Christmas Homecoming Page 2

Beau smiled ruefully. “Thanks, sis. Some days I need a cheerleader.”

  “Whatever you say. Just be realistic, okay? What other choice do you have?”

  Although he tried to think of another solution, Gwen was right. Doris was his only option. “Go,” he said as he checked to make sure he’d turned off the stove. “Eat cake. Open presents. Have a great time. I’ll call Doris and grovel.”

  “Don’t grovel. Just ask.”

  “Right. I’ll ask.” He disconnected a few seconds later, but even with the minutes racing past, he couldn’t make himself pick up the phone again. He didn’t think Doris would turn him down, but asking a favor of her so soon sure felt like he was losing ground.

  Beau had never learned how to admit defeat easily—not on the football field in high school, not in his marriage, not in any aspect of his life. Only the balance in his checking account got him to dial Doris’s phone number. Only the certain knowledge that Doris adored the kids, and the hope that a visit with her might even soften Brianne’s mood, kept him from hanging up when she answered.

  “Hey, Doris. It’s Beau. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

  He sensed a slight tensing on the other end, but that might have been his imagination. “Well, Beau. This is a surprise. What do you need?”

  Nope. Not his imagination at all. He kept a smile on his face and hoped it would carry through to his voice. Anything to take the chill off Doris’s tone. “I’m in a bind,” he forced himself to admit. “I’m calling to ask a favor. If you don’t want to or if you have other plans, just say so. I’ll understand complete—”

  “You need help with the children?”

  “Just for this afternoon. I have a charter. Gwen was going to pick them up for me, but she forgot a family obligation.”

  “And you need me.”

  If the warm sun hadn’t been streaming through the dirt on his window, he’d have sworn he’d stepped into one of Wyoming’s famous January freezes. “It would help a lot if you could get the kids from school. Brianne has karate and Nicky has soccer—”

  “I remember their schedules. It hasn’t been that long.”

  “Of course you do.” Beau concentrated on keeping his tone even. “If you don’t mind, I’ll pick them up from your house about five.”

  “You don’t want me to take them to your house?”

  And see everything he hadn’t done? Not a chance. “No. Thanks. I don’t want to impose, and I’m sure you already have plans around home.” He kept talking so she couldn’t disagree with him. “I won’t be late. You don’t even have to worry about giving them supper. I’ll be home in plenty of time for that.” Even if it was just fast food from the Burger Shack.

  “I see.”

  She sounded so much like Heather, Beau closed his eyes and reminded himself why he was calling Doris in the first place. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but it would really help me out.”

  “It’s not a lot to ask,” Doris said firmly. “That’s the whole point. I’m glad to do whatever those children need—and we all know, they need plenty. It just seems wrong to me, having to schedule time to spend with them. I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn when it’s obvious you can’t handle them on your own.”

  “I can handle them. I’m just in a bind this afternoon, that’s all.” He could feel his irritation rising, so he took a couple of deep breaths and watched the neighbors across the street drive away to start their day. “I need a favor,” he said when he could trust himself to speak, “but I’m not going to argue with you. It’s time for me to get back on my feet, but that doesn’t mean you and the kids can’t spend time together. It’s not as if I’m trying to separate you from them.”

  “Well, it sure feels like it.” She sighed heavily and he could almost see the scowl on her face. “Is it all right if I give them an after-school snack?”

  When had that ever been an issue? She really was trying to make this difficult. Beau closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “You can give them an afternoon snack,” he said. “You can let them watch TV if they don’t have schoolwork, just like always. I’ll be home by five.” And then, because he didn’t have the patience or the energy for more, he added, “Thanks a lot, Doris. If you need to reach me, I’ll have my cell phone on when it won’t interfere with the instruments. If I don’t answer, leave a message and I’ll get right back to you.”

  Before she could argue, he disconnected, letting out a groan that would have frightened small children and animals if there’d been any around. He really had to get his life under control.

