by Lea Nolan
Chapter 7
"I'd forgotten how nice it is down here," Smith said as he walked beside Wren on the beach at the southern tip of the island.
Heron Point was a state park and wildlife sanctuary, home to a variety of shore birds and other endangered animals on the Atlantic barrier islands. Today, the beach was empty except for the osprey and sandpipers that dotted the shore.
Wren drew in a deep lungful of salty air. "Me, too. It's so much nicer than being back at the office, dealing with clients." The breeze off the water whipped her hair, making it curlier than normal. He longed to run his fingers through it, and while he was at it, kiss her senseless.
It'd taken all his restraint not to do just that back at home when he was naked but for the towel around his waist. But, like an idiot, he'd vowed not to make the first move again, so he stuck to his guns. Though he couldn't help flirting, especially when Wren blushed so easily at the slightest remark. She wanted him, of that he was certain. But Smith needed her to want more than just a roll in the sack. He needed her to want him.
His cell rang. Dammit. Just once couldn't his staff handle dinner prep without him? He yanked out the phone expecting to see Juan's face on the screen, but Brittney's smiled back instead. He muted the ringer and tucked the cell back into his pocket.
"You should answer that. What if she's having car trouble again?" Wren said.
Aw hell. She was right. Brittney's piece of shit car was probably stalled on the side of the road somewhere. And he was a world class jerk for dodging her call just so he could spend a couple precious hours with Wren. But Christ, was it so wrong to want something for himself once in a while?
He grabbed the still vibrating phone and swiped his thumb along the answer bar. "Hey Brit, what's up?"
"What are you doing?" Her soft voice asked, without a hint of crisis.
"I'm down at Heron Point. Is everything okay? That car acting up again?"
"Everything's fine. What are you doing down there, fishing? I could get Timmy from day care and join you for a bit before I have to go to work. We haven't been to Heron Point in forever."
So there wasn't an emergency. Good. He didn't have to leave Wren. Even better.
"I'd love to take Timmy fishing, but not today. I'm here with Wren Donovan. We're uh, having a picnic." He couldn't help but smile as he glanced at the basket in his hand filled with food Wren bought at the deli, plus a few snacks he'd tossed in from his fridge.
"Oh. Sorry. I didn't realize. Well, I guess I'll let you two get back to your, um, picnic." He could almost see her eyebrows waggling on the other side of the phone.
"Thanks, Brit." He hung up.
Thank God she was so cool and understanding. Lots of exes might have trouble moving on, but Brittney wasn't one of them. She knew that whatever happened between she and Smith would never go beyond friendship, so she didn't begrudge him other relationships. Not that any had worked out. They couldn't, not when Wren held so much of his heart.
But now she was here, at his side, and this was his chance to win her for good.
"All clear?" Wren asked as they continued down the beach toward the trail that would take them to the birdwatching hut at the center of the park.
"Yup. You're stuck with me all morning."
She grinned. "I think I can make that work."
So could he. For the long term. If only she'd let him.
"Why did Brittney call?" she asked.
Smith replayed the conversation back in his head. "I don't know, really."
"She didn't mind that you were with me?"
He shook his head. "No. I know you think she's still got feelings for me, but that part of our relationship is over. She knows it. And she's good with it."
Wren blinked. "Oh-kay."
Time to change the subject. "So...do you like Baltimore?"
"It's a great city and there's lots to do..." A note of sadness entered her voice.
"But?" he asked.
"It's um..." She glanced out toward the ocean, avoiding his eyes. "Kind of lonely, to be honest. My dad's gone and my sisters are doing their own things in their own cities. Now that I'm living on my own again, there isn't much to do besides go to the office. I'm there so much I sometimes wonder why I bother paying rent."
"That can't be good. You need to do something besides work."
Wren laughed. "Says the man who spends so much time at his restaurant he doesn't have walls in his house."
Busted. "I have walls. It's just that some of them are see-through."
