Chapter Thirteen
D espite waiting for hours, Rye didn’t stop by the gallery, and between him failing to appear, and it being a excruciatingly slow day—just one person stopped in before leaving almost right away, muttering about the ridiculous prices on the painting—Josie couldn’t wait until she could just go home.
It was awful when there was no one to distract her and she didn’t know why the store was so empty and there seemed to be plenty of foot traffic, and all the parking spots on Main were full, but maybe it was just such a nice day that no one wanted to be inside looking at art.
The problem with being so alone was that she had far too much time on her hands to think, and today she couldn’t stop thinking, her thoughts continuously circling back to Bear, and their conversation in the kitchen.
She remembered the flare of heat in his eyes, but also the anger.
She remembered how he abruptly wheeled out saying under his breath, no one was that good.
She remembered his words—he was attracted to her but wouldn’t make a move.
Josie wanted to reach out to him and apologize for being so provocative earlier, but then stopped herself each time because she wasn’t truly sorry. She was glad she’d said what she said. She was glad she pressed the point. She’d wanted to know how things stood, and now she did. Even if it wasn’t the way she wanted things to be.
But what if she’d already pushed him too far? What if he was no longer comfortable having her around, in his house? What if he wanted her out?
Her heart fell at the thought, and stricken, she began cleaning in earnest, occupying her hands, if not her mind, by doing a deep clean, wiping down the baseboards, the impossible to reach corners of the floor, the edges of the gold frames, and then carefully dusting the rest.
Please don’t be upset with me , she said under her breath as she sorted through the receipts and business cards in the drawer beneath the computer. Don’t be mad at me, Bear. I need you.
Her eyes kept stinging and her hand shook ever so slightly as she sprayed a vinegar water mixture on the windows, polishing until they were streak free.
Josie wasn’t built for drama, or unrequited love.
She didn’t fall in love easily, and had only once been in love before, and that had been teenage love as a freshman in high school and he had been an upperclassman who didn’t even know she existed. Now here she was, nine years later, in love again.
Emotionally worn out, Josie carried the cleaning supplies behind the curtain and rinsed off her hands in the small sink. A delicate bell rang, alerting her that the front door had opened. Josie emerged from behind the curtain to find Bear entering the gallery.
The tears she’d been fighting all day filled her eyes and she fought to hold them back. “Hey. What’s going on?” she asked, smiling big, smiling hard, because she couldn’t possibly cry and smile at the same time and if he saw her crying everything might just get weirder.
“How has the day been?”
“Good,” she said, gesturing to the spotless but empty gallery. “I’ve been able to get caught up on cleaning and some organizing.”
“But no buyers?”
“Not today.”
“Want to get out for a bit? Could you close up for a half hour?” he asked.
Nothing sounded better but she wasn’t sure. “What if that’s when the next serious buyer arrives?”
“A serious buyer can wait a half hour. Put a sign in the window that says you’ll be back at five thirty, and I promise to have you back by then.”
Josie could use a breather and a reset. It had been a long day. Hastily, she scrawled C LOSED U NTIL 5:30 PM on a sheet of white paper, taped it on the inside of the front door, and locked up.
Outside, the temperature was warm enough that the late afternoon breeze felt particularly welcome. Just walking down Main Street felt good. She’d needed to stretch her legs and seeing Bear definitely lifted her spirits.
“Do we have a destination in mind or are we just walking?” she asked him, glancing at his profile.
“That new store across from the courthouse, the one you were so curious about this week, has opened. They just unveiled the sign today. Any idea what it is?”
She shook her head.
“Does a five-foot dancing ice cream cone help?”
“Ice cream shop?”
He nodded. “Tonight’s their grand opening, the doors opened at five, and I thought we should be one of the ones first in line. You do like ice cream, don’t you?”
“I love ice cream.” There were few things she loved more than ice cream—cones, sundaes, milkshakes. “And from what Cormac’s wife Whitney told me, there hasn’t been an ice cream shop here since Scoop closed after Covid.”
Bear had hoped they’d be one of the first in line at the new business, but as they approached the corner shop, a line stretched around the block, and down the street. “This might be longer than a half hour,” Josie said as they joined the line.
