“Did you take these?” I ask, turning back to lean against the kitchen counter, suddenly curious about this mysterious gentle giant with the soulful brown eyes and predatory stare.
“No,” Declan says, coming out of the bedroom already changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt. “My dad was a photographer. These are all his.”
“They’re beautiful.”
Declan comes to stand by my side. “Yeah, they are. I have tons of them at the shop in town. The tourists love them and I kinda like the thought of his work being out there in the world, you know? Some way for his memory to go on.”
An image of my parents come to mind and I wonder how they’ll be remembered. Both were business professionals and had little time for anything artistic. In fact, their memories are mostly confined to pictures and home videos.
“You’re lucky to have that,” I choke out, taking the mug from his hand. An image pops to mind as soon as my fingers graze the ceramic. I see Declan sitting behind the counter of what I assume is his shop.
Normally when I’m sucked into a vision I do everything I can to pull myself out, but this time, I find myself lingering, taking everything in. I want to know everything I can about this man and since I can’t read him like everyone else, I’m reduced to second-hand snooping.
God, he looks lonely, is the first thing that comes to mind. He’s sorting through inventory on the glass shop counter, the longer hair up on top pulled back into a little bun. Small wire-framed glasses are perched on his nose and he curses as they keep sliding down. He looks up with the coffee cup in hand and his eyes are drawn to the passersby outside of his front window. Families of three and four go by, not even looking at his door.
The shop is empty save for some serious dust motes in the air and I can tell not much has changed in the time since his father ran it. The wood paneling on the wall looks original and there are more of the black and white nature scenes as far back as I can see. Various tourist-y knick knacks cover the shelves and there are racks and racks of fishing and hunting gear that I don’t even recognize. My parents weren’t very outdoorsy. Tennis was about as far as my mom would go to working up a sweat.
The memory fades slowly, sweetly almost and I blink rapidly trying to clear my head of the un-reality. Declan’s fingers run through the hair at my nape, lifting the weight away from my neck and cupping my head with his large palm. And I forget everything but how close he is.
“Are you all right?” he asks, peering into my eyes.
I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere or the memory or the loneliness I felt from him that reminds me of my own, but I find myself leaning toward him. My hands lift up to rest on his broad shoulders and I get on my tip-toes to kiss his full lower lip.
The hand at the back of my head slides down my spine and rests on my hip. I make a sound in the back of my throat and take a half-step forward to bring our bodies flush together. In spite of the chill from my wet clothes, I can feel my body temperature rising.
I’d wondered what his beard would feel like. Would it tickle or chafe? Would I like it or love it? The jury is in and I may never kiss a man without a beard again. The soft bristle teases me on an entirely new level, causing gooseflesh to pepper my skin.
His lips are even softer than I imagined, especially in comparison with the rough scratch of his beard. I could drown in the need for more. My senses are clogged with it, with him. The smokey-clean scent of his skin, the searing warmth of his palms slipping under my damp shirt.
He wasn’t in my plans, but now I wonder if there wasn’t a reason that I wound up in Woodland Creek. Because a kiss this soul-shattering is anything but ordinary.
I make a sound of surprise when he moves back a few inches. My brows furrow and my stomach clenches. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
But he interrupts me by taking a few steps backwards and sitting on his couch. He tugs at my fingers and I walk towards him, the bit of apprehension returning because I know he’s the type of man that can eat a girl like me right up.
“C’mere,” he says, his voice gruff and I like it. I like that I did that to him, that I have that kind of effect on him. I like that he doesn’t see me as weird or pitiful, he just sees me.
His hands guide me over his hips so that I’m straddling him. He pauses and his fingers trail up my hips and stomach, but what I enjoy more than that is the look of intense concentration on his face. When they reach my face, he cups my cheeks and brings my lips back down to his.
“I didn’t think you were real,” he says a few moments later, or maybe it’s hours. I’ve completely lost track of everything but how he makes me feel.
I pull back, my arms still wrapped around his neck and my lips deliciously bruised. “What do you mean?”
He lays a kiss on the base of my throat, then kisses his way back up to my mouth. “You were like some fairy I’d found, or an angel I’d found sitting there on that rock.”
I attempt a laugh, but it strangles on a moan when he nibbles at my ear. “I think you mean drowned rat,” I manage to say. My phone vibrates on the couch where I set it and I groan, knowing that it must be my brother. I shoot Declan a wry smile. “That’ll be my brother. Probably good timing, if I knew what time it was.”
Even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I get back to my feet.
“Let me get some jackets and an umbrella. I’ll walk you back.”
Apprehension dawns the moment he disappears down the hallway from view. What the hell have I done? I barely even know this guy. He could have drawn the conclusion that I was just another wild college girl looking for a fling. I pace, my mind racing, as I wait for him to return.
My phone buzzes again and I frown, shooting Sam a text that I’m on my way. Declan returns with everything in hand. I look back at my phone to Sam telling me to hurry up because he’s cold.
“That’s him again, apparently alcohol and women aren’t enough to distract him from the fact that it’s freezing cold and wet out there.”
