He searched her face, seeking any sign of uncertainty or resentment at the sacrifice such an arrangement required. Saw none.
Still . . . Hope Harbor was about as far from the exciting, sophisticated world she’d occupied as a person could get.
“Do you really think you could be happy here, after all the glamorous places you’ve traveled? After calling New York home?”
“Living here for a few months will help me determine that. But I can tell you this. Glamor is overrated—and it doesn’t take the place of having someone to love. I wasn’t ready to admit that earlier in my life, nor trade in my career ambitions for small-town living and romance. Now, both have a definite appeal—and I’m beginning to suspect that’s why God brought us together at this stage of my life. He saved the best for last, if you will.”
Warmth filled him, as potent and heady as a perfect summer day in Hope Harbor. “You may want to reserve judgment on that.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary—but we can revisit this in a few months . . . if you want me to stay. And you don’t have to give me an answer today. I’ll be around another week or two. Zach hasn’t threatened to send me packing yet.” Her lips curved up.
His gaze homed in on them—and his pulse shifted into high gear. She had beautiful lips. Soft . . . supple . . . welcoming.
Tempting.
Don’t be a fool, Frank. Tell her to stay. God sent a woman into your life who’s put a lilt in your voice and a spring in your step. If you let her get away, you should have your head examined.
Smart advice.
It was time to tuck his treasured memories of Jo Ann into the corner of his heart that would always be hers, banish fear, and take another chance on love.
Because, to use Charley’s earlier analogy, he was running on fumes—and a high-octane dose of Stephanie Garrett was exactly what he needed to rev his engine.
He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand and looked straight into her eyes. “I can give you my answer now. Stay.”
A soft flush crept over her cheeks. “Done.”
“I have to warn you, though—my dating skills are beyond rusty . . . and I’m not certain they were all that hot to begin with.”
She offered him a wry smile. “Trust me, they’re more polished than mine. I was always more interested in spreadsheets than smooches.”
A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “What do you say we work on polishing our skills together?”
“I like that plan.”
“Are you certain you don’t mind paying two rents for a few months? That’ll be a big expense.”
“I view it as an investment. One I have a feeling will pay off handsomely.” Her mouth bowed. “There’s a compliment in there, in case you missed it.”
“Thank you for that. And I agree about the investment. I can’t see much downside to giving this a go—and the upside potential is impressive.”
“Upside potential.” She gave a soft chuckle. “That sounds like something one of my clients—or my boss—would have said.”
“I don’t feel like either.” He scooted closer. “What do you say we forget spreadsheets and focus on smooches?”
“I’m in.”
“Then let’s try this on for size.”
He leaned close . . . closer . . . until his lips touched hers. Tentative. Careful. Exploratory.
But she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, responding without reservation.
Maybe he didn’t have to take this slow and easy.
He pulled her tight against his chest—and in the seconds before he deepened the kiss and the world faded away, he gave thanks.
For while he enjoyed his new life in Hope Harbor and had found a measure of peace and contentment he’d never expected to experience again without Jo Ann by his side, it had been difficult to shake the loneliness.
That seemed poised to change.
It was possible, of course, that the journey he and Stephanie had embarked on today wouldn’t end as he hoped.
But if he was a betting man, he’d wager such worry was unfounded—and that his tomorrows with this woman would be filled with deep contentment . . . and grand adventures he could never have imagined in his wildest dreams.
23
Where was his father?
Heart stumbling, Zach tightened his grip on the venti Americano and scanned the empty bed in the hospital room early on Wednesday morning.
He strode over to the bathroom door, open a mere crack. “Dad?”
No response.
Now what?
He tried to shake the fuzziness from his brain, still sluggish despite a solid eight hours of sleep.
The nurses’ station. Someone there would know what was going on.
He swiveled toward the door.
His father stood on the threshold, an aide by his side.
“You look more human today.” His dad inspected him. “That bad-boy scruff didn’t suit you.”
It took him several seconds to find his voice.
“You’re okay.” The words scratched past his windpipe.
“Of course I’m okay.” His father gave a dismissive wave. “I told everyone I’d sail through this, and I did. Is that your breakfast?” He motioned toward the cup.
“No. I had an egg and sausage biscuit too.”
“My breakfast should be here soon—solid food, right?” He aimed the question at the aide.
“Yes. The doctor authorized a regular diet.”
“Thank the Lord. After all those liquids yesterday, I was ready to float away. Let’s sit.” He indicated two chairs by the window.
The aide stayed close as he walked over. After helping him settle into the chair, she left.
“Have a seat.” His father tapped the adjacent chair.
Zach dropped into it. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than I expected. I assumed I’d recover fast, but I’ve surprised even myself. At this rate, I may be able to go back to work much sooner than I anticipated.”
“Don’t rush it, Dad. The firm has sufficient people to pick up the slack while you recuperate.”
“Unlike your shop.”
“I’m covered through tomorrow—and I can stay longer if necessary. Frank and Bren are always willing to work extra shifts if necessary.”
“It won’t be. After you left yesterday, I talked with the woman who coordinates home health care. I’ll be fine at the house once they spring me, and they’re watching me like a hawk here. You have a business to run. You should get back to it.”
His father had referred to his shop as a business.
That was progress.
“I have tentative reservations for tomorrow.”
“Go today.”
Uh-oh.
That didn’t sound like progress.
“Trying to get rid of me?” He forced up the corners of his mouth.
“No.” His father linked his fingers together and looked down at his hands. “I’ve been thinking about what you said Sunday night. Actually, I’ve been thinking about it for months. You and Stephanie are all the family I have left—and much as I love my sister, there’s been a hole in my life since you and I had our falling-out. I may not agree with all of the choices you’ve made, but it’s your life—not mine. I’d like to put aside our differences, see if we can’t get back to where we used to be. Or as close as possible, given our history.”