by Lea Nolan
Wren simply smiled. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
Just then Smith strode back to the auction table, deep furrows creasing his brow. "I'm so sorry but there's an emergency I need to deal with."
Disappointed, Wren sighed. "Don't tell me, Brittney needs you." The words leapt from her mouth unfiltered.
"On that note, I've got some returns to re-shelve," Madeline said, then slipped away.
Smith blinked. "No. The boiler in the restaurant stopped working. Juan's tried everything but it won't start. We've still got hot water in the water heater, but if I can't get it to turn back on we'll need to close."
Embarrassed by her assumption and snark, heat crept up Wren's chest and neck. Thank goodness for her sweater and scarf, otherwise she'd be radiating pink. "Sorry. I shouldn't have assumed. Go on. I know how busy the restaurant must be with homecoming."
"I'm not sure how long it'll take but once it's fixed we can get back to our day," he offered.
Depending on what she found, this evening could end better than she'd hoped. "Take your time. I'll occupy myself for a bit. I'll meet you back at Harbor's Edge later."
He took her hand. "You sure? I feel bad leaving you."
"Go! That boiler isn't going to turn itself on." She nudged him with her elbow.
Smith leaned in for a kiss, then sprinted out of the library.
Excited, Wren headed home, but not before leaving outrageously large bids for a copy of Smith's cookbook and dinner auction.
Back at the beach house Wren grabbed her laptop and set to work researching the legal resources available on Heron Harbor and the adjacent mainland.
Hours later, she lifted her head, victorious, then gasped when she realized the time. Focused like a laser on her task, she hadn't noticed that darkness had fallen and rain poured down in sheets. But as cold and windy as it was outside, her heart was as warm as a mid-summer day at noon.
Her hunch was right. There were no young, enterprising law firms within thirty miles of Heron Harbor, and all the existing firms were owned by single practitioners who were either nearing, or well past retirement age. Chances were, those old guys wouldn't be around much longer. And when they moved on—or passed on—their communities would have no one to turn to for legal representation.
Which presented Wren with more than just an opportunity. It offered something she'd never imagined.
A chance to open her own practice. Be her own boss. Give herself the promotion she'd worked so hard for.
Best of all, she'd be the founding partner, her name printed in bold gold letters on the shingle beside the front door.
Her chest lightened, shedding months of pain that'd weighed her down. She was finally free. Never again would she have to deal with Pierce, Lolita, Hal or Jerry, or any of the other conniving, duplicitous assholes at her firm again. As the head of her own practice she'd hire smart, good people and who did smart, good work.
Most importantly, she could move to Delaware. She was already admitted to the state’s bar, having taken the test after she graduated from law school. With rents a fraction of what they were in Baltimore, she could afford to lease a small office near the courthouse in Millersville, fifteen miles away on the mainland, and, her heart quickened at the thought, a storefront on Heron Harbor's Main Street. Which meant she could eat Smith's cooking whenever she wanted, sleep at his half-finished house, or stop by Harbor's Edge to see his gorgeous, smiling face whenever she felt like it.
It was such a perfect and obvious solution it was hard to believe she hadn't thought of it earlier. But now that she had, there was no reason to keep it from Smith another second longer. She grabbed her jacket and keys then raced through the rain to her car and set off toward the restaurant.
Her luck continued as she backed her Lexus into the snug space between an old pick-up truck and a giant SUV, right across from Harbor's Edge.
Bubbling with excitement, Wren stepped out of the car, then froze as Smith and Brittney exited the restaurant, her arm slung tight around his waist. Crossing the porch, they stood facing each other, deep in intimate conversation under a hanging lantern that illuminated their every movement and expression.
Cold rain slashed at Wren's head but she didn't register it soaking her hair. She was more fixated on the way Brittney's fingers toyed with the buttons on Smith's shirt as she gazed up at him, and how naturally her other palm slid across his chest, like it'd done it a million times before.
