A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2)

by Natalie Charles

She rose to her feet, stumbling slightly as the yacht rocked. "We can go say good-bye —"

  "Nah. I'll drop you off and come back."

  They headed down the walkway to the dock, back to the valet station in the marina parking lot. The drive home was quiet, the awkwardness palpable. Jessie clenched and unclenched her fists as she struggled to find the words that would make whatever was happening between them right. "Maybe we could —"

  "Listen," he said, charging right into her thoughts. "I think we should take a break."

  No. Her blood pooled at her feet. "Take a break?"

  "Maybe not forever, but like I said, I need to put my focus on making partner. It's just not the right time for a girlfriend. You seem to want something more, and I don't want to hold you back. I'm not looking for anything serious. I thought I was clear."

  They'd pulled in front of the cottage, alongside the curb. Jessie swallowed painfully, but didn't move. "You...I thought we were —"

  "I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to put it out there." He shifted in his seat to face her. "We're not a match. You're a great girl, but I guess I'm just looking for someone...different."

  The breath fled her lungs as the statement settled. "You don't think I'm good enough for you," she whispered.

  He covered her hand with his. "No. I didn't say that. Those are your words. But I'm busy with my career, and I need someone by my side who has certain social skills, let's say. And that's not to say that your skills aren't great, but they're different, you see what I'm saying?"

  Jessie stared at him, slack-jawed. "No, I don't. I don't see what you're saying."

  He turned away again, gripping two sides of the steering wheel and staring out into the darkness before them. "You grew up in a bakery, and that's fine. But I need someone who has a little more...business sense. Networking skills. Someone who's comfortable at these kinds of events. I mean, Jess." He looked at her. "You got drunk at a baby shower this morning."

  She couldn't breathe. He may as well have slapped her. She looked down at herself, at her ugly, frumpy green dress and shawl that didn't match. So Quinn thought she wasn't good enough for him? Her skin burned with shame, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

  "So, are we good?" he said.

  Where to start? Her brain was misfiring. "I'm thinking," she whispered.

  He sighed. "Take your time. Look, I don't mean to hurt your feelings, and maybe we'll go out again some other time. Just not for now. Jess? Are you listening to me?"

  She could barely focus above the pounding in her ears. Jessie wrapped her hands tightly around her clutch, pulling it closer to her chest. "I have to go."

  She opened the car door and stepped outside. Without another word, she shut the door behind her and hurried to her front door. As she fit the key into the lock, she heard Quinn's car set off and drive away into the night.

  Nate had turned out the lights and was climbing into bed when his cell phone rang. He reached across his nightstand, fumbling in the dark, and brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

  "Hey buddy. I need a favor."

  He cringed at the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone. Another drunk call, and these were becoming increasingly frequent. "Where are you, Quinn?"

  "I dunno. Wait."

  He heard him mumble incoherently and crash into something metal before coming back on the phone and saying, "You still there?"

  "I'm here."

  "I'm near Landry's. By the steps."

  Landry's was a bar on the other side of town. "You stay there. Sit on the steps, okay?" Nate flung off the sheets and set his bare feet on the floorboards. "Quinn? Did you hear me?"

  In response, Nate heard a choke in Quinn's voice, followed by a muffled sob. His heart clenched. "What happened?" He didn't wait for a response before grabbing his keys and reaching for his jeans. Had Quinn tried to drive in this condition? It wouldn't have been the first time. "Talk to me. Are you in trouble?" He was already pulling on his pants.

  "No." Quinn sniffed. "Yes."

  It sounded more like "yesh." He must've been drinking for hours. "I'm on my way. Do you need me to call for help? Tell me what happened."

  The question sent Quinn slurring into the receiver, his voice cracking. "I was with her, man."

  Nate froze, one leg of his pants dangling loosely. "You were with who?" He regretted the question the second he heard it out loud. He didn't want to hear the answer.

  "Caryn." Quinn's voice was suddenly quiet, as if the admission had sobered him. "I hooked up with Caryn."

