by Jen Gilroy
She moved to the far side and tucked her feet underneath her. The pajama legs slid up to her knees. He took a ragged breath at the network of scar tissue that encircled her left calf.
She yanked the pajamas down and covered herself with the quilt to her chin. “Sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry about?” He sat on the edge of the bed.
“My leg is ugly.” Her voice was muffled. “So ugly I can barely look at it. So ugly I can’t wear shorts or skirts or swim.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“What’s the difference?” She turned her head on the pillow, away from him. “Everybody would stare at me and wonder and whisper and ask questions.”
“So what if people notice? What makes it their business?” He touched her shoulder. “For anybody who knows you, who cares about you, that scar won’t make any difference. Why would you think it would?”
“I’m not me. I’m not the person I used to be.” Her words came out in an anguished cry. She twisted, and the hurt in her milk-chocolate eyes hit him harder than the scar on her leg had.
He slid into bed beside her, and the mattress gave under his weight. “You can still write your stories. Come winter, if you want, I bet you’ll be back on your snowboard.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you know I snowboard?”
“That picture you’ve got on your Facebook page is a good clue.”
“You found me on Facebook?” Her smile was amused and reminded Sean how easy it used to be between them.
“Ty did. Remember those articles you wrote last year about African farmers? That think globally, act locally idea is right up his street.” He leaned on one elbow and faced her. “You have a scar on your leg. What happened to you must have hurt like hell, but that scar’s on the outside. Sure, it changed how you look, but who you are on the inside is up to you.”
“You really mean that, don’t you?” Doubt flickered across her face.
“I do.” Tiredness slammed into him. He reached over and flipped off the light, plunging the bedroom into darkness.
“Maybe I’m not sure who I am on the inside.” She tugged on the quilt. “Not anymore.”
Typical Charlie: Once she got hold of an idea, she was like Shadow chewing on a bone. Sean grabbed his half of the quilt. “Do me a favor. Wait to figure out the big questions of life until daylight.” He pulled harder on the bedclothes. “Don’t hog the blankets either.”
“I only—”
“You need to learn to switch off.” He anchored the quilt under his shoulder.
She burrowed into the covers, and her breasts brushed his arm. “Said the pot to the kettle.”
He rolled on his side so she wouldn’t nudge the telltale bulge in his shorts. “I can switch off.”
“Prove it.” She moved closer. The peach scent was intoxicating. He wanted to taste her skin. Every inch of it.
He clenched his jaw and willed himself not to roll back over, cover her body with his, take what he wanted and give her what she used to want too. “Let’s spend the day together tomorrow. Go bike riding, swim, have a picnic, and get takeout for dinner.”
“I…uh…swimming, I can’t.” Her voice got small.
“You said you want to figure out who you are. The girl I remember could swim halfway across the lake without breaking a sweat.” He tugged on his shorts in a vain attempt to ease the pressure in his groin. “I’ve seen your leg.”
“Mia called the insurance company, and they’re sending a guy out to the cottage in the morning to start the claim process. I should be there when she talks to him.” Charlie sounded so earnest Sean almost believed her.
“What do you want?” He gripped the pillow to keep himself from turning to touch her.
She hesitated for several endless seconds. “I want to spend time with you. As friends, like we used to.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He could do this friend thing. How hard could it be?
A cold nose bumped his arm and two paws slid on the edge of the bed next to his face. “Don’t even think about it, Shadow.” He leaned over and eyeballed the dog. “Charlie may have let you sleep with her, but you’re not getting on this bed while I’m in it.” He edged the dog’s paws away. Shadow turned around three times and flopped onto the floor.
Out of the darkness Charlie’s laughter warmed him.
“What?” He glanced over his shoulder.
“We never slept together, did we? Shared a bed like this?”
“No, I don’t think we ever did.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. The kiss was not about lust or the passion always there between them but rather about healing. And maybe even about hope. “Try and get some sleep, Sunshine.” He settled back onto his side of the bed.