The ground beneath Wren's feet shifted as Smith gently clutched Brittney's hand and held it against his heart as he spoke. His face wore the most beautiful smile, filled with love. He'd looked at Wren the same way just this afternoon.
But now, someone else basked in that warm glow. Brittany.
Of course it was Brittany.
Wren should have seen this coming a million miles away. Just one more missed red flag. No, she had seen it coming. But Smith had convinced her there was nothing between him and Brittany. Wren had wanted him so badly she’d believed him. And once again she'd been betrayed. Served her right for being so gullible.
Brittany slipped loose her hand and wrapped her arms around Smith. He returned the embrace and leaned in as if to kiss her.
Wren's stomach lurched. She'd seen enough. Spinning on her heels, she retreated to her car. With a quaking hand she pushed the button to start the engine then threw the gear into drive and sped away.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
The refrain echoed through her mind on the short drive back to the beach house. God, she'd done some spectacularly stupid things in her life but this one probably topped them all. She very nearly blew up her career for Smith all because he'd made her two funnel cakes and gave her an orgasm. Good lord, was she really that cheap?
No.
She was worth a hell of a lot more.
She'd earned a partnership in a prestigious law firm and she was sure as hell going to take it. Her clients had deep pockets and vast influence in the halls of power, Madison Avenue, and Wall Street. And lots of them did good things for the world and she helped them do it.
That was the life she'd built for herself. How could she have thought that running a small-town practice—writing up wills, divorces, and properly settlements—could ever compete?
Wren was done with accepting less than she deserved, even if it meant moving to Georgia to get it.
Chapter 13
Smith led Brittany out the front door of Harbor's Edge to wait for her Uber. After the homecoming parade, she'd dropped Timmy off at home with her mother and come back out to celebrate. She'd gone hard and was in no condition to drive.
"I really am happy for you," Brittany said as she clung to him for balance. "You deserve this."
"It means a lot, especially coming from you." Smith had told her about his week with Wren and how hard he'd fallen. That he was finally with the only woman he could commit to. Years ago, when he and Brittany had had their fling, she'd wanted far more than he was prepared to give. They'd worked through that pain and built a solid friendship, but the specter of that past wound remained. She knew they'd never work as a couple but it hadn't stopped her from wanting the stability he could provide to her and her son.
Brittany spun around to face him and plucked at the buttons on his shirt. "A lot of women around here aren't going to be thrilled you're off the market."
He rolled his eyes. "They'll get over it."
She swiped her other palm across his chest. "I don't think you realize the extent of your legend. Sleeping with Smith Connors is a major score."
He grasped her hand in his and clutched her fingers tight. "I'm done with casual relationships. It does nothing for my soul." Smith tapped his chest above his heart. "Being with Wren, that's a whole different thing. She is...everything to me. She's changed everything for me. Before this week I didn't give a damn when I finished my house renovations. Now? I want them done yesterday so my queen can have the castle she deserves. I might even open a second location in Baltim
ore depending on what happens with her job."
"Wow. You really are in deep."
"What good is having this great life if I can't share it with the woman I love?"
Brittany's eyes swelled with tears, likely more a consequence of the three margaritas she drank than his words. "That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard." She threw her arms around his midsection and squeezed hard.
As he bent toward Brittany to return the hug, Smith heard a gasp. Turning toward the street, he caught a glimpse of Wren's drenched back as she ducked into her car and slammed the door shut. He called out her name, but she sped off, skidding down Main Street.
Oh shit. Wren must have seen him with Brittany. And totally misunderstood what was going on.
Without so much as a word to Brittany, he took off at a run, racing toward Wren's beach house. By the time he got there, her car was running in the driveway, back door open, lights on, already half packed. She'd tossed clothes, shoes, and a suitcase in a pile without even stopping to pack. The front door was wide open too. Wren exited the house with a load of clothes in her arms and headed straight for her car.
