Neither said a word as they rolled down his gravel driveway, parked and then entered the house. Ethel and Lucy begged for attention, but Melinda resolutely marched up the stairs without a backward glance. Sean's voice was low and subdued as he greeted his dogs, and then there was an echoing rattle of the entry closet as Sean hung his jacket.
Her heartbeat lurched in her chest as she roughly jerked her clothes out of the dresser and stuffed them into her suitcase. She dropped her hair dryer twice and muffled a curse under her breath.
What was her problem? She took a long, steadying breath. It was Sean. She couldn't let him get close. That was it. She would go downstairs with her suitcase in hand, apologize and then go back to her life. Where she belonged. By herself.
She zipped up her bag and forced herself to scan the room and the guest bath for any last items she might have missed. Fine. That was everything. She shrugged into a thin coat and cinched it tightly around her waist. As if she could hold everything close inside her.
Sean was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, but the dogs had retreated to their pillows by the black, barren fireplace.
"Thank you for your hospitality. I appreciate your kindness." Melinda's voice was flat and there was little genuine gratitude in her tone.
"You're welcome. I'll be at your shop at seven sharp. Is that okay?"
"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't it be?" Panic crept into her voice. He had to finish this remodel or she'd be toast.
"Just checking. I wouldn't want to overstep my bounds. You know, say or do something that was inappropriate."
"Please don't think I'm not fully grateful for the incredible job you're doing at the White Rose." She extended her hand as if to stay his anger and hurt. "I love what you've done. It's beautiful."
Sean's expression lightened as if mollified by her praise. He stepped toward the entryway and Melinda adjusted her grip on the suitcase handle as it gouged into her palm.
"Let me get that for you."
"No. I can do it."
"I know you can. I'm only offering assistance to make it easier for you."
"I don't need help."
"Everyone needs a helping hand from time to time. It isn't a crime."
"Maybe I don't deserve it." The bag slipped loose and thunked to the floor. She stood ramrod stiff, and a lone, rogue tear blurred her vision. Sean leaned forward as if to step closer, but he held back.
"Am I that terrible?" His mouth was unforgiving, but his eyes were questioning, kind.
"No." Her lip trembled. "In fact, you're practically perfect."
"And exactly why is that a problem?"
"You've made me like you, and I don't want to hurt you. I'm not the girl you get serious about."
"How about you let me worry about how serious I am or am not. I'm a big boy. I can handle myself."
"I'm not worth it. I'm not who you think I am. I'm a fraud. I'm not some successful entrepreneur without a care in the world. I've got enough to make payroll for my employees and buy a latte. I'm one misstep away from disaster."
"So? Running a small business is hard. Succeed or fail, it doesn't sum up who you are as a person."
"You're wrong. It means everything. All my life, I've had things handed to me on a silver platter based on my looks or the good time I gave. If I blow this, it proves that I am nothing. Nothing at all. I really would be a woman only fit to be kept by a rich man as his arm candy."
"You're an incredibly gorgeous woman, but you're so much more than that. Give yourself some credit."
"I'm stumbling in the dark. If I hadn't inherited the money from Diego, I'd be waiting tables and counting tips. I don't even deserve what I do have. It was my fault that Diego died. I'm a terrible person."
"That's ridiculous. You can't blame yourself for someone's clogged arteries."
"If I hadn't picked a fight with him and made him so angry, he would have never had that heart attack."
"Bullshit! You said he was furious because you were standing up for yourself. Your husband was a master manipulator. He was taking advantage of you from day one. You were so young and vulnerable when you met him. He swept you off your feet and practically held you hostage on board his yacht for years."
"I wasn't a prisoner."
"Weren't you? Think about it. He had all the money. You sailed from port to port with no friends other than his buddies. You were there to boost his ego and serve his needs."
"I know. I was pathetic. Useless."
"Don't use those words. It isn't you. You were still a child. He was a predator, and he lured you into his snare just as surely as if he'd dangled a lollipop in front of a toddler."
