Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)(27)

“How come you never answered my letters?” They walked past a display of seed-filled pillows that could be heated in the microwave and placed on sore muscles. “You probably need one of those.”

He glanced over and smiled. “Or twenty. Depending on the workout.”

She had a brief image of massaging him, her hands moving against his warm skin. Her fingers tightened reflexively on the cup she held as the imaginary Isabel bent down to kiss a shoulder.

What on earth? Fantasizing about Ford? Sexually? It would be one thing if she was picturing them out to dinner or walking on a beach, but touching? Maybe she’d been out in the sun too long.

She jerked her mind back to the present and retraced their conversational footsteps. But Ford got there before her.

“At first it was because you were a kid and Maeve’s sister. I was over her, but pouting. I thought if I answered, you’d both think it was because I was trying to get her back.”

“I would have assumed you were madly in love with me,” she said with a smile. “Or at least hoped.”

“You were jailbait.”

“Right. Because that was the only thing keeping us apart.”

“You did okay without me.”

“I had some disastrous relationships.”

“That first prom didn’t go well, but I’m proud of how you handled yourself.”

“Kicking Warren in his you-know-what? It made him throw up.”

“It wasn’t the kick—it was the alcohol. And he deserved it.”

“It wasn’t a great night,” she admitted. “And Billy wasn’t smart, either.”

“You had a great time with Billy. You got highlights.”

She stopped walking and faced him. “Seriously, you remember my hair?”

He grinned. “I didn’t know what highlights were. I had to ask around. Then you sent a picture and I saw what you meant.” He removed his sunglasses. “I liked the pictures. Watching you grow up.”

“It was dorky to send them.” She wrinkled her nose. “When you didn’t answer, I nearly stopped writing. But it was almost like a diary. I figured if you wanted me to stop, you’d tell me. Or that you were throwing out the letters and what did you care if you got a couple more?”

“I didn’t throw them out.”

“It can’t have been interesting. I was such a girl.”

“The paragraphs about nail polish colors were kind of long.”

She grimaced. “I feel like I have to keep apologizing.”

“Don’t.” He shook his head. “Things happened while I was gone. I had to go to hard places and deal with tough situations. You kept me grounded. You made me laugh and sometimes you got me through very long nights. You have nothing to feel bad about, Isabel.”

His voice was so gentle, she thought, swaying toward him. “Do you ever talk about it? What you did and saw, I mean?”

“No. I was debriefed. It’s enough.”

How could it be? “Do you have a group or something? A place where you talk?”

“Do I look like a guy who talks about his feelings?”

“You probably should. Or you could get a therapy dog. I’ve read about them. Oh! Your sister raises them.”

He leaned his head back and laughed. A full-throated belly laugh that made her both smile and want to punch him.

“I’m being serious,” she told him, when he’d stopped chuckling.

“I know.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “I don’t need a therapy dog.”

“I’m just saying if you need support, you should get it.”

“I already did.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but before she could ask, they were walking again.

“You really going to be able to leave all this?” he asked, motioning to everything going on around them.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She drew in a breath. “Don’t tell anyone, but I sort of am liking living here. I’m not staying, of course. My new business is going to be in New York. Sonia and I have plans. But this has been nice. I’d forgotten what it was like to be this integrated into a community.”

“You won’t be here when Lauren gets married. You won’t get to see her in her dress.”

“I know.”

Her voice was wistful as she thought about the “memory wall” in the office. Another tradition of her grandmother’s. Each bride brought back a picture. Some were of just her on her wedding day; some were the bride and groom or the whole wedding party. The photographs filled one entire wall and were now creeping onto another. She wouldn’t be adding to them, nor could she be sure the new owner would continue the tradition.

“I’ll make new memories in my new store. What about you? Except for your mother’s desire to get you paired up, how is it being back?”

“Good. I like being around my family.” He shrugged. “Mostly. My sisters can be intense. Except for Kent and me, everyone’s married. Mom’s with Max.”

“That’s right. The new guy. Have you met him?”

“A couple times. He’s crazy about her and seems like a good guy. I’m glad she’s happy. She’s bugging me for grandchildren.”

Isabel came to a stop and the cup nearly slipped from her hands. “You’re not expecting us to—”