Hey Sunshine (18 page)

I jumped up when he came through the door with another couple boxes stacked in his arms and the last big duffel strapped across his chest.

“Fox! Is that everything? Why didn’t you let me help?” I cried.

“I’ve got it,” he said, easily hefting the boxes up as he walked into the bedroom. I followed him without thinking, intending to help unpack. He stacked them neatly in the corner, dropped the duffel into the closet, and turned to face me. “Can I take you for a late lunch? As a thank-you for helping me?”

A thank-you for what?
I thought.
All I did today was give you a hard time about a motorcycle you obviously love, then carry one bag of pillows while you moved a small portion of the New York Public Library up two flights of stairs.

“Um, sure.” I glanced at my watch. Still plenty of time before I needed to pick up Annabelle.

“How about barbecue?” he suggested.

Barbecue meant sticky fingers, sauce on my face, and corn in my teeth.
Abort. Abort.
“That sounds good.” I’d just grab some extra napkins and hope for the best.

“Great,” he said, taking my hand. I felt the jolt from his touch that was becoming almost familiar or, at least, anticipated. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Fox pulled up in front of my house after the most fastidious barbecue date ever – although if I was being really honest, his presence was so absorbing that I didn’t even really think about food on my face – and turned to me.

“What are your plans for dinner?” he asked.

I laughed. “Um, we just had lunch.”

He flashed his dimple. “I know.”

When he didn’t elaborate, I shrugged. “Probably spaghetti… it’s one of Annabelle’s favorites.” That reminded me, I needed to run to the grocery store after I picked her up. Garlic bread with our pasta was a must.

“Can I come by later?” Fox asked. “I’ll bring dessert.”

My heart stuttered at the hopeful look on his face. Fox rarely gave away his thoughts with an expression, but lately I felt like he was becoming an open book. “Sure.”

He leaned toward me, reaching for the passenger door handle. I held my breath as his lips brushed gently over my cheek. “See you soon, Avery.”

Chapter 12

When Fox rang the doorbell at six p.m., I had everything nearly ready for dinner. The spaghetti was almost done, the sauce – with some sneaky vegetable additions for Annabelle – simmered quietly on the stove, and the garlic bread had five more minutes before it needed to be pulled from the oven. I put together a small green salad at the last second, feeling like the table could use a little more color. And who knew? Fox seemed to have a way of getting Annabelle to eat things, so I was optimistic.

I ran to the front door, Annabelle at my heels.

“FOX!” she cried when she saw him standing on the porch.

“Hello, ladies,” he grinned. I took the pie box from his hands – one of Heather’s, smart man – and gestured for him to come in. Annabelle hopped up and down excitedly while he removed his boots and stowed his messenger bag near the door.

“Do you want to color with me, Fox? Or see my room?” Annabelle twirled in a circle. “I have lots of dolls!”

I was about to save Fox from being subjected to what would likely be a three-hour tour of Annabelle’s bedroom, but the thought struck me that she’d never once asked Chase to play with her, much less show him her toys. Granted, he usually came over when she was already in bed, or getting ready at least, but Annabelle was an unusually perceptive little girl. Somehow, she could sense when someone was merely tolerating her presence rather than enjoying it.

“I’d love to,” Fox told her.

I watched Annabelle grab Fox’s hand and start to tug him down the short hallway. He glanced back at me with a shrug and a small smile, and I smiled back, shaking my head as I walked into the kitchen to stir the sauce. Every now and then I could hear Annabelle’s sweet, high voice piping up and Fox’s low chuckle at whatever she’d just said.

I was just about to call them in to eat when my phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, I saw that it was Chase.

We hadn’t spoken since the morning after I’d abruptly left the bar, when I'd told him I thought we should take a break. I knew he’d been in and out of town, but I hadn’t heard from him and I was fine with that. I didn’t stop to dwell on how hard it was to fit Chase into my life while Fox seemed to blend in seamlessly.

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe!” Chase’s voice sounded far away. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine,” I said absently, ladling sauce over the plates of spaghetti. Now without even that small spark of anticipatory excitement I used to get from hearing his voice, I could compartmentalize my feelings much more easily. Chase was firmly in the friend zone, while Fox pretty much monopolized the whole field.