“Maybe not,” he answered. “Maybe they have a lot of servers working tonight. I imagine they would what with it being the grand opening.”
Many of the people in line were parents with strollers and excited kids, but there was also an equal number of adults without kids waiting for their turn. Fortunately, the dancing ice cream cone—a dancing strawberry ice cream cone—was doing her best to entertain the kids with tap dancing, a little comedy, and silly songs. Parents smiled indulgently, but Josie studied the exterior of Lily’s, charmed by the bold pink and white striped awning out front and the large old-fashioned, hand-painted sign reading Lily’s Ice Cream in pink, white, and gold in the window.
Josie loved to know as much about everything as she could and so she pulled out her phone and did a search for Lily’s Ice Cream Marietta, and discovered it was an original ice cream shop, founded by a fourth generation Montanan.
“Her great-great-grandfather arrived here from Germany via Chicago,” Josie read to Bear, “bringing with him his love of all things Christmas and sweet. A new emigrant, he was just twenty-three when he was hired to work in the kitchen at the newly opened Blackstone Hotel in downtown Chicago. It was at Blackstone that he learned how to make ice cream, which had become wildly popular, and when he moved to Montana a decade later, he continued to make ice cream for his friends and family.”
“Where are you finding all this information?” Bear asked.
Josie flashed her phone. “Her website.”
“She has a website up already?”
“Yes, and so should you. Even if it just says Coming Soon .”
“What good would that do anyone?”
“They’d know something was in the works, and it might help answer questions that people might have. People are curious what you’re doing with the Farrell Building.”
“Some people know. I’ve had a visit from the chamber of commerce already wanting me to join.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
The line inched forward, and Josie could finally get a peek inside the window. The interior was pink and white with a classic soda fountain on one wall. “How yummy,” she said. “I love it.”
“It’s very pink,” Bear said.
Josie arched an eyebrow. “Does pink scare you?”
“Of course not.”
“Is it a girl color?”
“ Josie. ”
She smiled mischievously. “Yes, dear?”
His eyes dropped to her mouth and lingered a moment, sending sparks of sensation through Josie’s middle.
Bear cleared his throat. “Never mind. Dear.”
The line did move quicker than Josie had expected and in less than ten minutes they were inside and discovering all the different flavors. Lily’s featured seventeen original flavors, all made in house, with some rotating for the different seasons. Tonight, Lily’s featured ice cream was a huckleberry cheesecake, with ribbons of thick huckleberry syrup, cream cheese and buttery graham cracker crust.
Josie tried the featured ice cream but then opted for a single scoop—which was still very large—of chocolate brownies and fudge ice cream—in one of Lily’s homemade sugar cones. It was delicious.
They slowly made their way back to the gallery, Bear’s ice cream in a cup between his knees, stopping periodically so Bear could take a bite.
They reached the gallery with five minutes to spare and stood outside to finish their ice cream. “This was a great idea,” Josie said. “Thank you.”
“I wanted to call you all day,” he answered. “But I didn’t know what to say. I never want to hurt your feelings and I know I did—”
“I’m to blame. I started it, and I shouldn’t have been so provocative. I put you in a weird position. I’m sorry.”
He used his paper napkin to reach up and swipe the corner of her mouth which turned out to have some extra ice cream. “You can’t take this personally,” he said quietly. “You’re an amazing woman. I respect you and admire you—”
“I’d rather you think I’m hot and impossible to resist.”
Bear grinned. “You are hot, and very hard to resist, but I do respect you, and I want the best for you.” His smile faded. “You mean a lot to me. You’ve made everything better. I don’t want to lose you, or your friendship.”
Josie maintained her smile even as she silently counted to five. “You won’t,” she said when she was certain she could keep her voice steady. “Friends for life.”
Bear waited until she’d unlocked the gallery door and taken down the paper sign to leave. Josie stood at one of the tall sparkling windows and watched him go, telling herself that being friends with him was better than nothing. But being friends with him also felt terrible sometimes. Kind of like now, when all she wanted was a hug, and maybe a kiss.
