by Becky Flade
“You were goading me?”
“Sure was. You have an idea, a thought, whatever, don’t second-guess yourself because you’re anticipating another person’s response. I’m not your parents, your sister, or any damn other person you’ve had in your life.” He ran his hand over her head, grabbed the rubber band she’d tied her hair with, and pulled. Her hair fell around her shoulders. “I like you the way you are.”
“You disarm me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. What was your other theory?”
“Aidan Gael.” Carter looked unbelieving. She could’ve touched him to find out but didn’t. “The cabin wasn’t damaged. Only my tires destroyed. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want me here. It’s one of the reasons I’m considering moving out of the cabin. Not only that I wouldn’t be alone out in the woods but also that he’d have less reason to dislike me if I’m not on his property.”
“I’ll agree that on its face it’s a solid argument, but you’re wrong. You don’t know Aidan like I do. He wouldn’t have done those things. He wouldn’t terrorize a woman, any woman. I promise you.”
“You’re not mad I insulted a man you consider both friend and family?”
“No, I’m not. And if it were Aidan, he’d be arrested and charged same as anyone else. That’s my job, but it’s also who I am.”
“It’s the rare man who can quote Eleanor Roosevelt.”
“Who quoted Eleanor Roosevelt? I got that line from watching The Princess Diaries with my niece.” He smiled, and she felt the last bit of tension melt from her shoulders. “I think that makes it a night. How about you, Doc?”
“Go out on a high note?”
“That was my thought.” Together they packed up their trash and walked to the house side by side. He whistled, and Dublin came running from where he’d curled up to nap under a tree. The friendly dog bumped into her leg, and she dropped a sausage from her leftovers.
“Saw that.” Carter smiled.
“Saw what?” Henley lifted a shoulder, dropped it, and winked.
Chapter Eleven
In the days following her date with Carter—it was a date, albeit a casual one—she’d obsessed over attending her sister’s wedding uninvited. Carter’s opinion rang true. She’d regret not being there; Michelle may come to regret it. Eventually. He’d also called it when he’d suggested the blame for her absence would fall on her shoulders. She was almost forty years old—when would she stop craving her parents’ approval? It was time to show them who she was and that she liked herself.
She talked herself out of it twice. She pictured the dismay, the embarrassment, and disappointment that would be levied against her. By lunchtime Friday, with the wedding only one week away, she had arranged for a room at the hotel managed by her former secretary. Thankfully, Rissa was charging her the special rate reserved for the staff’s visiting family. It was a warm conversation that had taken Henley by surprise; she’d assumed Rissa wouldn’t be happy to hear from her. Henley had spent the remainder of the afternoon researching economy flights online on the office computer; even the least expensive was beyond her budget. But the airline’s website kept flashing a banner advertising their credit options. With a few clicks, she had a round-trip plane ticket to Cleveland and a credit card she was sure she didn’t want. But she had made a decision, and she was following through, despite any ongoing internal debate.
When her shift ended, she called Carter, told him she’d take the apartment, and requested a few days’ leave over the following weekend.
“To move?”
“I have a family wedding I don’t want to miss.”
“Good for you, Doc.”
She spent the week working during the day and setting up her new apartment in the evenings. The apartment was nicer than she had hoped. Hardwood floors throughout, and the living area was large, opening into a galley kitchen. With the series of windows looking out over Main Street, she had plenty of natural light. The large island designating the beginning of the kitchen would act as her dining-room table. The bedroom was a decent size with a large closet; the bathroom boasted a vintage sink and deep, claw-foot tub. Most of the rooms had required a fresh coat of paint. The furniture was functional, as advertised, but in nice shape. It would do for the time being. She had enjoyed choosing the color palette and painting the walls. She was putting her mark on the space, until she could afford new furniture and decor. She kept herself too busy to talk herself out of crashing her sister’s wedding.
All too soon the week ended. She got her things moved over from the cabin Friday morning, then packed her overnight bag, and cracked all the windows to allow the paint fumes to dissipate while she was away. She chewed on her lip the entire drive to Duluth International. She spent a solid twenty minutes sitting behind the wheel in short-term parking, half ready to drive back to Trappers’ Cove. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming. No one expected her. She wouldn’t be missed. On the contrary, she had an idea what reaction her unannounced, uninvited presence would invoke. Then she imagined what Carter would say about her waffling. With more bravado than she felt, she grabbed her bag and ran for the terminal shuttle. She felt someone jump on behind her as the doors closed.
“For a long minute there, I thought you were going to chicken out.”
Carter stood at her shoulder. She took in the well-worn jeans he’d paired with a leather jacket, under which he wore, ironically, a Henley. She glanced at his feet, and he shuffled his Converses next to the rolling suitcase at his side. She could smell the fresh, crisp, clean scent of his cologne. He was definitely sensate, not that she was prone to acts of fantasy.
“Say something, Doc. This is weird.”
“Where are you going?”
“Philadelphia. As a friend pointed out, I need to see my family, and they need to see me.” He smiled. “By way of Cleveland, if you don’t mind.”
“Pardon me?”