“That’s good,” he said. “I’ve been super busy, you know, with work stuff. Sorry I haven’t called, but you know how it is.”

“No problem,” I said, shuttling the plates to the table. I grabbed the bottle of sparkling apple cider I’d picked up at the store and poured three glasses. Annabelle was crazy for fizzy juice, as she called it, and I was feeling festive.

“Okay, well, I just wanted to let you know I’ll be gone for another week, but maybe we can get together after that?”

An alarm bell went off in my head. Get together? Why? Did Chase not correctly remember our conversation from the other morning? I wasn’t sure what to say. “Um, maybe?”

“I miss you, Avery,” Chase admitted.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“You do?”

He laughed uncomfortably. “Well, yeah. Don’t you miss me?”

“Chase, we talked about this,” I started. “Remember? We decided to cool things off?”
And by cool off, I meant freeze into an unsalvageable glacier?
I sat down at the table, nervously wringing the dishtowel in my hands. I couldn’t believe this. It had taken all my courage to break it off with Chase and now he was acting like it had never happened.

“I know, babe, I know,” he said, and I felt relieved. My ease was short-lived when he continued. “But I don’t want to lose you. So when I get back into town, say you’ll see me. Just for dinner or something, okay?”

I thought of Fox, playing with Annabelle in her room, her happy giggles drifting out into the hallway. I thought of the day we’d had together, all of the moments when my heart soared and my fingers trembled. I thought of his voice and the look on his face when he promised me he wouldn’t be reckless on the motorcycle. And I had my answer.

“I don’t think so, Chase,” I said slowly. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “Don’t say no yet, Avery. Just think about it.”

“That’s probably not–”

“I’m not giving up,” he interjected. “I’ll call you when I get back.”

Now it was my turn to sigh. “My answer will be the same.”

“We’ll see,” Chase said, his vulnerability gone and usual cockiness firmly back in place. “Goodbye, Avery.”

He disconnected and I sat for a moment, processing the conversation. Fox cleared his throat behind me and I almost groaned. How long had he been there and what had he heard? When I spun around to face him, the look on his face answered both of my questions.

“Chase?” he asked casually.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I’m not sure what he wanted.” That was kind of true. I knew what Chase wanted, I just didn’t know why. There were plenty of other girls out there who would love to be Mrs. Chase Dempsey and host luncheons and plan charity fundraisers while popping out a football team of children and making sure their lipliner was always perfectly applied. He’d be much happier with one of them.

“I can guess,” Fox said dryly, and I laughed.

“It doesn’t matter,” I told him, taking the garlic bread out of the oven. Fox flicked open the childproof cabinet, selected a knife, and smoothly started slicing the bread. I looked around. “Where’s Annabelle?”

He finished with the bread and put it into the napkin-lined basket I offered. “Dressing for dinner.”

“Oh, Lord,” I laughed, and turned just in time to see Annabelle make her way into the kitchen decked out in full princess regalia. The child had really raided the dress-up box this evening, sporting her favorite pink tutu, green fairy wings, and a sparkling costume tiara. Her neck and wrists were completely covered with plastic necklaces and bracelets, as well as a collection of rings spinning on her little fingers. She reminded me of a tiny elderly woman, wearing all of her jewelry at once to a fancy gala event.

Annabelle was a spectacle, but Fox took it all in stride. “Let me pull out your chair for you, your highness.”

“Thank you,” she said seriously, settling herself into her booster and arranging her skirt. As soon as she spotted the sparkling cider, all sense of decorum vanished. “Fizzy juice!” she squealed.

“Eat some spaghetti first,” I warned her. “Don’t fill up on juice.”

She spread her napkin across her lap and picked up her fork. I put some salad on my plate and passed the bowl to Fox.

“What about me?” Annabelle asked.

“You want salad?” I asked her skeptically.

She watched Fox serve himself. “Yes. Is it magic?”

“Sure,” I replied, sneaking a glance at Fox. He was focused on his plate but I saw a hint of dimple.

Annabelle smiled as Fox scooped a bit of salad next to her noodles. “I love magic salad,” she said, taking a big bite. “Do you, Fox?”

“I do,” he said. His eyes darted to mine quickly and held. “It’s my favorite.”