“Better get you back then.” He holds the jacket up and I shrug into it, nuzzling the collar to commit his scent to memory when he isn’t looking.
The rain has slowed to a sprinkle and the lights in the clearing have dimmed considerably. I follow Declan’s lead and wonder what the right words are after an encounter like this. We make it back to the crowd before I come up with anything.
Sam notices me from across the way and waves. I lift a hand in response and turn back to Declan, who is standing at the edge of the tree line. “That’s my brother,” I say lamely.
“I see that,” he says, a smile curling underneath his beard.
“Anyway, I’d better get going before he starts giving you the third degree. Thanks again for the shelter from the rain and for the…company.” I nearly wince at my own awkward goodbye. “So, yeah. I’ll see you later, Declan.”
I pivot on the spot and start to walk away.
“That’s it?” I hear from behind me.
“What do you mean?” I ask as I turn around, my heart beating double time in my chest.
“I’d like to see you tomorrow. For dinner this time. Without the rain,” he adds.
“Really?” I ask.
“You have no idea,” he says. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to let you go without the promise that I can see you again.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “I don’t know, Woodland Creek is a pretty small town. I doubt you could miss me.”
He takes a few steps forward to nuzzle me close to him then whispers in my ear, “I miss you already.”
Sullivan
My bedroom looks like all of my moving boxes have exploded. Nonna walked in a few minutes ago, took a look around, and then walked back out. I tried on everything I owned, but I was having one of those days where nothing fit or looked right. I finally decide on a pair of jeans and a cute but simple top which made my brown eyes pop. For the first time in a while, I take some time putting on makeup and doing my hair, even though
it’s entirely possible Declan’s idea of a date may involve trekking through the great outdoors and my efforts may be ruined.
I’m putting the finishing touches on with a swipe of mascara and a touch of gloss when Nonna appears in the doorway. Her eyes carefully avoid the piles of wrinkled laundry and the mangled boxes piled three deep. “Have plans tonight?”
“Actually, yes. I hope you don’t mind if I skip dinner.” I glance at her as I put away my makeup. Her hair is thinner and a lighter brown than my mom’s was, but they both share the same soft, round face and petite build.
She leans against the doorframe. “Of course not. I want you to feel at home here. I’m glad you are making friends so quickly. You remind me of Rebecca in that way. She never met a soul who wasn’t her instant best friend.”
I find myself smiling. “I wouldn’t say I’m that friendly. I think Sam inherited that gene.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Then it must be a boy.” I start to object, but she holds up her hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to pry. There are good people here. I know Hastings isn’t exactly what you planned, but I hope you’ll find this place to be your home, too.”
“I know, Nonna. And you know how much we appreciate it.” I look away, double checking the contents of my purse so I can choke back the sting of tears.
“Of course, baby doll. That doesn’t make it any easier.” There’s a pause of silence and I wonder if she’s remembering Mom, too. I’ve been so lost in my own grief that I hadn’t even paused to consider what it’s been like for Nonna to lose her only daughter.
I put down the purse and cross the room to stand in front of her. There is no sign of tears, but Nonna’s never been one to cry. Like my mom, she’s made of stronger stuff. But I can still see the haunted look on her face like I’m looking at my own. I pull her into my arms for a hug. It takes her a second to respond, but I feel her small arms come around me and am enveloped by the scent of her sandalwood perfume.
A few seconds later, I feel another pair of arms wrap around me and I hear Sam’s voice say, “Group hug!”
He squeezes tightly, compressing my lungs, and I choke out, “Sam, oh my God! Let go before you squish us to death.”
“What’s with the family reunion?” he asks, throwing an arm around Nonna’s shoulders.
“Noth—”
“Sullivan has a date,” Nonna says, eyes shining.
I groan and slip my purse strap over my shoulder. “Reunion over. I have to get going or I’m going to be late.”
Taking advantage of Sam’s slack-jawed shock, I slip by the two of them and bound down the stairs. I almost make it out of the front door when Sam catches me by the arm.
“What do you mean you’re going on a date?” he demands.
“I don’t know if I would call it a date,” I hedge.
“Is there a dude involved?”
I bite my lip. “Yes.”
“Did he ask you out?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Then it’s a date,” he states. His eyebrows pull inward and he frowns. “You don’t talk to me the entire way from Florida to Indiana, but you can go on a date with some guy you don’t even know.”
“Sam—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“No, I get it, Sullivan. You want me to get lost. I can do that. It’s not like when we were kids and would have sleepovers on the living room floor and talk ‘til dawn. You’re all grown up now. You have no parents, so you might as well push away your brother, too. Why not be completely alone? Just makes it easier.”
My heart thuds dully in my ears and a tear streaks down my cheek. “Are you kidding me? I went out with you last night.”
He smiles, but it’s empty and that sends a shock through my heart and I worry that maybe my bad treatment has gone too far for repair. “No, I get it now, Sul. Go. Enjoy your date.”
