by Donna Alward
She sniffed a little. A thousand a month was probably Cole Abbot’s wine budget. Or whiskey, or scotch, or whatever pricey alcohol he drank. She’d looked up the wine he’d brought. She was used to the ten-to-twenty-dollar bottles. The one he’d brought had been sixty. She was saving it for a special occasion.
“So, young, rich, not a troll,” Delilah said, ticking each attribute off on her fingers. “Remind me again why you’re not making a move to tap that?”
Brooklyn snorted. “Thanks, Del, for getting right to the point.”
“Any time.” Her face softened, and she patted Brooklyn’s hand. “Look, I just want you to be happy. And I know you don’t need a man for that. I just worry that you... Well, you’ve closed yourself off to possibilities because of what happened.”
Del was one of the few people who really knew about Brooklyn’s trauma. Being a victim of a violent crime had changed Brooklyn, made her more wary and less trusting. Sure, she’d done all sorts of therapy and she was doing well. But she’d also built the life she wanted and didn’t like the disruption.
She’d had enough counseling to understand that she liked guarantees. She wasn’t a risk-taker, and in her mind, love was the biggest risk of all.
“It’s not that, Del.” She took a sip of her tea and sighed. “I mean, I’m not physically afraid of a relationship.” The assault hadn’t been sexual. It had been a straight up robbery, and looking back, it seemed like something from a movie. It certainly felt like it had happened to someone else. The fear had been cold and debilitating. The hard press of the gun dug into her ribs and she could still feel the painful grip of his big hand on her arm. For a few terrified moments, she’d been his hostage. But when he got into the car, she’d managed to scramble out the passenger side and he’d sped off. She’d been safe, yet forever altered.
“No, sweetie,” Delilah said gently. “You’re afraid of living. Everything happens in good time, but sometimes people come along that shake us up a bit.” She smiled. “Maybe this guy is going to shake you up.”
He already had. “He likes Marvin, and Marvin likes him back, the traitor,” she confessed. “Then again, pats and treats go a long way with dogs.”
Delilah grinned. “Not just with dogs. I’m partial to pats and treats myself.”
“Delilah!” Brooklyn started to laugh and put down her teacup. Delilah had been married to the same guy for fifteen years and they were still adorable together. “This is why I love you.”
“And here I thought it was because you get a bulk discount at the store.”
“I’m nicer than that.”
“I know that. I hope you do. Anyway, if this guy isn’t going to be on the island that much, why not have a thing or see where it goes? God knows you deserve it.”
Brooklyn had gone “home” to recover, really. The trauma from those five minutes in her life had resulted in crippling fear and panic. Life was much better now, but she didn’t like change. Didn’t want it.
Even one as sexy and intriguing as Cole Abbott.
When she returned home later that afternoon, she put her supplies in the house and took Marvin out for a walk on the beach so he could get a good romp in before the weather changed. The forecast called for rain later in the evening, and Brooklyn could feel the change in air pressure and humidity as she threw a stick of driftwood for Marvin. He was four now, and his energy level was still that of a puppy, though he definitely had more discipline. He came running back and dropped the stick at her feet, panting happily, eyes flashing as he waited for her to throw it again. She did, then walked on, the sharp wind buffeting her ponytail, pulling strands out to blow around her face, and puffing her jacket out behind her. The calm seas of earlier were now gray with little white caps. Tonight would be the perfect night to finish her shawl and then move on to holiday projects.
Delilah had given her food for thought. Not that she wanted to have a torrid affair or anything. It was more the reminder that she’d hidden herself away here.
She’d even withdrawn from her family. Her parents lived in Halifax, where her dad worked for a courier company and her mom was a nurse. Her brother and sister no longer lived in Nova Scotia; her sister was a geologist working in Alberta, and her brother an environmental engineer for a US company based out of Maryland. Brooklyn took the stick from Marvin and threw it again, watching him spin up sand as he chased after it. Brooklyn had been in her third year of her science degree when the assault happened. Then everything had changed.
She got to the end of the sandy stretch and climbed the path to the grassy expanse above. Darkening skies told her she should get home soon; she wasn’t keen on getting caught in the rain, especially with Marvin and his wet dog smell. She called for him to come and was answered with a bark that sounded farther away than she anticipated. Frowning, she directed her gaze toward the sound of the bark and saw Marvin’s golden coat running through the tall grass, headed toward Cole.
Not fair, considering Delilah’s words still echoed in her head. Hopefully she could remain cool and detached and not blush.
Cole lifted a hand in greeting, and Marvin bounced and danced beside him.
“My dog is incredibly undisciplined,” she said as he approached. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Marvin’s great. I wish I’d had a dog as a kid. My folks said no because they are dirty and then pets aren’t allowed in dormitories.”
“Even for rich kids?”
He laughed. “Even for rich kids. Merrick was a great school. It’s where I met Jeremy and Branson. But no dogs, sadly.”
“Jeremy, as in your Realtor?”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
“And Branson is...”
“Branson Black.”