  Nate's blood went cold. "Shit, man." He looked out the bedroom window at the moon, hanging heavy and white in the sky. "Caryn?"

  He heard the sound of a siren passing close to Quinn. When the sound passed, Quinn said, "I think I love her."

  Damn it. Nate zipped and buttoned his jeans and reached for a sweatshirt. "Sit tight. I'm on my way." He pulled on a pair of running shoes and headed out the door.

  This was the way it had been for as long as Nate could remember. He and Quinn had been inseparable from the first day of kindergarten because they complimented each other so well. Quinn was the bold one, the team sport jock. Captain of the football and lacrosse teams, top of his class academically. Serious and smart, but with an irresponsible streak. He had a tendency to get himself into the hot seat on a regular basis, but he had a knack for talking his way out of most problems. For all the other ones, Nate was there.

  He thought of their many misadventures as he made the drive to Landry's. Where had it started? Probably with sneaking cookies from the jar at home. Then there were the pranks at school, like that time Quinn bought twenty rolls of crepe paper in school colors and decorated the trees for homecoming, or that time he organized a secret after-hours party in the high school pool. Kid stuff, really, and Nate had loved being a part of it. But then Nate grew up. If he'd ever enjoyed partying — and he wasn't sure he had — he didn't any more. He had a business to run and a life to manage. He didn't have the energy to spend nights at the bar the way Quinn did. Or to lie about it.

  That was the part that killed him, that Quinn was out most nights at a bar, not working late like he told Jessie. To her, he was some sainted hard worker, toiling into the wee hours at his desk. More like her, because she'd been pulling double shifts for years now. It was like Quinn knew exactly what to say to Jessie to keep her hanging on no matter how awful he was to her. Hey, babe. You know I'm working for partnership. And Jessie would relay the conversation to Nate. "Oh, well," she'd say with a sunny smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "He's trying to make something of himself. I understand completely."

  Sometimes Nate wondered whether his loyalty had become misplaced somewhere along the course of their friendship.

  As he drew closer to the bar, Nate resolved to tell his friend the truth. "You're thirty years old, man. Time to grow up. Stop hanging out in bars every night." When what he wanted to say was, "Do whatever you want, but leave Jessie out of it. Just leave her alone." She was a sweet girl, and she deserved the truth. But he knew as he pulled up into an alley beside Landry's that he would say what he always did, which was nothing at all.

  Quinn looked like hell, but at least he hadn't been sick...yet. When he climbed into the passenger seat, Nate handed him a gym towel from the backseat and said, "Keep this in your lap."

  His friend's head bobbed around like he understood, but he didn't reply other than to say, "Thanks." Like handing him a towel was some massive gesture of goodwill.

  Nate clenched his jaw as he backed out of the driveway next to Landry's, avoiding a drunken group of college kids who weren't dressed for the chilly evening. Listen to him — when did he become an old man?

  Beside him, Quinn mumbled, "Girls're hot," and craned his neck to get a better look.

  "Jesus, Quinn. Get a grip!" Nate shook his head, speeding away from the ugly scene once he hit the road. "What the hell happened to you tonight?"

  Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, wincing as if the
very question hurt him. "I slept with Caryn."

  "I got that part."

  Quinn leaned his head back against the seat and turned to Nate. His eyes roamed as he struggled to focus. "She wanted to go out. I said okay."

  Nate's knuckles whitened. He didn't understand what Quinn saw in Caryn. Sure, she was pretty — beautiful, even — but their very brief, very volatile relationship seemed to consist of fight after argument after threats to never speak to each other again. Caryn had dumped Quinn for someone else after a few months of combustion, and Quinn hadn't eaten for days. When he'd invited Quinn out to Sam's, Nate had just been trying to cheer up his friend. That had been a mistake. Jessie had been there that night. Next thing he knew, Jessie Mallory, the girl Nate had been renting a cottage to and working up the nerve to ask out, was Quinn's rebound. Worse, she liked him. A lot.

  "So you went out." The words barely squeezed through Nate's lips. "Where'd you go?"

