Page 21 of No Kind of Hero
Dakota asked, “Does Beth have anything to do with why you need a babysitter, by any chance? She called me today to ask if I knew where you were, and she didn’t seem to have a good reason why. Did she find you? If she did and that’s why you need a babysitter, I’m doing my happy dance.”
Evan opened his mouth to say, “My business,” then thought better of it. What was he thinking? Wednesday was only three days away, and he devoutly hoped he’d be needing a babysitter more than a few more times in the coming weeks.
“Maybe,” he said instead, which was putting it out there enough as far as he was concerned.
“Oh, yeah,” Dakota said. “That’s what I’m talking about. Happy dance for sure.”
“Don’t get excited. She’s only here for a little while.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what they all say. IknewI was right to leave you guys alone. I wasn’t sure when Beth came back into the Yacht Club looking so upset, but I was still right, wasn’t I?”
“Yeah, well, you can just put the brakes on,” Evan said. “Just because your love life worked out all perfect, that doesn’t mean mine’s going to. It hasn’t exactly done it so far.”
“Because you picked the wrong woman.” Of course Dakota had to say that. “Remember how you warned me that Blake was no good for me, that he was going to dump me and leave? Ha. And ha again. I wouldn’t say you’re the best judge. Not exactly the Love Doctor. How about going with the flow? Or here’s a wild and crazy thought. How about going for it with everything you’ve got? If you want it, go get it. And you want Beth.”
Dakota was getting carried away, as usual. He said, “Whoa. Guys don’t necessarily want what women want.” Which made him feel like a jerk, but the last thing he needed was Dakota asking him probing-yet-sensitive questions for the next month.
“Yeah, right,” she said, not one bit quashed. “You’re just in it for a quick thrill and see you later. Are you forgetting that I actually know you?”
He couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he didn’t say anything, and after a minute, she said, “If you want a babysitter after we come back, call me. You know nobody cheers Russ up like Gracie.”
“I won’t ask for much,” he said. “You’re doing your glass.”
“I can watch her at night,” she said. “All night long, in fact.”
“Yeah, Blake will be signing up for that.” It sounded too tempting, and it was a whole lot to expect. “She still wakes up a couple times at night.”
“Evan.” She sighed. “Do you realize how much I owe you?”
“No.” The thought made him itchy. “You don’t owe me a thing. What did I do?”
“How about just about everything, from age fifteen on up to now? It’s not a sin to need people, you know, or to ask a favor. I can watch Gracie overnight, and I’d love to do it. Now shut up and go get happy, and make Beth happy too, would you? I don’t think she likes her job. I don’t think she likes herlife.”
So Evan did it. He did his best, anyway. Beth climbed up into the old Ford van beside him, went with him to the paint store, listened to his vision, then did a little dancing in place and said, “Ooh. Ooh. Maxfield Parrish look. Oh, Evan. That’s so great. Here. I’ll show you.”
She did, and he stood close to her, looked at the serene, romantic pictures she scrolled through, smelled the flower scent of her hair and that faint hint of vanilla, and fought to keep it together.
“Pale blue and cream,” he said. “Overall background. And then all that peacock. Blue and gold. Like this, see?” He arranged his fan deck and the pictures he’d taken of the theater to show her.
She smiled at him, forgetting to be careful or sexy or anything but herself, and said, “It’s going to be so beautiful, Evan. You’re going to be famous.”
He had to laugh, which made Gracie smile and hide her face in his neck, which made Beth smile some more too. “I’m not going to be famous,” he said. “I’m a painter. And not the right kind.”
“Famous in a small town,” she said. “That totally counts.”
So no, he didn’t get to take her to bed, but it wasn’t a horrible day. He made a tentative date with her for Wednesday night, way too far away but as good as he could get, because his mother had a weekly calendar that would put a butterfly to shame. And then Beth said, when they were back in the van and he’d pulled up behind her car and had to say goodbye, “I could come help you paint tomorrow for a few hours. Like before. Have I ever told you how much I loved doing that?”
He unfastened his seatbelt, reached over, and touched her cheek again, still smooth as porcelain, and said, “Have I ever told you how much I loved having you there?”
“No,” she said. “You haven’t.” Her eyes had gone soft, and he could swear her breath was coming faster. Just from his hand on her face.
“Well, I’m telling you now,” he said, looking into those blue eyes. And then he kissed her again, fell into that soft mouth, and wanted to stay. She put her hand at the back of his neck, and he fell a little bit deeper. He kept on kissing her until Gracie started yammering and his mouth had to leave Beth’s, when all he wanted to do was take off her clothes, lay her down, and love her right.
When he left her mouth, though, he didn’t go far. He flat couldn’t. He rested his forehead against hers and smiled, and she smiled back, a little shakiness about it, and said, “We’re supposed to anticipate this, I guess, just like before. That’s probably better.”
“Nope,” he said, giving her one last kiss and pulling back from her with a major effort. “It isn’t. But you’re right that it’s just like before. When you about killed me.”
And if it ended up half as good as before, it was going to mess him up like crazy when she walked out again. Except that this time, he’d be prepared.