"Wait. It's not what you think," he said, as she brushed past him in the driveway.
"Don't." Wren dumped the pile in the back seat then slammed the door shut and headed back through the rain toward the house.
Smith reached for her arm. "Wren. Stop. Please listen."
She pulled out of his grip. "I don't have to listen. I know what I saw. You and Brittany are very definitely a thing which means you lied to me." Hurt and betrayal were written all over her face. It killed him to think she believed he was capable of such a thing.
"We are not." He had to find a way to convince her. Give her Brittany's number. They could talk and Brittany would tell her the truth. But if Wren wouldn't take his word, she'd hardly believe Brittany's.
Wren scoffed. "Please, you were about to kiss her." Turning her back on him, she marched up the front porch steps.
He followed, all too happy to get out of the driving rain. "What? No! Never." He didn't want to kiss anyone besides Wren for the rest of his life.
"It sure looked that way to me, until I had to turn away because I was about to vomit." She stepped into the house and stomped toward the kitchen.
Since she hadn't invited him in, Smith stayed put on the porch and called inside. "I didn't kiss her. I barely even hugged her."
"Well she had her hands all over you," Wren yelled back. The lights in the hall and kitchen switched off.
"She was drunk."
"Oh, so that makes it okay." Wren returned to the porch with two grocery bags. She flicked off the foyer lights and shut and locked the front door. She really was leaving. Holy shit.
"No, it doesn't make it okay. But you're getting it all wrong. We weren't talking about me and her. We were talking about me and you. How great this week has been. How crazy I am about you. How much I want to be with you. She was happy for me. So she hugged me. Is that so horrible?"
Wren set the grocery bags on the porch and crossed her arms. Pain and anger filled her eyes. "You were giving her that love look while she was touching you."
What the hell? "I don't know what you mean by a love look but if that's what talking about you does to me, then guilty as charged, counselor. But I swear, I haven't been involved with Brittany for six years."
Wren stopped and stared at him for a long moment. What he wouldn't give to be inside her head to hear the thoughts racing through her mind. Slowly the crease between her eyes eased and her brow smoothed. An eerie sense of calm settled on her face before she finally spoke.
"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions. It was wrong to accuse you." Her voice was both quiet and sad. She looked defeated, as if he'd extracted a war concession from her. That bothered him.
This wasn't how he wanted this relationship to go. Arguments were bound to happen. Working through a disagreement wasn't about winning or losing, it was about communication and trust. He and Wren were new at this stuff but they could learn, together.
Aching to take her into his arms and put this whole episode behind them, Smith reached for her. "I understand. It's okay."
Wren took a step backward. "No. It's not."
"Why? It was a simple misunderstanding. We've cleared it up and now it's over. Let's move on."
She shook her head. "I can't."
What the hell was happening? None of this was making sense. "Sure you can."
"I wish I could. But this has shown me I'm not ready for a relationship." The hard expression in her eyes meant she was deadly serious. This was not some manipulative ploy to get him to beg her to stay. She meant this shit.
Fuck no. Things were spinning out of control. A few minutes ago he had everything he ever wanted, now he was on the verge of losing it all. "What? No, Wren. That's ridiculous. We've had an amazing time this week. We're good together. I know you see that."
She nodded. "This week was great. The best I've ever had. But even after making love with you last night and spending today with you, I couldn't see you with Brittany for two minutes without assuming you'd betrayed me. That's got nothing to do with how good we are together, it's a me problem. It's the result of so much scar tissue I can't see past the pain that every other guy I've ever dated has inflicted on me. That's not fair to you."
Was this the kind of reasoning they taught in law school? If so, every lawyer should demand their money back because this was straight up bullshit. She couldn't be in a new good relationship because of past bad relationships. Yeah, that made a lot of fucking sense. "So I have to be punished for their crimes? That's not fair to me."
"You're right. That's on me. And I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am about that."
"Not as sorry as I am." The words were bitter acid on his tongue.