She tried not to let her mouth drop open and failed. “The novelist.”
“That’s the one.” Cole grinned. “We’ve been best friends since we were thirteen.”
Brooklyn had been brought up in the city. All her classmates were God knows where. She’d made friends here, though. Good ones, like Delilah. Besides, in a small town, everyone pretty much knew everyone else.
Which meant most knew something about why she’d moved home while in university and holed up on the island. It was a hard place to keep secrets.
“Aren’t your guests on the island?” she asked, waving the stick for Marvin. She tossed it and he ran off, while Cole chuckled.
“They don’t need babysitters. Right now they’re settling in. Getting downtime.” He grinned. “I confiscated their phones when they arrived. Cue looks of panic.”
“That’s torture.” But she grinned in response.
“You would think so. I let each person send an ‘I’ve arrived’ message and then that’s it for four days. Either people are napping, or working out, or trying to figure out a way to work without being connected. Switching out of that mindset is hard, and it takes time. We’ll get together tonight at dinner.”
“Cool.” They walked on, down the path toward the lane that ran the length of the island from her house to his. Marvin trotted around with the stick of driftwood in his mouth, proud of his new possession. A gust of wind buffeted them and there was a bit of mist in it. The rain wouldn’t be far off now.
“Looks like we’re in for some nasty weather.”
“Just some rain.” She put her hands in her jacket pocket. “By tomorrow night it’ll be clear again. But it was choppy on the water today. I hit some big waves on the way back.”
“You’re not scared doing that?”
She laughed. “I’ve been piloting around this island since I was old enough to see over the wheel. And when the weather is really bad, I stay home.” She let out a sigh. “Honestly? Sitting by my window with a glass of wine, watching the rain? It’s cozy and pretty relaxing.”
“Hmm. I kind of wish I could do that tonight. Instead I’m going to try to dea
l with five VPs who are going through tech withdrawal.”
She bit down on her lip. Had he just said he wanted to spend the evening with her, or had he been speaking theoretically? She tried to imagine Cole in her small living room and couldn’t make it fit. Then she thought of the great room at the house, with the windows facing the water, and could totally picture him sitting there, swirling a brandy or something, watching the rain. A very different world from hers.
Their steps had slowed as they reached the lane. To the right was his house, gray and imposing, absolutely stunning. She’d been inside lots of times when Ernest had owned it, and wondered what sort of changes Cole had made to the decor. Maybe someday she’d get to see inside again. But not today. Today he was...well, if not working, he was busy with his guests.
“I meant to ask you. Do you know if Ernest had someone taking care of the grounds? I have my caretakers, but they had a few questions about what’s in the shed and about a couple of the plants in the garden. If you knew who they could contact...”
She smiled. “Send them down to the house, or have them call me. I can give them the details.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Cole, I looked after the grounds for Ernest. I love gardening. He paid me a monthly wage and I mowed the grass, tended his flower beds and did his snow removal.”
Cole stopped and stared at her. “You did?”
She started laughing. “Did you think I had someone here to do it for me? Granted, my little flower beds and lawn are tiny in comparison, but if I want off the island in the winter I have to clear the lane so I can get to the dock. There’s a nice little tractor up there with a blower attachment. Works great.”
“Oh. Well.” He stared a moment more, apparently still recovering from his surprise. “This monthly wage thing...” An awkward silence followed.
“I can live without it. I knew when Ernest sold the house that gig would come to an end. To be honest, Ernest was too old to do it all, and he wouldn’t hear of me doing it without being paid. It worked for both of us.”
“I see. I just don’t want to deprive you of any income.”
She lifted her chin. It was the second time he’d made that sort of comment to her, insinuating she was down on her luck. She was actually doing pretty well for herself. She had a new holiday pattern going up on a popular site this month, and because she’d built a solid reputation for accurate and clear pattern instructions, every time she sold a new pattern, she saw increased downloads.
One of the things she really wanted to do was put together her own book of patterns and find a publisher.
“I’m doing fine, thanks. Of course you should have your own employees take this over.” And to be honest, it would feel strange, working for Cole.
“Raelynn would also like your recipe for that soup you made the other day. I raved about it.”
“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. As I said, send her down. I’m not headed anywhere for a few days.”
“Thanks, Brooklyn. I appreciate it.”
She looked over at him. “I suppose this means we’re being friendly now.” She deliberately used the verb instead of the friend noun. Acting friendly didn’t necessarily constitute friendship.
“I suppose it does.”
And he smiled.
He was pretty gorgeous at any time, but when he smiled it was something different altogether. His eyes got tiny crinkles in the corners and his whole body seemed to relax with it. Right now, in the gloominess of the coming rain, his eyes seemed grayish blue, but she’d noticed the other day in the sun that they were a clear, bright blue that seemed to look right inside her. Kind of like the ocean, changing color depending on the weather and the storms going on inside.
“You should get back to your guests. They’re probably trying to figure out how to get internet on your TV.”
He grinned again. “I turned off the Wi-Fi.”
“Sneaky.” She couldn’t help but smile back.
