by Donna Alward
Her hair was wet and plastered awkwardly to her head, but her eyes were alight with excitement and her smile was wide and utterly genuine. He wasn’t just entranced by the fish; there was something about her that made his stress and misgivings melt away. When was the last time he’d felt so free? He couldn’t honestly remember.
They made their way back to the boats and he was tempted to climb in and sit beside her, just to remain close. Instead he chose the wiser course and moved to the second boat, making small talk with others. Despite his risk assessment, there was no way in hell he was going to trust his instincts when it came to romance right now. Heck, this wasn’t even romance. It was elemental attraction. He was smart enough to realize it. And smart enough to recognize that he’d fallen into the same trap with Murielle. He’d got carried away and fallen too fast. By the time he’d realized it, it had been too late. There’d been a ring on his finger, and the weight of responsibility had fallen squarely on his shoulders. A man looked after his family, didn’t he?
The boats started up the river and he stared over at Molly, her wet hair blowing back off her face and an ever-present smile on her lips. God. Maybe that was what really bothered him about the divorce. It wasn’t that Murielle had called him a workaholic; he owned that. It was that she’d accused him of loving work more than he loved her, and she’d been wrong. Maybe he’d handled things the wrong way, but she’d made it sound as if there had never been any affection between them.
Of course, she’d said some other more hateful things, too. Like accusing him of being incapable of love at all. And then she’d hired a viper to rid him of thirty million.
Molly was one of those vipers. What would she say if she knew the real story behind his divorce? That it was 100 percent his fault?
CHAPTER FIVE
THE MORNING HAD been fun and exhausting, and then after a riverside picnic lunch, they’d gone to a museum in Campbell River for the balance of the afternoon. Molly had found the information and art about the coastal native peoples to be incredibly interesting and beautiful, but by five o’clock she was ready to pack it in, find a cool glass of white wine and call it a day.
Eric had moved on within the group and so had she; there was no need for partners during a group meal or wandering through the museum. She’d missed him, and that was enough of a warning sign. Snorkeling had been so amazing and fun. She’d always had this dreadful fear of breathing through the snorkel and going too deep and inhaling water. Just thinking about it brought back horrible, horrible memories from when she was a child. But pride had pushed her forward, and so had the current and her life jacket. Once she’d put her face in the water and had taken those first few breaths, she’d been fine, and thrilled at the sheer number of salmon in the river. Day one had indeed been an “easy” day of touring wineries. Today she felt as if she’d got her feet wet, both literally and figuratively. She’d conquered something that scared her, and it made her feel both strong and somehow lighter.
After a hot shower, she put on a pretty sundress and sandals and went to the patio bar, where she sipped on a glass of wine and let out a happy sigh. She was not sorry she’d come on the trip. Smiling, she took out her phone and scrolled through the pictures she’d taken today. One of Eric in the inflatable boat stood out. The wet suit clung to his physique and she swallowed tightly. There was no denying he took care of himself, if the breadth of his chest and shoulders was anything to go by. He’d had the wrist cam on and she wondered how his footage had turned out. And if—God forbid—she was in any of it, in her own very formfitting wet suit.
She took another drink of wine and felt defiance bubble up inside. Why shouldn’t she put one on and do interesting and exciting things? Why should she let her insecurities hold her back?
Good Lord. She’d been wrapped up in Spanx and a power suit for so long that she wore it like armor. Instead of being protective, though, she was starting to see that her very appropriate dress and appropriate hair and appropriate shoes and apartment and social life were a prison keeping her from experiencing life.
She feared very much that she’d become the one thing that she’d been determined not to—a cookie cutter. Once, many years earlier, she’d fancied herself in love with an upperclassman. He’d been headed for big things, maybe even political aspirations, and she’d been the right sort of woman to have on his arm. But that was where he’d wanted her—on his arm. Not in law school, not in any position where, she realized now, she might have outshone him. When she’d announced she’d passed the bar, she’d expected him to propose. Instead he’d broken up with her.
He was the only man to have ever broken her heart, but she’d realized over time that it had been a lucky escape.
Except she hadn’t really escaped at all. She’d still done what was expected of her and followed her father’s wishes. The right office and the right cases and the right look—the family image. She was so tired of it. Tired of holding all the hopes and dreams of her parents because Jack had died.
Jack.
What would he say right now if he could? He’d been such a great kid, full of life and a laugh that never failed to make her smile. He’d teased her incessantly, and had also been determined to protect his little sister... Her throat tightened at the memory that she lived with every day.
She took another sip of wine and let the breeze through the evergreens soothe her soul. This distance from the life she’d built was good. She was starting to see she’d filled the role that Jack had been meant to play in the firm, but she’d forgotten to actually live for him, too. To experience things, like joy and adventure and wonder.
