Hawthorne Harbor Box Set

by Elana Johnson

  Lauren wrote all the names in a list. “Anyone else?”

  “I think that’s it,” Trent said. “Oh, wait. I think Adam and Andrew’s parents are coming. Joel and Donna.”

  With them added to the list, Lauren handed it to Porter. “There you go, bud. I’m not sure how all those people are going to fit in Aunt Mabel’s house, but the food will be good.”

  “Maybe she’ll have the meal at the Mansion,” Trent said.

  “Maybe,” Lauren said. “But I doubt it. She loves the Mansion, but she thinks families should celebrate in their homes.” A warm feeling filled her then, and Lauren’s excitement for this Thanksgiving meal returned.

  A few minutes later, Trent pulled into the driveway of a white house with a huge porch. The railing had been painted dark blue to match the shutters, and everything looked perfect, pristine, and peaceful.

  “Nice place,” Lauren said when he opened her door and offered his hand to help her out of the truck. She straightened her skirt while he lifted his son into his arms. He got Porter settled on one side and took her hand with his free one.

  “Make sure you tell my dad that,” Trent said. “He takes great pride in the yard.” He flashed Lauren a smile that felt nervous, and her own anxiety skyrocketed.

  She licked her lips as they went up the steps, and the front door opened before they could knock. Trent’s mother stood there, a wide smile on her face. “Hello, everyone,” she said. “Come in, come in.”

  Trent set Porter down, which caused him to release Lauren’s hand. She watched as Porter darted forward and wrapped his arms around his grandma. “Go say hi to Papa,” she said. “He’s putting a pizza in the oven.”

  The little boy skipped off, and Lauren stepped forward. “I’m Lauren Michaels. Nice to meet you, ma’am.” She shook his mom’s hand and fell back to Trent’s side, where he swept his arm around her waist and kept her flush against him.

  “Nice to meet you too,” she said. “I’m Glenda. Wade’s inside.” She turned and led the way, and Lauren glanced at Trent.

  He smiled and said, “Well, that wasn’t so bad, right?”

  Lauren didn’t answer as she stepped partially in front of him to enter the house. Wade was indeed just closing the oven when they arrived in the kitchen.

  “Wade,” Glenda said. “This is Lauren, Trent’s girlfriend.”

  “Hello,” he said, his voice maybe a decibel or two too loud. He also wore a smile that seemed too big for his face. “I’m Wade.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Lauren shook his hand too and glanced around the space. It hadn’t been updated in a while, but it was functional. Practical, even. Well-kept. Clean. Felt like a place people lived, with stories trapped in the walls and secrets in the ceilings.

  She wondered what she could learn about Trent from his parents, and she grinned at both of them. “I’m from Seattle. Have you guys always lived here in Bell Hill?”

  “Oh, yes,” Wade said. “Right here in this house for what? Forty-two years.”

  “Well, the yard is stunning,” Lauren said, watching as Wade’s face lit up. “I can see where Trent gets his green thumb from.”

  “Okay, time to go,” Trent said, but when Lauren looked at him, he was smiling.

  Glenda laughed and asked, “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, Mom,” Trent said. “We’re going to dinner, remember?”

  “Oh, right. Right.” She gestured them back toward the front door, and Lauren once again went first. “Well, you two have fun. So nice to meet you, Lauren.”

  “And you,” she called over her shoulder. She couldn’t turn back, because Trent’s wide body was right there, keeping her moving forward. Once they were down the sidewalk and he’d opened her door, she asked, “Are we in a hurry?”

  “Yes,” he said with that playful twinkle in his eye. “And they’re still standing on the porch, aren’t they?”

  She glanced over his shoulder and nodded. He rolled his eyes, turned around, and lifted his hand in a wave. He got behind the wheel, and Lauren stayed on her side of the cab though every cell in her body wanted her to scoot closer to Trent. It was as if his cells had strong magnets in them and were calling to her.

