"What was the woman's name?" he asked curiously.
"Christina Wykoff. She works at an attorney's office, Hamilton and Sloan. Do you know her?"
"No, I don't. I wonder why she had such a strong negative reaction to her painting being shown."
"I assume she's embarrassed by it. She looked like a woman who is very put together. What I found really odd was that she just went into the studio without ringing my front doorbell or asking for permission. I know this is a friendly town, but she knows Carly passed away, and she knew I was in the house, so why not introduce herself to me?"
"Maybe if she stayed at the studio, she just always went straight back there, and she didn't think about going to the house."
"That makes sense."
"You might want to rethink the exhibition, Mia. Kent wasn't happy about his painting being shown, either."
"I don't really understand why either one of them is upset about it. Most artists love to have their work displayed."
"I don't know about Christina, but it sounds like Kent created his art while he was going through a bad period in his life. Maybe that's why he doesn't want to show it; he doesn't want the reminder. Christina might feel the same way."
She nodded. "It's something to think about."
His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his pocket. It was a text from his longtime friend Craig Barton.
"Where are you? I'm ringing your bell."
"Next door," he texted back.
"Coming over."
He got to his feet. "A friend of mine is at my house." He'd barely finished speaking when Barton's loud voice rang through the air.
"Jeremy, where are you?" Barton called.
"Back here," he said, walking toward the gate.
It burst open a moment later, and Craig walked into the yard.
Craig Barton was a big man: tall, broad, and stocky, with legs like tree trunks and muscled arms that any body builder would be proud of. The massiveness of his body was intimidating, but it was offset by Barton's friendly grin and outgoing personality.
They shook hands, and then Barton pulled him into a short, rough hug and let go.
"Damn, it's good to see you, Jeremy."
"You, too."
"You look better than when I saw you in the hospital a few months ago."
"A lot has changed since then."
"So I hear." Barton looked past him. "Is that your kid?"
He nodded. "Come and meet Ashlyn." He walked Craig over to the table. "Ashlyn, this is one of my best friends, Craig Barton."
"Hi Ashlyn," Craig said.
Ashlyn jumped out of her chair and ran down the path and into the studio.
"I haven't sent a female running that fast in a long time," Barton said.
"She's shy," Jeremy said, downplaying Ashlyn's problems.
Barton turned his attention to Mia. "At least I didn't send you running."
Mia got up to shake his hand. "I'm Mia Callaway. It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
Jeremy saw the glint of appreciation in Barton's eyes, and he didn't like it. He'd seen Barton make a lot of moves on a lot of women, and it had never bothered him—until now.
Mia was his. Well, maybe not his, but definitely not Barton's.
"So this is where you're spending your time," Craig said with a knowing grin. "Can't say I blame you. The scenery is beautiful."
"The house has a magnificent view," Mia said.
"I wasn't just talking about the view," Barton drawled.
Mia grinned. "Good line."
He laughed. "Apparently not that good."
"We're having breakfast," Jeremy interrupted, giving his friend a pointed look to behave, not that that would matter. Barton had never met a rule he didn't want to break. "There are extra pancakes if you want some."
"Blueberry," Mia added. "Fresh from a local farm."
"That sounds good, but I just ate at Dina's with Kent, so I'll have to pass."
"What are you doing in town?" Jeremy asked.
"It's my mother's birthday this weekend, big party on Saturday night. I figured I might as well come and check up on you at the same time. Kent and I are getting together tonight at Murray's with some of the guys from his department. A little pool, a lot of beer—you in?"
"I don't know. I have Ashlyn."
"You can't find a babysitter for an hour or two?"
He hesitated. There was a big part of him that wanted to spend a few hours way he used to. "I'm not sure. I'll have to call her and see if she's available."
"Do that. We have some things to talk about, Jeremy," Barton said more seriously. "Like your future."
"We're not going to solve that over pool and beer."
"Maybe not, but we can start the conversation."
"I'll see what I can do."
Barton looked back at Mia. "So, you're the crazy art lady's niece?"
"Barton," Jeremy said quickly. "She just lost her aunt. Don't call her crazy."
"Sorry, I meant it in a nice way. Your aunt was a lot of fun. Carly was a real sweetheart to Kent when he was going through a bad time a few years back. I stopped by here a couple of times when Kent was using the studio. She would bring us lemonade and tell us stories about her travels. Kent and I thought we'd seen the world, but Carly had been a lot of places we'd never been, and certainly places more beautiful than the ones we were sent to."
"I know," Mia said. "I always looked forward to her postcards. Even though she died too young, I find some comfort in the fact that she lived every day to the fullest."
"That's all anyone can do. I'm sorry about her passing," Barton added. "Are you living here now?"
"Only temporarily. I'm cleaning out her house. My mom inherited the property. I think she'll probably sell it, but not any time soon."
"Maybe you'll discover something valuable tucked away. You can take it on one of those antique shows, and find out you're a millionaire," Barton suggested.
"Somehow, I don't think that will happen," she said with a laugh.
"You haven't seen anything that looks like it could be worth some money?"
"Not yet. But I've barely scratched the surface."