"What about your bathrooms? You don't plan to shower outside in the winter, do you? You can use my house anytime we don't have a renter. I'm serious."
"Thanks, but the bathrooms should be renovated before the first freeze. If not, I can always shower at the gym. But you're changing the subject. You're Wren Donovan. Who wouldn't want to hang out with you?"
She bent to pick up a pink lady slipper shell. "You'd be surprised. My ex got out ahead of me and spun the narrative of our break-up at the firm. Most of our mutual friends sided with him. They look at me differently now. Mostly with pity. I don't know if they think I'm a manipulative girlfriend who drove him away, or that I'm so pathetic I can't live without him. Either way, I can't hang out at happy hour pretending everything's normal while he paws his new girlfriend. So I stay in the office, logging billable hours instead."
Smith ground his teeth. "That is so shitty and wrong. No one's on your side?"
"I've got a couple girlfriends who know the truth, but I made them swear not to publicize my version of events. It's too humiliating. My own first year associate stole my fiancé right out from under me and I didn't see it coming. How stupid must I have been to let that happen?"
Smith stopped short and nailed her with his gaze. "You're not stupid. And you're not the first smart woman who was lied to."
Wren shook her head. "Still, I trusted him when I shouldn't have. There were signs and I didn't see them. Or maybe I didn't want to."
"You can't beat yourself up relitigating the past. See what I did there—I used a lawyer word." Smith nudged her side to try to lift the dark cloud that had descended around her. Okay, so it was cheesy. But it worked.
She smiled. "It's a good lawyer word.” She turned and together they walked toward the reed-lined path that led to the birdwatching hut at the top of the dune.
He chuckled. "Maybe it's time to forget the past and look to the future. Why stay somewhere you don't feel comfortable?"
Wren sighed. "Because I'm this close to making partner." Her thumb and forefinger pinched so close they almost touched. "It wouldn't make sense to walk away now and waste years of hard work. I'd have to start over at a new firm."
"I guess you know what's best. I can only image how hard you've worked. Law school alone would have killed me."
She scoffed. "I find that hard to believe. You're Heron Harbor's rock star. You could do anything you set your mind to."
"Not exactly." The old echo of self-doubt rang in his words.
Wren tilted her head. "Come on, stop being humble."
It wasn't humility. It was honesty.
For all Smith's success, it didn't erase the fact that it was borne of his disability. One he'd fought hard to work around, but was always there, a continual mountain to climb especially when embarking on something new, or dealing with someone who might take advantage. His recent failed expansion plans were a harsh reminder that he could never get too cocky or comfortable. In the end, and with his lawyer's help, he'd saved his own ass along with his restaurant, but there was no telling when the next test might come. But Wren would never understand.
Unless he let her into his world.
They entered the hut, a small worn wooden structure with a narrow doorway, four half walls, and a shingled roof. Inside four sturdy benches allowed for a three-hundred-sixty degree view of the southern tip of the island. The ocean lay on one side, the marshy inlet between the island and the mainland on the other.
Smith set
the picnic basket down then turned to face her. "I'm not being humble. I'm proud of everything I've achieved. Especially since. . . " He wanted to finish but hesitated.
What if telling Wren changed the way she thought of him?
It was great that she thought he was a rock star. No, scratch that. It was fucking awesome. But learning about his issues might change that image, even a little bit. He didn't want her thinking he was anything other than the man he'd worked so hard to become. And definitely not the boy who struggled in school and felt unworthy of her affection all those years ago.
She tugged the sleeve of his jacket. "Since what?" Her eyes searched his.
Screw it. Smith couldn't hide the truth forever. Besides, this fear was irrational. A throwback to a darker time he'd long since moved past. He was a grown damn man, capable of speaking his own damn truth.
He blurted the words before he could stop himself. "Since I can barely read because of my learning disabilities."
There, he'd gotten it out. And he was still standing.
Wren blinked, obviously stunned. Finally, she spoke. "I had no idea."