  He backed out of the driveway and drove down the street. “She’d have us stay all night, you know.”

  “Would she?”

  “My mom’s a talker,” he said.

  “Oh, so you didn’t get all of their qualities. Good to know.” She laughed as she unbuckled her seatbelt and slid over on the seat the way she wanted.

  He looked at her, then removed one hand from the steering wheel and clasped it around hers. He came to a stop at the stop sign and glanced both ways. But he didn’t go. He leaned down and she tipped her head back and he kissed her again.

  And all Lauren could wonder was, Why did I wait so long to do this?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Trent’s whole life had changed in a patch of shade just inside his back gate, about three hours ago. And now, he simply could not get enough of Lauren Michaels’s lips. He kissed her and kissed her and still felt like he was starving.

  “Maybe we should go to dinner,” she whispered, but then she touched her mouth to his again.

  He felt like he’d been transported back twenty years and every touch was a brand new experience. Every breath held such excitement.

  Someone honked as they went around him, but he didn’t care one bit. He was kissing Lauren, couldn’t they see that?

  “Or at least move off the road,” she said, finally lowering her head so he couldn’t keep kissing her.

  “Yeah,” he said stupidly. He’d been feeling a lot of stupid lately, and he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long to kiss Lauren that she’d practically lunged at him the moment he walked through the gate.

  He got the truck moving again and set it back toward Hawthorne Harbor. “What do you feel like? Mexican? Burgers?”

  She clutched his hand in both of hers and leaned her head against his bicep. “I don’t care. You pick.”

  So he went to Eight Brothers, an upscale eatery that served salads with shrimp, and burgers, and pasta. It wouldn’t be too terribly busy on a Tuesday night, as kids didn’t eat free like they did in a lot of places around town, and they didn’t serve tacos for Taco Tuesday.

  “This okay?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said. “I’ve never been here.” She peered up at the surfboard above the doorway. “What do they have?”

  “Great food,” he said, opening the door to get out of the truck. She slid out after him, and he wanted to lean down and kiss her again. He did, but only a brief peck, something to show that he could kiss her whenever he wanted to now.

  She laughed and pushed him playfully in the chest. “You’re just going to do that all night, aren’t you?”

  “Probably.” He couldn’t contain the tremors running through his chest as he stepped onto the sidewalk and opened the door for her. He paused before opening the next set of doors. “Lauren, I’m…sorry about…the wait? Yeah.” He looked at her, feeling foolish and brave at the same time. “I made you wait a long time for that, and I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine, Trent,” she said, and he really liked hearing his name come out of her mouth. She reached for the door and asked, “Why is that, though? I mean, what was holding you back?”

  Someone started to come through the door, and he edged out of the way so they could go by. Lauren went inside and Trent followed, trying to come up with an answer that wasn’t his late wife’s name.

  Thankfully, the hostess grabbed two menus and said, “Follow me,” so he didn’t have time to answer. But he would, as soon as they sat down and were left alone.

  Might as well be honest, he thought. After all, if he couldn’t be honest with Lauren, what was the point?

  “Your waiter will be right out,” the hostess said, handing them each a menu. Trent took his, but he didn’t look at it.

  Once they were alone, he said, “Savannah. I mean,
obviously not her, but yeah. Her.”

  Lauren met his eye, her menu forgotten too. “You must have loved her so much.”

  “I did,” Trent said simply. “Losing her was the absolute hardest thing I’ve endured.”

  “How did she die?” Lauren reached across the table and put her hand over his.

  He swallowed, wishing he had water already. He’d had no idea their conversation tonight would be so serious, but he knew it was one they needed to have. “Car accident,” he said. “She was, uh, hit by a drunk driver on her way back into the city after a hair appointment.”

  The waiter arrived with two glasses of water, and Trent reached for his immediately. Lauren reacted slower and said they needed a few minutes to look at the menu while he gulped the cold liquid.

  When they were alone again, she said, “I’m so sorry, Trent.”

