Sea Glass Sunrise

by Donna Kauffman

  “Since you asked, I can do the same. How long ago? And who ended it?”

  “We were together a year and a half, though I’d known him a little longer. Business connections. It ended six months ago,” she said, and for the first time, it felt like it had been a lot, lot longer ago than that. Thank God. “And I guess it was mutual, though neither one of us did the deciding. His pregnant wife took care of that.”

  She couldn’t quite believe she’d said that. Out loud. To a stranger. Almost stranger. Okay, he didn’t feel at all like a stranger to her now, but that didn’t bear examining too closely.

  “Wow,” he said, but calmly. He took another bite of his sandwich, as if nonplussed, or musing over her response. “I’m guessing you didn’t know.”

  “About the wife? Or the pregnancy?”

  He looked at her, looking amused even as he finished chewing and swallowing his last bite. “Either,” he said, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and crumpled that and the sandwich wrapper up, shoving them both back in the paper sack.

  “What makes you think I wouldn’t sleep with a married man?”

  “You mean other than the fact that you just said you wouldn’t have let me kiss you if you were in a relationship?”

  He surprised her by reaching over and taking her sandwich wrapper and the half-empty bag of hush puppies, scooping it all up and depositing it in the backseat. Then he flicked off her seat belt, but when she tensed, thinking he meant to reach for her, he surprised her again by opening his door and sliding out of the truck.

  He was at her door before she’d gathered her now scattered thoughts. He opened it and lifted his hands as she turned and swung her legs out. He took her hips in his broad palms as easily and smoothly as if he helped her from the truck all the time, as part of the normal course of things. He had helped her down, once before. But he’d taken her hand then, not her hips. And when she’d stepped to the ground, he’d stepped back a respectful foot or two. Unlike now, when she slid out and directly into his personal space, and he stayed right where he was.

  His hands stayed on her hips, too, and she tipped her face to his, thinking she should probably do something, anything, to keep this from going where it was most assuredly going. But then he said, “I know because you’ve been hurt. Badly. And not just by Beanie’s Fat Quarters sign.”

  She tensed a little, not liking the idea that she was so obviously wounded. It made her feel pathetic, and she was just starting to feel whole and strong again. “Like I said, breakups aren’t easy on anyone—”

  “Shh,” he said gently. “That’s not why I know you were hurt.” He searched her eyes, then let his gaze roam her face as he lifted a hand and traced a calloused but gentle fingertip along her temple, over the still-tender skin at her cheekbone, then along her jaw, until his gaze came back to rest on hers. “It was the way you looked when you said it. Your voice was calm, smooth . . . but those eyes of yours were anything but. Someone capable of inflicting that kind of hurt wouldn’t have been that hurt.”

  Hannah’s thoughts shifted instantly to Tim, who had absolutely been someone capable of that. She remembered their confrontation after his wife’s surprise appearance at her office. He’d been contrite and apologetic, then angry and accusatory when she wouldn’t forgive him. One thing he hadn’t been, she realized now . . . was hurt. Hurt that he’d done something so callous and cruel, hurt that he’d betrayed his wife and unborn child, or even hurt that he was going to lose her because of it. Mostly, he’d just been pissed off at having been revealed for the man he truly was.

  It was like a weight lifted from her. She’d been plenty mad at Tim, once the shock and hurt had settled into something more rational and manageable. But the feeling that came over her now wasn’t so much renewed anger at him, it was . . . well, it was a sense of pity, of all things. Because Calder was right. Someone who could willingly and knowingly do what he’d done, to people he claimed to love, could never truly feel what she’d felt for him, never understand how glorious it was to love and feel loved in return. Tim’s love had turned out to be empty and hollow, but hers for him had been real and true. And rather than make her feel stupid and foolish, the knowledge made her feel proud, and strong, for having the ability to feel that way at all. She’d chosen wrong, yes, but she’d go on to love again. Tim would never love, not truly.