He nodded. "Dyslexia and a few processing disorders. Pretty ironic with a librarian for mom, huh? She thought I was just a stubborn kid who refused to read or do well in school because she wanted me to. The truth was, I couldn't understand anything on the page."
"But you always came to the library with me to pick out books."
A sheepish grin tugged at his mouth. "I went to be with you. You knew what you wanted to read so all I had to do was nod my head."
"How did you figure it out?"
"Most of my teachers thought I wasn't very bright. I did so poorly I probably could have been held back pretty much every year but they kept pushing me through. Finally, in ninth grade, I liked my history teacher enough to try some of the homework. She suspected something was wrong and convinced my mother to have me tested. When we got the results, Mom felt horrible. That’s why she’s so involved in the literacy program.”
Wren grasped his hand and squeezed. "I'm so sorry. You lost so many years when you could have been helped."
Smith shrugged. "It happens more often than you think. But now I'm grateful for it. If it wasn't for my LDs, I probably wouldn't be a chef."
Wren shook her head. "I don't understand."
"Once Mom understood my situation she pulled me out of Heron Harbor High and sent me to a special school on the mainland. Aside from regular classes, they offered a bunch of tech classes. I took culinary arts and that was that. If I'd learned about my issues earlier, I might have been able to stay in the public school and ended up doing something else."
"And Harbor's Edge wouldn't exist. Which would be tragic. Your food is amazing."
Smith smiled, appreciating the compliment. "I like to think so."
Wren's hand was warm in his. He longed to pull her close and wrap his arms around her small frame, but he'd sworn not to make the first move. She needed to come to him. Now that they were this close, he wanted, no needed it to happen as soon as possible.
Her head tilted. "You never told me you left Heron Harbor High."
Fuck. Smith jammed his free hand through his hair. This was digging up a lot of old shit. Stuff he'd rather keep buried. But he'd started down this path, he might as well get to the end.
"I was too embarrassed. And since you only came in the summer, it was easy to hide."
Wren's brows knit. "Why on earth would you be embarrassed about that?"
He shrugged. "It was a special school. For kids who weren't normal."
She tugged at his hand. "But it helped you. That's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I get that now. But back then, it made me feel like even more of a misfit than I already was. It was hard enough being a small, scrawny kid who could have his ass handed to him by any girl in school. Realizing my brain didn't work like everyone else's was another kick in the gut."
Wren lifted her hand to stroke his cheek. "Oh, Smith. I'm so sorry. I wish you'd told me."
"No offense, but back in the day, you were the last person I would've told." He hardly believed he was telling her now. "I could barely face you that last summer you lived on the island."
Her hand slipped from his and she drew back. "I am offended."
The loss of her touch stung. He stepped toward her. "Look, you were—are—the smartest person I know. When I was going through this, I was sure you'd think less of me if you knew. I thought less of me."
Wren stared at him, her jaw agape. "I'd never do that. Ever." The sincerity in her green eyes clutched his heart and wouldn't let go.
"That's how I felt." His voice grew quiet. "If I'm being totally honest, there's a small, stupid part of me that worries this could change what you think of me now. It's not in my past. I still deal with it every day."
"But you're obviously doing great." She brushed her hand down his forearm, offering gentle assurance.
For all her good intentions, she didn't understand. She couldn't. She didn't have a clue what it meant to struggle with LDs in the real world. Or how high the stakes could be. He'd have to make her see.
Jaw set, Smith met her gaze. "I almost lost my restaurant three weeks ago."
Wren gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. "How?"
Unable to face her as he revealed his near disaster, he stepped toward the half wall overlooking the ocean. A sea hawk dove into a wave, then flew up with a fish in its talons. "A friend and I were planning to franchise Harbor's Edge. I trusted him to draw up the agreement and would've signed it, but decided to have a lawyer look at it first. Turns out the contract would've stripped me of my majority stake in the business and ownership of my own recipes." Turning his head, he met her gaze. The bitter taste of betrayal soured his mouth. "That fucker knew my weakness and tried to take advantage of it. I could have lost everything. Instead I settled for one less friend and a chunk of my dignity."