*
Much of the next week was spent at the Farrell Building. Framing was happening inside, bathroom and office walls going up, while holes were being cut in the ceiling for the five skylights that were supposed to arrive any day now.
Josie had spent a great deal of time researching flooring options for the huge space. Ceramic tiles were good for heavy electric chairs, but they were hard and bruising if one fell on them, and Bear’s clientele would probably take some falls. Nonslip vinyl was recommended for bathrooms, and Josie ordered samples of that, along with samples of rubber flooring for the facility itself.
She had the various materials laid out for Bear to look at and was just waiting for him to get off the phone. He finally hung up, but he wasn’t happy as he joined her in an area without construction.
“Bad news?” she asked, reading his expression.
“Skylights were supposed to be here tomorrow, but they’re missing.”
“Missing where? Missing how?”
He shrugged, his powerful shoulders rolling. “No one seems to know but everyone says they’re working on it, so we’ll see.” He turned his attention to the materials spread out on the floor. “What is that one?” he asked, pointing to a beige and white diamond pattern.
“It’s a nonslip vinyl.”
“I don’t like it. It looks like something in a hospital.”
“Probably because it’s good for wheelchairs.” She leaned over and pushed aside the beige and white pattern, revealing a cobalt blue vinyl. “You can do something really bold in here. You don’t have to do hospital beige.”
“I don’t think an all-blue floor would be appealing. And I’m not sure I’d like it with red brick.” He looked to see what else she had spread on the ground. “That looks like something in my old gym.”
“It’s rubber flooring, which is the preferred flooring in gyms.” She picked up a big square and handed it to him. “The material absorbs well, which is great for preventing falls, and you could do different color blocks, which would visually expand the space and make it more stylish, depending on the color patterns you choose.”
“I sense an objection.”
“Installation is time consuming, so your labor is expensive. It will smell rubbery in here for the first couple of months after installation.”
“Or years,” Bear muttered.
She nodded. “But on the plus side, rubber is good for ramps, and spaces that get wet. Come wintertime with rain and snow, your rubber floor will have better traction than other flooring materials.”
“Everyone that comes through those doors will be in a wheelchair, and they’ll be rolling through everything that’s on the ground—snow, mud, slush, gravel, dirt.”
“Which is why the rubber flooring would be a good choice, and you have quite a few solid colors to pick from.” She reached for a brochure and opened it, showing him the fifteen options. “I’d probably do a mix of colors, charcoal, capri blue, maybe pearl and one other color. Your entrance and path through the facility could be one color, and then you could highlight work out areas with two other colors. With the height of the ceiling, and the red brick, and sky lights having some visual interest on the floor—in my mind—would look best and keep the facility from looking institutional.”
Bear shuddered. “God only knows I’ve had enough of that.”
“And everyone else that comes here to work out.” Josie folded the brochure. “Have you thought about a catchy name for your business? I struggle to explain what you’re doing when I talk to people. Facility sounds like you sort mail and gym makes me think of guys and girls flexing in front of a mirror and taking selfies in between sets.”
“I know. I’m leaning toward spinal cord injured people might recognize—Training Facility for SC Injuries, or Exo Gym for SC Injuries. I don’t like any of them but I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
Sixty minutes later, they were done meeting with Rye and his various contractors. Bear and Josie left the Farrell Building, stepping out into the late afternoon light and sighing at the quiet.
“That was noisy in there,” she said.
“Masonry saws are notoriously loud, but that was a lot. Once they’re done opening up the storage room to the rest of the building, it should get quieter.”
“Now you just need your skylights.”
“Oh—I got a text on that. Hang on.” Bear retrieved his phone, scrolled through messages. “Here it is. The skylights have been found. They’re in Marietta.” He looked up at her, amused. “Marietta, South Dakota.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“At least they’ve been found and are being shipped here tomorrow. We should have them by the end of the week.”
“Agreed.”
They crossed the street heading toward Main reaching Bear’s truck first. “I have a Zoom call in a half hour. What are you going to do now? Errands, or head back to the house?”