  He knew he could do it. Like training for football season or learning how to fly. He’d keep distractions to a minimum and focus on the goal. It had worked for him before. He’d just have to make it work again.

  MOLLY SHEPHERD absently tapped her fingernails on the rental-car counter at the Jackson airport while she waited for the clerk to locate her reservation on the computer. She was just two hours away now. One hundred and twenty minutes, give or take a few, before she drove into Serenity for the first time since her mother’s death. Yet again, she wondered if coming back was a mistake. But after spending most of the day on an airplane, and a significant chunk of money to get here, it was a little late to be having second thoughts.

  A soothing feminine voice paged passengers over the public-address system. Soft music underscored the noise of the crowd and should have calmed the nervous energy Molly felt, but every sound only added to the tension in her neck and shoulders.

  The card announcing Serenity’s Homecoming Week Gala had reached her mailbox at a vulnerable time. One year after her divorce from Ethan, six months after her father’s funeral, one month after being downsized out of the job she’d held for five years with a graphic-design firm. For weeks she’d been at loose ends, searching for some way to tie those ends together again. When the invitation arrived, she’d jumped first and saved questions for later.

  The man behind her bumped into the trolley holding her luggage. She wheeled it out of his way and glanced out the window at the towering Teton Mountains that created the valley known as Jackson Hole. The rugged peaks already wore a cap of snow, though it was only the first of October. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to come back to Wyoming before now, just that there had never been a real opportunity. Her father hadn’t wanted to return, and Ethan had never been interested in her past. Neither of the men in her life had understood how much the missing pieces of her memory bothered her.

  The young man behind the counter clicked his fingers over the keyboard and glanced at her. “We’re out of compacts. Midsize okay with you? It’ll be the same price.”

  “Midsize is fine.” She forced a smile and tried to shake off her uncertainty. So what if it had been fifteen years since she’d seen or heard from any of her old school friends? So what if she couldn’t remember most of her senior year? There were things and people she could remember. Most important, she had a chance to find answers to questions that had been haunting her for years.

  “Do you want insurance?”

  “No,” she said, making a conscious effort to stop worrying. “Thank you.”

  “Are you sure?” A concerned smile quivered across the young man’s lips. “You’re taking quite a risk. You want to make sure you’re fully covered.”

  Driving without extra insurance felt like a minor risk compared with the others she was taking. “I’m quite sure. Thank you.”

  “Will there be any other drivers besides yourself?”

  “No.”

  “And you want unlimited mileage?”

  “Yes, please.” Maybe she’d do some sightseeing while she was here. The butterflies in her stomach made another round, and her hands felt clammy. She silently chanted the mantra she’d been reciting all day. It didn’t matter if none of her classmates remembered her. It didn’t even matter if she spent the entire Homecoming Week alone. She had to take advantage of this opportunity, or she’d regret it the rest of her life.

  “You wa
nt the car for how long?” the young man asked without looking away from his screen.

  “Two weeks, maybe less. I don’t know for sure.”

  “You don’t want the weekly rate?”

  He seemed confused, but she didn’t want to elaborate. “The weekly rate is fine,” she said firmly. “I’ll bring it back on the seventeenth.”

  “Of October.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure? I can recalculate using the daily rate if you need me to.”

  The man behind Molly groaned in protest at the delay and she felt a prickle of nervousness. She hated imposing, even on a stranger. “I’m quite sure. Two weeks is perfect. No early return.”

  The man behind the counter typed a bit more, and Molly turned to glance at the crowd. She became aware of a deep male voice edged with tension coming from the corridor behind her. A heartbeat later, she identified the speaker as a tall blond man wearing jeans and a sage-colored shirt. He maneuvered through the passengers crowding the baggage-claim turnstiles as he set a steady course toward the car-rental area.

  “Excuse me.” He turned sideways to sidle past a young mother with three children and came up short behind a hefty woman weighted down by several bulging bags. Annoyance pinched his face, and it was easy to see that he was having to work to hang on to his patience. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Would you mind…?”