Before I can come up with a response, he turns on his heel and stalks toward the kitchen and out of sight. I stand, numb, in the foyer until my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I glance down at it and note a text that says, Hey, this is Declan. I look up one more time to see if maybe Sam has come back, but the downstairs is empty.
He is right. I am alone.
Not knowing what to do or what to say to mend that bridge, I leave, locking the door behind me.
The GPS takes me to what looks like the parking lot for a couple of abandoned buildings. Well, this is off to a good start. I double check that I put the address in correctly, but it still tells me that I’ve reached my destination. The concrete is glistening with the leftovers of a storm and puddles of water reflect the lights from the buildings. If I squint, it almost feels a little romantic. Kind of like a slasher film, but what can you do?
Headlights flash over the parking lot and Declan brings his truck to a stop beside mine. I can’t see through the tint which makes the butterflies in my stomach go crazy. God, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. My hands are clammy and my throat is dry. If I’m not careful, this feeling is going to get completely out of control. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
A few sharp raps against my window make me jump in my seat. Declan bends down and grins at me. I manage to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest. Barely.
When I unlock the doors, he tugs the handle and leans down in the open space. “I’m glad you found it okay.”
“Wherever ‘it’ is.” I peer back at the nondescript faces of the brick buildings behind me. “Care to tell me what we’re doing?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He offers me a hand and I take it. He helps me out and neither of us let go when I’m up on my feet. I shut the door with my hip as he leads me toward one of the buildings. “You’re going to get the official Woodland Creek welcome tour. The dry version.”
“C’mon,” I say and I’m mortified to find that my voice is breathy with excitement. “Where are you taking me?”
Declan flashes me a grin. “Now what kind of surprise would that be?”
“The kind that doesn’t feel like an episode of Criminal Minds.”
He laughs at that and says, “You have an overactive imagination.”
“Says the man leading me into an abandoned building.”
“You’re going to eat your words in a few minutes.”
“I hope you mean figuratively.”
The door to the building is old and doesn’t look like it’s been painted in my lifetime. Declan raises his free hand to knock and I’m struck by the fact that I’m still holding onto the other one. His hand is warm around mine and I can’t help but notice how well they fit together. When I look up I catch him staring at me, there’s a warm glow reflecting back in his eyes.
The space between us heats and I wonder if he’s going to flip tradition and kiss me at the beginning of the date instead of the end. Thoughts of the night before make me hope it’s the former. I’m about to do something completely out of character—again—and make the first move, when the door opens to reveal a middle-aged man with neatly trimmed facial hair and a hefty gut. He motions us in, slapping Declan on the back.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Cain. And you brought a lovely lady with you today.” He turns to me and takes my free hand, bringing it to his lips. “Bellisima, you must be Sullivan. Welcome, I am Antonio. Come, come, I have a table ready for you.”
I follow Declan down a dimly lit hallway which opens up into a dining room full of mismatched tables with red tablecloths and low lighting. Soft candlelight flickers from tea lights floating in water in the centerpieces. Antonio leads us to a table in the corner and pulls out a chair for me. I reluctantly let go of Declan’s hand to sit. Antonio provides a menu as Declan takes the seat opposite of me.
“Thank you,” I say to Antonio.
“Prego. Can I start you off with anything to drink?”
“A beer, please, Tony,” Declan says.
“Soda is fine, thank you.” Antonio smiles widely and winks at me before departing.
“Terrifyin
g, isn’t it?” Declan says.
I blush. “Well, what’s a girl to think when you take her to an empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere?”
“Like I said, overactive imagination. Either that or the guys you’ve been dating must have dropped the ball.”
“I didn’t date much,” I tell him as I flip through the pages of the menu. I immediately decide on the soup and salad. When Declan doesn’t respond I glance up and say, “What?” when I find him looking at me again.
He shakes his head ruefully. “Nothing, I’m just surprised.”
“About what?”
But Antonio interrupts to ask for our orders before Declan can respond. He brings out garlic bread and marinara sauce along with our drinks. I dive in, breaking the bread into pieces and dipping them into the sauce.
“I never would have known this place was here,” I tell him.
“Woodland Creek’s best kept secret. Only the locals know it’s here and we keep it from the tourists.”
“So you’ve lived here your whole life?”
“Pretty much,” he says with a nod before taking a pull from his beer. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“You’ve never wanted to go to the city? See what that’s like?” I wonder if he ever gets out of his office or if every day is like that for him. It was like he was letting the world and his life pass him by. At least I have Sam to annoy and keep me company. I suppose now I can add Nonna to that list as well.
Declan doesn’t have anyone.
“No, never. I like my space, remember?” he says and clears his throat. “So, what brings you to the wilds of Indiana?”
“My parents were killed in a car accident last year. My grandmother lives here and smoothed the way for my brother and me to attend Hastings-Albrect.”
Declan reaches across the table and takes my hand. I’m going to need to be careful or holding his hand is going to become my new favorite thing. “I’m sorry to hear that, Sullivan.”
I offer him a wobbly smile. “Thanks. It gets a little easier every day.”
Bear With Me (Woodland Creek) Page 3
