Christmas at the Cove

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Christmas at the Cove Page 8

by Rachel Brimble


  Did she think his life was a movie she could direct as she saw fit? Did she come back to Templeton expecting a happily-ever-after regardless of whose lives she changed beyond recognition? He slid the card back into his pocket and straddled his bike. If she did, she was going to get the surprise of her life, because he hadn’t played the role of provider for so long only to get trapped again without knowing the truth. All of it. He buckled his helmet, gunned the powerful engine and accelerated toward town.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CARRIE GLANCED AT her watch as she paced the length of her hotel room. A fitful night had left her a mess of nerves and trepidation. How could she have let Scott get close enough to kiss her yesterday? To say she was disappointed in herself was the understatement of the year. She’d gotten off the train determined not to be the same woman she was when she’d been in Templeton the last time.

  Yet she hadn’t stopped the kiss.... God, she’d wanted more of it.

  This couldn’t happen; she couldn’t let him get to her physically as he had before. But hadn’t it been her, and not him, who’d deepened the kiss and pressed her body closer? Carrie covered her face with her hands and groaned aloud into the room.

  Her nerve endings had sizzled awake; the memory of the contact making her stomach flip-flop and libido soar.

  She snatched her hands from her face and glared out of the window. She’d come back to Templeton because she needed to own what happened between her and Scott. For better or worse, she wanted to move on. The guilt of keeping him from Belle had dug a slow and gaping hole in her marriage that she’d tried to ignore. Yet, Gerard never once held it against her that he wasn’t Belle’s father. All that time, she’d wanted the courage to face her truth and stand tall and proud, regardless of her child being conceived through a brief love affair. Why couldn’t she have done that when Gerard was alive? She closed her eyes.

  Because the prospect of seeing Scott, of telling him about Belle had frightened her beyond reason. How could she have guaranteed she’d keep her marriage vows and want to return to Gerard’s safe stability, if Scott rocked that recklessness inside her again?

  The powerful emotion and attraction she felt the moment he walked into the bar had been profound. She hadn’t wanted something so intense and complicated in her life, so she’d convinced herself Scott wouldn’t want the pressure of a baby.

  Even if Gerard had wanted Scott to know about Belle in the hope that it would allay some of Carrie’s guilt about keeping Belle a secret from him, would Scott have just walked away? She doubted it. One look in the man’s eyes and his sense of possession was clear. She’d been right to keep him out of their lives so Gerard could enjoy Belle being his and his alone.

  Tears blurred the busy high street below as she gripped the windowsill. Now Gerard was dead and it was her responsibility to set the record straight.

  She whirled away from the window and swiped at her face. Scott had the power to make her lose her mind and throw caution to the wind. How could that possibly be the right thing for Belle? Yet, she had to find a way of making this work if she was ever to be free to live authentically. Belle had the right to know her father.

  Carrie pushed her fingers into her temples. More than anything she sought stability and security for Belle...and she would never find that in a guy who carried off black leather, denim and a permanent five o’clock shadow like he belonged on the cover of GQ. She toyed with her wedding band, hating the undeniable awareness and thoughts rushing through her mind. She was calm, professional and focused in every aspect of her life. Just once she’d acted on instinct rather than intelligence, and it had resulted in the mess she was in now.

  She was thankful for Belle, but that’s where the joy of her impulse three years ago ended. The fear, anxiety, uncertainty and foolishness Scott drew out in Carrie had made her life harder than it ever would’ve been if she hadn’t met him.

  She walked to the bed and snatched up Belle’s toy dog. Pressing it to her face, Carrie inhaled deeply. It was one of her daughter’s well-loved toys, and Carrie had carefully packed it in case of emergencies like the one she was enduring right now. She closed her eyes and filled her heart with Belle. Second by second, her tenacity and spirit gathered strength. This is about my child, god damn it.

  Her cell phone rang on the bedside table, making Carrie jump. She rushed to pick it up. “Hello?”

  “Hi, sweetheart.”

  Carrie’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Mum. Hi.”

  “How are you feeling? You didn’t sound yourself last night.”

  “Tired, but okay. I’m due to meet Scott downstairs in—” she glanced at her watch, her stomach knotting “—ten minutes.”

  “Okay, well, I just wanted to wish you luck...and advise you to keep an open mind to whatever he says. It’s important you hear him out or you’ll come home without feeling any better about the future.”

  Carrie swallowed. “I know, and I will.”

  “Good, because from the way you sounded when you called last night, the man clearly rattled you yesterday. Don’t let him badger or intimidate you. You were both there back then.”

  “I know.” She looked toward the window. “It’s no surprise he doesn’t immediately believe Belle is his under the circumstances.”

  “He said that?”

  The disdain in her mother’s voice was expected...and as far as Carrie was concerned, unwarranted. “Mum, I don’t dislike him for asking the question.”

  “I do.”

  “He doesn’t know me. How is he supposed to know I wouldn’t lie for my own gain?” She exhaled. “I haven’t exactly got a great track record as far as he’s concerned, do I? I left and didn’t look back, found out I was pregnant and didn’t tell him.”