  “It was only about four-thirty in the afternoon too,” he said, as if that made it better. Or worse. Or something. “She wasn’t out late or anything. Just some guy who’d been fired that day. Spent the whole afternoon in the bar.” He shook his head, the familiar rage blossoming. He’d worked so hard to overcome it.

  He unwrapped a straw and swirled it in the half-full glass of water. “It’s…hard some days.” He met her eye, hoping she could accept that it would always be hard for him on some days. And in that moment, he realized he was thinking about him and Lauren in the long-term.

  “I’m sure it is.” She darted her gaze away from him. “While we’re talking about previous relationships, I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked, relief painting his insides—until he realized how keyed up she was. “Hey, you weren’t married, right?”

  She shook her head and pressed her lips together. “I was engaged, though.”

  “Oh.” For some reason, Trent hadn’t been expecting her to say that. She looked back at him, and he saw the absolute terror in her eyes. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, reaching out to comfort her now. At least he hoped it was okay.

  “His name was Rick, and he was not a nice guy.”

  Everything about Lauren was so nice, and he couldn’t imagine her, a tough general contractor who worked with ninety-nine percent men, letting anyone bring her to this level of anxiety.

  He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, the silence stretching between them. She glanced up and said, “The waiter’s coming. Maybe we should look at our menus.”

  She slipped her hand away from Trent’s to do so, and he let her retreat. His mind zigged and zagged through possible reasons a guy named Rick could make the beautiful, powerful, capable Lauren Michaels wither the way she just had.

  “What’s good here?” she asked the waiter, and Trent let them talk.

  She ended up ordering the pasta carbonara with shrimp, and Trent handed the waiter his menu with the words, “I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger with onion rings.”

  Once the man had gone again, he sipped from his water, and decided to push for more of this story. “And that’s all? Rick wasn’t a nice guy.”

  Lauren tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing a sparkly earring he hadn’t seen. In fact, he realized now that her hair was down, and curled, and she wore makeup. Of course he’d noticed that she’d changed out of her deck-building clothes, but he may have overlooked a detail or two as he stressed about her meeting his parents.

  “He changed me,” she said, lifting her chin. “I would’ve done anything to please him, and I’d started anticipating how he’d react to certain situations.”

  “Like what?” Trent asked.

  “He was emotionally and verbally abusive,” she said. “Like, if we went to a concert and I wore heels that were too high, he’d call me trashy. Or if we went to meet his parents for dinner and I wore flats, he’d say I was lazy and looked like I didn’t care if they liked me.” She waved her hand. “Stuff like that.”

  Trent simply blinked at her, disbelief racing through him. “He said those things to you?”

  “Constantly,” she said. “So I’d keep extra shoes in my car and at the office. I used to be a secretary, did you know that?”

  Trent shook his head, unable to even picture her behind a desk. She belonged with a hammer in her hands, a set of plans nearby, and the scent of freshly cut wood in her hair.

  “Well, I did, because Rick said that was a job he could respect. None of this construction stuff.” She reached for her water with a shaking hand, and Trent wanted to track down this Rick character and say a thing or two.

  “How long were you with him?”

  “Too long.” Lauren set her glass down. “Years too long. My parents said they’d help me get away from him, but I was afraid.” She smiled, but it was shaky and didn’t belong on her face. “I was weak, and I lost my confidence for a long time.”

  “Lauren,” Trent said. “You’re one of the strongest women I know.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hands.

  “When I finally got up the courage to call off the wedding, he laughed at me. Said he would’ve never gone through with it anyway. That a woman like me doesn’t get a man like him.”

  “He sounds like a real jerk.”

  Lauren gave a couple of barking laughs. “That he was.” She looked at Trent, really looked at him. “And in that moment, I decided that I was going to do what I wanted with my life. I was going to be me, and I wasn’t going to apologize for it.”

  “Good for you,” he said, and he meant it.

