Love Rebuilt

by Stewart, Delancey

  I’d face him, but I wasn’t going to do it in lingerie and smeared mascara. Hating myself a tiny bit for doing it, I pulled on my jeans and a button down blouse, pinched my cheeks and swept my hair up into a loose knot at the back of my head. I glanced in the bathroom mirror and swished water around my mouth. On a whim, I grabbed my camera. Then I let the door slam behind me as I stepped back out with my coffee cup.

  Connor’s head snapped up as the trailer door slammed, and he immediately stepped out of his car.

  I watched him approach, wishing I could consider him without the irritating awareness that he was handsome. Really handsome. There was something in the way he moved as he carried a paper bag and coffee tray toward me that was graceful, purposeful. And really, really hot.

  But that didn’t change the fact that he was here again. After I’d told him twice to get off my property.

  “Do I need to get a restraining order?” I still wasn’t sure whether I should be frightened or intrigued, but I could pretend.

  He stopped walking, and looked like I’d slapped him, his shoulders springing up and his head lifting to look at me better. He shook his head and took a step back. “Look, no. I’m sorry. I’ve really screwed this up. I only came to apologize. I just can’t seem to be around you without bungling things.”

  He looked sincere. And he was slowly turning around, taking whatever was in the bag with him. My mouth and stomach betrayed me. “It’s okay. I was just kidding. Kind of.”

  He stopped, but didn’t come closer. “I brought you a muffin. And some coffee.”

  “I like coffee.” I pointed at the picnic table outside my door, wondering if I was making a terrible mistake as the flame inside me glowed just a bit brighter.

  In the sunlight, Connor’s hair glinted and his skin shone. He was taller than Jack, his shoulders were wider and his waist was narrower. And he filled out his jeans much better than Jack ever had. And there was no reason in the world why I should be comparing this man to my ex-husband. I shoved down the irritating knowledge that Jack was still more a part of my life—and my thoughts—than I wanted him to be.

  Connor approached slowly and set the bag and coffee on the table. “Okay, well.” He ran a hand through the tousled waves, looking uncomfortable.

  “What’s in the bag?” I sniffed at the heady scent lingering around us. “Blueberry muffins?”

  He nodded.

  “May I?”

  He nodded again, a slow smile pulling the perfect lips up.

  I reached for the bag and peeked inside. The scent hit me full force and I couldn’t stop my hand from reaching in as my mouth watered. “These are Frank’s muffins.” I looked up at him for confirmation, but he looked confused. “From the diner.” I smelled them each morning and it took all of my willpower not to eat them every day. If I did, I’d never fit into my jeans again. But one wouldn’t hurt.

  “Right.” He nodded, a faint smile on the full lips. “My version of a peace offering. Blueberry muffins and coffee.” He reached forward and took one coffee for himself. Miranda was sure to have something to say about his visit and the fact that he bought two coffees. I wondered if she’d been the one to wait on him.

  “Coffee is a pretty good start. Muffins are good too,” I conceded.

  He looked at me for a long moment, his blue eyes thoughtful as they searched my face.

  I felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

  Finally, he shifted his weight, the scrape of his boots breaking the strange moment. “Have you thought any more about selling?”

  “Since last night?” I shook my head. “You really are persistent, aren’t you?” In reality, I was lying. I had thought about it a lot. I’d thought about how selling would free me of this burden and allow me to leave Kings Grove behind and start a life somewhere else. Start over. Maybe get it right this time. And I’d thought about how that new life would have to be one without my brother, since I was certain he wouldn’t forgive me for selling this land. He might have given up his claim on it, but the memories that lay scattered in the soft dirt here were not mine alone.

  Connor gestured toward the camera still dangling from my hand. “You’re a photographer.”

  I nodded, and then snapped a candid of him. I hadn’t thought about it, had just brought the camera up and clicked.