"Stop it. I knew what I was doing. I wanted to escape from my small, limited life."
"There was no way you could've known that Diego was an abusive bastard. You may have taken a wrong step, but you can't torture yourself for the rest of it."
"I have to own it. I did it to myself."
"Fine. Then take responsibility for the fact that you finally came to your senses and realized that he was hurting you and controlling you. You left him."
"But I killed him by leaving. My actions leave a wake of destruction."
"No. His own temper and bad health killed him. It wasn't you."
"You can try and sugarcoat it, but I know it is my punishment for being so foolish. I have to live with the wrongs that I've committed. I'm not fit to love anyone. I don't even love myself."
Melinda's insides shriveled. There. She'd said it. The sad, plain truth of it all that she'd always known. She'd as good as murdered Diego and she loathed herself. She couldn't stand the stupid, shallow party girl she'd had been. A few years of pretending to be a decent, upright citizen of the world was not enough to atone for her wrongs.
She couldn't move. It was as though she'd frozen into an immovable pillar of salt, forever doomed to gaze at the past.
"I spent a long time beating myself up," Sean's gaze bored into her. "I blamed myself for my wife's car wreck and the loss of our child. She did her best to blame me too and deny her role in the tragedy. But at the end of the day, I've accepted my part of it. I've understood that she made some bad decisions and that we were dealt a terrible hand in the card game of life. But that doesn't mean life is over."
"You've forgiven yourself?" Melinda's nostrils quivered, and she pressed her palm hard and flat against her erratic heartbeat. Was it possible to let the pain go?
"Sure the fight was stupid." Sean ran a hand through his hair. "Anna never should have been speeding while driving. We were both responsible to some extent, but it was completely random that an owl smashed into her windshield and she lost control. I was furious with her for a long time, and I raged against the universe. I spent a long year feeling sure I was the only one who was solely responsible for the death of my baby."
"It was an accident. Of course you can't torture yourself over it forever."
"And neither can you." His voice was soft, almost gentle.
"But it's different. I chose my path. Hell, I loved it and reveled in it for years. That jet set life suited me perfectly."
"Yet, you changed. You grew out of it. It stopped being enough. You saw that it was a cage and that Diego was merely a jailer wearing Armani."
Melinda laughed, uneven and almost shrill. "I've repented, but I've done nothing to atone for my stupidity or selfishness. When I close my eyes at night, I know I pushed a man to the edge and caused his death."
"You are only human, Melinda. You don't blame me for my role in the car accident that stole my child from me. Why not show yourself the same kindness?"
"I don't deserve any slack." An icy certainty spread through Melinda's veins.
"You do. Every one of us does."
With a small, weary intake of breath, Melinda's shoulders dropped. This was the life that she'd created and she would have to find a way to survive in it. Guilt and all. There wasn't a rainbow and unicorns ending for her.
"That's so spiritual and pro
found of you, but it doesn't work for me. I deserve what I am."
Sean winced. With a stony expression, Melinda yanked both ends of the belt tie of her coat, picked up her suitcase, and marched past Sean. A gust of cutting night air whipped around her, and a slat of light streaming from the house guided her to her car. Sean stood as an unflinching sentry by the open front door, but she refused to look back.
With leaden fingers, she fumbled with her keys, pressing the unlock and lock buttons multiple times before the trunk latch finally released. She chucked her purse and suitcase into the black maw of the trunk and slammed down the lid with a satisfying smack.
Her mind was void as she backed out and bounced along the driveway to the main road. She rolled to a stop and looked both ways into the night. The moon cast an icy, friendless sheen over the leaning, giant pines and the inky, deserted road. Her breath caught in her throat.
Sean was wrong. There wasn't redemption for some people. She would have to bear the burden of her bad decisions. She was an impostor. A fraud. She'd taken the easy way. Now, she'd have to hack her way through the rest of her life.
