His jaw tightened, and he looked almost angry when he said, "Damn, Alexa. I want to kiss you again."
A tingle shot down her spine. "Don't sound so happy about it."
He shook his head, putting his hands in his pockets in a decisive gesture. "I'm not going to, but I want to."
She didn't like that he wasn't giving her a say in the matter. "It's not all up to you," she said. And before he could reply, she had breached the gap between them, pressed her hands against his chest and kissed him on the mouth.
His lips parted with surprise, and she took advantage, sliding her tongue into his mouth, angling her head so she could deepen the kiss. She wanted to break down the wall he'd just put back up between them. It bothered her that he would pull down his guard, let her get close, and then shove her away again.
After a momentary resistance, Braden put his hands on her waist and pulled her up against his chest. And just like that he took charge of the kiss. It didn't matter. She didn't need the control. She needed him.
The thought rattled her so badly she broke away. She didn't want to need any man. It made her vulnerable.
"Alexa?" Braden questioned, his gaze raking her face.
She put a hand to her lips, still feeling the branding heat of his mouth. "I – Goodnight," she said, and dashed into the inn.
For a moment she thought he might follow, that the door would open behind her while she was waiting for the elevator. But aside from the clerk at the main desk giving her a curious look, she was alone.
She went upstairs to her room. Once inside, she crossed to the window and looked out at the front sidewalk. Braden was gone.
Well, why would he hang around? She'd run away from him.
Just like he'd run away from her earlier that day.
One of these days they were both going to have to stick around and face the music.
* * *
Alexa was relieved when the sun finally streamed through the curtains early Friday morning. She hadn't been able to sleep all night, tossing and turning, thinking about Braden, wondering if she should stay in Sand Harbor or if she should go home before she made some really stupid decision. Braden was making her question everything about her life, her job, where she lived, and her resolve not to get emotionally involved with anyone who might hurt her.
Braden could definitely hurt her, but she hadn't felt so attracted to a man in a very long time. She almost ached with wanting to see him, to touch him, to make love to him. And it wasn't just the physical attraction, she felt emotionally connected to him. That's what scared her the most. No one had ever really touched her core. Braden hadn't gotten there yet, but he was damn close. She wanted him, but she didn't want him to have power over her. She didn't know how to have him and not need him. She didn't want to end up like her mother.
But it wasn't just herself that she needed to consider. Braden was at a vulnerable time in his life as well. His marriage was finished. His career was over. He was reeling from what had happened to his friend, how they'd gone from brothers to enemies in one snap of a second.
As much as she wanted to be the one to pick him up, to make it all better, she had to protect herself, too. And speaking of protecting herself, she had to stop thinking about Braden and concentrate on what was coming next – meeting her father.
She finished dressing, and then left the inn to go to Hannah's Bagel House. She arrived before her dad, so she ordered a selection of bagels, grabbed some coffee, and took a seat at a nearby table. The Bagel House was on the wharf, and it was fun watching the boats sailing out of the harbor. Being in Sand Harbor made her feel like she was on vacation. Her father had actually disliked the town for the very same reason. He'd always complained that he couldn't get any work done in such a lazy place, that he needed the pace and the energy of a big city.
She wasn't exactly sure where she fell on the issue. She'd only ever worked in a big city, so she didn't know what the distractions would be in a small town. And she didn't really know where her place was. Like Braden, she'd set the goals for her life when she was a teenager. While he'd based a lot of his decisions on what his father would do, she'd made most of her decisions based on a desire not to end up like her mother. But as she'd told Braden last night, he needed to live his life. Maybe she needed to take her own advice.
While she was waiting for her bagels to be toasted, she picked up a local paper that someone had discarded. On the front page was a picture of Daniel Stone. He was shaking hands with the President of the United States. The accompanying article talked about his fundraiser and his senate campaign.
Daniel was a good-looking man, a power player, she thought. There was a hint of ruthlessness about his eyes. He was ambitious. Had he always been that way? Had there been a time in his life when a young woman's tragic death might have proved a problem to him? Just from looking at his picture, he seemed like someone who might cover up a crime. Or maybe she was just taking a cynical view.
The door opened, and her father came in with a chilling breeze. She hoped that wasn't a sign of bad things to come. She set down her paper and steeled herself for whatever was coming. For some reason, she didn't think it would be good.
He gave her a nod and walked over to join her. He was dressed in a suit, which was the way she always pictured him in her mind.
"I ordered some bagels," she said, as he pulled out the chair across from her. "They should be ready in a second. I didn't know your favorite, so I ordered a variety."
Her father gave her a regretful smile. "I'm afraid I can't stay. I had to change my flight. Work came up. I just wanted to say goodbye."
A crushing wave of disappointment hit her. She felt like a little girl again. She flashed back on the first year of the divorce when he'd promised to come by and see her and something had always come up. But she wasn't a kid any more. She could handle this.
"Okay," she said, refusing to add, it's fine, because she'd let him off the hook far too many times. "Are you going to say good-bye to Aunt Phoebe?"
"I already did."
"Good."
