Maybe she’d wear black and protest the holiday. Claire bit back a smile. Of course she’d never do something like that, especially when she was running for mayor, but it was still fun to imagine doing so.
She ran her fingers over her hair, trying to put back into place strands the wind had moved. If Evan didn’t answer before she counted to twenty, she’d head home. Because she shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have showed up without calling first. The website for his woodworking business probably had a Contact Me section where she could have located a phone number or an email address. No doubt Mrs. Clarkson or Kendall had his information, but asking either would have encouraged too many questions and unwanted speculation.
He probably wasn’t even home. Evan’s outgoing personality assured he had a busy social schedule, or at least Claire assumed so.
The door swung open and she sucked in a sharp breath.
Evan was home, all right.
Wearing worn jeans and a white T-shirt, he stood barefoot in the doorway, his lips slightly parted. “What are you—? Why are—? I don’t und—?” He shook his head and took a step to the side, sweeping his hand in a grand welcoming motion. “Come in. Please, it’s freezing out there.”
Right; go into his house. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Had she thought at all? After dropping Alex off for a sleepover at his friend Xander’s, she had gotten into her car and turned it in the direction of Evan’s house. Despite the fact that they hadn’t spoken in years, she’d known she had to talk with him now and needed to do so before her courage waned.
Of course they’d talk inside—it was far too cold to stand outside for long. And thinking she was only dropping Alex off at his sleepover and driving back home, she hadn’t chosen to wear her warmest coat.
She hugged her purse to her stomach and stepped past Evan. He reached behind her and closed the door, bringing him a little closer as he did so. She backed away, finding his arm only inches from her side. His hair was tousled, as if he’d been tugging on it. A waft of the watermelon scent hit her and she turned away.
But she couldn’t turn off the images the smell made rush into her mind.
When they were teenagers, she used to love watching him work out a problem. Evan would sit at a table, transfixed on a piece of paper, gnawing on a pencil as he tried to sketch whatever he was planning to build next. Sometimes she had curled up beside him at the library or scratched his back as he worked. Other times she had slung her legs over his and hugged his side, her head burrowed into his chest as she memorized the steady pounding of his heartbeat while he stretched to reach the paper. Whenever he got stuck, he’d absentmindedly shove a hand into his hair and yank so that by the time his drawing was complete his hair would be sticking up in all directions.
She used to love how completely absorbed he became when he was dreaming, thinking, building. How he’d been the kind of person who threw his entire being into a project. They’d fantasized about attending college together, as a married couple, supporting each other as they took their time with their studies. Evan’s plan had been to study engineering, but she’d learned from Kendall that he had never ended up leaving Goose Harbor.
Shunning all thoughts of Evan Daniels had become such a habit for Claire that it was difficult to sort through the sudden onslaught of memories. They felt like talons, piercing her heart with burst after burst of pain. A tight coil of ache wrapped around her ribs. She pressed her palm into her collarbone.
Evan scooted so he was standing in front of her, then scratched the back of his neck. “You okay?”
“Fine.” Being ridiculous...but she was fine. For all intents and purposes, Evan was basically a stranger. She no longer knew the man before her, and there was no logical reason to be affected by him.
Still, it was dangerous to dwell on the past. “I’m fine,” she repeated.
“Good. That’s great.” He rocked on his feet and glanced at the impressive fire blazing in the stone fireplace in his family room. A log cracked and hissed. “I mean, I’m glad you’re fine.”
Claire hooked a chunk of her hair between her fingers and put it back behind her ear, casually scanning the layout of Evan’s home as she did so. The entryway was spacious, with a ceiling that reached to the second story. Behind a half wall there was a large family room with an overstuffed couch and two wide lounge chairs. Ten feet past the entryway lay the stairs; the railing and posts were clearly Evan’s handiwork. Beyond was a dining room and an open kitchen with gleaming appliances and a huge island. A set of white French doors led to another room that she couldn’t make out.
All the areas she could see were splashed in soothing earth tones. The aesthetics of Evan’s house translated to an overwhelming message to come on in, take a seat, relax, stay.
Well, everything except the loud music booming from upstairs. Claire pointed toward the steps. “When did you get into show tunes?”
Evan barked out a laugh. “Not me. No. That’s Laura. My sister. Do you remember her?”
“She was little.” Claire held her hand at waist height. “When I...when I was last around.”
“Not so little anymore. She’s seventeen,” he offered. “She pretty much lives here.”
Claire wanted to ask why his teenage sister lived with him. Were his parents here, too? His brother Andrew? No, the local rumor mill had hinted that Evan’s younger brother had run off six or seven years ago and no one knew if he was dead or alive. Some of the gossip was that Andrew had gone to Vegas and fallen into gambling like his father, but others told a tale of him becoming a world traveler, backpacking through India. Whatever his story, it no longer sounded as if it was entwined with Evan’s. However, none of that mattered. The less she knew about Evan’s life now, the better.