“It occurred to me that your trip is a radical move—for you and for your family. You’re expecting it to be unpleasant, and based on what I know of them, you’re probably right, but you’re going. As your friend and the person who convinced you to go in the first place, it is my obligation to see to it that you don’t have to face them alone.”
“That’s not necessary.” She appreciated it, though. His thoughtfulness demonstrated what had been missing from her life even before she’d taken to the road. It hadn’t occurred to her family, the only people she had, admittedly by her own design, to stand with her. Carter thought to offer that support. She guessed Maggie would too. She was right—they’d enrich her life if she’d let them.
“I know; I wasn’t done. Your situation got me thinking about my own. You are right; it’s time for me to visit. My family is incredible, but I don’t want to face them. Not alone. They’re going to be happy to see me, but they’re also going to evaluate me, physically, emotionally. I was a mess when I left. They’ll be assessing me the whole time, looking for cracks to mend. And meddling. They love meddling. So could we return to the Cove via Philly?”
“You want me to go with you? To meet your family?”
“Damn, try not to label it, okay?” He winced. “Way to give a commitment-phobe an anxiety attack. This is not a meet-the-parents kind of thing. Consider it an added benefit to our quid pro quo agreement.”
She smiled, big and bright; his discomfort was genuine but only to a degree. He was teasing her, and she knew it. She could see it in his eyes. Touch wasn’t necessary with Carter. But she cupped his hand in hers—his uneasy amusement soothed her. His mild anxiety filled the cracks her nerves had created in her composure. It was rare for her to be in a position to offer comfort in return, so it was an empowering moment.
“Thank you, Carter.”
• • •
Henley navigated the rental car through the streets of downtown Cleveland. She had anticipated a sense of homecoming, but it eluded her. And the lack didn’t bother her. Carter had been playing with the dial on the
radio.
“It’s not what I expected.”
“What? The city? What did you expect?” Henley asked, slowing to a stop at the red light.
“I’m not sure. Not this.” He pointed at a large building with modern architecture. It resembled a bowl turned on its side. Henley laughed.
“That’s not my favorite building.” The light turned, and she accelerated. “What hotel are you registered at?”
“I’m not.” She glanced to her right, and he smiled brightly.
“You booked a flight but not a hotel room?”
“I wasn’t sure how you were going to respond to my offer. Figured if you were against it, I’d go straight to Philly, and if you were agreeable to having company, I’d shack up at the HoJo.”
“The HoJo?”
“Short for Howard Johnson.”
“I know what HoJo means, Carter. Jeez.” She hit the turn signal and executed the right that would lead to the hotel on Public Square. “I’m staying at the Renaissance Cleveland Hotel. An old friend is on the management team. Maybe she can work her magic and find you a room. If not, mine probably has two beds.”
Henley worked her lip as the hotel neared. As the implications of sharing a hotel room sank in, she wished she hadn’t said it. Rissa had already gone out of her way, securing Henley a room at a special rate. And there was always the possibility she wasn’t working today. Henley couldn’t revoke the invitation if accommodations couldn’t be made; he’d come all this way for her. Yeah, he’d slept at the cabin that night. But sharing a hotel room with Carter felt more intimate, terrifyingly intimate. Damn my big mouth!
Henley needn’t have worried. Rissa must have been waiting for her, watching the door, because she sped across the lobby before the doors had closed. She held Henley by the upper arms, careful not to touch her skin, even in an embrace. For years, Henley would have and did appreciate the concessions Rissa made in their odd relationship—more than professional and less than personal—but she suddenly felt sad that she had but one friend outside the few she’d made the last couple months in Trappers’ Cove and that one friend wouldn’t hug her. She knew it was a situation of her own making. And that only she could make the effort to change it.
She wrapped her arms around Rissa in a hug. The other woman gasped and hesitated briefly before returning the embrace with enthusiasm. Henley caught Rissa’s quiet sniffle.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, Dr. Elliott. It’s been years. When you called I just about fell out of my chair.” She stepped back, and Henley quashed the urge to squirm under the blonde’s perusal. “You look good. Better.”
“Thank you, Rissa. You look wonderful. And please call me Henley.” She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She hadn’t realized she missed the affectionate, funny woman. “It’s good to see you.”
Rissa turned to Carter. “And who is this? If you’d mentioned a companion, I’d have given you a room with a larger bed.”
Carter extended his hand and introduced himself, explaining that he needed a room of his own. Henley appreciated his taking control of the conversation. Rissa tended to overwhelm Henley with her big, bright personality—she always had, even though she was kind, smart, and efficient.
“Come with me, gorgeous. I’ll get you settled.” Rissa locked arms with Carter and pulled him toward the front desk. Henley smiled and followed. Rissa snapped her fingers, and a young man appeared at her side. She handed him a keycard. “Please take Dr. Elliott and her things up to room 310.” She looked at Henley. “I’ll handle your check-in. Go rest. You’ll need your strength for that wedding.”
“Thank you, Rissa.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow. Brunch?”
“Sounds lovely.” She touched Carter’s arm. “I’ll meet you here in the lobby. Say three hours?”