Wren's hand went to reach for his, but then she pulled it back. "You're a great guy, Smith. You shouldn't have to deal with someone as messed up as me. There are a million non-screwed up women who'd make you happy."
This was absurd. He had to make her see that. "But I want you."
She shook her head. "Not like this."
"Listen to me, Wren Donovan. I don't remember a time when I didn't love you. Not since I was ten and saw you for the first time the morning you moved to this island. Hunter McMullen and I were playing football next door when your dad pulled his station wagon into the driveway and you and your sisters ran from the car to the back of the house to see the ocean. Hunter and I followed and I watched as the breeze blew through your hair and I still remember thinking you were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. And that was before I got to know how smart and funny and good you are. I know who you are, Wren. And I want you."
The brave, stoic veil slid from Wren's face revealing the vulnerability he knew lay beneath. Her eyes welled with tears. "That girl was all those things and more. But that was before years of hurt and betrayal made me the woman I am today." She choked back a swell of emotion. "I'm not saying I can't find the faith and trust I once had, but I just don't have it now." She lifted the grocery bags and moved toward the porch steps.
Stepping in front of her, he cupped her cheeks with his palms. "Did you hear what I said? I love you." His gaze bore into her sad green eyes. She was gutting him, just as sure as a fisherman slices open his catch.
"I wish that was enough." Wren's voice broke as she slipped free of his grasp and ran to her car.
Chapter 14
"Ms. Donovan, there's a video conference waiting for you," Avery, Wren's new executive assistant, said through the intercom on her phone.
Wren popped her head up from the mountain of paperwork that covered her desk. "Oh, thanks. What would I do without you?"
Avery laughed. "I honestly don't know."
Wren glanced at the time. Eleven thirty. She didn't have a call scheduled with Hal and Jerry, the firm's senior partners, but they enjoyed popping in unexpectedly to check on her progress setting up the new office. She logged into the online conf
erence software, but rather than seeing the well-worn faces of the named partners, she was greeted by her two sisters.
"What's going on?" Alarm rang through her body, setting her nerves on edge. The last time she'd spoken to both her sisters at the same time, it was to discuss moving their father into hospice shortly before his death. That sad, dark chapter was behind them, and their mother was long gone, so this all-hands call was about something else. Something important. Probably something bad.
Wren's breath caught. One of her sisters was sick. Or in trouble. Steeling herself for bad news, she gripped the edge of her desk.
Lark must have read Wren's mind. "Don't worry. It's not what you're thinking."
Wren could barely breathe. "What am I thinking?"
"This isn't about us. It's about you. Consider this an intervention,” Raven said. Even under the fluorescent lights of her office she still managed to look like a million bucks. Her sable-colored hair, perfectly styled as usual, was perpetually glossy and her makeup expertly applied.
A nervous laugh exploded from Wren’s lips. "What? No. I don't need one."
"Don't you?" Lark's usually serene face was filled with concern. Wren couldn't make out where she was but the sky behind her was a vibrant crystal blue.
"Are you still in California?" Wren asked.
"No, Sedona. You should come. This place has magical healing properties." Lark really bought into that new-age stuff. True or not, it obviously worked for her. She looked happy. And young. Unlike Wren, who though only four years older, was beginning to feel her age in her bones. Lark pulled her long, sandy-blonde curls over one shoulder. "Don't try to change the subject. We're worried about you."
Wren sighed. "Look. I don't know what you've heard." She shot a pointed glance at Raven. "But I don't need an intervention. I'm good. In fact, I'm great. I've moved on. I'm building a new life and a new practice. I'm even eating fairly healthy, aside from the occasional ice cream binge." Okay that was a lie. Her ice cream consumption had accelerated well past the occasional serving since arriving in Atlanta. But her nosy sisters didn't need to know that. "I don't abuse substances, or go to bars or clubs alone at night, or even stay up past my bedtime. I live a safe and boring life."