“You’ve done well for yourself.” Claire gestured to encompass his whole house. “Your place is beautiful.”
Evan ducked his head and glanced around. He looked slightly unsure. “Claire, listen. This is awkward.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “But it doesn’t have to be.”
Both of them running for mayor was awkward, but they were adults and could deal with it. She sucked in a fortifying breath. Now or never. “We need to talk.”
He took a tentative step closer. “I know—I’m sorry. There’s a lot I’ve wanted to say.” His hand came up, as if he wanted to take her hand, or hug her, or rest it on her shoulder, but just as quickly he let it drop to his side. He shook his head once. “You have no idea how sorry I am. About everything.”
Danger! The conversation was not going in the right direction whatsoever. The last thing she wanted was to dig up and rehash any part of their old relationship. She’d held a funeral and buried those lost hopes a long time ago. Exhuming the grave was not going to happen. Not on her watch.
Evan’s brow pinched. “I’ve always re—”
She held up her palm. “I don’t want to talk about that. That’s not why I came here.”
“But I still—”
“No,” she said, louder and with more force than she meant to. “I’m serious. Please. I don’t want to go down that road with you. Not now, not ever.” She tugged on one of her sleeves. “Understood?”
He nodded. “I can respect that.” Then he swallowed hard. “If that’s what you want.”
It was strange to see the ever-sure Evan off-kilter and subdued. Maybe he’d changed over the years. Then again, he could be unnerved about being alone with her. At eighteen he’d decided he never wanted to be with her, and now he was stuck in such a predicament, if only for a few minutes.
Unwanted. Unwelcome. Undesirable.
Not much had changed in twelve years.
She needed to stop thinking like that.
Evan narrowed his eyes. “Wait, you’re not here to try to convince me to drop out of the race, are you?” He stepped back, leaned against the
half wall that separated his entryway from the living room and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not happening, no matter what you say. I hope you know that.”
She rolled her shoulders. Sparring with Evan was far more comfortable than where the conversation had almost gone.
“Oh, believe me, if you’re as cocky and mule-headed as you were in high school, then of course you’re not going to back down.” She set her purse on the half wall’s ledge. “So no, I’m not here to ask you to drop out.”
The confident smirk she remembered from the past returned to his face. “Cocky and mule-headed, huh? I seem to remember running for president of the senior class and winning.”
“Thank you for demonstrating my point.”
He rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, but the tug of a smile hinted that he was enjoying their quick exchange.
“Besides,” Claire added, “you won because I didn’t run against you.” The words came out weak in her ears. If she had run against Evan back then no one would have voted for her. Evan was her best friend and she had a group of friends based on that, but she’d had none to call her own when she was a teenager. Fellow students had either been afraid of her, because of her father, or tried to befriend her in order to get something—again, because of her father.
“Hey!” Evan’s twin dimples appeared as he wagged his finger. “I won fair and square.”
Thank you for not taking a cheap shot.
“Oh right, completely fair.” A genuine laugh sneaked out. “Is that what you call flirting for every vote?”
“I did not—”
She let out a little eep. “You’re planning to get votes that way this time, too, aren’t you? Don’t deny it. You’ll bat your eyes and ‘yes, ma’am’ and hold doors all around town for every woman over thirty and get them all swooning.”
“One.” He pushed off the wall so he was standing less than two feet away. It felt too close, but her back was already against the door and she had nowhere to go. “Last I checked, being polite and respectful isn’t considered flirting. Two.” He used his fingers to tick off his points. “I didn’t win the high school election by flirting. We were dating. You probably don’t think very highly of me, and I’ve earned the lowest marks in your book with cause.” He shoved his hand into his hair and turned to the side. “But know that I’m never going to—how did you say it?” He met her gaze and Claire swallowed past the burn in her throat. “Bat my eyes at another woman if I’m committed to someone else. Three, for that matter I don’t think I even know what batting my eyes means. And four—”
She held up both her hands. “Okay, enough.”
“Four.” He cocked his head and his dimples deepened. “You think I can make women all over town swoon?”
And...he’s back.
This time she didn’t fight the smile that bloomed on her face. “Grow up.”
“You’re the one who suggested it.” He tapped his chin in an exaggerated manner. “Actually, the idea has merit.”
“Don’t pretend you have no clue what I’m talking about. I’ve heard the rumors.”
“What rumors?” His face fell.
“About how friendly—” she put the word in finger quotes “—you are with the tourists.”
He looked genuinely confused. “I guess I don’t understand what you’re insinuating.”
Come on, he had to know. A guy as good-looking as he was had to comprehend the effect he had on a single woman if he was showering her with attention. “Please, Evan. Don’t play stupid.”
“Are you kidding?” His confusion melted into a goofy grin as he pointed at his face. “This is what real stupid looks like. Take a picture. You might be able to sell it to the Discovery Channel. ‘Stupid, Captured in the Wild.’” He imitated a voice-over from an animal documentary.
“You’re impossible.”