Her choices had been no accident. She'd consciously chosen her path, and now she'd have to live with it. It was impossible to imagine being worthy of any kindness. She had no business being in a relationship with a good guy like Sean.
Melinda exhaled and glanced at the soft, red glow of the dashboard. She hit her turn signal and headed back into Wescott Springs.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SEAN THUMBED IDLY through the Sunday newspaper, but his mind refused to focus. The house was achingly quiet without Melinda. The way she hummed at almost every task from setting the table to cleaning up the kitchen. Or the sassy click of her high heels as she buzzed from one room to the next.
In less than a week, Melinda had made herself a part of his home, and now, one afternoon without her and the house was depressingly empty. He glanced over at the dogs, and Ethel stared back with droopy eyes and a lone tail thump. Did the girls miss her too?
Sean folded the first section of the paper and noticed a headline on the glossy business magazine nestled in the newspaper. He thumbed through a few pages until he found the feature story. There was a full page picture of Melinda leaning against the old bar top in the wine shop. The article praised her as an innovative entrepreneur, a bold new face in Vail, and a woman to watch.
He nodded as he read. Exactly. She was strong, creative, and sensible.
Sean stared at the photo of Melinda with her hair piled high on her head, wine glass in hand, and a saucy smile inviting him closer. His pulse beat a staccato, and in an instant of clarity, he knew he wasn't going to walk away from her.
She was talented and driven, and the wine bar was her success story. She didn't owe anything to that selfish jerk of a dead husband. She was the reason why her business was going like gangbusters, and whether she had funded it with a loan or with a small inheritance, it made no difference.
Sean tipped back in his chair, held the edge of the dining table, and chewed his lip thoughtfully. If Melinda was so wrong in how she viewed herself, perhaps he had just as messed up a view of himself. Melinda was stuck listening to the endless re-play of the sour and demeaning words of her last spouse.
Despite what he'd told Melinda, had he actually forgiven himself for the loss of his baby from so long ago? He winced at the old familiar surge of remorse and regret. Perhaps he was stuck on the same stupid loop.
He and Anna had both made mistakes, and tragedy had followed. One stupid fight, but such terrible ramifications. He’d been so angry with her carelessness, and Anna had been so busy hating him. No doubt, she was trying to cover up her own guilty feelings about her impaired driving. He’d been furious with himself for letting her rush off in a frenzy. It was all so useless. They were both at fault, yet, neither of them was to blame. But there was still a broken marriage...and their little girl who'd never had a chance at life.
Sean jumped to his feet with a screech of the chair against the oak floors. "Come on, girls. You want to go for a walk?"
Ethel and Lucy scrambled up from their cushions and ran circuits around Sean as he shrugged into a jacket. He curled their leashes in his hand. Maybe he needed to clear this out of his head once and for all.
They tramped down the lane and headed for the south path that led to a creek where the dogs could splash to their heart's content. Sean focused on the crunch of his boots on the gravel and tried to wrap his head around the truth that rang in his ears like a gong.
He was no different than Melinda. He'd been listening to a negative and destructive soundtrack. Melinda was worth a damn...and so was he. He worked hard at his business and provided good jobs for his crew. Anna was the past. Colette's selfish recriminations were foolish. He was doing the right thing in taking responsibility for his mother and her care. At the end of the day, he was a good guy and always had been.
The dogs sprinted ahead and flushed a few birds to their barking delight. A small flock of red-winged blackbirds ascended in a tempest of wings, and then they zoomed skyward and out of sight.
Sean felt light. As if the birds had carried away his past worries and cares.
* * * *
Melinda was as lank and muzzy as the mist halfheartedly drizzling down from the mucky, gray clouds that hung low in the sky.
The world was closed in and oppressive. It suited Monday to a tee.
She'd avoided going into the wine bar until almost lunch time, and loitered at the street corner until she saw Sean leave on a break. She'd scuttled into her office, grabbed her laptop, and then bolted back to the hotel room.