  “It took me a long time, but I’m starting to feel like I’m almost there.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “About six years ago, I guess.”

  Trent nodded, but a twinge of doubt squirreled through his stomach. He wasn’t sure what to attribute it to, and he didn’t want to ruin their first solo date in weeks. So he said, “I’m glad you didn’t marry him,” and she moved the conversation onto something else.

  The food was fantastic, and the woman across from him gorgeous, and when they got back to her house, he walked her to her front door and kissed her.

  “Best night ever,” he whispered into her hair. “Thank you for that lunge in the yard.”

  She giggled and buried her face in his chest. He laughed with her, and Trent went home happier than he’d been in a long, long time.

  * * *

  When Trent arrived at Mabel’s cottage on Thanksgiving Day, he felt completely inadequate with his measly offering of two pounds of butter. But that was what she’d asked him to bring, and he’d done it. The surrounding property smelled like sage and baking bread, roasted turkey and plenty of butter.

  “Remember your manners,” he said to Porter as they waited for someone to open the door. Lauren did, and she beamed at them.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” she said.

  He took her right into his arms, breathing deeply of her lavender-scented shampoo and all that good food. It seemed like he and Porter were the last to arrive, as he saw both Herrin brothers and their parents. “Are we late?”

  “Not at all.” She stood back. “Aunt Mabel just took the turkey out.”

  The Chief laughed, and Trent glanced that way as he stepped past Lauren and into the comfortable, albeit small, home. Somehow, though, Mabel had performed magic on the inside of the house, because a long table stretched in the dining room, almost wall to wall, with enough chairs for everyone to eat together.

  He said hello to everyone, smiling and nodding as he made his way into the kitchen, where Mabel was clearly in command. “The butter,” he said, setting it on the counter.

  She looked at him, and it was the same soft, glowing look he’d gotten on his wedding day. His mind spun back to that time, almost eight years ago, and he blinked to get back to the present.

  “Thank you, Officer,” she said. “Now open it up and put two cubes on that plate.”

  He did as he was told, wondering when she’d decided to call him officer instead of his name. Didn’t matter. Porter was off with the other kid
s, though they were twice his age, and from this vantage point in the kitchen, he could see everyone.

  Gretchen wore a festive pumpkin-colored sweater and a pair of black jeans. Janey wore a dress with red, orange and yellow splashed all over it, like fall leaves, and kept one hand on her stomach as she talked, a small baby bump there. Again, Trent’s memories and emotions rushed at him, reminding him of when Savannah had been carrying Porter.

  Adam looked well, and as Trent had taken on the Festival of Trees, the Chief shouldn’t be too stressed. Andrew seemed good too, and he and Adam chatted with their parents.

  Lauren hovered on the fringes of Gretchen’s and Janey’s conversation, and she cast a quick glance at Trent. “Anything else?” he asked Mabel.

  “You better go rescue her,” she said. “She’s much better with men than women.”

  Trent chuckled, but he’d had the same thought and it didn’t sit particularly well in his gut. But he crossed the room and slipped his hand into hers with, “Hey, ladies. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Janey’s dark brown eyes locked onto his hand joined with Lauren, and then she reached up and hugged him. “So good to see you, Trent. You look great.”

  “Yeah?” He glanced down at his non-festive colored shirt. “This is blue. I obviously didn’t get the memo about wearing an autumnal color.”

  All three women burst into laughter, and Gretchen said, “Autumnal. Excellent vocabulary, Trent.” She leaned a little closer to him. “You should come in the shop.” Her eyes darted to Lauren. “Get some autumnal flowers for your next date.” She exchanged a glance with Janey, and they both grinned like jack-o-lanterns.

  “I will,” he said just as Jess came over.

  “Officer Baker?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you still have those dogs?”

  “Sure do.” He grinned at Jess. “Your step-dad can take them home any night he wants.”

  “Oh, we do not want six dogs at our place,” Janey said immediately, but not before Jess said, “Really? Okay, cool.”