Let It Be Me, Becky Wade [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗

Finally. Her.

“I don’t know if you remember me,” he said. “I was in a car accident last November. You were behind me on the road, and when you saw what happened, you came to help.”

Realization lit her expression. “That’s right.” She smiled and crossed to him. “I’m pleased to see you again. I’ve thought about you often and wondered how you were.”

“I’ve thought about you often, too.”

“Did you sustain any injuries in the crash?”

“A concussion.”

“And how are you now?”

“Fully recovered.” He couldn’t believe he’d found her, was talking to her.

“Excellent. You look impressively healthy.”

“I am.”

“And exceedingly handsome.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

She tilted her head a few millimeters. “Most females must find you handsome,” she said matter of factly, with zero flirtatiousness. “Do they not?”

A grin tugged at his mouth.

An elderly couple arrived, capturing her attention.

Hers wasn’t the lean, hard beauty of a model. She had a more interesting, more subtle, more layered beauty. Her face projected many things at the same time: intelligence, kindness, confidence, and perceptiveness.

She stood at a height of maybe five foot six. Delicate, but not skinny.

Those eyes of hers made him want to protect her, which was ridiculous. She was clearly volunteering her time, just like he was. She didn’t need his protection or the rush of emotions she was making made him feel. After existing in a gray haze for months, everything was suddenly sharper than it should be—his determination not to let her go again, sounds, the color of her sweater.

What was it about her that drew him? Her calm? The strength he sensed in her? He wasn’t sure, but there was definitely something powerful about her presence. He’d never reacted to a woman this way before.

“I’ve been waiting for the chance to thank you,” he told her once the elderly couple moved away. “For stopping that day.”

“You’re welcome. Glad to have been of assistance.”

He grabbed the nearest bouquet from its bucket and passed it to her. “I’ll take this one, please.” At the least, he needed enough time with her to learn who she was. At the most, to convince her to go out with him.

“Outstanding choice.” She considered the dripping arrangement. “Hmm. Two metaphors, right here.”

“How so?”

“Well, flowers are already a metaphor for life in and of themselves. But your bouquet is also gently spherical on top. It starts here, at birth, so to speak.” She coasted her pointer finger from the lower edge of one side toward the center rise of the flowers. “Then expands to the fullest days of life. Then ends very much where it began on the other side, with death.” Her finger continued its arc to the bottom edge on the opposite side. Her hands were pale and graceful, her short nails unpainted.

He was about as interested in metaphors as he was in farmers markets. But she could talk to him about metaphors for days, and he’d drink every word.

She turned toward the table to wrap the flowers in wax paper.

He could be too straightforward, he knew. He’d had to work on that when interacting with the parents of his patients. If he told her “I need for you to go on a date with me,” she’d think he was crazy.

Maybe he was crazy.

She tied an orange bow around the bouquet—

“Hey!” Ben’s familiar voice cut through Sebastian’s thoughts.

“Hey.” He and Ben exchanged their usual side arm hug.

He was always glad to see Ben. Only, Ben’s arrival at this particular moment wasn’t ideal.

A smile moved across Ben’s mouth, his teeth gleaming white against his dark brown skin. “I saw you guys talking and came over to introduce you.”

She stepped toward them with the flowers. “Do you two know each other?”

“This is my best friend, Dr. Sebastian Grant,” Ben told her.

“Ah!” she said. “You’re one of the Miracle Five, like Ben.”

“Yes.”

“Ben’s told me all about you.”

“And this,” Ben said to Sebastian, “is my friend Leah Montgomery.”

For a terrible, disorienting second, Sebastian’s mind blanked. Then denial filled it—red and loud.

No.

“I’ve told him all about you,” Ben said to Leah.

“I hope you’ve been emphasizing my most sterling qualities.”

“I have,” Ben assured her with a dopey, infatuated look.

No!

Ever since Leah came to Misty River High to teach math more than a year and a half ago, Ben had had a crush on her. Ben was taking his time, content to build a wide base of friendship with Leah, in hopes that it would one day lead to more.

Last fall, Ben had told Sebastian that he loved Leah. Sebastian had given him a hard time for claiming to love a woman he wasn’t even dating. But Ben had stood behind his statement.

Ben believed himself to be in love with her.

Which meant that Sebastian could never ask her out. Ben had found her first, and in the code of brothers, that meant that she was off-limits to Sebastian.

No.

“Small world,” Leah said lightly to Ben. “Last fall I was driving behind Sebastian here when his car went off the side of the road. I kept him company until the ambulance got there.”

“Oh?” Ben said. Then, “Oh.” Understanding was no doubt filling his brain.

Just as Ben had told Sebastian about Leah, Sebastian had told Ben about the woman who’d been in his car with him when he’d regained consciousness. Ben knew about Sebastian’s search for her and just how consumed by her Sebastian had been.

“Sebastian called me the day of the accident.” The usual optimism was draining from Ben’s expression. “He told me about the woman who stopped to help, but I had no idea that woman was you.”

A high schooler approached the stall. “I’m heading out,” he said to Leah. The newcomer was a few inches shorter than Sebastian with a soft, smooth face.

“Hello to you, too,” Leah said to the teen. “I’m in the middle of a conversation.” She indicated him and Ben.

“Cool,” the kid said. “So . . . I’m leaving.”

Leah regarded the boy with scolding affection. “I’m fine with you leaving, my darlingest of darlings, but before you go, I insist you make a stab