  He stepped back, his lips tightening into a hard line. His posture had gone rigid and he didn’t look happy, but he didn’t say anything. I sheepishly smiled an apology and set the camera down on the table. “Sorry. Instinct.”

  He stared at the camera for a second, as if it might leap off the table and bite him, and I remembered what Miranda had told me about all the nasty press coverage he’d received.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll ask next time. I’m totally out of practice.”

  His face relaxed a little, but he still looked wary.

  I sipped my coffee and looked back up at him. “Look, Mr. Charles. I don’t think I’m going to change my mind about selling the property.”

  “Call me Connor, please.”

  “Okay. Connor. I might not ever be able to build this stupid house.” I stared into the soaring frame, hating the ridiculous arrogance of the structure suddenly. “But I’m not selling the land. It’s part of my family. It’s been ours for a long time, and I don’t plan to change that.”

  His head turned, his face changing as he processed my words. His expression morphed, as if I’d just forced him into some kind of realization. “I didn’t know that.” His eyes skimmed me again, tracing from my eyes down the length of me and then quickly back up, lingering on my mouth before he spoke again. When he did, his blue eyes had shaded again, and his voice was quiet, strained. “So your family used to come here? When you were little?”

  I nodded. His expression made it clear that this information was significant to him, though I had no idea why it would be. “We camped. My mom came here when she was little, too. With her dad.”

  He seemed to think about that, and then his face cleared. “Well that makes sense then. Of course you don’t want to sell. I won’t bother you about it again.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to figure out his sudden change of heart. He wasn’t giving me a chance, though; his long strides were already taking him back to his car.

  “Thanks,” he called as he opened the door.

  I watched him back up and drive away, something sinking inside me as his taillights disappeared down the hill. Why did I feel disappointed? I’d won, hadn’t I? But if I was honest with myself, I was disappointed to know that whatever strange interlude I’d had with the mysterious Connor Charles had come to an end. Given everything that Miranda had told me about him, it was definitely for the best. And I had things I needed to focus on. Piercing blue eyes and auburn waves were not among them.

  I opened the bag of muffins and ate the second one, sitting at the old table and staring into the woods, pausing to take shots of the sky as it went from an inky blue with streaks of pink and yellow to the light crystalline color that looked almost white.

  If I never got out of this place, I’d have four million photographs of trees and sky, and a memory of ill-advised yearning for a man who was probably no better than Jack. And potentially much worse.

  Chapter 6

  Adele almost smiled when I came into the diner fifteen minutes early for my shift. Of course, with the drop off in out-of-towners, there were only a few tables full. Miranda was already leaning over the bar working on a crossword puzzle.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  Miranda didn’t bother replying. ‘Everyone’ was back to their lives, done vacationing. “Synonym for ‘outcast,’ six letters.”

  “Good morning to you, too.” I leaned in close and whispered. “Pariah.”

  Her pencil scratched quickly across the page. Then her head whipped up and she fixed me with those bright eyes. “You’re a genius!”

  “As I’ve told her thousands of times.” An accent that I’d once found sexy as hell wound aroun
d us, and my stomach turned at the sound.

  “Jack.”

  Miranda was struck silent at my side, and I fancied her mind on the many murder weapons at our disposal, the well-stocked kitchen only a couple steps away.

  “Hello there.” Jack’s eyes had landed on Miranda, and I watched him mentally tear off her maroon polo shirt. He didn’t stop there. His eyes trailed down to her short jean skirt. His tongue darted out to wet his lip.

  “What now, Jack?”

  “A complicated question,” he said, turning to me. “Because, Maddie, I’m a complicated man.”

  “Being an adulterous ass is the opposite of complicated,” I pointed out.

  “Touché, darlin’.”

  “You didn’t tell me about the accent,” Miranda whispered. Oh God, his charm was having an effect on her. That was all I needed. But then she turned back to him and added, “covers up the asshole pretty well, but I can still hear it slipping through.” She gave me a pat on the back and turned around, leaving Jack looking only mildly annoyed.