  “Fine, he might not trust you, but you have reason to be wary of him, too. He’s a stranger you’re considering bringing into Belle’s life. As far as I’m concerned, he has to earn that right regardless of what happened before.

  “I could easily be there with you, you know. I could leave Belle with your father and be there in the morning.”

  Carrie smiled. “I’m a big girl, Mum. It’s Christmas, and I want you to be with Belle.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Carrie blinked back the tears as desperation to be with Belle brought an ache to her heart. She sighed. “I really thought he’d want nothing to do with me or Belle, but he was—” the confusion that burned blue-hot in Scott’s gaze filled her mind’s eye “—adamant I stay and meet with him today. I naively thought I’d be on the first train out of here by now. Instead, I’m scared to death he’ll say more I don’t want to hear.” The nerves that had ebbed and flowed through her since dawn grew worse. “He’s...complicated.”

  “And so are you. You can do this, sweetheart. You’re in charge here, okay?”

  Am I? I certainly didn’t act like it when we kissed. She swallowed. “I’d better go.”

  “Okay. Call me later?”

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Her mother hung up and Carrie snapped her cell phone shut. She slowly inhaled in a bid to calm her racing heart as trepidation about seeing Scott resurfaced. If she lowered her defenses in even the smallest of ways, she couldn’t say for sure it wouldn’t be easy for him to take her, possess her and drive her to oblivion and back as quickly as he had the first time.

  Guilt slithered over her shoulders. Gerard had taught her about real, enduring love and not a burning passion that surely would be impossible to sustain. She placed Belle’s dog on the bed and snatched her purse from the dresser, dropping her phone inside. Belle was hers, and when they lost Gerard, Carrie had closed an airtight cocoon around her daughter, wanting nothing or nobody to ever cause her pain or fear. Until she knew more about Scott, she wouldn’t risk him being near her baby.
Part of her was angry at letting him close enough that they kissed...another part horribly ashamed by the hurt in his eyes.

  With a final glance around the room, Carrie made for the door. She marched along the corridor and pressed the button for the elevator. If Scott wanted to be a part of Belle’s life, she would learn to live with that, but that couldn’t happen until her attraction cooled enough for her to see him clearly. More important, trust him entirely.

  The elevator door whispered open and Carrie smiled at the attendant. “Lobby, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The elevator descended and Carrie turned to the mirrored wall beside her. She fussed with her hair and clothes, her hands trembling. She and Scott had to set some ground rules. She could kick herself for not being mentally and emotionally prepared for his paternity question, but that was in the past. Now more than ever before she was determined to cement the way forward and would willingly do a DNA test if that’s what he wanted.

  When the elevator doors opened in the lobby, Carrie nodded her thanks to the attendant and pulled on her confidence like an extra coat. Scott might have slipped under her armor, but that didn’t mean she was any less willing to do battle.

  If Scott became a part of Belle’s life, she would smile when he came to visit and block her nose to his musky, masculine scent that drifted so easily into her nostrils and struck at her femininity. Her bruised and battered heart still grieved for a man who treated her like a queen and Belle like a princess. She couldn’t bear another loss of someone she loved...whether that be by death or betrayal.

  Leaving the hotel, she looked left and right down the street before glancing at her watch. Nine-fifteen. He was late. She swallowed...or maybe he wasn’t coming. Carrie narrowed her eyes. This would be his one and only chance. If he didn’t show, she would leave Templeton and go back to her life without him.

  A gruff, thundering and powerful motorbike approached far too close to where she stood and Carrie stepped back. She hated bikes with a passion. Gerard was killed on a death trap much like the one rumbling to a halt barely a foot away from her. The rider straddled the machine like it was an extension of his damn anatomy.

  She crossed her arms.

  He cut the engine and Carrie scowled. He lifted his helmet. The too-long, jet-black hair that should’ve been deemed messy rather than sexy caused her stomach to drop. No. Please God, no.

  “Good morning.” Scott’s eyes shone bright, his smile wide. “Your helmet’s in the box so there’s no need to look so worried. You’ll love riding once you’ve tried it.”

  “You think this is funny?”

  His smile wavered. “What’s wrong?”

  Gathering her wits as shock turned to anger, Carrie strode toward him and fought the temptation to kick the damn bike with the point of her stiletto. “My husband was killed on one of those things. You’re unbelievable.”

  His smile vanished and he swung from the bike in one fluid motion, his arms outstretched as he came toward her in two easy strides, his gaze apologetic. “How was I supposed to know that?”

  Carrie waited as the seconds beat out between them and the cold winter air that blew along the street whipped into a sudden frenzy. She gripped the hair that swept across her face, opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again. “I don’t know, but God damn it, I don’t want that thing anywhere near me.”

  He dropped his chin to his chest, and when he exhaled, a puff of breath danced in front of his mouth. He bounced his helmet against his denim-clad thigh a few times before he looked up. She stared in fascination as his eyes cooled from ice-blue to midnight blue, soft with regret. He raised his hands in surrender. “The bike’s out of here, okay? I’ll go park it across the road and we can walk wherever it is you want to go. Deal?”