“I’m going to stop by the gallery—Ansley has a check for me—and then I can pick up dinner. How does French dip sound for tonight?”
“Wonderful.”
“Since you have that Zoom, I’ll probably hang out with Ansley for a bit before ordering. How long do you think you’ll be on the call?”
“I should be done by six.”
“Perfect. I’ll be home with dinner then.”
At the gallery, Josie couldn’t believe the check Ansley handed to her. It was a significant amount of money.
“This is crazy,” Josie said, looking at the check and then her sister-in-law. “This is way too much money.”
“Not at all. You’ve earned it. I don’t know how you do it, but you make the pictures fly off the wall.”
“I do nothing. I just point to your work and your talent is obvious. Your work sells itself.”
“You’re very sweet.”
“I’m very proud of you.” Josie suddenly remembered the Sheenan project at Flathead Lake. “Has Whitney Sheenan been in contact with you about the painting they want for their lake cottage?”
“She has, and she’s offered their cottage to Rye and me for a couple of weeks in September so that I can paint and be inspired.”
“That’s a pretty nice offer.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Rye and I haven’t been away since our honeymoon. We could both use a little downtime together.”
“What about Mick? Do you want us to keep him while you’re gone?”
“Oh no. Mick would come with us. I couldn’t leave him behind. He’s been through so much and he’s just beginning to feel secure again.”
Josie checked her smile. “Rye told Bear that Mick has become very attached to you.”
“Mick still loves jumping in the truck and going on job sites with Rye, but once he’s home, he sticks close to my side. I’ve become quite attached to him.”
Josie glanced at her wall clock and saw that is was almost five forty-five. “I’m going to pick up dinner at the diner. Do you want me to get anything for you and Rye?”
“I made enchiladas this morning before work. Rye has already put them in the oven.”
Josie kissed Ansley’s cheek and left the gallery. It had clouded over earlier in the day and the sky was dark and stormy. It rarely rained in summer, but the clouds looked black enough that Josie wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t get a few drops.
For fifteen minutes, she sat inside the diner waiting for her order to be prepared, while scrolling on her phone and keeping an eye on the weather outside. The wind was blowing and with the heavy clouds hanging low in the sky it looked far later than it was.
As soon as the waitress brought Josie her order, she stepped outside, the wind extra gusty, tangling her hair and blowing it across her face.
She peeled back the tendril clinging to her eye lashes and dashed across the street to her car when another gust of wind nearly ripped the plastic bag out of her hands. She dug through her oversized tote for her car keys but couldn’t find her keys. She hadn’t left them at the gallery, had she?
Josie stepped back to the curb, and bent over to set the dinner bag down, but somehow tripped on the curb edge and went down, hard, sending her purse and dinner flying. She heard the containers pop open and could just imagine the au jus spilling everywhere.
“Dang it, girl, be careful,” a gravel-voiced man boomed, extending a hand and hauling her none to gently to her feet.
Straightening, Josie stiffened, thinking the man’s face and voice were strangely familiar. It took her a split second to place him. Eureka, her hometown. Darren Clark, the car salesman who’d served two terms on the city council. Darren Clark, the man who’d shut her down when she’d gone to city hall asking for donations for the humane society.
“Hello, Mr. Clark,” she said faintly, stunned to see him here in Marietta of all places.
He frowned at her, not yet recognizing her. “Do I know you?”
“We’re both from Eureka. I met you years ago when I was twelve.” Josie crouched back down to scoop up the dripping sandwich and set it more securely in its carboard box. The au jus was gone, having puddled either into the bread, or onto the pavement.
“Did you win some spelling bee or something?” he asked, watching her drop the small cup and lid into the plastic bag, on top of the ruined sandwich.
“No. I asked if you could contribute to a fundraiser, and you said no.” She looked up at him, forcing a smile. “But it was a long time ago. I can’t expect you to remember every little girl that comes asking for help.”
“Wait a minute. I do know you. You’re John’s girl.”
She rose and wiped her damp hand on the back of her jeans. “You do remember.”
“Looks like you’ve ruined your dinner. What was it?” he asked, glancing down into her soggy bag. “French dip?”