"You grew up to be a beautiful woman, Alexa. Smart and talented, too. I'm proud of you."
She didn't want to care about his compliments. He was just trying to make her feel better for ditching her. "You don't have to flatter me. It doesn't change anything."
"I'm just speaking the truth. I know I let you down many, many times."
"Including today," she pointed out.
"I know. I doubt I can ever make up for any of it."
"I doubt you'll ever try," she said.
"You've learned how to hit hard."
"I learned from the best," she said. "And I'm not talking about my mother; I'm talking about you."
He didn't look pleased with her comment. "I do want to try, Alexa. I'd like to have you come down to L.A. and spend the weekend with us. The kids would like to get to know you better. You're their sister."
She sighed. "You never ever follow up on these invitations. I'd rather you just didn't offer them."
"I mean it this time. I love you, Alexa. Maybe not the way you want me to, but I do."
He paused, probably waiting for her to say she loved him, too, but she'd already told him that yesterday and he was running out on breakfast. What more did she have to give?
"You asked about Shayla yesterday," he continued. "I didn't sleep with her. And I don't know how she died. But I do know that she kept a journal. She wrote in it all the time. She said one day she was going to write her memoir. I teased her that she'd need a dozen more journals for that; she was too young to think about that. When I heard that she had drowned, I didn't know what to think."
"Did you think she killed herself?" Alexa asked.
"Unfortunately, I suspected just that. She had told me she was in love with someone who was unavailable. Apparently, she'd gotten pregnant and he'd asked her to get an abortion. She'd agreed, because she wasn't ready to have a baby, and because she was afraid that she would lose him if she didn't. But she was haunted
by what she'd done. She used to go out on the deck and stare into the sea and wonder about her choices."
"I saw her on that deck so many times," Alexa murmured. "She was this beautiful romantic figure. But it doesn't sound like she was happy at all."
"The first summer she came to Sand Harbor, she was happy, but things changed the second time around."
"Why did you decide to tell me this?" she asked curiously.
"Because of what you said -- that you think the break-in and Shayla's death are connected. You need to look for that journal."
"I haven't seen it. I've been through all the boxes."
"Then maybe someone got there before you."
"If you had to pick between Jack Wellbourne and Daniel Stone, who would you say might have been her lover?"
Her dad thought for a long moment. "It could have been either one. Or it could have been someone else. She was a flame and men danced around her."
"What was it about her that made her so attractive? Was it just her beauty?"
"She had a charm, a way of looking at a man that made him feel special."
It stung to hear her father talk about another woman like that. Although, she couldn't say she was at all surprised. "You didn't feel special with Mom?"
"I felt trapped. Her need for me was too much. She clung to me."
"How can you say that when you were the one who was always leaving?" she asked in amazement.
"That's why I was always leaving. When I was with her, she was all over me. She couldn't sit across the room. She couldn't stop talking. She couldn't just listen, just be. It was exhausting."
There was a part of her that understood his frustration, because her mother had clung to her, too.
He stood up as the bagels were delivered to the table. "I should go."
"Do you want to take one for the road?"
"No, I'm good." He offered her a tentative smile. "Can I offer a word of advice?"
"I guess," she said, feeling a bit wary by the offer.
"Don't get so caught up in the past, you forget to enjoy your present. I want you to be happy, Alexa. Find your passion and live it. Love someone who makes you better, someone who builds you up, because there are enough people in this world who will try to tear you down. And don't ever be like me. I want more for you than that."
"I want more for me than that, too."
She watched him walk away with mixed feelings. They'd had a small breakthrough. Would it last? Who knew?
* * *
After finishing her bagels and coffee, Alexa headed down the street. It was nice that everything was so close. She didn't have to take her car; she could just walk and enjoy the spring weather. She meant to go straight to the antique shop, but when she reached the corner, she impulsively changed directions. The Glass House was just around the corner, and she wanted to take a look inside.
The front door was open, and there was a woman setting out a beautiful glass hawk on one of the display shelves. She looked familiar with her frizzy gray hair, leggings and long sweater. This was the woman she'd called the bird lady. Apparently, she'd tried to capture her love of birds in her glass.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked, giving her a friendly smile. She had warm blue eyes and a slight Irish lilt to her voice.
"I'm just looking around. You have beautiful pieces."
"Thank you."
"I'm Alexa Parker. My aunt owns the antique shop, Yesterday Once More."
"I know Phoebe. Such a dreadful thing that happened to her," the woman said. "I'm Mary Mulligan. It's lovely to meet you."
"You, too. I used to see you on the beach in the summers when I came to visit my aunt. You were always feeding the birds and collecting sea glass."
Mary smiled. "I still go out there every Sunday. I try to capture the beauty of the birds in my glass, but I'm not sure I come that close." She turned a critical eye on her latest piece.
"It's beautiful," Alexa said. "You've captured the grace and power perfectly. I love it."
"Would you like to have it?"
"How much is it?"
"Whatever you can afford," Mary said.
"I wouldn't want to shortchange you."
"I'm sure you won't."