He nodded as Rissa continued pulling him toward the front desk. Henley laughed and accepted the bellboy’s offer to carry her overnight bag. It only took minutes for the boy to show her to the door and refuse her proffered tip. “No, thank you, I couldn’t accept money from a friend of Miss Marissa. Enjoy your stay, ma’am.” Henley hung the new dress she’d purchased in the room’s closet. She laid out her accessories and cosmetics on the vanity along with her bathroom kit. She returned to the bedroom and considered her suitcase. She didn’t see the need to unpack for one night beyond what she’d already accomplished. She originally thought she’d want to shower after the flight—traveling usually left her feeling grimy—but not this time. She knew she needed one before she started getting ready, but first she wanted to lie down. With an audible groan, she threw herself down on top of the coverlet.
She couldn’t ignore the kind generosity of Carter’s presence. He’d known this would be hard for her and had arranged to provide her with support. Sure, she knew his request to return the favor with his family was genuine. But it wasn’t what motivated him. He desired her. But he also liked her. And he made her feel things she long thought scrubbed from her emotional repertoire. Henley didn’t need her gift of clairsentience or years of medical training to recognize that they were building a relationship. An unusual one, but a relationship nonetheless. And any relationship required a certain degree of interdependence, honesty, and trust. Whatever she and Carter had dove into felt deeper than her previous surface acquaintanceships. Still, Henley hesitated to explore her thoughts beyond acknowledging that she was in a relationship.
The unease she’d experienced in those final weeks before fleeing her home and career, unease she had fully expected to rear its head as the plane approached Cleveland Hopkins International Airport, had been absent while she’d been with Carter or thinking of him. But now, alone with her insecurities and uncertainties, the enormity of where she was and what she planned to do that evening settled over her, and her shoulders tensed. She always ran. Ever since Jacob. She sprang from the bed, fists bunched and stomach churning. Henley marched into the bathroom and started the shower. She’d need strength and clarity when she walked into her sister’s wedding. Lying in bed awash in self-pity, allowing old ghosts to haunt her, wasn’t healthy or wise.
Chapter Twelve
Following a nap and shower, Carter had shaved and dressed. With a half hour to spare, he decided to wait in the lobby, where he reclined in one of several leather club chairs staged around an empty fireplace, sipping a glass of fine whiskey courtesy of the discreetly appointed taproom. He was checking the time—had Henley changed her mind?—when the elevator opened.
He was struck dumb when she stepped out; an arrow of desire shot through him, settling deep within the pit of his stomach. A small smile graced her lips. He was grateful of the moment it would take her to cross the room as an opportunity to compose himself. Although watching her move, hips swaying, the shimmery jersey of the dark gray dress clinging in all the right places, shifting over her curves with every step, was enough to make him swallow his tongue. He stood and focused on her face. As she neared, he noticed the subtle change she’d created with cosmetics. The smoky tint she’d applied to her bedroom eyes provided a sultry cast. Her lips seemed fuller, as though already plumped from his kisses and begging for more. She’d twisted her long hair up into a complicated knot that made him stare at her neck like it was the juicier sections of a centerfold. Her fluttering hands were the only indication of the nerves hidden inside the seductress before him. He found himself staring at her fingers, their restlessness erotic. And the habit reassured him that this was indeed “his” Henley in strappy, sexy heels.
A few feet before she reached him, he held up a hand in silent command. She halted, her hesitation showing. He stared as her breasts rose and fell with each breath under the rhinestone- studded halter, her only adornment.
“You’re beautiful.”
Her smile, happy but shy, spread across her face, wrinkling the corners of her eyes. His pulse thudded.
“Thank you, Carter. You look very handsome.”
He knew the dark suit and
dark blue accents complemented his features. But holding out his arm to her, he felt inferior. She deserved more, better, than him. Men stared as he escorted her from the lobby and out onto the street where their rental waited curbside. He supported her as she slid into the passenger seat, the slit in her dress falling to the side and exposing a long expanse of bare leg. She smiled up at him, the shyness he’d detected before having faded. And he knew he’d be damned before he stepped aside for another man.
“Stop staring,” he advised the valet as he slipped the young man a tip.
“Did Rissa find you a room?” Henley asked as he pulled away from the curb.
“She did and at the special rate.” She told him where to turn. “She’s a marvel.” Rissa had personally escorted him to his room. On the ride up, after probing for the information Henley had given him regarding the events leading up to her departure from Cleveland, Rissa had quietly confided her perspective. She wanted her former boss to be happy. And she let him know in no uncertain terms that he would answer to her if he hurt Dr. Elliott. He’d been amused and impressed in equal turns. He was also grateful Henley had someone on her side. “She reminds me of Mags.”
He was treated to one of Henley’s rare laughs. “Oh, you’re so right. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Next left.”
“How long have you known her?”
“About nine or ten years now. It was just me and her, but she ran my practice. She was more concerned about me than herself when I closed the office. I kept apologizing, but she told me not to worry, that she’d been offered a job here and if I ever needed anything all I had to do was call.”
“Never called before last week?”
Henley shrugged. “I thought it was just a thing people say when they’re trying to be kind. I didn’t realize she was a friend before today.” She pointed. “It’s up ahead about two blocks, on the right.”
