about tonight was sleep.
He turned back to the door, lifted the clawed knocker and slammed it down. Then he leaned his forearm against the doorjamb to wait.
The sharp rap on the door jerked Erin’s heart to a halt. For several long seconds she clutched her napkin, unable to move, unable to think.
“That must be Wade,” Lottie said cheerfully. “I’ll get it.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” Her heart suddenly hammering, she scraped back her chair and rose from the kitchen table. “I’ll let him in. I’ll need to show him the room, make sure he knows where the towels are, explain the meals…”
She was rambling. Avoiding Lottie’s perceptive gaze, she set her napkin beside her plate and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “I’ll be right back, Grandma.”
She exited the kitchen and walked quickly down the hall to the foyer, her heart drumming louder than her footsteps on the wood floor. This was silly, she told herself firmly. She could act normal for the short time he was here. After all, he had nothing to do with her life anymore.
Summoning an image of herself as calm, friendly neighbor, she took a deep breath and opened the door. Her breath jammed in her throat.
Wade dominated the doorway, one leather-clad forearm braced on the frame, the other hand propped on his hip. He was taller than she remembered, broader through the shoulders and chest, and far more muscular than he’d been as a teen. But his short, shaggy hair was the same chestnut-brown, along with the stubble that lined his hard jaw.
Her gaze collided with those familiar, whiskey-colored eyes and her pulse fluttered madly. They were the eyes of a man who’d expected nothing from the world and gotten less. Bleak, cynical eyes set in a face etched with pain and exhaustion.
She swallowed hard. “Wade.”
“Erin.” His deep voice raised chills along her arms and brought back a rush of sensation. That hot, pulsing night at the river. Whispered words and shocking pleasure. The devastating sound of goodbye.
His gaze stayed on hers for a moment, then dipped and traveled the length of her. Her pulse tripped and for a wild second she wished she’d changed into something more appealing. But she’d kept on her faded jeans and sweatshirt to convince herself Wade didn’t matter.
His eyes met hers again as the cold wind whipped through the door. He looked tougher than before, stronger. Her gaze lingered on the lean cheeks and hard jaw beneath the stubble, his tanned and sinewed neck. The lanky, sexy boy she’d loved had become an outrageously appealing man.
He tilted his head. “Norm said something about a room?”
“Oh, of course.” Her face warmed. “I’m sorry. It’s just such a surprise to see you that I… Come in.” Silently berating herself for gawking like the lovestruck girl she’d once been, she moved back to let him pass.
He straightened and stepped through the door and she pushed it shut behind him. While his gaze swept the foyer, she rushed to fill the silence. “You’re my first guest, so you’ll have to excuse me if I seem a bit flustered.”
His gaze narrowed on hers. “You still live here?”
“Of course. I always intended to stay.” Did that sound too accusing? Her face warmed even more. “Besides, after I started teaching, there wasn’t any point in moving. I mean, where else would I live in Millstown? And then after the accident…”
Noting the weary set to his shoulders, she stopped. A surge of remorse flooded through her. Here she was rambling on about herself when he was clearly exhausted.
And suffering. Norm meant everything to Wade. He’d endured a childhood filled with death and rejection, especially when his father went to prison. Norm was one of the few who’d cared about the abandoned boy. She had been another.
“Listen, Wade. I’m really sorry about Norm.” She reached out to touch his arm but the hard set of his jaw warned her off. She dropped her hand to her side.
Wade had never wanted her sympathy, never even allowed her close—except for that night at the river. But if the boy had been adept at hiding emotions, this man had become an expert.
“I’ll need you to sign the register,” she said, taking refuge in a safer topic. She crossed the foyer to the hutch, opened a drawer and pulled out a clipboard and pen. “You can pay by the night or the week, which is a little cheaper. Breakfast is included with the room, but you can have full board if you want, although truthfully, lunch is just leftovers or sandwiches since I’m gone during the day.”
When he strode toward her, she noticed his limp. No surprise there. Anyone who made a living jumping out of airplanes was bound to get injured. And Wade always had taken more risks than most.
He reached for the clipboard and she saw scars on his hands. “The rates are at the bottom,” she said as he scanned it. “But you get a ten percent discount since you’re a friend.”
“I don’t care about the cost.” He scribbled his name on the paper and handed it back.
“Fine.” She set the clipboard back in the drawer. “The kitchen is just down the hall.” Of course, he would remember that. “We’re eating now. If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to join us.”
“No, thanks. I’d rather sleep.”
She nodded and started up the curving staircase. “Well, if you get hungry later, help yourself to any leftovers you find in the fridge. You can heat them up in the microwave. My grandmother sleeps in the room off the kitchen, but she doesn’t hear well anymore, so don’t worry about bothering her. I’m up here, just down the hall from you.”
She glanced back to make sure he was following. Despite the limp, he climbed the stairs quickly and she was struck again by his strength. She’d never quite believed Norm’s renditions of Wade’s smokejumping escapades—lugging a hundred-pound pack over steep mountains, carrying an injured buddy to safety. But judging by the width of those shoulders, she fully believed Norm now.
At the landing she crossed to the master bedroom, then waited inside for him to catch up. She’d always loved this room with its original, random-width flooring, the gorgeous fireplace mantel and bay windows overlooking the river.
But Wade wasn’t here to admire the scenery.
He dropped his bag on the braided rug, pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it on the bed. Her gaze traveled from his heavily corded arms to his flat stomach, up his wide, muscled chest to his face. When he pinched the space between his eyebrows, her heart rolled. The man was clearly exhausted.
“The bathroom’s straight through there.” She pointed past the armoire. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
When he didn’t answer, she turned to leave. She grabbed the door to close it behind her, hesitated and glanced back. “I might not be here when you get up in the morning, so help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen. The coffee should be on. I usually leave the front door unlocked since Lottie’s here with Grandma, but I’ll set an extra key for you on the hutch.”
She shut the door behind her and walked to the stairs, then stopped and clutched the railing. Her pulse heaved in her ears. Her knees