  “Outside,” I hissed at Jack. “Adele, I’ll be one minute.”

  “Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…” she said in a bored voice.

  I glared at her as we walked out the doors.

  “You didn’t drive all this way just to say hello.”

  “Sit for a minute, Maddie. You never could stay still.” Jack waved his arm at a low bench cut from a log that bordered the parking lot.

  “I’m supposed to be working. Spit it out.”

  “Well, honey, I didn’t want you to find out the hard way is all.”

  I stared at him. Right, how could I forget about his constant desire to protect my feelings?

  “Annalise and I are getting married.”

  “Am I supposed to be shocked? The ring she was wearing the day I met her was kind of a tip off. At our pool. In my bathing suit. Your grandmother’s ring, right? Didn’t exactly need a psychic to predict this one.”

  He had the sense to look a tiny bit guilty, swallowing hard.

  “I think that was the ring you didn’t want to give me because it was a family heirloom, right?”

  “Yeah, well.” Jack straightened himself and looked around. We both watched as several police officers entered the diner behind me. As soon as they were inside, Jack’s eyes narrowed. “My lawyer thinks that since you’re doing well here, and since I’m furnishing you with such a nice plump alimony payment each month, you should be capable of reassuming the car payment.”

  Shock iced my blood and I felt my eyes turn stony. I had few expenses up here, but keeping the trailer running and paying the property tax on the new house was plenty. I couldn’t afford the payments on the Jag. “Jack, I…”

  “He also said that you should be able to take back your student loans.” He leaned in and put a hand on my shoulder. “The interest rates are really low on those, and they don’t cost much each month.” He smiled.

  I glared at the hand on my shoulder as if it was a piece of raw meat he’d slapped there. “I chose to let you out of our marriage without a fight, Jack. I didn’t ask for much, and I didn’t get much. I ignored my lawyer when she told me how much I could take you for because I wanted to believe that there was something redeemable in our marriage that deserved to be preserved.”

  “That’s why she’s still digging around that joint account, then?”

  I was shaking. “That was the money we were supposed to use to finish the house. You left me in a goddamned tin can without a penny!” Oh God, this meant I’d have to call my lawyer again. And that meant I’d owe her more money. If I didn’t get that account, I’d never be able to pay her, let alone cover the Jag and the loans. “This is a new low, Jack. Even for you.”

  “Well, the paperwork is already drawn up. Anderson has some pull with the judge. He thinks it should be solid by next month.” Jack watched my face with what looked like mild amusement. “Any movement on selling our house?”

  “My house. And I told you I’m not selling it.”

  “Don’t know that you have a choice, love.” That stupid voice. Sexy and soothing. This was how I became trapped in the first place. “Unless…”

  I sighed. “What, Jack? Unless what?”

  “That was Connor Charles who came looking at it, wasn’t it? I’d written his name down when he called, but I didn’t make the connection until I was driving back to San Diego.”

  “Yes, so?”

  “He’s in a spot of trouble, now, isn’t he?” Jack sat down next to me, grinning in his evil way.

  I scooted away from him. He smelled good, familiar. I didn’t need that at this moment. “I guess he is. Why do you care?”

  Jack leaned back into the bench and took a deep breath, stretching his legs out and putting his hands behind his head. His face tilted upward to the sun, and he looked like just another tourist who’d come up to enjoy the fresh air and magnificent views. One hell of a handsome tourist. I couldn’t help but notice the stitching on his shirt—it was one he’d gotten when we were in Italy together. And the loafers he wore, they cost more than the payment on the car would for a month. All the things I’d been so drawn to were still attractive, only now they seemed so wildly excessive. I felt a little bit sick.

  “Well, I was just thinking. You still taking your pictures?”

  The use of the word “your” indicated that Jack still had no respect for what had once felt like my calling. “I am,” I sighed.