She stood up from the table and lifted her arms to the sky. There was a big world out there she had yet to experience, and she was going to live it, dammit!
Just as she was about to have a Kate Winslet–ish “gumption” moment à la The Holiday, her phone buzzed.
She didn’t want to answer. It was her father again, and she let it go to voice mail, if nothing else but to prove a point. She was not on call. The office could survive without her for a couple of weeks.
It had taken being out of the country for her to realize how much she resented having toed the family line for so long. Did she even actually enjoy what she did for a living? Being at their beck and call day and night?
The phone buzzed again and she sighed, her earlier elation deflating. What if it was actually something important? Something to do with her folks or grandparents? She hit the button on the phone. “Hello?”
“Did you get my message?” Her dad’s voice came through strong and clear.
“I didn’t have time to listen to it. What’s up?”
What followed was a five-minute update on the case he’d mentioned the day before. Molly gave up on trying to get a word in as he seemed determined to plow forward. When he finally took a breath, she stepped in with two words as she pressed her fingers to the top of her nose. “Dad. Stop.”
The cool wine now seemed to fuel the beginnings of a headache. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Dad, I’m on vacation. Since you can’t seem to respect that, as I asked yesterday, I’m going to turn off my phone for the rest of my trip.” Never mind that she was using her phone for a lot of her photos. There were ways around that.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. But there’s more to life than the practice. I’ve always done everything you asked. Don’t I deserve something for me?”
There was a pause. “I thought ‘this’ was what you wanted.”
She knew he meant the job, the position, the lifestyle. And for a while it had been alluring. But most of all what she’d wanted was his approval. He always kept it just out of reach. Being made partner was great, but it came with a whole new set of expectations that she was never quite sure she could meet. Now she was taking a well-earned vacation and felt as if by doing so she was somehow letting him down.
“You never asked me what I wanted, Dad. It was assumed. I knew it was how I’d make you proud. That was what I really wanted.” To make up for the son he’d lost.
Another long pause. Then her father cleared his throat. “So, about the case...”
Tears pricked the corners of Molly’s eyes. She never cried. But she’d been incredibly honest just now and her words were met with avoidance and rigidity. Because the Quinn family didn’t talk about their feelings.
“I’m going to repeat what I said a few minutes ago, Dad, and this time I want you to really listen. I love you, but I’m on vacation. I’ll be out of contact until my return in a week. As in, I’m not going to have my phone on.” Her voice was clogged with emotion. She’d hardly ever gone against her father’s wishes. Growing up, she’d idolized him. “I need this time to sort some things out. Please, please, let me have it.” The longer she was away the more she realized how much she really didn’t love her career, and her job took up the bulk of her waking hours. She was almost thirty and already having thoughts of “Is this all there is?”
“It’s all yours,” he answered, his voice slightly softer. “I hope you come to your senses.”
She did, too, but she somehow thought they probably had differing definitions of what that meant.
She hung up and then turned off the phone, the final vibration humming against her palm before she put it down on the table.
Then she jumped a little as another phone appeared beside hers, and Eric came to stand beside her chair. “Room for one more?” he asked softly.
She shouldn’t be so glad to see him, but she was. She held out a hand, inviting him to take a seat. “I’m not sure I’m very good company,” she said.
“Me either. I see you couldn’t stay off yours, either.” He nodded at the phones side by side on the glass table, and she sighed.
“It’s off now. And isn’t going back on again.”
He smiled at her then. “Wouldn’t it be fun to go down and chuck them into the ocean? I mean, really pull your arm back and let it fly?”
“Tempting, but then I’d be polluting the ocean.”
“Are you always such a rule follower?”
She sighed. “Sadly, yes. You?”
“Not so much. Not that I actually break rules. Just that not everyone likes how I apply them.”
“Ah. Because you’re the bad guy who swoops in and takes over.”
“I’m the bad guy who comes in and buys the business, straight up. I make good deals. People get upset because employees lose their jobs, but me buying the business helps create jobs somewhere else. The truth is, if the business had gone bankrupt, they would have lost their jobs anyway.”
She looked at him for a moment and then laughed lightly. “You know, neither of us are in professions where people like us very much. Well, my clients like me, I suppose. And I’m sure your investors like you.”
“Most of the time.”
“Yes, most of the time.”
And yet saying it made her feel a little bit sorry. She didn’t have to be liked by everyone; she’d said goodbye to that long ago. But she might like to like herself a bit more, when all was said and done.
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “We disassemble things, don’t we, Molly? Break it up into pieces.”
“Yeah.”
He turned his head and looked over at her. “And we’re both good at it. We’ve made a lot of money.”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
With his eyes locked with hers, he acknowledged, “I know why I’m so mad about the divorce. Or at least one of the reasons. Her lawyer did to me what I usually do with the businesses I buy. Except I wasn’t the one who got the best deal.”