  Her stomach knotted with something hard and fast and deep that she didn’t want to contemplate. His consideration was genuine, which unfortunately struck another hole in her weakening defenses. “Yes. Thank you.”

  He smiled softly, his gaze running like a caress over her face. “Good.”

  Turning, he approached his bike and Carrie released her held breath. He stowed his helmet in its carrier, tossed her another apologetic smile and kicked the bike off its stand. Frozen, she stared after him as he waited for the road to clear before he wheeled his bike toward the parking lot on the other side as though it weighed little more than a tricycle.

  She abhorred bikes and speed and danger. Everything about Scott represented exactly what she wanted to avoid, but there was no denying she’d been unfair snapping at him the way she did. Swallowing her pride, she shook her head. Idiot woman.

  When he came back, she’d apologize and endeavor to shake off her constant inability to prevent her mouth from running at ninety miles an hour whenever something unnerved her. Animosity between her and Scott could only be detrimental to Belle. She had to do her best to give Belle her father. She and Scott had covered little ground, and it was four days before Christmas. All of a sudden, she wanted nothing more than to be at home holding her baby.

  Carrie stared across the street, simultaneously willing Scott closer and wanting to delay his return.

  Any fool who looked into eyes as telling as Scott Walker’s could see he had understanding and pride. Worse, Carrie sensed an innate dependability, which was ridiculous and disconcerting, considering how little she knew about him.

  Pulling back her shoulders, she forced a smile when he stopped in front of her. “Thanks for abandoning the bike. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You had no way of knowing how my husband was killed.”

  His gaze lingered a moment at her lips, before he nodded. “Apology accepted.” He gestured along the street. “Shall we?”

  Carrie nodded. “Sure.”

  They fell into step side-by-side, and Carrie was instantly too aware of his height and stature. She stared resolutely forward, ignoring the rush of attraction that washed over her once again.

  After a few moments, he cleared his throat. “I meant what I said yesterday. I’ve not shared with anyone else what I shared with you.”

  She swallowed, her heart pumping. Why is he going there? “Whether or not that’s true—”

  “It’s true.” His gaze pinned hers.

  “Fine, but yesterday when you kissed me—”

  “It was a moment of madness, and entirely my fault. It won’t happen again...unless you want it to.”

  She snapped her gaze to his. “I won’t.” Yeah, right.

  He smiled. “Fine, but there’s nothing about three years ago...or yesterday, that I regret.” His voice was low and somber. “What I’ll regret is if we can’t talk today.”

  Her shoulders slumped as the tension left her body. “Same here.”

  His jaw tightened. “Then we’re halfway there.”

  Halfway where? Why did he seem so settled about all this when she was a bundle of nerves? It should be him floundering around, unsure of what happened next, not her.

  She glanced at him. “Do you know anywhere private we can talk? I get the impression Templeton’s residents like to be in other people’s business. I’d much prefer us to be alone.”

  “We could head to the beach. It’s a nice day and they have a hut down there that sells coffee and hot chocolate.” He turned and met her eyes. “I know a spot where no one will find us.”

  The insinuation in his tone stoked her irritation. “I bet you do. I’m sure you know plenty of places to take women so you’re alone with them.”

  He lifted his shoulders. “Maybe I do.”

  Feeling foolish and immature, Carrie ignored the tension that scored like sharpened claws across her shoulders and smiled. “I’m not afraid of you, Scott.”

  He frowned. “You say that as though I’d like you to be.”

  “You seem more self-assured than yester
day.”

  “And that worries you.”

  It was a statement rather than a question and the confidence in his tone sent Carrie’s apprehension soaring. “What’s changed?”

  He halted and looked directly into her eyes. “If I have a child, I want to know everything about her. This stopped being about you and me the moment Belle entered the equation.”

  Dread knotted Carrie’s stomach. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning it’s her at the forefront of my mind right now. Nothing else.”

  He turned and continued walking, leaving Carrie momentarily paralyzed. What the hell did he mean by that? Blinking, she hurried forward and fell into step beside him, her nerves stretched to breaking. They walked in silence. The street was busy with parents and children and people laden with bags and boxes decorated in festive reds and greens. The scene provided a picturesque and welcome excuse not to talk. Every now and then she stole a glance at Scott, expecting his jaw to be set and his brow furrowed as it had been for most of the time they’d been in each other’s company. Instead he was smiling softly.

  Does he know something I don’t? Why is he so happy all of a sudden?

  They left the sidewalk and joined the boardwalk. Scott extended his arm to encompass the sand that stretched over a mile each way. “Welcome to Cowden Beach.”

  Carrie turned to her first sight of the Cove’s sands since she’d arrived. She smiled. “It’s gorgeous. The last time I was here I was in a bikini and slathered in sunscreen, but even in December it looks amazing.”

  She met his gaze. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were toe-curling and sexily dark.

  She frowned. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head and looked to the refreshment hut farther along the beach. “Coffee or chocolate?”

 

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