flashed a diamond. “I married John Russell.”

“That’s awesome. How is he?” I gestured at the baby on her hip. “And who’s this little guy?”

“John’s great.” She beamed. “This is Cory. He’s one now.”

The baby waved his chubby fist at me and I couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and take his hand. He clutched my finger tightly before something else distracted him and he let go.

“How about you? You’re in the military, right? Army?”

“Air Force.”

“I bet that’s exciting.”

“It has its moments.”

Her gaze turned coy. “So is there anyone special in your life? Are you married? Kids?”

I swallowed, the baby flashing me a smile and making a noise that sounded like something between a laugh and a gurgle.

“No, it’s just me.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

I nodded, knowing full well that every single person in this town knew about my past.

Her voice turned sly. “So how long are you in town for? Do you have plans to catch up with anyone . . .”

She let the last part linger; we both knew exactly who she meant.

I wanted to see Becca, but I wasn’t sure I wanted the entire fucking town to play matchmaker. I still hadn’t ruled out the possibility that she’d knee me in the balls if I tried to get close to her again, and that was not something I was looking forward to having an audience for.

“A few weeks, maybe,” I hedged. “I’m not really sure. I’m going to a friend’s wedding in Columbia.”

“Did you call your grandmother?”

I grinned despite the interrogation. My grandmother was much beloved in Bradbury, having served as the town’s librarian for nearly fifty years.

“I did.”

“Did you call anyone else?”

“No, I haven’t had a chance. I just got in a couple of hours ago.”

Katy grinned. “I have a feeling things are about to get very interesting around here.”

I barreled into the grocery store on a mission. I had an hour before my favorite show started, and I was in desperate need of a comfort food fix. It turned out my Tuesday hadn’t been any better than my Monday, and I’d barely made it to yoga class after a court appearance had run late and then I’d realized my cupboards were bare.

I hurried down the aisle, heading toward the pasta section, mac and cheese the cure for a shitty day. I waved at a few of my neighbors, the downside to living in a small town the fact that it was impossible to “sneak” anywhere, and that meant everyone saw me in all of my sweaty, faded, much-loved Introverts Unite T-shirt and yoga pants glory. Whatever. Despite what legions of romantic comedies had told me, I’d yet to find true love in the grocery store.

I stopped for a moment to talk to Megan, one of the other yogis in my class.

“Comfort food?” she asked.

I nodded with a rueful grin. “I always walk out of there feeling like I should be eating—
drinking?
—wheatgrass or
something. Unfortunately, this week has already turned itself into a five-alarm-need-fatty-goodness kind of week.”

She groaned. “Tell me about it.”

Megan had taken over Casey’s Diner when her mother retired, and every time I went in there for coffee, she was behind the counter, looking ready to drop from exhaustion. The place was an institution in Bradbury and had the business to reflect it.

We chatted for another minute or so about our class and the new instructor.

“Make sure you head over to the produce section,” she added with a parting wave.

I made a face. “Is that where they keep the wheatgrass?”

She laughed. “No clue, but that’s where I spotted Katy Russell talking to a mysterious hottie.”

I grinned. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I’m not sure what would appeal to him more—the sweat-smudged makeup on my face or the hole I discovered in my T-shirt. I better go over there and sweep him off his feet before someone else does.”

“I’m just saying. Billy Crandall just got engaged. We’re down to slim pickings here. Speaking of, how was your big night out in Columbia?”

I snorted, ignoring the twinge of panic as I remembered that I still hadn’t responded to Eric’s friend request. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

She sighed. “Then give the hottie a look. I couldn’t see his face, but I caught his profile and the back view, and let’s just say he’s the kind of guy who looks pretty fine walking away.”

“Just the way I like them,” I joked. “Well, I was planning on putting chives on top of my mac and cheese to go along
with the heap of bacon to save me from a coronary event, so maybe I’ll check out his assets. Covertly, of course.”

“Trust me, it’s worth it.”

I found myself grinning as I went in search of chives and a fine ass, deciding that I was going to convince Lizzie to round up some of our friends and do a girls’ night. Since my plans in Columbia had been thwarted by Eric’s appearance, I’d missed out on the night I so desperately needed. It felt good just to laugh and forget about work for a bit.

I grabbed some Oreos on the way to the veggies, my basket growing fuller and fuller.
Never shop on an empty stomach
. I turned down the produce aisle, my gaze peeled for Katy Russell and—

Megan hadn’t been exaggerating about the guy—I got the same impressive view of height, back, and muscular ass, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that she had—but I also took notice of a few things she’d clearly missed—like the copper-colored hair, light dusting of freckles on skin that was on the pale side of gold, and the fact that it was my motherfucking ex-fiancé, not in Oklahoma where he belonged, but
here.
In my hometown. Our hometown. Twenty or so feet away.

Apparently, his ten-year vanishing act had ended, and he’d chosen tonight—when I looked like shit and probably didn’t smell much better given how much I’d sweated at hot-fucking-yoga—to return.

Kill me, now.