That was what bothered him about the divorce? Losing?
She took a sip of wine and called him on it. “So you’re mad about losing, but not about the end of the marriage?”
His gaze slid away and his expression darkened. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But it’s what you said. I just... I guess I wonder if you really don’t care that your marriage ended. If it’s all about the thirty million.”
Silence settled around them, warm and slightly uncomfortable in the summer evening. The breeze felt different here, smelled different from Cape Cod and the Atlantic somehow. It was wilder. More...primitive. Or perhaps that was just the setting. The river, the strait that ran between the island and the British Columbia coast and the rugged mountains made everything in Molly’s life feel like it was half a world away.
“You’re asking if I loved her,” he said, and to her surprise his voice sounded a little hoarse.
“It’s none of my business,” she replied quickly. “I’m sorry I made it sound that way.”
“I did,” he confessed, and his dark gaze touched hers again. “But now that it’s over, I’m starting to wonder if I don’t actually know what love is. I just kind of know what it...isn’t. I made mistakes, and I lost her.”
Molly thought about her previous relationships since the “big breakup.” They’d been practical and perfect on paper and...passionless. No heart involved, no hurt when it ended.
But didn’t a girl deserve a little passion in her life?
She flipped her hair over her shoulder with her hand and felt the mellow breeze of the evening kiss her skin. “I’m not sure I know, either. But I know it’s not on this phone.” She tapped her nail on the phone cover and smiled. “I’m really starting to hate this thing.”
“Me too.”
Something rebellious began to bubble up inside her. “If we’re not going to throw them in the ocean, what are we going to do with them?”
He looked at her, a sly smile making a small dimple pop in his cheek as his eyes warmed. “Wanna go for a walk?”
“I guess?” She wasn’t quite sure what he had up his sleeve, but a summer walk with a handsome, sexy man wasn’t a bad way to spend an evening. He got up from his chair and held out his hand, and she rose to take it. She was wearing sandals with her sundress, and hoped they were going to stay on the graveled paths around the lodge.
“Bring your phone,” he said, and she picked it up and tucked it in the pocket of her skirt.
The sun was still out but was moving behind the mountains, casting shadows on them as they picked their way down the path toward the beach, a good half a kilometer away. The beach was actually a little cove tucked in along the Discovery Passage, running between the Strait of Georgia and the Johnstone Strait. Waves lapped against the shore and Molly kept her hand secured in Eric’s, wary of tripping or stumbling on the uneven ground and rocks. When they got to the water, he let go of her hand and took a deep breath.
“This place is incredible, don’t you think?”
She nodded. “I grew up on Cape Cod. It’s different there. At home it’s—”
“Inhabited.” He nodded toward the water. “But here, it feels like there’s not another person for miles around. I know there is, but it feels as if there isn’t.”
“It makes me feel small.” She picked up a small rock and let it fly. It arced through the air before cutting into the water with barely a ripple. “Like that rock in a whole ocean floor.”
“Do you always try to not make waves?” he asked, and it was a rather profound question when all was said and done.
“Yes,” she answered honestly. “Hanging up on my dad was probably my biggest act of rebellion ever.”
“Which is funny, because you strike me as incredibly competitive and competent. And stubborn.”
She laughed. “I am. I have to be in my job. But not with my family.”
“Why?”
It was a good question, and one she didn’t want to talk about, not on the heels of her earlier thoughts. “How about you? What’s your biggest act of rebellion?”
He accepted her evasion with a
small smile. “Not going into business with my brothers.”
“What do they do?”
“They run a car dealership.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” He turned his head to look at her. “Because I’m not sure they do. To them, I’m the guy who thinks they aren’t good enough.”
She picked up another rock and threw it high into the air, watching it drop with a plop. “And do you think that?”
“No, of course not. It just didn’t excite me, and I wanted to be excited. Challenged. Doing something new.” He paused. “I wanted something with more security.”
“Are you close with them?”
“Not anymore.” She heard regret in his voice. She wondered if he was close with anyone.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. At least you’re close with your family.”
Am I? She wondered if she really was, or if the closeness was only because she had gone into the family business. What if she’d chosen another path? Would she be as close to her parents?
“I had a brother,” she said, not sure what had prompted her to be so honest.
“Oh?” His dark eyes were keener now as they lit upon her. “Had. Past tense?” At her nod, he touched her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“I was five. Jack was ten. He was coming home from Little League with his best friend and his family when they were hit by a drunk driver.”
“My God. That’s horrible.”
Her throat tightened. “I don’t remember a lot of it now. I was pretty small. But my family... Suddenly all their hopes and dreams for him transferred to me. There was a lot of pressure as the only child. I didn’t want to disappoint them. And there was a lot of pressure to remember that I had chances and opportunities, whereas my brother’s had all been taken away.”