“Main Street Diner’s Monday night special.”
“Let me go buy you another sandwich.”
“I’ll make these work. Throw them under the broiler. It’ll be fine.”
“Fresh ones would taste better. Nobody likes a soggy bun.”
“I don’t want to waste the money. But if you’d like to make a donation, Marietta has several pet rescues that would welcome the support.”
Darren Clark barked a laugh. “Still a bleeding heart?”
“I still care about the less fortunate. One of my best qualities, I’ve been told.”
“You look a lot like your mother. How is she?”
“Good.”
“Still with your father?”
“Of course.”
“No of course about it. She was one of the saddest ladies I ever met. Your dad didn’t do right by her. She deserved better.”
Her stomach knotted, and she flexed a hand at her side. “And you told her that, right?”
“She knew how I felt, and she knew I would have taken care of her.”
Josie felt like a fish out of water, her mouth opening and closing but no sound came out. She was shocked, shocked silent.
Darren looked her up and down, sizing her up. “She was soft, and it got her hurt. You can’t go through life soft, girl. To get ahead in this world, you have to put yourself first.” He tipped the brim of his hat in her direction and started off down the sidewalk.
Josie watched him a moment, insides churning, emotions in turmoil. She took several steps after him. “What are you doing here in Marietta, Mr. Clark?”
He turned to look at her. “What?”
“Are you on vacation, or is this home now?”
“I’ve bought a place here.”
“I live here, too, now, as does my brother Rye—”
“What about your dad and that crippled brother of yours?”
“My dad, my brother, and my mom are outside Bozeman. I hope they’ll never run into you.”
“I’m not the villain here, girl, no need to be mad at me. Your dad was the one who let the family down. Your dad was the one who couldn’t take care of all of you.”
“Who are you to judge him?”
“I’m simply a realist, girl.”
“And a bully.”
He shrugged impatiently. “It’s about survival. Being responsible. But not everyone wants what you want, and they shouldn’t have to pay for changes that don’t help them.”
“Like what?”
“Schools for crippled kids, camps and sports for special kids. Ramps and lifts for older buildings. Why is it my problem that your brother couldn’t get in to some of Eureka’s buildings? Why should I have to pay more taxes because he has problems?”
“Because we’re supposed to take care of each other. We’re supposed to love our neighbor—”
“Oh, I love my neighbor, as long as they don’t bother me, I don’t bother them.”
Josie had had enough. She threw her shoulders back and held her head high. “Have a good evening, Mr. Clark, and hopefully I won’t see you again anytime soon.”
He opened his mouth to say something before thinking better of it. Muttering beneath his breath, he cut across the street, passing between cars, forcing one driver to slam on the brakes. The driver then laid on his horn, hard.
Darren lifted a hand and gave the driver the finger.
Josie watched and shook her head. The world was full of monsters and beasts but at least at home she had her Bear.
*
Bear could tell something was upsetting Josie the moment she entered the house. She said it was because she’d dropped their dinner and had ruined the sandwiches, but he knew it was more than that. She wasn’t annoyed or frustrated as much as completely flattened.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, joining her in the kitchen where she was just standing at the counter, staring at nothing.
She shook her head. “Just tired, I think.”
“This isn’t tired. This is something else. I don’t know if you’re sad, or mad, but something happened.”
Still facing the cabinets, she reached up to swipe beneath one eye and then the next. “Some people are just a-holes. It’s like they love to be horrible and love to be unkind. Why?”
“Because it makes them feel powerful and better about themselves.” He took her hand and tugged her around so that she would face him.
She fought to stop the tears, but they kept falling anyway. He wanted to know what happened, but at the same time, he just wanted to comfort her. Bear pulled her down onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She pressed her face to his chest and cried. He’d never heard her cry like this. She sounded absolutely broken.
He cupped the back of her head, his palm smoothing her hair, even as he kissed her temple, murmuring that everything was okay, that he had her, that nothing could happen now.
He felt her take a deep shuddering breath, and then she lifted her head, her eyes like wet pansies. So beautiful.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked quietly, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears.