Wren went to his side, wrapped her arm around his waist, then lay her head against his chest. "I'm so sorry your friend betrayed you. That is truly terrible. Every day I see how horrible people can be. They negotiate deals to undercut one another, or file lawsuits for revenge. You wouldn't believe some of the divorce settlements I've drafted."
He glanced down at her flawless face. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's supposed to make you feel normal. You're not the first person someone tried to take advantage of, learning disabilities or not."
Wren's closeness, the feel of her body against his side, and the sweet apple scent of her skin, made it impossible not to crack a smile. "Thanks. I guess."
"You're welcome." She turned away, stepping toward the picnic basket he'd set on the bench. "You'd be surprised how many people go into business with friends, with or without a contract, and then get screwed. You were smart to hire that lawyer."
"I didn't have a choice."
She unwrapped a croissant, split it open, and smeared on a bit of Smith's homemade strawberry preserves. "You chose to start a business in the first place and look what it's become. That's not easy for anyone, much less someone who has difficulty reading ingredients, supply lists, doing payroll, or counting up the night's receipts." She offered him the croissant.
Smith shook his head, happy for her to enjoy it all herself. "Numbers don't give me as much trouble as letters. And I've got a bookkeeper who helps me."
"Who helped you with your cookbook?" She bit the end of the pastry. Her lashes fluttered closed and a sweet, sexy moan escaped her lips. "Oh God, Smith. These preserves are...divine."
He laughed, pleased to see he'd given her pleasure. "I wrote it myself. But Mom proofread it."
"It couldn't have been easy." She slathered more preserves on the end of the croissant and took another bite, then sighed.
"It took me five years. I've been pretty busy."
"Right, including renovating your house, which requires accurate measurements and calculating building supplies. Don't you realize how much
you've accomplished? I think you're freaking amazing." She swallowed the last bit of pastry, then licked the dark pink preserves from the tips of her slender fingers.
God, what he wouldn't give to have them in his mouth. Soon. Maybe. If there was a God.
She retrieved the thermos from the picnic basket then crossed back to him. Standing inches apart, she pulled off the cap then poured a cup of steaming hot chocolate. "I wish you'd told me when we were kids." She took a drink then offered him the cup.
He accepted it, deliberately allowing his hands to linger on hers. "I might have, once I got a handle on it. But you and your family stopped coming to the island."
A twinge of sadness darkened Wren's eyes. "That wasn't me or my sisters' decision. Dad changed his research focus and then he just...didn't want to come here anymore. Except for the occasional weekend, but that was only after we begged 'til he gave in."
Smith nodded. "I suppose coming back here would feel bittersweet after losing his grant to study the sanctuary." He tipped the cup to his mouth, draining it. The cocoa was warm and luscious, like a melted chocolate bar.
Wrench shook her head. "He never lost a grant. He just felt drawn to the South Carolina barrier islands. That's where we spent the rest of our summers."
That didn't make sense. Smith's mother had been good friends with Francis Donovan. Why would he lie about the reason he couldn't return to Heron Harbor?
"That's strange. My mom said he couldn't afford to summer here because he lost his funding. That's why he started renting your house to tourists."
Wren shrugged. "Maybe she misunderstood something he said. They didn't know each other very well." She set the thermos on the railing.
Was she kidding? Smith's mother talked about Dr. Donovan constantly, the bird professor who'd dropped by the library for a chat, or who brought a picnic lunch they shared in the garden behind the library, or a bouquet of wildflowers he gathered on a bird watching hike.
"I thought they were pretty close." As in maybe more than friends. But the puzzled expression on Wren's face told him to backtrack, fast. "Maybe I'm remembering wrong. It was a long time ago." He set the cap next to the thermos.