"Just remember. Some things that look like junk turn out to be priceless."
"She's an art historian," Jeremy put in. "If anyone knows what she's looking for, it's probably Mia."
"I've never met an art historian," Barton said.
Jeremy laughed. "The places you go to meet women—that's not surprising."
Barton shrugged. "I'm a simple man with simple tastes. Anyway, I have to go to my mom's house. I'll see you tonight, right?"
"I can't promise."
"Sure you can. You want something to happen, you make it happen."
"It's not that easy."
"Yes it is." Barton slapped him on the back, and Jeremy winced as pain shot down his arm. "Oh, man, I'm sorry," Barton said quickly. "You look so good. I forgot about your shoulder."
"It's fine. Don't worry about it."
"How's the rehab going?"
"It's going."
"And the ribs?"
"Only a memory."
"We'll talk later."
"Sure." After Barton left, Jeremy sat back down at the table, massaging his left shoulder with his right hand.
"Your friend is right, Jeremy. It's easy to forget you were hurt," Mia said. "Every now and then, I see the pain in your eyes, but you cover it up very quickly."
"It's not that bad."
"I didn't know you'd hurt your ribs, too. You didn't just trip over something and fall, did you?"
He stared into her enquiring eyes and knew he owed her more of the truth. "There was an explosion. I cracked a rib and had some internal bleeding. They had to dig metal out of my shoulder. But I was lucky."
"That doesn't sound lucky."
"When you consider the alternative, it is."
"Did any of your friends not make it?" she asked quietly.
"Not that time, thank God."
"But you've lost friends?"
"Too many."
"And yet you want to go back. Why?" she asked, bewilderment in her eyes.
It wasn't an unusual reaction. Civilians didn't understand what it meant to fight, to be part of something bigger than yourself, to work on a team that was trained to kill and also trained to protect one another. He thought of how best to explain it.
"Because there are more battles to fight, and my team needs me."
As he said the words, he wondered if they were really true anymore. He'd been one of the best, but he was smart enough and realistic enough to know that he might not ever reach the physical strength he'd had before the blast.
He let out a sigh and looked out at the ocean. "I have to admit that part of my life seems very far away right now."
"I feel like my life is far away, too," she said. "Angel's Bay feels like not just a safe harbor but also a good place to start a new journey."
"I never thought of this town as a safe harbor. For me, it was a place I couldn't wait to leave."
"Was it the town you couldn't wait to leave or your father?"
"Probably my father."
"Have you ever tried to talk to him about the past?"
"I went by his apartment when I first got here. It was afternoon, so he was already on his third or fourth drink. I'd called first, hoping that he might postpone happy hour until after our meeting, but he didn't. I told him about Ashlyn. He said he wasn't surprised I'd be so irresponsible as to have a kid somewhere in the world that I didn't know about." He paused. "I wasn't irresponsible that night, Mia. I used protection. I don't know how Justine got pregnant."
"Protection isn't always foolproof, and you said there was a lot of alcohol involved."
"True. And maybe it was a little irresponsible, but that was a long time ago. And it was one night."
"You don't have to defend yourself to me. It's like you told me at the park yesterday. It's not the mistakes you make; it's what you do afterwards. When you found out you were a father, you went straight to Ashlyn. And you've been with her ever since. She's got a lot of issues, and it can't be easy, but you're trying. I'm quite impressed."
He couldn't help but be happy that she'd recognized the challenges he'd faced and was still facing.
"Maybe you need to find a chance to speak to your father when he hasn't had a drink," she suggested.
"I don't know when that would be. And you saw him at the café. He scared Ashlyn. I can't have him in her life. He ruined my childhood; he won't ruin hers. I need him to stay the hell away from me."
"Is there anyone else in his life? A woman? A friend? Someone who could step in and let him know that he needs to tread carefully around Ashlyn?"
"He has friends. They've never stepped up to the plate before, not that I've ever seen. He could have a woman. Hell, I have no idea," he said, shaking his head. "We've spoken maybe three or four times the last ten years."
"It's sad that you're so disconnected."
"It's just the way it is. That's enough about my father. I should probably find Ashlyn," he said, getting to his feet.
"She's fine," Mia replied, as she stood up. "She can't mess anything up in the studio."
"She loves coming over here. She was standing at her bedroom window watching you earlier. Just so you know, even when she's not here, you do have an audience."
"She's trapped in her own head and she desperately wants to get out."
"I agree. I just wish I could release her from the prison she's put herself in."
"You will."
"Or maybe you will. You've gotten her to talk more than I have. She said the word pancake because her desire to include you in our breakfast overcame her desire to stay silent."
"That's going to happen more and more as she gets comfortable with you and with me." She paused for a moment, giving him a thoughtful look. "When is the last time you had a break from Ashlyn, and I'm not just talking about going to therapy?"
"I don't know. I haven't wanted to leave her while she's so fragile."
"You should go out with your friends tonight. I'd offer to babysit, but I have a coloring book party to go to at the quilt shop that Kara set up."
"I wouldn't ask you to babysit again. I can call Mrs. Danbury, I suppose. She said she's free a lot, and she misses her grandkids who just moved away, so she likes doing it."