  She looked at Calder, and blinked back . . . not tears really, but tamped-down emotions that were suddenly swirling inside her. “Thank you. For saying that. Not about me, but—”

  “It took me a long time to get that,” he told her, stroking her finger along her chin, “to truly be able to see what I thought we had, what I knew I had, versus what she was capable of having. With anyone.”

  “Then you’ve saved me untold months of emotional wrangling,” she said, surprised to hear the laugh come from her. “I feel like the grip on my heart just loosened a little, if that makes sense.”

  “Perfect sense,” he said, and she believed him.

  “What happened?” she asked. “To finally bring about the end, what with the family support and all. It couldn’t have been easy.”

  “No, disappointing them was a big part of the problem,” he said. “What about your family? I’m sure it’s been good to have their support. I know it was important to me, from my brothers. Invaluable, really.”

  “Actually,” she said, “I just told them earlier today. And I didn’t tell them why, just that it ended.” She hurried to explain before he could say anything, just wanting to get the rest out and change the subject. “I didn’t tell them when it happened, because it was Christmas—”

  “Six months. Yeah, I guess it would have been. Well, isn’t that some—awful,” he said. She was sure he’d been about to use the kind of language she would have. “I’m sorry.”

  “I was, too. But I knew Logan was going to propose to Alex over the holidays, so the last thing I was going to do was dampen their happiness with my crap, and then the crap sort of hit my professional fan, too, so I was in scramble mode. Only no amount of scrambling was going to fix that particular storm.”

  “Why would your personal life affect your job? How did your firm even know about it? Unless—did you work together? He’s a lawyer, too?”

  She shook her head. “No, his wife marched into my office—recall, his very pregnant wife—and told me and everyone within shouting distance, to leave him alone.”

  “Jesus,” he said; then he did swear, though under his breath. “I’m so sorry.” He paused for a moment. “So, that’s why that asshole on the phone thought you would be interested in—?” He broke off, swore a little more under his breath. “That’s just not right. Surely, they knew you weren’t—?”

  She laughed. “Oh trust, me, they thought they knew. I had something of a reputation. ‘Cool under fire’ would be a nice way of putting it. So something that salacious and tawdry? Oh, I was a marked woman instantly. It got real ugly, real fast.” She waved her hand, then got the rest of it out. “Anyway, I didn’t say anything to my family because of the impending proposal, then the fallout kept me pretty occupied and I really didn’t want to discuss that with my family, and now I’m here for Logan’s wedding, so I’m not going to put a damper on that. But as soon as the wedding is over, I will come clean—or would have, but I sort of got outed today instead.” She thought again about the rest of that particular conversation and decided she’d said enough. She didn’t need Calder knowing folks in town were gossiping about them, and that included the police chief and her sisters. “I didn’t tell them why, but eventually I’ll have to explain why I quit and came home for good, so, I guess—”

  “You’re back in the Cove to stay?”

  She realized too late what she’d let slip. “I am. Or at least, that’s the current plan. I haven’t done anything about it yet, because—”

  “You haven’t told them that part yet.”

  She nodded. “I will, but not until the wedding is over. I really wanted Alex and Logan t
o have their moment and just be here to support them. Logan deserves all the happiness in the world and—”

  “And then boathouses are blowing up and family feuds are reigniting,” Calder said. “So much for a peaceful wedding.”

  Hannah sighed and slumped a little, and now he was the one squeezing her hand. “And now they know about me and Tim—my ex—so they’ll all be tiptoeing around me at the ceremony, which I will hate and was also why I didn’t mention the real reason he wasn’t here with me.”

  “Doesn’t make the wedding part any easier,” he said.

  “No, but—” She broke off and looked up at him, peering closely at him until he laughed a little self-consciously.

  “What, do I have hush puppy in my teeth?”

  “No,” she said, “your teeth are as perfect as the rest of you.”