“You too.” She spooned into his back, soft and warm, everything he’d ever wanted and needed.
But even as he curled against her and drifted toward sleep, he reminded himself that he already had what he wanted and needed. And he’d stopped thinking about forever a long time ago.
One day with Charlie wouldn’t change that.
Chapter Thirteen
Trevor wedged a stack of file folders into the only clear space on Sean’s desk. “Charlie still asleep?” His blue eyes had a teasing glint.
“She was when I left.” Sean picked up the top file without seeing it. Instead, Charlie’s luscious body sprawled across his guest room bed came to mind. The little mewling noise she made when he eased away from her. How he’d forced himself to not run a hand along her bare arm, to not nuzzle the soft skin at her neck. “She was pretty tired after yesterday.”
“I guess Linnie won’t be setting you up on more dates anytime soon.” Trevor’s voice shook with suppressed laughter.
Sean shoved the files aside. It would take weeks to get the office organized again, but Trevor had saved their grandmother’s painting, their grandfather’s plans, and more. He’d done everything Sean would have if he’d been there. “You saw the damage to that cottage. Charlie needed a place to stay.”
“Sure she did.” Trevor grinned. “And wasn’t it convenient you were there to help her out? Always the gentleman.” He snorted.
“You watch too many chick flicks with those girls of yours. Fried your brain.” The files toppled to the floor, and Sean swore.
“Whatever you’ve got going on with Charlie’s your business.” Trevor sobered. “As long as you remember she’ll leave in a few weeks.”
Like Sean could forget. Or forget that her first loyalty was to Mia. “You also spend too much time around women. Analyze everything women do.”
Trevor picked up the scattered files and sorted them in alphabetical order, methodical as always. “I love Linnie. With her and our girls in my life, sometimes I wonder how I got this lucky.”
Whereas despite Ty, despite Carmichael’s, and despite the family and friends who kept him busy and needed, Sean wondered about the aching hole in his life. A hole that had been there since Charlie left, although he’d only just recognized it. A hole he couldn’t fill with work or another woman, no matter how hard he tried. “Linnie’s one in a million.”
Like Charlie was one in a million. The woman he could fit with, body and soul. But could he trust her not to break his heart again? And if he gave her his trust but she betrayed him again, that hole would get so big it’d suck the biggest part of him clear away.
Trevor set the folders aside. “I found something yesterday when I grabbed stuff out of those files of Dad’s we haven’t gone through yet. Something I think you should see.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.
Sean’s heart squeezed. More than his dad’s clothes and bowling trophies, more than his chipped coffee mug, the essence of his dad was in those tattered manila folders. By unspoken agreement, he and Trevor had avoided them. Until now. He scanned the familiar writing. “What the hell is this?”
Trevor raised an eyebrow. “I got the looks. You’re supposed to have the brains.”
“An IOU, for twenty thousand plus interest.” He swallowed and tried to work moisture into his dry mouth. “It’s issued on behalf of the business with Mom and Dad’s house as security.”
“Made out to Dr. James Elliot Gibbs.” Trevor’s voice was gruff.
Charlie’s dad. A man who disapproved of him and judged him and his family. “Back then, twenty thousand was a fortune, at least for a guy like Dad.”
“The deal was witnessed.” Trevor pointed to the signatures. “Philip Richards and Kenneth Green. Remember them from the golf club? Dr. Gibbs’s attorney buddies.”
“Sure do.” He’d caddied for both men a few times and they’d been mean tippers. “The house…Do you think Mom knew?”
“’Course she did, dumbass. You think Dad would have borrowed money from Dr. Gibbs, and at that kind of interest rate, without telling her? Or risked their home to keep Carmichael’s going?”
Black spots danced behind Sean’s eyes. All these years he’d held his dad up as a hero, the man who’d saved Carmichael’s when it was on the brink. Never once had he questioned how his dad had done it. “Have you talked to Mom?”
“No, and I don’t plan to. That hornet’s nest doesn’t need stirring. Mom and her high blood pressure. To dig all this up again would send it sky-high.”
