by Irene Hannon
He didn’t ask if the reverse was true, but the question hung in the air between them.
The honest answer was yes.
Yet with Stephanie’s warning echoing in her mind . . . and her own situation unresolved . . . it wasn’t fair to build expectations.
“I thought of you too.”
Also honest—but not what he’d wanted to hear. Though he masked it quickly, the flash of disappointment in those brown irises was telling.
“Nice to know.” He released her hand and motioned toward the steps. “After you.”
He followed as she descended and took the lead down the narrow path that led to the main trail. There, he fell in beside her.
“Are you certain you don’t want to share your bounty with your aunt?” She indicated the bag he was holding.
“No. I had you in mind when I bought these. Besides, Frank picked her up not long after I got home. They were going to Hope House, then to Charley’s for tacos.”
“She went to Shore Acres State Park with him yesterday.”
“Yeah?”
Katherine cringed. “Whoops. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But she mentioned it to me while we were at Hope House on Sunday. I didn’t think it was a secret.”
“It’s not. Neither is their date tonight. She also told me she’s decided to stay in Hope Harbor for a while. Much as she likes the town and our fabulous scenery, I don’t think that’s why she’s considering a permanent change of address.” He stopped and motioned for her to continue, past a blackberry bush that was encroaching on the path.
“I’m happy for her.” Too bad she couldn’t be as definitive about what she wanted. “And I envy her having that decision behind her.”
“Does that mean you’re still thinking about the movie?”
“Yes. There’s been a new development—but I want to hear about you and your dad first.”
“Couldn’t we flip a coin to see who goes first?”
“Nope. You promised me an update while we ate. My news can wait until dessert.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You sound like Simon.”
“I don’t think I like that comparison. Has he been bugging you again?”
“You could say that. But let’s stick with more pleasant subjects while we walk down. Tell me about these sandwiches you carried thousands of miles, and why they’re special.”
She listened to his stories about Fetterman’s Deli and the happy hours he’d spent there with friends as a teen, until at last they emerged from the brambles and stepped onto the beach.
“Our table awaits.” He indicated the log. “Or in this case, a seat with a view. Let’s use it as a backrest tonight. It will be easier than trying to juggle everything on a rounded surface.”
They sat on the sand, and Zach pulled the sandwiches and sodas out of the bag. After everything was divvied up, she angled toward him. “You’re on.”
“First, try that.” He tapped the sandwich in her lap and unwrapped his own. “It’s not quite at the level of Charley’s tacos—but close. They assured me it would survive the trip. Spread this on it first, though.” He retrieved a container of the topping from the bag, along with a plastic knife, and passed them over.
She unwrapped the gargantuan sandwich, removed the top piece of bread, added a generous portion of the separately packaged mixture, then took a bite.
An explosion of tangy flavors tickled her taste buds.
Wow.
“You weren’t kidding. This is incredible.” She examined the sandwich close-up. “What else is on this besides pastrami?”
“Swiss cheese—and coleslaw that’s put together with homemade Russian dressing. They bake their own bread too.”
“The deli doesn’t happen to have a branch on the West Coast, does it?”
“Nope. It’s a family-run business.”
“It would be worth a trip to Atlanta just for this.”
“There could be other reasons to visit Atlanta someday.”
She peeked at him.
He was focused on his own sandwich and didn’t dwell on that comment, but it wasn’t hard to read between the lines.
Without pushing, he was letting her know he had a vested interest in her decision about the movie—and her career.
That made the new deadline all the more difficult to deal with.
She nibbled at the sandwich, letting the steady splash of the surf and the caw of the gulls soothe the cacophony in her mind. In a few minutes, she’d fill Zach in on her news—but first, she wanted to hear about Atlanta.
“Tell me what happened with your dad.”
She continued to eat as he gave her the highlights of his trip, and her heart warmed as he wrapped up with his dad’s plan to come to Hope Harbor.
At least Zach’s story had a happy ending.
“You must be over the moon.” She smiled at him as she picked up a piece of coleslaw that had escaped from her sandwich and fitted it back in.
“At the very least. Maybe over Mars. It was more than I’d hoped for. More than I’d prayed for. I would have been satisfied to be invited inside and treated civilly. For Dad to do a one-eighty . . .” He shook his head, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “It was beyond anything I could have hoped for.”
“When is he coming out here?”
“Thanksgiving, if his recovery progresses as we expect. Appropriate, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
“I assume Stephanie and Frank will be there too—and Dad suggested I invite any other close friends.” He picked up the second half of his sandwich but shifted his attention to her. “He also asked if I had a girlfriend.”
The mouthful of pastrami she’d swallowed got stuck halfway down, and she groped for her soda. Took a swig. “What did you say?”
“No—but that’s not what I wanted to say.”
His answer didn’t surprise her—but his candor did.
“I thought we’d decided to . . . that we were going to try to keep our relationship low-key?”