  “Why not take a couple of your beleaguered neighbor, then?”

  “What for?”

  Jack leaned forward again, fixing me with his bright eyes. “You’re a looker, Maddie, but you aren’t always that quick.”

  I stood up. “I’m not legally required to take shit from you anymore, Jack. See you later.”

  “Sorry, sorry.” He caught my wrist and pulled me back. “Old habits.”

  His rueful smile would not win me over anymore. “Spit it out.” I crossed my arms and stood in front of him.

  “Look. You need money. And I’ve got a friend in Los Angeles—a guy I sold a vacation house to out on Coronado last year. He’d pay pretty well for a couple shots of your local stalker.”

  “No. No way.” I shook my head.

  “There’s no easier money, Maddie. And I’m talking about significant money. Enough to set you free.”

  “I am free.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow and looked around, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t say so.”

  I stared at him for a minute longer. Something was stirring in me, and I didn’t like it. Jack had thrown the tinder of an idea out and he knew I’d think about it, and that it just might catch fire. He probably knew how much I’d hate myself for even considering it, too. I couldn’t do that to Connor. I didn’t know him, but he seemed like a nice enough guy, and at this point I was willing to believe that he’d just been cast in a negative light by the tabloids because he’d been an easy target. I wasn’t going to pile on. Even if it would give me a clear path out of here. I wasn’t that kind of person, and I wasn’t that desperate. “Go home to your trashy little girlfriend, Jack.”

  “That’s not very nice.”

  “I don’t think you’d know ‘nice’ if it bit you in the ass.” I spun on my heel. “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” It was an empty threat. I’d call her, but his lawyer was far more savvy. If he said the car and loan payment were going to revert to me, it was probably already in the works.

  “Maddie, please don’t be dramatic. I hoped this wouldn’t turn ugly.”

  “It started out ugly, I just didn’t see it!” I turned and walked away from him, squeezing my eyes shut to keep the threatening tears from reaching their destination. I would not let Jack make me cry. Never again. I smoothed my apron and reached for the door of the diner, glancing around in the hope that no one had witnessed our little chat.

  That was when I saw the Land Rover parked across the street, Connor seated inside. He lifted a hand in a half-wave.

 
I pretended I didn’t see him and went back inside. Was he following me? I dismissed the thought as soon as I had it. He was famous. He surely got enough mail to warrant checking it regularly. He’d probably just been at the post office.

  Adele raised her eyebrows at me as I returned to the counter, but the look on my face must have silenced her. Besides, pretty much everyone inside was focused on the conversation going on between Miranda and the officers at the end of the counter.

  They were talking in low voices, but as I got close enough to make coffee, I could hear some of what they were saying.

  “And the man?” the female officer asked. “The man who goes by Connor Charles?”

  “He doesn’t come in here often,” Miranda said.

  “What about Amanda Terry? You know her?”

  Miranda nodded. “I’ve known her a long time. Her family lives up here. We were in school together. She was a freshman when I was a senior.”

  “And when she and Mr. Charles were dating, did you see them together here in the diner?”

  “A couple times.” She nodded.

  “And can you tell us what their interactions were like? Did he seem threatening to her in any way?” The female officer leaned forward, pad and pen in hand like she was eager for something good to pop out of Miranda’s mouth.

  Miranda shook her head and looked adorably confused. “Threatening? No. He sat on his side, she sat on hers. He always paid. And she always had some kind of notepad or papers in front of her. It looked like they were studying or something. It didn’t really look like dating to me.”

  “Studying?”

  “I don’t know.” Miranda shrugged.

  “And did you see them anywhere else around town?”

  Miranda shrugged again, her blond ponytail falling over one shoulder. “I don’t think so. He always walked her to her car when they were done.”

  “Did you see him kiss her? Touch her?”

  “Never.”

  “And you never saw them leave together?” The male officer sounded almost disappointed.