She'd been desperate on Saturday night and had broken out her credit card and checked into the Wescott Springs Resort. She still couldn't use her apartment since the hole in the ceiling wasn't patched yet, and there was no toilet to replace the one that had been demolished by the upstairs neighbor's falling bathtub.
She knew she was being stupid, but she just didn't have it in her to face Sean after everything she'd said on Saturday night. Hell, she could barely think about it without wanting to dissolve into a puddle of misery. She was going to have to see him at some point, she supposed. Approve his work. Make sure she was happy with the renovations.
How had she gotten herself into this mess? Two weeks ago, she'd been quite happy hating him for humiliating her in public. Now, she could barely imagine going another hour without seeing him. Yet, she couldn't bear to face him.
Melinda groaned. What was it about Sean that dredged up every old feeling of unhappiness and unworthiness from her days with Diego? She'd thought that she was over all of that. Wasn't she a businesswoman? Savvy and confident? Apparently not.
No, she was going to skulk back to the hotel room in full retreat. At least she'd gotten a generous discount because of her friendship with the resort's chef.
There wasn't much on her to-do list. She'd have to call Jill and let her know that she was skipping the three o'clock meeting at the bar. One more day. She needed just a little more time to put her feelings for Sean behind her. She'd be brave tomorrow.
A jumble of emotions zoomed around her brain, but she couldn't make heads or tails of any of them. One moment she was reliving Sean's tender kisses and the next she was shoving those feelings into the back closet of her mind. Anger bubbled up. She didn't want another man in her life. She was in charge, and no one would ever tell her what to do again.
She had to be strong and independent. Love was a sign of weakness. She'd thrown her life away once already, there was no way she would repeat that mistake.
* * * *
Melinda struggled through the week and the long holiday weekend that ushered in a new season. She'd put on a calm facade whenever she encountered Sean, and luckily, he seemed to take his cue from her, and played it ultraprofessional.
Jill Devlin surely could have no idea that she and Sean had crossed the line from business to delicious pleasure and then back to strangers. But, she still di
dn't wish to brave the construction zone and know that he was right outside her office door.
So here she sat. In a coffee shop about three doors down from her own wine bar. She risked the unsecured Wi-Fi, checked her e-mails and shot off a few messages to her suppliers.
"Melinda!"
She looked up and spotted Lena Anderson with her mane of rogue, golden curls and an armful of jingling bracelets. Her spirits ratcheted up at seeing her former employee.
"You're back in town! Come join me. I'm in desperate need of company."
Lena took measure of Melinda and nodded knowingly. "I heard you're renovating."
"I am. It's a mess, and I'm so done with the noise and havoc."
They hugged, and Lena slid into a chair opposite of Melinda, and they caught up on all the latest goings-on from Melinda's apartment disaster to the rigors of the wine bar reconstruction, but she deliberately glossed over the fact that she'd tumbled into bed with Sean.
"You stubborn thing. I wish you'd called me. We've been in town for over a week, and you could have stayed with us. Katelyn would have been especially glad of a new playmate."
Melinda groaned to herself. All this pain might have been avoided if only she hadn't been so obstinate as to ask Lena for help. Well, it was too late to cry over spilled milk. The damage was done.
Melinda switched topics and got Lena talking about her and Jax's business trip to Australia over the summer, so it was easy to steer the conversation away from any topic about handsome construction guys and her breach of good sense.
"I wish there was a way I could finagle you into coming back on a part-time basis," Melinda said. "You were so much fun."
It was a vain hope, but it didn't hurt to throw it out there.
"I do miss the customer interactions and all of the gang at the White Rose," Lena said, but then deliberately flashed the glittering stone on her left hand.
Melinda stared at the hunk of a diamond. "Yes! I knew it was only a matter of time until you finally accepted his proposal." Melinda squeezed Lena's hands. "How dare he steal you from me?"
Kiss Me at Last (A Wescott Springs Novella) Page 8