“I’ve been trying. It’s not working.”
For her either.
Despite her efforts to suppress her growing feelings for the man who lived in the house next door, he’d also begun to take up residence in her heart.
But until she decided what to do about the movie—and her career—it would be safer for both of them if they kept their feelings on a low burner and gave themselves space to see where the electricity led.
Easier said than done, though.
Yet more important than ever, in light of her news.
She set her sandwich back on the paper in her lap. Filled her lungs with the salt-laced air. “Can we switch gears for a minute?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m picking up serious undertones here.”
“More like frustrating—and nerve-wracking. Simon’s here.”
He frowned and set his sandwich down too. “Here, at your house?”
“Not at the moment—but he is in Hope Harbor. He showed up yesterday with the news that the deadline for the movie decision has been changed to this weekend.”
Despite the golden light cast by the dipping sun, Zach’s complexion seemed to lose a few shades of color. “Why the shortened time frame?”
She briefed him. “Of course, Simon is pushing me to accept—ASAP, now that the studio has agreed to address my reservations about language and nudity.”
“Which way are you leaning?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
He hesitated. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
Several beats passed as he studied her.
Then, instead of a verbal response, he set the paper holding his sandwich beside him, leaned close, and captured her lips in a kiss that answered her question far more eloquently than words ever could.
It was the sort of kiss that made a woman forget about everything but the man whose magic touch chased every care away.
Until all at once, he jerked back and uttered four words that hurt far more than the jeers and taunts of her childhood peers.
“That was a mistake.”
As the harsh, ragged declaration hung in the air between them—and Katherine’s shattered expression registered—Zach’s stomach twisted.
Way to go, Garrett. You know her history, know rejection is her Achilles’ heel. Could you have been a bit more diplomatic—and articulate?
“I’m sorry.” He touched her hand, willing her to accept his contrition. “Not about kissing you, but for my motivation. Trying to influence your decision is selfish—and wrong. You have to choose what’s best for you . . . even if the idea of you leaving makes me sick to my stomach.”
The shock on her face faded. “Oh. I thought—”
“I know what you thought. I’d attribute my tactless faux pas to jet lag, but a three-hour time difference isn’t enough to qualify for that excuse. Forgive me?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. “I have a thicker skin than I used to after living in the rejection-rife world of Hollywood, but I’m still too sensitive to snubs and put-downs. Leftover baggage from my youth, I suppose—another button Simon knows how to push.”
And that brought them back to the movie offer.
If he couldn’t make the decision for her, perhaps he could help her arrive at the best one—even if the outcome wasn’t in his favor.
“Why don’t we talk about the movie for a few minutes? If the studio has caved to your demands, what’s holding you back?”
She rewrapped the other half of her sandwich, twin furrows creasing her brow. “I’m afraid if I do it, I’ll be sucked back into the whole Hollywood scene and it will be harder than ever to break free afterward.”
“Take that concern out of the equation. Think of the movie as an isolated decision, with no bearing on anything else. In that context, would you do it?”
“Yes.” Again, no hesitation. “It’s a wonderful script. Working opposite the male lead would be a dream come true. The director is exceptional. The character I’d play is a woman who would require every ounce of my skill to bring to life—but that sort of challenge is what drew me to acting in the first place. From the artistic and creative standpoint, it’s a no-brainer.”
The more she talked, the more radiant she became.
Zach’s stomach twisted again.
Katherine might not like all the trappings that came with a career in Hollywood, but she loved the acting part—and this was a plum role. Whatever her ultimate decision about her career, if she turned this part down, she could regret it for the rest of her life.
And much as he wished she would, if he tried to push her in that direction, he’d regret his selfishness for the rest of his life.
“I think you have your answer, Katherine.”
“How can you be so certain when I’m not?”
“I can see it in your face.” He forced up the corners of his mouth. “You’re glowing. You look like I did the day I opened The Perfect Blend—excited, eager, ready to dig in and create something that would feed my soul. For you, it would also be the culmination of a lifelong dream . . . even if you decide to change direction and pursue a new dream afterward.”
“That’s the tricky part.” She brushed her hand over the sand beside her, letting the grains trickle through her fingers. “It will be much harder to walk away if the movie’s a success.”
“But not impossible. And while you’re filming, you’ll have a chunk of time to think about your future. How long will it take to shoot the movie?”
“I don’t have the schedule yet. I know the major location work is supposed to be done by year-end. It may take another few weeks to finish the set work.”
“So it’s not a long commitment.”
She tipped her head. “I’m beginning to think you’re trying to get rid of me.”
“You know better. If I had my druthers, you’d ditch the Hollywood life today and move to Hope Harbor.”
“But if I did, what would I do? Would I miss acting? What would happen if I moved here and our electricity shorted out?”
“Only you can answer those questions—and you should before you initiate such a radical change.”
“I know.” She sighed and picked up the baggie. “Are you going to finish your sandwich?”