  Molly started to turn away, but something compelled her to look back at him across the crowded area. Maybe she was imagining things, but the voice, the face, even the way he moved seemed hauntingly familiar.

  Did she really know him, or was she just jumping to that conclusion now that she was back in Wyoming?

  “Okay. I think we’re set.” The clerk tapped the counter to get her attention. “Here are your keys, and here’s your contract. You’ll need to keep the contract in your glove box at all times…”

  Nodding absently, Molly took another look at the man who towered over most of the people around him. Broad shoulders, narrow hips. The muscular legs of an athlete. He put his hands on an elderly woman’s shoulders as he slipped behind her, then pivoted toward the rental counter.

  Molly’s gaze flew to his face again and the niggling feeling that she knew him took form. This time she was certain it wasn’t her imagination. In fact, she couldn’t decide why she’d even wondered. His was a face she’d never forgotten, not even for a second.

  Beau Julander. High-school jock, senior-class president, every teacher’s favorite student, every girl’s dream. He was hands down the hottest guy Molly had ever seen in her life—and that list included Ethan when she’d been in love with him.

  Her heart raced and her stomach knotted uncomfortably. Fifteen years dropped away as if they’d never been, and she felt young and foolish and hopelessly self-conscious, just like the last time she remembered being in Serenity.

  She whirled back toward the clerk and pretended to pay attention to his final instructions as Beau came to a stop at the end of the line. When she tried to swallow, her throat was parched and her mouth dry. She resisted the urge to look back at him and nodded in all the right places as the clerk talked. But even without turning around, Molly was all too aware of Beau.

  Time had been good to him. No surprise there. He’d always led a charmed life. He was still tall and solidly muscled, still better-looking than any man had a right to be. She touched one hand to her cheek, then realized how silly she was acting and gave herself a stern mental shake.

  So he was Beau Julander. So what? He probably wouldn’t even remember her.

  She stole one last peek at him. Yes, of course, she’d expected to see him at Homecoming. Homecoming probably couldn’t take place without Beau Julander there. But she hadn’t expected to see him so soon. Not when she looked as if she’d been sleeping in her clothes. Not when her breath reeked of garlic from lunch on the airplane.

  And most important, not alone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  TRYING DESPERATELY to pull herself together, Molly tucked her credit card into her pocket and turned slowly toward the end of the line. She glanced at the wrinkled linen pantsuit she’d been wearing since early morning, and the blouse that bore faint traces of spilled coffee from her early flight.

  “Is there anything else, Ms. Shepherd?”

  Molly shook her head at the clerk, apologized to the annoyed man whose path she was blocking and stepped away from the counter. Clutching her purse like a security blanket, she was aware of Beau shifting his weight impatiently from one foot to the other.

  Hands propped on his hips, he scowled at the world for having the nerve to keep him waiting. He’d always been Serenity’s golden boy, so Molly shouldn’t be surprised to discover that he’d grown into the kind of man who thought the world should stand still for him.

  She lifted her chin and started back down the long line, dragging her luggage behind her on the rented cart, which suddenly developed steering problems and a hideous squeak in one wheel. But all the determination in the world couldn’t keep her from seeking him out once more as she passed.

  Like everyone else in line, he was watching her struggle with the cart, but as his gaze settled on her face, recognition flickered in his eyes. Certain her heart had stopped beating, Molly looked away and willed herself not to trip or do anything else clumsy and embarrassing.

  “Excuse me.” His voice sounded startlingly close to her ear and a hand landed on her shoulder.

  She jumped and whipped around quickly. If she’d been wearing heels, she would have twisted an ankle. In flats she teetered just a little and did her best to hide her nervousness. “Yes?”

  “Don’t I know you?”

  Molly’s heart thumped against her rib cage, but she managed, somehow, to sound almost normal when she responded. “I don’t know. Do you?” Okay. It was a lie. But she was not going to make him think she’d been dewy-eyed over him all this time. Bad enough that he’d once suspected how she felt.