  Now he laughed outright. “What is that supposed to mean? Because you do not make it sound like a good thing, and, for the record, I am far, far from perfect. Ask any member of my family, and they’ll happily regale you with my shortcomings for days.” He made a face. “On second thought, only ask my brothers. You don’t need to hear what my father has to say.”

  Hannah smiled dryly. “I’m pretty sure I already did.”

  “So, back to fair being fair, you didn’t tell me what brought your marriage to an end. I’ve revealed enough now that I’m not even going to apologize for asking. I deserve equal ammo,” she added with a cheeky grin. Kerry would be so proud of her.

  “Well, it’s no secret to anyone why my marriage ended.”

  “You said you had differences all along,” she said, steering herself back on track. “So did something else happen? You said you wanted a family—was that one of the differences? I know that would be a hard one to get past.”

  “Tenley was sharp, pretty and very smart. I liked her for her intellect as much as I did her . . . everything else,” he finished with a grin that was somehow both endearing and wolfish.

  “Such a guy.”

  “Guilty, but in the beginning, it was true.”

  “So, what were the tarnished spots you missed?”

  “Nothing on her. She was always exactly who she was, from the beginning. I just chose to think the differences wouldn’t matter, that the good would outweigh the problems.

  “But when I figured out the kind of life I really wanted, the one I knew would make me happy . . . it wasn’t what she wanted.”

  “She liked the family merger thing,” she guessed. “Being married to the oldest son of a successful company owner, groomed to take his place, from a good family herself, maybe used to that lifestyle and assuming her life would be more of the same. Am I on the right track?”

  “Yes, Counselor,” he said, both a rueful smile and teasing glint on his face, each lethal to her senses in their own way.

  “So, did she? Try it your way? You gave her dream life a chance. Did she give yours one, too?”

  “No,” he said, quietly. “That was where the ultimatum came in. She already knew what she wanted. She had what she wanted. I was the one who wanted—needed—something different.”

  “Your farm?” Hannah thought back again to his father’s harsh criticism of Calder’s horse farm.

  He nodded. He opened his mouth to add something, then apparently thought better of it, and closed it again.

  “What?” she asked, wanting to reach up and smooth the creases that had formed at the corners of his mouth, his eyes. She didn’t trust herself to do that, though. She wasn’t even strong enough to step away from his touch. “Just say it.”

  “You’re right. She married the guy who was being bred to take over his father’s contracting business.”

  “In the end, you had to save yourself if there was going to be anything left to give to anyone else.”

  His gaze narrowed speculatively and he looked deeply into her eyes, searching them, again. “Is that what you did? When you left your firm? Rescue yourself?”

  She nodded, but she looked away then, and didn’t add anything to that.

  “So you know the guilt that comes with that. The sense of failure for not being what your partner wants you to be, who they want you to be,” he said, but he didn’t make it a question. “In your case, I’m guessing it was feeling like you were failing family, but still. It’s never an easy decision.”

  “Did you get past it?” she asked, after a moment of shared silence.

  “I don’t think you get past it as much as you come to terms with it. I don’t regret the choice I made.” He cupped her cheek in his palm and tipped her face up to his. “Not with my farm, the marriage, or the one I’m going to have to make with my father and the company, once I can make the farm self-sustaining. Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, or that I won’t feel guilty, or sad, but I did come to understand that we only have one life, and it’s up to us to live it as honestly and forthrightly as we know how. For ourselves and the ones we’re here to take care of. My father will never understand that or see it that way. His mission statement is very different from mine and leaves no room for reinterpretation.”

  “You inherit what I provided for you and you’re grateful for it, or you’re a total loss,” she murmured and saw the answer in his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “What is your vision for the farm?”

  “I have a couple hundred acres. I don’t want to do vegetable farming, but some cows, more goats. Mostly I want to expand the stables, build a few more paddocks, a show ring eventually. Become a boarding facility, as there aren’t many out where I am, hire a trainer or two to give riding lessons. Personally, I’d like to get involved in providing a place for horse rescue and rehabilitation. Maybe combine that with some groups who work with kids who have certain genetic issues, and have found horse therapy to be very rewarding. It would be a great way to put those two things together. But that’s all a ways off yet, and I wouldn’t just up and leave the company high and dry. My youngest brother graduates college next spring and, as of now, anyway, plans to come on board. So that’s sort of the target date for me, too. My father will just have to accept that that is how it will be.”