“Later.” He rewrapped his too.
“You want a truffle?”
“I wouldn’t mind ending this conversation on a sweet note—and since my preferred treat isn’t available”—he brushed his fingertips across her lips with a whisper touch—“I’ll have to settle for a truffle.”
Her breath hitched, and she swallowed. “It might b-be available.”
Despite the temptation, he resisted. “No. Let’s not muddy your decision with hormones.”
She pushed her hair back with fingers that weren’t quite steady. “You’re killing me here.”
“Hey. This isn’t easy for me either. Give me credit for taking the honorable course.” He managed to conjure up another smile.
“You couldn’t rise much higher in my estimation than you already are.” She doled out the truffles, two each, and bit into hers.
He followed her lead, savoring the flavor of sun-ripened blackberries and chocolate on his tongue. “Mmm. I liked the lavender and Earl Grey version, but these edge them out by a hair.”
“The blackberries will be waning soon. I wanted to take advantage of their availability before they were gone.” She finished her first truffle. “That leads to another concern, if I decide to take the movie role. Opportunities, like blackberries, have a season. They don’t hang around forever.” She met his gaze. “Men like you don’t come around every day, Zach—and several months is a long time. Nations have been conquered in less.”
She was worried he’d meet someone else while she was gone.
That was one fear he could put to rest.
“If you’re concerned another woman will come along and claim my heart, don’t be. Other than you, I haven’t met anyone who’s interested me in two and a half years—and Hope Harbor isn’t exactly a swinging singles scene. It’s not like women are beating my door down.”
“Romance is in the air, though. Look at Stephanie and Frank. And I’ve been hearing stories about other couples who met here too. Not to mention Floyd and Gladys.” She lightened her tone with the last reference—but her worry was real.
He took her hand again. Wove his fingers through hers. “If you decide to do the movie, I’ll be here after it’s finished. You have my promise. We’ll keep in touch while you’re gone, and once it’s over, we’ll figure out the best path forward together. Fair enough?”
Her blue irises began to shimmer. “Not for you. You’re putting your life on hold for me.”
“No. I’m living the life I’ve chosen in a place I love. I’m not putting anything on hold.” Except falling in love with the woman across from him.
Or, more accurately, falling more in love. He was halfway there already.
But giving voice to that this early in their relationship could put more pressure on her, which she didn’t need.
“You know what I wish?” Her tone grew wistful.
“Tell me.”
“That God would write the direction I’m seeking in the sky.” She waved her hand across the blue expanse, now gilding near the horizon.
“I’ve been in your shoes. But subtle guidance can be less disruptive. You don’t want the kind of shove I got.” A cloud scuttled past the sun, momentarily dimming the light and chilling the world.
As Josh’s death had done to his life.
“I know your peace was hard-won.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’m just glad there was a happy ending with your father.”
“Me too.” He scanned the bluff behind them. “We ought to head back. Negotiating the path in the dark is tricky. Ready?”
“Yes.”
He stood, held out a hand to help her up, and tucked his sandwich back in the bag. “Want m
e to carry your half for you?”
“No. I may not get it back.” She gave him a teasing shoulder nudge. “Want me to carry your second truffle for you?”
“Uh-uh. I can take care of it.” He put the whole piece in his mouth and motioned her toward the path.
He chewed as they strolled to the end of the beach and started up the bluff, the sweetness of the candy offering a pleasant finish to an otherwise stressful conversation.
Nothing had been resolved—and who knew what Katherine would decide?
If she did take the movie role, what would he do if she didn’t return?
No answer came to him as they hiked up the steep trail.
At the path to his house, she stopped—but he motioned for her to continue. “I’ll walk you home.”
“It’s not far, and after all my treks to the beach, I could walk the route in my sleep. Thank you for the sandwich—and the conversation. I’m going to sleep on everything we talked about and try to come to a decision in the next day or two.”
“Stop by the house if you want to talk again.”
“I will.” After a nanosecond hesitation, she leaned forward and hugged him. Tight. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be grateful our paths crossed.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. Tear-laced.
That didn’t leave him feeling warm and fuzzy.
But what was there to say?
So rather than respond, he held her close, dipping his head to brush his cheek over her hair and inhale the sweet scent that was all Katherine.
Much too soon, she eased back and hurried up the path in the waning daylight.
Despite a powerful temptation to go after her and give her a proper good-night kiss, he let her go.
Because really, wasn’t that the only way to hold on to someone? A person had to choose to stay—or return—without coercion or they could never be truly yours.
He waited until she disappeared from view, then finished the steep ascent to his house.
At the top of the bluff, he paused and surveyed the darkening sea. Nearby, a yellow-rumped warbler welcomed the evening with its distinctive, tweeting song. The boughs of the trees swayed in the gentle wind.
All was peaceful.
And he had much to be grateful for on this day. His dad’s operation had been a success, and the wall between them had been breached.