"Then you should ask her. You need to take care of yourself, too."
He liked the concern in her eyes. "Thanks."
"Your friend Craig Barton is a character."
"Sorry he called your aunt crazy. He has no filter."
"I know it wasn't mean-spirited. So you and Kent and Craig all grew up together?"
"Yeah. We've known each other all of our lives. We joined the Army together right after high school graduation. We have a lot of history, most of it good."
"Were Kent and Craig in Delta with you?"
"They were. We weren't always together over the years, but we ended up in Delta four years ago. Kent got injured last year and left the Army. Barton and I were part of the same team up until about six months ago. He got a promotion and moved to a different unit, but we still occasionally worked the same problem." He paused. "Barton wants me to go back to Delta and Kent wants me to be a cop here in Angel's Bay."
"What do you want?"
"The real question is what can I have?"
"Maybe you have to know what you want in order to answer the second question."
"You might be right," he said slowly, thinking that what he wanted right this second was the barefoot, sexy blonde woman standing in front of him.
Her blue gaze darkened under his stare, and he knew she was feeling the same pull of attraction that had him in its grip.
"There are so many reasons why I shouldn't kiss you right now," he muttered.
Her tongue darted out, as she nervously swiped her bottom lip. "Are you talking to me or to yourself, Jeremy?"
"Maybe both of us."
"What about all those reasons?"
"One kiss."
"Could we stop at one?"
"Let's find out." He put his hands on her waist and covered her mouth with his.
She tasted like blueberries and maple syrup, like sweetness and sex, and he was instantly lost. She kissed him back with enthusiasm and impatient need. He liked the way she flung her arms around his neck and brought his head back to hers when he thought to end the kiss. That was fine with him, because he could have gone on kissing her forever.
Actually, that wasn't completely true, because he wanted more than a kiss.
He wanted to taste more than her lips, run his hands along her feminine curves, and wrap her hair around his fingers. He wanted nothing between them: no clothes, no restraint, no reasons why they shouldn't be together.
But there were reasons, dammit. And one of them was not too far away.
He finally pulled away from Mia, staring down at her soft pink lips, and her beautiful eyes now sparkling with desire, and it was all he could do to take a breath and step back.
"That was…" she began. "I have no words."
He couldn't help her. His blood was still racing through his veins.
She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave him a somewhat self-conscious smile. "I don't know what that was."
"All I know is that it was great."
"But…it probably shouldn't happen again. You know—for all those reasons you mentioned a few minutes ago."
"Hard to remember what they are now." He ran a hand through his hair. Kissing her should have taken the edge off, but it had actually only made him want her more.
"You have Ashlyn and a career to figure out," she reminded him. "And I have my own employment issues to consider. Plus, neither of us is planning to be here long-term. We're like two ships passing in the night. We should just be neighbors, friends, don't you think?"
She was right, so why did he absolutely hate the suggestion? "That would probably be wise."
&nbs
p; She gazed back at him for a long minute, conflict in her eyes. "Why does doing the wise thing always feel so bad?"
"It's more fun to give in to temptation than to resist it."
"It certainly is," she said with a wistful sigh. "I didn't expect to come here and meet someone like you."
He smiled. "I didn't, either."
"So…friends."
"Sure." He cleared his throat, thinking if he was going to fulfill the friend promise, he should probably leave before he did something wonderful and stupid like kissing her again. "I should get Ashlyn and leave you to your cleanup."
"You can let her stay if you want, unless you have something specific planned for her and you to do together…"
"No, she'd probably prefer to stay with you." He hesitated. "If you really don't mind, I could grab an extra therapy session."
"I don't mind at all. I do need to go into town to make some copies of some of the sketches I found for the coloring book party tonight. Do you mind if Ashlyn goes with me?"
"No, that's fine."
"I'll make sure she wants to go. Otherwise, I can do it when you get back. It won't take that long."
"She'll want to go. What did you say you were doing—a coloring book party? Isn't that for kids?"
"These sketches are for adults. My aunt was putting together a coloring book of her sketches. They're quite good. I guess it's the hot new craze to relieve stress through coloring. Kara suggested a group party with wine and coloring. She wants me to meet some of my aunt's friends."
"The wine sounds like fun. I'm not sure about the coloring."
"I'm not, either, but we'll see how it goes tonight. Now, go and do whatever you need to do."
"Thanks. And Mia—when you told me before that I had to know what I wanted so I could go after it..."
"Yes," she said warily.
"You know the first answer that came to my mind?"
"Was it the Army?"
He shook his head. "It was you."
Her eyes widened as she licked her lips again. "Maybe in that minute you wanted me, but…"
"But what? Maybe that minute or this minute is all that matters. Sometimes tomorrow doesn't come."
"But when it does come, it helps if you haven't made a mess of the day before. I'll see you later, Jeremy." She walked into the studio and shut the door.
He turned back to the table, grabbed the pancake platter and syrup and headed home, thinking that breakfast with Mia had been both an excellent and a terrible idea.
If I Didn't Know Better Page 10