  "Her place." When Nate groaned, Quinn hastened to add, "She's going through a tough time. She needed to talk. I don't know where we stand right now. I mean, it was like old times, but better. Then we were done, and suddenly she's telling me to leave." He gazed down at his hands as they lay open and limp in his lap. "I don't get women."

  "So you walked from Caryn's house to Landry's?"

  "Pretty much." He fisted the towel and turned it to get a better look under the light cast by the streetlamps. "This is a nice towel."

  Nate wasn't willing to change the subject so easily. "You've been sitting in Landry's drinking alone all night? You should've called me."

  Quinn made an attempt to shrug, but it came off sloppy. "You wouldn't get it. Me and Caryn...we have a thing. Only we understand."

  "What about Jessie?"

  "What about her?" Quinn asked, sounding as if she wasn't even part of the equation. Sounding, Nate realized with a chill, almost as if he'd forgotten about her.

  He gritted his teeth as he rounded the corner to Quinn's house. They were only a few blocks from Landry's, but his friend couldn't have made the walk. His head lolled around as if he was struggling to keep it upright.

  Nate told himself not to lose it. No lectures. He was being Quinn's friend now, not Jessie's. But damn it if he didn't want to grab Quinn by the shoulders and demand to know what was wrong with him. "Jessie's a great girl," he said, measuring each word. "She doesn't deserve to be cheated on."

  His friend was silent for a stretch before reaching up to rub his cheek with the palm of his hand and saying, "Me and Jessie are over."

  Nate froze. "You two broke up?"

  "Yeah. We weren't ever serious. I just...it was just for fun. She's not my type."

  Nate mulled this over in his mind as he brought the vehicle to a stop in the driveway. So Jessie was single again? That wasn't the worst thing he'd heard all day. "Do you need help getting out?"

  "Nah, I got it. Just a little buzzed." Even as he said it, he frowned at the seat belt buckle and made three jabs at the button before managing to get loose. "I'll be all right in a couple hours. Thanks again, buddy." He clapped Nate on the shoulder.

  "Good night."

  Nate waited until Quinn got into his house safely. It took him a couple of tries to unlock his door, but then he raised one hand and gave a sheepish smile. Nate shook his head and backed slowly out of the driveway, thinking of Jessie. Somehow, he imagined she'd be handling the breakup differently than Quinn.

  He took a detour to drive past her cottage, though he didn't know why. It wasn't like he was going to wander up to the door and tell her he was in the neighborhood. His heart sank when he saw that her lights were still on. Not good. Was there any reason he could stop in, just say he was checking on her? He glanced at the clock. No, not at this hour. Nothing about that would be normal. Besides, he had a client appointment first thing in the morning, and he should get home, too.

  He swallowed and continued down the street. He hoped she was all right, and that she'd just fallen asleep on the couch again. Quinn and Caryn? Bad news. But Jessie being single again? Nate felt a surge of hope.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 4

  T he bottom stair in the back was groaning again. Nate winced. He'd just fixed the darn thing, right before giving the staircase a fresh coat of white paint. He'd have to take a look at it when he came home to make sure it was an annoyance, and nothing structural. He had a tenant on the first floor, and he couldn't take the chance that anyone got hurt. The joys of owning rental property.

  The cool breeze rolling in from the ocean dulled the headache that came from too little sleep the night before. He zipped his jacket and hesitated before climbing into his SUV. From this spot, he could see the sun rising over the water, turning it pink and orange. These were things in life worth pausing for, but he was only looking for a convenient excuse to stop. He was on his way to see Claire Burgess, and, well...He needed to give his coffee a few more minutes to work its magic.

  He liked Claire, just as he liked most people. He'd been training her for almost a year now, and they'd developed a rapport. Despite Jessie's jokes — all of which were fair, he had to admit — Claire took her fitness seriously, and she was committed to being healthier. That's all he could ask as a personal trainer. As a man, though...Claire was a challenge.

