The Perfect Wife

She didn’t know him very well, and he decided to set her straight. “I’m not blowing smoke, Carly. And I never say anything I don’t mean.”

He didn’t?

Carly’s gaze locked on Bo’s.

There was something in his eyes, something honest and solid. Something that made him more attractive, more appealing. For a moment, Carly wondered whether her friends might be right, wondered whether Bo might be interested in her in a male-female sort of way.

Or was he just being a nice guy?

He’d managed to tease her and coax a couple of smiles from her when she was such a pitiful mess, inside and out. And she hadn’t found anything remotely funny in months.

The small voice suggested it had been much longer than that, but Carly wouldn’t take the bait.

“I’m sorry,” she admitted. “I didn’t mean to sound unappreciative, but I don’t feel very pretty today, and there’s not much anyone can say to change my mind.”

“Beauty comes from within, Carly.”

She was familiar with the saying, even if she had trouble buying it. Her mom had told her something similar when she’d been a geeky adolescent, when a stupid kid at school had called her Bucky Beaver. But Carly had known getting her teeth straightened would help her feel better about herself. And she’d even approached her dad about it, knowing the family had a dental plan.

Are you nuts? he’d asked. Insurance doesn’t pay for cosmetic stuff. Besides, if you keep your mouth shut, people won’t focus on your teeth.

She’d gotten braces eventually—after she and Greg were married. And it had really bolstered her self-esteem.

So had a set of expensive white veneers.

“It’s more important to be pretty on the inside,” Bo added.

“You sound like a therapist.”

He shrugged. “Common sense comes easy to me. And so does looking beyond a person’s exterior.”

Oh, great. She sure hoped he couldn’t see beyond hers. There were things she’d never shared with anyone, not even with Greg. Things she didn’t want people to know.

“You’ve got a lot going for you, Carly.”

“I did,” she corrected. “But my husband and my marriage were my whole life. And now I’m not sure who I am anymore.”

“Probably the same person you used to be, only older and wiser.”

God, she hoped not. She’d left the overweight, geeky teenager with crooked teeth behind years ago.

Before the memories could draw her back in time, Bo pulled into the long drive, then circled to the front of the house and stopped.

As eager as Carly was to get inside, to slip into something more comfortable and dig through the freezer for a quart of cookie-dough ice cream she knew was hidden in a corner, she hesitated, not ready to let herself out.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

She risked a glance across the seat, only to spot warmth in his smile, compassion in his gaze.

Or was it something else? A bond of some kind?

Over the course of the remodel, they’d spent time together, mostly just chatting. But today their conversation had taken a personal turn. More intimate.

She had no intention of voicing her thoughts, but the question slipped out anyway. “Are we becoming friends?”

He seemed to ponder the idea for a moment, then shot her a smile that went straight to her chest, causing a gentle stir, a healing touch. “I guess so.”

Molly and Rebecca had suggested that Carly find another man. A lover to set her life back on course. But the only life she knew was the one she’d created with Greg. Well, it wasn’t the only one she knew, but it was the only one she wanted.

Yet it was nice to know another man found her…attractive. Even if she didn’t feel that way.

“I’ve never had a female friend before,” he said. “This will be a first.”

Well, Carly hadn’t had a lot of friends, period. Especially not men. “I guess that means a friendship between us will be kind of unique.”

“Yeah.” He tossed another grin her way, making the friend thing sound nice. And the male-female stuff sound…interesting. Or at least possible—someday.

“Thanks, Bo. And not just for the ride. For the pep talk, too.”

“You’re welcome.”

She nodded, then let herself out of his pickup and headed for the front door.

It was, she supposed, an intriguing concept—having a male friend.

But as she stuck her key into the lock, she couldn’t help thinking about all the friends who’d let her down in the past.

And the two men in her life who should have loved her unconditionally.

Her father and her husband.

That evening Bo stood before the front door of the McMansion with a grocery sack in his arms. As he lifted his hand to ring the bell, he pondered the wisdom of stopping by to see Carly, in reaching out to a woman who, no matter what they’d discussed earlier, could never really be just his friend.

But he rang the bell anyway.

And he stood there for what seemed like hours.

He was just about to turn and walk away when Carly answered.

She peered out from behind the partially opened door, pulling it to her chest, hiding behind it like a shield and looking at him as if he were that big purple dinosaur little kids watched on TV.

Okay. So she was surprised to see him. He was a bit surprised he’d come by, too. But when Carly had asked him if they were becoming friends, he’d realized how badly she needed someone who’d be honest with her, and he’d decided to step up to the plate.

Not that he expected to maintain any kind of real friendship for long, but he would give her some sage advice, maybe on how to get her husband back—if she wanted him.

Either way, Bo hoped she’d end up having better luck in a relationship next time around.