“I bumped into a horrible man. I knew him from Eureka, and he remembered my dad and mom. And Jasper.” She swallowed hard. “He was so demeaning toward my brother. The things he said—” She broke off, her brow darkening, as if remembering what he’d said or perhaps there was something else on her mind. “What is wrong with people?
“What did he say?” Bear persisted.
She shook her head. “I just hope I never see him again.”
“Well, if you do, point him out and I’ll knock his head off his block for you.”
Josie laughed and smiled at him, her smile lighting her eyes, making her the Josie he knew and adored.
“I would love that,” she confided. “I don’t usually condone violence but in this case, it’s completely justified.”
Then Bear did what he had vowed he’d never do—his mouth covered hers and he kissed her, and it wasn’t just a little kiss. No, once his mouth claimed hers, there was no letting her go, no way to not taste her and love her.
She was the most extraordinary woman.
He clasped her face, angling her head to better touch, lick, nip. She was so responsive, too, shivering and whimpering, pressing herself against him, her arms around his shoulders, her bottom in his hands and of course he caressed her, hearing her sigh, and pant as he slipped his hand between her thighs. He stroked her through her jeans and yet she jerked at the touch. He stroked her again, drawing circles and, crying out, she pulled back to stare into his eyes, her expression dazed and desperate all at the same time.
“Can’t do this here,” she whispered.
“Can’t do this anywhere,” he rasped, slowly coming to his senses. Blood pounded in his veins. Desire burned through him. “This shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She was still fighting to catch her breath. “Yes, you should have. You’re a really good kisser.”
“I don’t think it’s relevant.”
“Of course it’s relevant. And I didn’t want to stop. I just hoped we could go to your room where we could be more comfortable.”
“That’s a big fat no. That will not happen. Kissing you was a mistake and mistakes do not need to be repeated because then it’s just plain stupidity.”
“Cowboy, it’s not as if we were doing the nasty. It was a kiss. I think you should relax.”
“Maybe you should get off my lap.”
“Nope.” She leaned in, her arms wrapped around his neck. “I like it here. It’s really nice.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Thank you.” She kissed the side of his neck, breathing in the hint of his aftershave. “You smell delicious, too.”
“Josie.”
“Yes, Bear?” she said, kissing a spot beneath his ear.
“You’re not fair.”
“I’m tired of fair. Because it’s not actually fair.” She brushed her lips across his. “I dig you. Everything about you. But I think you know that.”
He dragged his fingers through her hair, scraping the long length back from her face, knotting the strands around his fist and gently but firmly tugging her head back. “I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m trying my best to protect you.” He gave another little tug on her hair, and she shuddered, her hips dancing on his lap.
“I don’t need protection. Not from you.” Her voice dropped. She raked her nails down his cheek. “And for your information, kissing me was not a disaster. Kissing me made us both feel better.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” She drew a quick, tremulous breath. “And it’s something I’ve needed for weeks.”
He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. “You’re killing me, Josie.”
“I think resisting me is killing you. Maybe stop doing that and just kiss me the way you to want. The way I want you to.”
He did.
*
Josie slept that night in his room, in his bed. There were no more kisses, and everything was as circumspect as could be, except for the fact that Bear slept with his arm around her, and she didn’t think she’d ever felt anything as wonderful as being pressed up against his big chest, his hand laced through hers.
She knew he’d have to move in the night, and adjust the pillow between his knees, but it was the perfect way to fall asleep. It was peaceful and healing, and it answered the ache within her for more closeness. She loved him. She wanted a life with him. She wanted to be there at his side every day, for the good days and the bad.
But she knew he wasn’t ready to hear that. He’d been through a lot with Savannah, and he still worried about burdening those around him, and so she kept her love and commitment to herself. With time, he’d see how it was with them. With time, he’d realize how good they were together. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Winning Bear’s heart would take time, too.
It was enough for now to just savor his warmth, his arm wrapped around her, his body to her back, the steady rise and fall of his chest calming, reassuring.
Life could be hard, but it was also beautiful.
Her Bear was beautiful, too.