“I know we’ll be outside some, but I’ll make sure we don’t invade your privacy.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
They said their goodbyes, but as Cole walked away, Brooklyn sighed. She almost wished he’d invade her privacy. She couldn’t imagine making a move herself, and knew without a doubt he was not for her. And yet a part of her wished he might be, just a little. Even though he was exactly the wrong kind of man, and not at all what she needed.
CHAPTER FIVE
BY THE THIRD day of their visit, Cole’s VPs were bright and energetic and far more relaxed than he’d expected. Some of it he credited to the scenery, fresh air, the wonderful food that Raelynn provided to the group, and full nights of sleep. They’d taken the boat to the mainland today and had gone to the Sandpiper Resort for a delicious lunch. They’d stayed for two hours, talking about their respective divisions, brainstorming ideas in the casual setting. The downtime had refreshed them and Cole could feel the renewed excitement and energy around the table. It was exactly what he’d hoped to achieve.
Once they were back on the island, Cole turned on the Wi-Fi and they had an online session with an expert on balancing an executive workload with wellness to avoid burnout.
Cole looked at the group when the facilitator left the session. “So what did you think? Tomorrow’s our last day before you return to real life. What takeaways do you have?”
Duncan leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “I gotta tell you, Cole, when you took my phone I was pretty ticked off. But when I caught myself reaching for it over and over, I realized what an addiction it’s become. I’ve become used to having it all the time, which means I’m always working. I think it’s contributed a lot to my stress level. I still miss it.” Everyone laughed a bit. “I’m trying not to go crazy wondering what’s happened to the company in my absence. But I’ve slept better the last two nights than I have in months. Maybe years. I didn’t realize how much I needed the break until I took it.”
The other men nodded in agreement. “I found the first day and a half really hard,” James added. “I don’t know what it’s like to have nothing to do...and then not have any tech to keep me from being bored. This was really like a work/tech detox for me, and one I can see I really needed.”
Cole smiled, pleased at the feedback. “I know it’s hard not to feel as if things are going to fall apart if you’re unavailable, but they’re not. If you have the right people in place, they all know their jobs. You can trust them. Nurture their talents. Have confidence in their abilities, which makes for better employees. And has the by-product of cutting you some slack. Look at me, for example.” He looked at each man, right in the eye. “I’m the president and CEO. I took on responsibility for everything for a long time. But that’s not sustainable and certainly not healthy. Instead I have great people in place who know their jobs.
“You guys, it starts with us. From the top down. I don’t want to see any of you crash and burn out. It’s not good for you, for your families, or for Abbott.”
Everyone nodded thoughtfully.
“Tomorrow is our last day. I’d like for us to have a working breakfast midmorning where we can discuss your ideas for taking this back to not only your job but to your divisions. What changes you think would work with regards to your staff and their workload. Now that you’ve had a chance to unplug and get your creativity fired up again, let’s see if we can leave with some action items. Sound good?”
They broke up and had a few hours until dinner, so two of the execs decided to take a walk on the beach, one was going to hit the gym, and the fourth had rediscovered a love of cooking and had agreed to help Raelynn with the dinner. Cole was left alone, pleased at how the day had gone, glad that he’d been able to give his own VPs a chance to decompress and recharge. If he’d done that now and again, he might have avoided the full-on breakdown.
It didn’t really surpri
se him to find himself gravitating toward the rambling house in the trees. He hadn’t spoken to Brooklyn since that day on the beach, though he’d seen her briefly this morning as they’d driven the golf cart from the house down to the dock. She’d been in her front yard raking leaves, her hair in a high ponytail and a pair of jeans hugging her backside.
Marvin was nowhere to be seen, but that was okay. He didn’t need the dog to be chasing the cart or anything. Still, he’d wondered about her. What was she doing to fill her days?
He wandered toward her place, trying to think of an excuse for dropping in. He was nearly at her yard and still hadn’t come up with anything plausible. Maybe he should turn around and go home again.
Instead he found himself on her front step.
He knocked. There was a flurry of barking, and then her footsteps as she came to the door and opened it.
Her hair was gathered up in a messy nest on the top of her head, and she wore a stained sweatshirt and sweatpants. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’m interrupting something, aren’t I?” A strange, sharp odor permeated the air.
“I’ve been dyeing yarn the last few days,” she answered. “That’s the smell. Do you want to come in?”
He didn’t want to intrude, but he was incredibly curious. How did someone hand-dye yarn? Marvin was standing just behind her, tail wagging, no longer barking in alarm but as if waiting to greet a friend. “Hey, Marv,” he said, stepping inside. “I have to admit, I’m curious. I’ve never seen hand-dyed yarn before.”
She led him through the house, to a back porch that had lots of natural light and counters. Several basins were lined up, and maybe four had dye inside and swirls of yarn soaking. On the other side of the room, drying racks were set up, with hanks of yarn lying across the wooden spindles. A small fan kept air circulating, and Cole spied one of the windows cracked open, even though the day was cool.