I backed up, my heart pounding so hard I feared I’d have a heart attack, ready to escape without him seeing me, when suddenly my back collided with a precariously placed display, cans of French onion soup hitting the ground in a series of thuds that sounded like cannon fire, startling me enough
to have the basket slipping from my hands, and the entire produce aisle turning to face me.

Including
him
.

*   *   *

I stood next to the ruined French onion soup display, my body frozen in horror.

And then he was just there, bending down in front of me, putting groceries back into my basket, grabbing dented cans of soup.

I said a silent prayer for Mother Nature to take pity on me and for a sinkhole to open up right then and there and swallow me whole.

No dice.

“Are you okay?”

I blinked, staring into Eric’s blue, blue eyes before he straightened his body, rising to his full height, both of our grocery baskets looped around his arm.

I swallowed, not sure what answer to give, and at the moment, not really caring. It had been dark in the bar on Saturday night, and I’d been so thrown for a loop that I hadn’t had a chance to really look at him beyond the basics. Not like I wanted to, at least. So even though this ranked up there as one of the single most embarrassing moments in my life—likely accelerated by the presence of the man staring back at me—I looked my fill, because Megan hadn’t been exaggerating in the slightest—he really was easy on the eyes.

He wasn’t necessarily hot in the conventional sense—yes, he was tall and muscular—but it wasn’t his looks that were lethal. It was his personality. He carried himself like he was in on a joke no one else knew about, mischief dancing in his blue eyes, the naughty smile on his lips making him look
both playful and like he was about to press you up against a wall somewhere.

And wasn’t it a bitch that he’d only improved with age?

“Are you okay?” Eric repeated, concern in his gaze.

I nodded, still not trusting my voice.

Everyone in the store gave us a wide berth, clearly wanting to stay away from the crazy lady and the hottie who’d unnerved her. And still, I heard the murmurs of recognition, saw the looks being flashed our way; pretty soon most of Bradbury would know Eric was back and that, in under a minute, he’d knocked me on my ass.

“What are you doing here?” I croaked, figuring that took precedence over any embarrassment I felt over my appearance. Worry filled me. “Is your grandmother okay?”

I saw his grandmother around town occasionally. Despite my issues with Eric, she’d always been sweet to me, and it was impossible to miss that she was a little lonely, her only daughter having moved to Florida and her eldest grandson traveling all over the world.

“I’m here for a visit.”

My jaw dropped. He hadn’t visited once in ten years. It had been an unspoken rule that in the demise of our relationship, I’d gotten custody of Bradbury.

“For how long?”

“A few weeks.”

What the fuck?

“Is that okay?”

I froze, everything becoming way too surreal for me to handle.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you back? Why here? Why now?” I struggled to keep my voice calm, realizing I likely failed miserably.
I’d needed time to deal with the friend request—hot yoga or not,
this
was beyond my ability to be Zen.

“I needed a break from work. Things were bad. I needed to sort everything out.”

“And you thought you could do that here?” I didn’t bother keeping the incredulity out of my voice. We had a town’s worth of unresolved baggage and I couldn’t imagine anything less soothing than throwing us together again.

“I wanted to come home.”

I felt the first stirring of anger, breaking through the haze of awkward. It hadn’t been home ten years ago when he’d decided to leave. He’d described it as a weight around his neck, told me the town was dragging him down, that he wanted to get the hell out of South Carolina. I remembered every single thing he’d said with stunning clarity, because for all that he’d been talking about Bradbury and our life here, we both had known he’d also been talking about me. He’d been restless, not wanting anything to tie him down, and all I’d wanted was to put down roots, to have the home he’d promised me since we were kids.

“And if I said it wasn’t okay?” I kept my tone cool, my gaze boring into him, daring him to look at me.

He’d broken up with me in the female version of a Dear John letter; he didn’t get to slink away now.

His gaze met mine and held, and for a moment I was knocked back by the shadows there.

“I’m not leaving. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“We need to talk.”

If not for the shock I’d already been through this evening,
that
would have knocked me back.

“Please tell me you aren’t here for me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m back.”

“That’s a cop-out and you know it.”

“Jesus, Becca.”

My hands fisted on my hips, throwing major attitude his way and having only so many “fucks” to give.

“You don’t just get to come back and crash into my life and expect that I’m going to let you. That I’m going to be okay with it.”

I moved forward, jabbing a finger at his rock-hard chest.
God.

“You left. You made your choice. You want to come back here and do the right thing by your poor grandmother who has missed you for the better part of a decade, that’s one thing. But if you coming back here has anything to do with me, you need to give up now. You see me walking down the street and want to nod at me,
maybe
, smile, fine. But that’s all you get. You threw everything else away a long time ago.”

I didn’t bother to wait for a response—
couldn’t
wait for a response. I just turned and fled, leaving Eric staring after me—and no doubt an audience staring at
both
of us. It wasn’t until I got to the car that I realized he still held my groceries in his hand, and if I didn’t have enough reasons to be pissed off with him, he’d just bought himself another one.