Trevor was right. If his mom were younger, if his dad were still alive, he and his brother could talk to them together. But not when they couldn’t change what was done. “I won’t say anything either.”
“Dr. Gibbs didn’t have a generous bone in his body. He was always out for himself.” Trevor’s face went red. “Carmichael’s was going under. No bank would touch us. You can bet Dr. Gibbs knew it. He shamed Dad by charging him three times as much interest as a bank would. Remember how he talked to us? Like we were scum under his feet. He wanted to keep our family down, and maybe even keep you away from Charlie. If he’d really wanted to help us, he’d have been fair.”
“Dad must have been desperate.” Sean rubbed his fist against his chest.
“Dr. Gibbs was a big-shot doctor, but the guy was a snake.” Trevor’s nostrils flared. “You always tried to protect Charlie, but apart from her and maybe Mia, everybody around here knew what he was like, what he got up to with his running around. And Mrs. Gibbs pretended not to notice.”
Sean shivered. “How did Dad pay all that money back? There’s no repayment schedule. If Dad had defaulted, the house would have been worth more than the original loan.”
“Look on the other side.” Trevor flipped the paper over.
Sean scanned the columns of figures, pencil marks smudged but still recognizable as his dad’s handwriting. “One month at a time for more than ten years, the original loan and the interest.” He blinked away the sudden moisture behind his eyes.
“You remember when Dad did all those odd jobs? Milking cows, cleaning over at the high school, and farm labor?” Trevor’s voice was husky. “Mom took in sewing. I thought it was for the business, like we worked nights at the creamery. It was for the business but not like I thought. It must have been to pay back Dr. Gibbs.”
Sean rubbed his arms. “Dad did what he thought he had to.”
And as a result of that decision, Sean had also done what he thought he’d had to. He’d taken on Carmichael’s and blamed Charlie for everything that had gone wrong between them, but he hadn’t been there for her either.
Sunshine filtered through the half-open window blind. The rays slashed across Trevor’s face to add lines and grooves. For an instant, it was like their dad stood in his twin’s place, asking Sean not to judge. Asking him to understand, to forgive. “What I don’t get is why Dad didn’t tell us.”
“How could he? The terms of that loan meant Dad had to work himself to death. A man like Dad wouldn’t have wanted his kids to know he couldn’t provide for his family.” Trevor gave him a look. “It must be why Mom and Mrs. Gibbs weren’t friends anymore. Why Mom turned against Charlie even before Charlie broke up with you.”
“No man would want his kids to know.” Sean looked at his hands. What would he have done in his dad’s place? He couldn’t know. A dead man couldn’t defend himself either.
And now he risked losing Carmichael’s again.
“You think Charlie knew about the loan?” There was a sharp edge to Trevor’s voice.
“I don’t know.” But he’d find out. His stomach contracted. Had she lied to him about this too?
Trevor moved away from the desk and opened a filing cabinet with a clang. “Maybe Mom’s right. Maybe you can’t trust any Gibbs.”
Sean tensed. His brother could take the easy way out. Only, for him, it wasn’t that simple.
Naomi’s phone vibrated and she dug in the pocket of her shorts. Hidden by the stiff white tablecloth, she angled the screen toward her to read Ty’s text.
“What did you say?” She looked at her mom on the other side of the table in the breakfast room at the Inn on the Lake.
“I asked you to look after Emma while I meet Nick McGuire and somebody from the insurance agency at the cottage.” Her mom twirled a spoon in her empty coffee cup. Although she wore the same clothes as yesterday, she still looked fresh and crisp.
“Sure.” Naomi hit REPLY and started to type.
“What are you doing?” Her mom’s voice was anxious and not even her usual perfect makeup disguised the shadows beneath her eyes.
“Nothing.” Naomi gave her a big smile and tapped SEND. “You want to go for a swim, Emma? We can buy suits here.”
“No.” Her little sister continued building a castle with the remains of her pancakes, drizzling maple syrup to make a moat. “I don’t like this hotel. I want to see Auntie Charlotte.”