Annabelle chattered on about magic and fairies and princesses while Fox and I just stared at each other across the table. My awkward conversation with Chase was long forgotten, burned out of existence by the heat in Fox’s eyes. No one had ever looked at me the way he did. And I was pretty sure no one else could. We were finding our way to each other, every day a little closer.

* * *

Two hours later Annabelle went protestingly off to bed, but not before she conned Fox into reading three bedtime stories to her and her dolls. The idea that he could not only accept my child but enjoy her was overwhelming. Part of me worried that she was growing too fond of him, getting too attached before I could navigate the reality of our relationship. There was more between us than some casual hand holding, but we hadn’t addressed it yet. I wondered when we would.

Fox and I settled on the living room couch with mugs of tea. I needed to sleep tonight, and while Fox could evidently drink pots of coffee at all hours, I couldn’t. I swirled my tea bag around, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he sipped.

“Can I ask you something?”

He raised an eyebrow at me over his cup. “Sure.”

“Did you consider other careers besides firefighting? Or did you always know exactly what you wanted?” I’d been thinking a lot about this lately as it applied to my own life, and since I wasn’t ready to answer it myself, I figured I’d ask Fox.

He thought for a moment before he replied. “I’ve always known I would be in public service. My brother and I both decided that when we were boys. Lucas took another path, but I followed through.”

“Was it what you wanted, though?” I persisted. Something in his voice seemed off.

“Sometimes what you want and what you should do aren’t the same thing.” He paused. “For me, being a firefighter and a medic was both.”

His words resonated with me. I felt like I was constantly stuck between what I had to do and what I wanted to do, with no reprieve. What I wanted was to pack up Annabelle and move out of this town tomorrow to somewhere I could breathe, somewhere I could look around and feel excited, like I had a real future. But what I had to do was wait it out, scrimp and save, and try to get a game plan in place that wouldn’t put us in jeopardy of not having a roof over our heads or food on the table.

What I wanted to do right now was toss my cup aside and jump into Fox’s arms and wrap my legs around his waist. What I wanted was to bury my hands in his thick blond hair, pull him to me and let him kiss me until we were breathless, or at least breathing the exact same air. I didn’t just want it, at times I was certain that I
needed
it.

But what I should do, and what I would do, is tread carefully until I was sure where I stood with him. What I should do is not get too attached to a man who had plans to head far away just as soon as he was completely well. Whenever that might be.

“What about the filmmaking? Just a hobby?” I heard myself ask the question, but my mind was still right in Fox’s lap with my hands in his hair and his hands… well, never mind.

He shrugged. “Mostly. My mom – did I ever tell you that my mother is an artist?”

“No,” I said. “That’s amazing. What’s her name?”

“She goes by her maiden name for exhibits. Savannah Miller,” he said, and I gaped.

“Savannah Miller is your mother?” I couldn’t believe it. How had this never shown up in any of my internet searches? His mom was honestly famous. Few living artists were household names, and Savannah Miller’s landscapes set her apart from the rest. Her artist’s eye spanned the country, from beautiful renderings of West Coast beach coves to rolling Kentucky bluegrass plains. My parents even had a print of one of her Texas scenes in the great room at the ranch house.

“Yes. You know of her?” Fox seemed pleased.

“Um, I don’t live under a rock.” I shook my head. “Savannah Miller.”

“Right. So, my mother encouraged anything artistic, anything out of the box. She sometimes felt like my father pushed his service agenda on us too much.” Fox got that faraway look in his eyes again, and I watched as he absentmindedly rubbed the thigh of his injured leg.

“How did you feel about it?” I asked softly.

“The General means well,” he said in a neutral voice.

“The General? You call your dad ‘the General’?” I laughed.

Fox’s lips twisted wryly. “Lucas and I do, yeah.”

“What about your mom?”

“Never.” His grin was short and quick, but I caught it. “She outranks everyone.”

I smirked. “I’ll bet.”

“I paired Environmental Studies with Computer Science and Engineering for a double major at UCLA. I learned a few video editing tricks and it went from there. From our Hotshot bases, I’d send clips home if I couldn’t call.” Fox smoothed a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. Somehow the mood had shifted to slightly melancholy, and I wasn’t sure why.