  “Yeah. I do know you. Aren’t you…didn’t you go to Serenity High School?”

  “Yes, I did.” She almost left it at that, but she was thirty-three, not sixteen, so she smiled and held out a hand. “Molly Shepherd. I was Molly Lane back then. But I’m sure you don’t—”

  “From Mr. Kagle’s ceramics class, right?” He took her hand and his lips curved into the grin that had nearly cost Molly a passing grade in Mr. Kagle’s class. “Beau Julander.”

  Molly nearly laughed at the idea of Beau introducing himself, but the feel of his hand around hers froze the sound in her throat. His eyes were still the most incredible shade of blue she’d ever seen. “Beau. Of course.” Her voice sounded tight and high, but she hoped he wouldn’t notice. “I remember you.”

  He let go of her and nodded toward the cart she was clinging to with her other hand. “You’re here for a visit?”

  As she loosened her death grip on the cart, Molly willed her heart to regulate its rhythm. “I came for Homecoming Week. I got an invitation…in the mail.”

  He grinned again. “Great. We dug around for a while, but we weren’t sure we’d actually found you.” His eyes narrowed. “You do know that Homecoming’s still a week away?”

  “I came early so I could take care of a few things.”

  “Terrific. So are you headed to Serenity now?”

  “I am.” She dangled the keys from one finger. “I was just renting a car…obviously.”

  Beau glanced impatiently toward the front of the line. “Yeah, me, too.”

  “Oh. Does that mean you don’t live in Serenity any longer?”

  “I’m still there. I live in my grandparents’ old house now, but you probably don’t remember it.”

  Not remember? When she’d spent countless afternoons strolling aimlessly beside the creek and along the dirt road hoping to “accidentally” run into him? She nodded without looking at him. “I think I do, actually. They had that big white farmhouse out on Old Post Road, didn’t they?”

  “That’s the one, but it’s
not a farm anymore. They sold off most of their land when my dad decided not to go into farming, and Hector Johnson’s kids sold his place after he died, so there are houses where many of the fields used to be.”

  “That’s too bad. I remember it being such a pretty place.”

  “It still is. We’re sitting on an acre, so neighbors aren’t under our noses.”

  “And you live there with your grandparents?”

  He shook his head. “They both passed away a few years ago. We were there with Grandma for the last six months of her life, but it’s just us now. As a matter of fact, I need to get back there in—” he checked his watch “—less than two hours. I should be flying there right now, but I ran into a slight malfunction in the plane and I can’t get a mechanic to look at it until tomorrow. My car’s back in Serenity, of course, so I’m stuck paying for a way home.”

  “You have your own airplane?” Of course he did. He was Beau Julander.

  “A small one,” he said, as if that somehow diminished the accomplishment. “Six seats. Twin-engine.” He checked the line’s progress once more and returned his attention to her slowly. “I fly charters.”

  Molly managed a weak smile, hoping he wouldn’t ask what she did for a living, then reminded herself that she was only temporarily unemployed. “That must be really interesting.”

  “It is when the airplane works. Not so interesting when the thing decides to ruin an already bad day.” He shrugged and shifted his weight, then looked at her intently. “You say you’re leaving for Serenity now?”

  “As soon as I get to the rental car.”

  “What would you say to taking me with you? I’ll split the cost of the car or I’ll buy you dinner, whatever you want. I have to pick up my kids by five, and if I stay in this line much longer, I’ll never make it.”

  The question caught her by surprise. “Well, I… The thing is… You have kids?”

  “Two.”

  The line inched forward again and he moved with it, but his gaze implored her to say yes.

  Molly couldn’t make herself agree yet. Two hours in a car with Beau? Alone? She couldn’t do it. Of course, children meant that he was probably married. Happily. Because what else would Beau Julander be? But two hours with him? In a car with no one to help with conversation?