He finally sobered. “Whatever you’ve heard, I don’t flirt with anyone. At least, not on purpose. I haven’t even had a girlfriend since...” He shrugged.
Since when? Since her? That would be impossible. A guy like Evan would be considered a hot commodity in a small town like Goose Harbor. Grandmas would invite their adult granddaughters to visit for the summer just to try to pair them up with him. An eligible, attractive bachelor who was deeply involved in the community and his church—what wasn’t to like?
Too bad when Claire looked at him she saw promise-breaker, dream-dasher and leaver, but she was in tune enough to understand why others might be drawn to him.
Evan studied her for a minute, almost as if he wanted to say something important. Finally, he shook his head and said, “Forgive me, where are my manners? Here.” He held out a hand. “I’ll take your coat. It’s cold out there. Let’s go sit by the fire and we can discuss whatever it was you wanted to.”
* * *
Evan crossed from the kitchen to the couch near the fireplace where Claire waited. The smell of chocolate from the mugs in his hands and the burning logs that popped and crackled in the hearth should have been comforting, but he was finding it impossible to relax.
Claire Atwood was in his house.
Years had come and gone since he’d given up hope of them reconciling, so that couldn’t be what was causing his pulse to heat the back of his neck. Long ago, Evan had been told he’d never amount to anything. His father had been the first to plant the idea in his head, but many others had reinforced the notion until it became true.
Out of everything Sesser Atwood had said to Evan to convince him to miss his own wedding—between the blackmail about kicking his parents out of their home, having his father arrested, and Sesser’s promise to use his connection to get Brice tossed out of college—it wasn’t the threats that had convinced Evan to abandon Claire in the end. It was the reminder that Evan would never amount to anything, never be good enough to deserve someone of Claire’s stature. He’d been no better than a pauper with a crush on a princess. Laughable.
Sesser had been right.
While Evan had gone on to build a home in Goose Harbor, he’d never ventured beyond the small lakeside community. With no college degree, he had nothing to attach to his name and very little experience in the world at large. All he had to show for his life was the furniture he built with sweat and dreams. Many of the people he’d grown up with would consider his house to be nice, sizable even, but it was a joke when compared to the place Claire had grown up in. Nothing compared to what Auden Pierce, the man she’d been engaged to, could have given her.
He’d never admit to it, but once he discovered that Claire was engaged, Evan had harbored a fascination for conducting internet searches on her fiancé. Auden Pierce—who looked as stuffy in his online profiles as his name sounded—was her senior by eight years, and newspapers quoted that the solutions architect was worth twice as much as her father. Evan initially had to look up what a solutions architect even was—some fancy term for someone who designs plans for problems occurring within huge corporations. Starting pay was upwards into six figures. Evan had stopped searching for information after learning that.
Then again, some of the articles about Pierce’s dealings had sounded shady. Not exactly illegal, but not completely on the up and up...much like how Sesser Atwood ran his businesses. Evan wouldn’t survive ten minutes in such a world. He couldn’t even let himself beat one of the Sunday school kids at a board game without feeling bad.
Evan and Claire existed in different spheres, and that’s how it would always be.
How it needed to be.
He handed her a large mug and then sat on the chair across from the couch, the fire warming the side of his face. “I put peanut butter cups in there. You may want to give it a stir so they don’t stay melted on the bottom.” He pointed at the mug she had cradled in her hand. “I hope you still like it that way. I should have asked.”
Claire stared at the steam rising from her hot chocolate and blinked a couple times. “I—yes—I still love it that way.” She slowly stirred the liquid, her spoon making soft clanking sounds. “It’s been forever.” She took a sip and her eyes softened as she watched him. “I have to start making it this way for Alex. I’d forgotten.”
Forgotten her favorite way to take hot chocolate?
Evan wanted to say something, anything that would ease the tension between them, but she’d asked him to not bring up the past. She wanted to forget that they’d ever meant something to each other, which was probably wise, but Evan was struggling with the idea of ignoring the issue all the same. How could they move forward and function together on any level without addressing what had happened? She wanted him to ignore everything? Pretend they’d never known each other? Held each other?
If only she’d let him explain.
Emotion tightened his throat.
Claire placed her mug on the coffee table and put her hands on her knees. “I stopped by because I wanted to talk about the election.”
Heat wafted in thick waves from the fireplace. He might have added one too many logs when he built it earlier; then again, he hadn’t been planning to sit this close. Evan angled away from it. He rested his ankle on his other knee and cradled his half-empty hot chocolate. “I figured that much.”
“This competition they want us to do.” She moved to the edge of the seat. “It’s ridiculous. Please tell me you think so, too.”
Evan chuckled. “Of course it’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, that’s great! I’m so glad you agree.” She wound her fingers together around her cup. “So you’ll talk to the board about it with me, then? We need to convince them to drop the idea. If only you would talk to them, I know you could get them to see reason.”
Ah, the truth came out.
The Single Mom's Second Chance Page 4