  “Your plan for the farm is . . . well, it’s practical and smart, but it’s also beautiful. You’d be very good at that. Wonderful, even.” He was, she already understood, a rescuer by nature. And not just for broken-down horses. She suspected her heart was in her eyes a little, but he made it damn hard not to feel that way. “Maybe in time your father will come to see the good you’ll be doing.”

  Calder grinned again. “You know, Counselor, I might just have to invite you to a Blue family dinner sometime. Maybe you could sway the judge and jury on my poor, sorry behalf.”

  She smiled, and didn’t think he’d be offended by saying, “I’m good, but I don’t know if I’m that good.”

  He barked a laugh at that and pulled her fully into his arms as smoothly as if that were where she spent most of her time anyway. She went into them, just as smoothly, and decided, for the moment, simply not to question the whys or wherefores.

  “Hannah McCrae,” he said, tipping her mouth up to his. “I’m going to kiss you. Really kiss you.”

  “Why, is that a warning, Mr. Blue?” she asked, a faint bit of the South coloring the words. “Should I be concerned for my virtue? After all, you’re a suspected felon, are you not? What if being kissed by you besmirches my good name?”

  The slow slide of his grin matched the slow slide of hers. His lips were just a breath from hers. “Frankly, my dear, I suddenly don’t think I give a damn.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  He tasted like hush puppies and root beer, Hannah thought, and decided that might just be the best thing ever. But whereas the food had been a comfort, Calder’s kiss was anything but. This was no gentle, exploratory kiss meant to incite desire, or something fast and hard, delivered in the heat of the moment. This was slow, deliberate, and very, very thorough. He kissed, he nibbled, he nipped. He slid his tongue slowly, languorously between her lips, th
en seduced hers back between his. He didn’t coax her to lower her walls, he merely set about systematically destroying them, until she wanted to shove him aside and tear them down for him, if it meant having more of him faster, deeper, harder. More of his kisses, more of his hands on her, just . . . more.

  He allowed her no time to think, to decide, to be objective, much less rational. He was too busy making her feel, and what she was feeling was simply too damn good to stop just so she could overthink things.

  “Your lip,” he murmured when she made a soft sound of protest as he left her mouth and continued his campaign along the curve of her jaw, then the tender skin along the side of her neck, before working his way over her collarbone, this time with his tongue.

  “Calder,” she breathed, having no idea what she thought she was going to say.

  “Shh,” he whispered, then turned her in his arms so her back was cradled against his body, nudged the fall of her hair aside with his cheek so he could kiss the nape of her neck.

  A low, needy moan slipped out as desire raced like a live wire straight down her spine, where it sparked, hot and ready, between her legs. He slid his palms down her arms, then cupped her hips. She braced herself, knowing when he pulled her back against him, she’d feel him, hard and aroused, pressing into the soft curve of her backside. She didn’t know if her knees would hold her up. She felt drugged, intoxicated, like the worst sort of addict, trembling in need of a fix. If she were capable of rational thought at all, she’d tell herself her response was just a knee-jerk reaction to feeling desirable again.

  Only that would require linear thought, of which she was entirely incapable at the moment. Her thoughts were like seeds in the wind, scattering about, drifting away on whichever current was the strongest. Which, at the moment, was the current making every muscle between her legs clench so tightly they ached, her nipples so hard they felt like little knots of pure need.

  So she braced herself, wanting nothing more in that moment than for him to tug her back into him, press against her, then slide his hands around her body, stroke his fingers over those most sensitive parts, and release the almost excruciatingly sweet tension he was building as he cradled her with his wide palms and pressed hot kisses to the nape of her neck.