"You're very trusting," she said, pulling out her wallet. "Why don't I give you my credit card and you can charge me what's fair."
Mary took her card and moved to the counter. "How about twenty dollars?"
"I think that's too cheap."
"You sound just like my daughter," Mary said with a sigh. "Janet keeps telling me that I need to charge more to keep up with the rising rent. I wouldn't mind just going back to selling the glass out of my garage or at the local art fair. This business stuff is just not me."
"You could hire someone to help you."
"I wanted Janet to do it, but she decided to be a lawyer instead. I don't know how I raised a kid who would want to wear a suit and study the law," she said with a bewildered smile. "Janet takes after my late husband. He was a businessman, a rule follower, except when it came to me. He learned early on that if we were going to be together, he was going to have loosen up." She handed Alexa the charge slip to sign. "Sadly, he passed on a few years back. That's when Janet decided I should open up the shop and keep myself busy. I was quite happy in my workshop in the garage, but she wanted me to spend more time around people and less time around birds and glass."
Alexa didn't really know what to say, not that Mary seemed to need an answer.
"Is it hard to make the glass pieces?" she asked when Mary finally took a breath.
"It's a little tricky, but anyone can learn. My mother taught me the art when I was a teenager. I wish Janet had been interested, but she didn't like it at all."
"I always wanted to make glass," Alexa admitted. "I used to collect sea glass when I'd come here, and I imagined making a necklace like that one," she said, tipping her head to the one on display.
"Well, instead of imagining, you should do it."
"You make it sound so simple. It's too late for me to learn."
"It's never too late."
"I'm really busy with my job."
"So what do you do that keeps you so busy?" Mrs. Mulligan asked as she carefully put the glass hawk in bubble wrap.
"I'm an accountant."
"Another nine-to-fiver."
"Sometimes it's more like nine to nine," she said, "especially during tax season."
"Well, I've learned over many years that it's important to make time to do the things you love. Isn't that why we're on this earth? We're supposed to enjoy the experience. You should smell the roses or make glass," she added with a smile.
"You're probably right."
In recent months she had begun to realize how isolating her work schedule was. Forget about a serious relationship, she barely had time for friends. But she'd tell herself it would get better after tax season. Unfortunately, there was always something else to do and a new deadline approaching. Maybe she'd just used work as a reason not to date. It was easier to concentrate on business than to worry about hooking up with someone.
"So how long are you in town?" Mary asked.
"I'm not sure. I'm definitely staying until my aunt is home and back on her feet."
"Well, if you have time off, then you should come to my house and I'll show you how to make glass."
"Really?"
"I'd love it. It's not often I meet someone who is interested in the whole process and not just the end piece. It would be a pleasure."
"I'd love to do that."
Mary wrote down her phone number and address on a piece of paper. "The store is closed on Sunday, so come by the house then, if that works for you."
"That should be good," she said.
"If you go out to the beach and find some sea glass beforehand, bring it with you. We'll make something special." She handed Alexa her purchase. "I hope you enjoy this."
"I know I will."
Alexa walked outside and paused on the sidewalk, t
orn between going to the antique store and heading down to the beach to collect some glass. It was almost as if she was fighting two sides of herself, the little girl who'd been caught up in the magic of the glass that washed up on the beach and the adult who didn't believe in magic anymore.
Another long minute sent her heading in the right direction, she hoped.
Chapter Thirteen
Just after eleven o'clock Friday morning, Braden climbed the steps to the house he'd shared very briefly with Kinley. He paused on the porch, feeling both uncomfortable and oddly detached. He hadn't spent much time in this house. Kinley had bought it when he was overseas, so it didn't really feel like home. He didn't recognize the planters filled with flowers or the wicker swing in the corner. He didn't even recognize the welcome mat. This was Kinley's house, not his. It always had been.
He rang the bell. He still had a key, but it felt wrong to use it now.
Kinley opened the door a moment later. She wore yoga pants and a tight purple top. She'd been working out a lot in recent years, her intense exercise focus becoming another barrier between them.
There was wariness in her eyes, and she didn't invite him in. "What are you doing here, Braden?"
"I need to get a few things," he said.
"I thought you said there wasn't anything or anyone in this house you wanted," she replied, throwing his words back at him.
"I was wrong," he said simply.
Surprise spread across her face. "You were wrong?" she echoed.
He nodded. "About a lot of things. There's no need to rehash all our problems. It's over for both of us. It was finished long before we both said it out loud. I don't respect some of the things you did, but I don't need to be your enemy." As he let go of the anger, he felt lighter. Alexa had told him his wounds were festering, and she was right. He'd been holding everything in, and all he'd been doing was hurting himself.
Kinley frowned, as if she didn't quite know what to make of his attitude. Maybe it was easier for her to handle his animosity than any gesture of kindness and regret.
"I shouldn't have told you about the affair when you were in the hospital," she said finally. "I do regret that, Braden. It just came out. You scared me. When I saw you in the bed with all those bandages, you looked so broken. I barely recognized you. I didn't want to be with a soldier anymore."
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