“I want to see your auntie Charlotte too, but she’s not answering her phone.” Her mom signaled for the waiter and pasted on a smile. The kind of fake smile parents used when they didn’t want you to worry about stuff. “She probably slept in.”
“What about Dad? Did you get ahold of him?” Naomi finished her orange juice and glanced out the window at the formal gardens and manicured lawn that sloped down to the lake, bright blue in the morning sun. The boat dock sat square in the middle, INN ON THE LAKE spelled out in white stones along the shore. Ty’s text said he’d be at that boat dock in less than ten minutes. Somehow she had to lose Emma long enough to see him.
“I talked to him, but your father’s closing on a couple of big deals.” Her mom scrawled their room number on the bill. “He’s still in Dubai.” She flashed what Naomi guessed was supposed to be another reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine, honey. I can handle things and Nick’s helping. We’ll be home before you know it.”
Which was definitely not fine. Going home meant not seeing Ty again. Naomi pushed her chair away from the table and tried to smooth the creases in her shorts. She wore the same clothes she’d worn yesterday, but she didn’t look anywhere near as fresh as her mom. “I better go and—”
“Naomi?” Her mom folded her napkin into a tidy square. “You said you’d watch Emma. I hope I’ll be able to get clothes from the cottage today, but if not, we’ll have to shop.”
“Crystal Carmichael says Kincaid’s got bigger stores than here.” Naomi’s phone vibrated again. She curved her hand around it and edged closer to the window.
“We’d only need a few basics to tide us over.” Her mom’s sneakers squeaked on the polished floor as she joined Naomi at the window. “You stay here with Emma. I’ll see to the cottage and track down your aunt.” She dropped a kiss on Naomi’s head, then Emma’s. “Why don’t you two play croquet?”
“I don’t want—” Emma began.
“Croquet will be fun.” Croquet sounded about as exciting as math problems. A motorboat nudged the end of the dock. Naomi caught a flash of blond hair. “You go
on. Emma and I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want to play croquet.” Emma’s voice rose in a whine as Naomi pulled her toward the door that led to the veranda. “I don’t want Mom to go, and I want Auntie Charlotte.” Her sister’s blue eyes filled with tears. “I want to go home.”
“Don’t cry.” Naomi crouched beside her. “We’ll have fun here. Mom will be back soon and maybe she’ll bring Auntie Charlotte with her.”
“Really?” Suspicion clouded Emma’s heart-shaped face.
“Fingers crossed.” Naomi spotted Ty on the dock. “I need you to help me.”
“How?” Emma tucked her hand, sticky with maple syrup, into Naomi’s.
Naomi squeezed Emma’s hand. “We’re going to play a special game at the boat dock. Race you there?”
Emma broke into a run. Naomi waved to Ty and followed. Out of breath, she skidded to a stop at the edge of the dock.
“Ty,” Emma squealed.
“Hey, short stuff.” Ty picked Emma up and spun her around in a circle. “Naomi.” His voice lowered and he looked at her over Emma’s head. The light in his blue eyes made Naomi’s legs wobble.
“Naomi said we can play a special game,” Emma said as Ty set her on the grass.
Ty quirked an eyebrow.
“Hide-and-seek,” Naomi improvised. “Emma, you stand over there by that big tree. Cover your eyes and count to a hundred. While you count, Ty and I’ll hide.”
“I’m not very good at counting.” Emma looked between them.
Naomi knelt at Emma’s level. “You want to be a big girl, right?”
“Yes.” Emma stuck her thumb in her mouth.
“Then you can do it. Count out loud.” Naomi got to her feet and patted her sister’s back. “Off you go. Ty and I will hide where we can hear you. And see you.”
“Okay.” Emma trotted off.
“In here.” Ty gripped Naomi’s hand and tugged her into a white gazebo by the shore beyond the dock. A patio table surrounded by chairs sat on the side facing the lake. “I’ve only got a few minutes. My dad doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Where does he think you are?”