  The ride to Great Barrington at that time of day took less than twenty minutes. Nate drove along the coast to enjoy the view of the sunrise and the waves breaking against the rocks. When he pulled up to Claire's house, he only had to wait a moment for security to open the gates. Then he continued down the crushed rock drive, watching the mansion rise into view: gray stone, large windows, and shrubs pruned into decorative patterns. Four chimneys and a fountain out front. All of it purchased with old money that Claire's great-grandfather had acquired selling liquor during Prohibition. Sometimes crime paid very well.

  He pulled into the usual spot, closer to the doorway so as not to block the gardeners' trucks. That morning, Claire was waiting for him on the front steps, clutching a steaming cup of something. Herbal tea if he had to guess, since she didn't go for coffee.

  "Morning, sweetness," she said, and tilted her neck to the side in a stretch. "You're just in time for tea."

  "Thanks, I'm all set. I had a cup of coffee before I left."

  "Mmm." She wrinkled her nose. "I never could touch the stuff."

  See, now this was where she got to be a challenge, because as she said that, she grazed a hand slowly down her side and rested it on her waist. Then she blew the steam over the top of her mug with stained lips, eyeing him the entire time. Nate pulled a box of rubber resistance straps from the back of his car and tried to ignore the flirtation. That and the tight raspberry-pink top she was wearing that left nothing to the imagination. "Today we're working on flexibility."

  "Oh, that's my absolute favorite. I love the way you stretch me out, Nate." Said mildly, with another arch of the neck. "You have the best positions."

  He took a deep breath. It was going to be a long morning. Now, if Jessie ever talked to him like that, he'd probably lose his head completely. There was a thought.

  "We're going to do a warm-up first, right?" Claire took a sip of her tea and then nodded to the massive wooden door behind her. "Let's go this way. We can run on the beach."

  "The weather's finally nice enough."

  "You're telling me, sweetness. The winter's been so terrible that if it gets above seventy degrees today, I'm sunbathing topless. I don't even care."

  Despite its size, Claire's home was warm. It looked like something out of those catalogues his tenant was always getting, the ones Jessie made him look through with her. Lots of sheer curtains and tile, area rugs and couches with different-colored throw pillows. It was nice, he had to admit. The furnishings, and the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the Atlantic. He could look at that all day, watch the sailboats glide across the water in the warmer weather.

  Claire set her mug down on the black counter in the kitchen. Soapstone, but he only
knew that because he'd remodeled the kitchen in the cottage before Jessie moved in. The old cabinets were flimsy, and he'd thought it was time for an upgrade. They'd gone shopping together and made a few weekends out of selecting white maple cabinets and picking a slab of gray granite. The end result had been better than he could've done alone. If it had been up to him, he would've walked into a store and pointed to the first cabinet and counter style he'd seen. He wasn't a shopper, but with Jessie, well. Things were more fun.

  His pulse kicked. She was a great girl. And now she was single, which meant he could finally tell her how he felt. The thought sent sparks through his stomach. He'd never been good at that kind of thing. Not like Quinn, whose confidence had been stoked by the attention of all the girls in school. No one in Archer Cove High School paid attention to a track star, no matter how many records he smashed. When the challenge involved something physical, he could achieve. But when the challenge was emotional, he became tongue-tied.

  "We'll go through the solarium," Claire explained as she slid open a glass door. A rush of heat greeted them. "It gets so stuffy in here. But the plants love it, and it's nice to sit in here in the winter."

  They exited into an English-style garden with multiple levels and followed a series of slate stairs down to the grass. Once there, they took a steep wooden staircase to the beach. "All right. We'll do a fifteen-minute run," Nate said. "You ready to start?"

  She ran a hand through her chin-length red hair. "Let's do it."

  They set off down the beach, close to the waves, where the sand was firm. There was nothing quite like running on the beach, and within a few minutes, his legs started to burn pleasantly. "You know, you've come a long way, Claire. You remember the first time we did this?"

  "I thought I was going to pass out," she laughed. "Now I actually head out here alone sometimes. I have fewer back problems, too."

  "That's good to hear." His focus with his clients was always on functional fitness: not building huge muscles necessarily, but making their bodies better at performing daily living tasks.