Simply Irresistible (Crescent Cove Book 2)

by Marlie May

  Roan snorted. “We didn’t get lost. I knew where we were the whole time.”

  “Ha, ha.” I twisted my lips. “That explains why you led us in circles until it was past midnight. My parents were freaking. Texting me every other second, wondering where I was.”

  “Midnight? We hit the lot by ten if I remember correctly.”

  “Might want to refresh your memory, parking lot-by-ten boy.” Finally, I was getting a rise out of the king of the tease. “You got us lost.” I sang the words.

  “Did not.” Leaning forward across the small table, he grinned. “I was the one who guided us out.”

  “Funny how time puts an entirely new perspective on things, huh?” I shook my head while he squirmed. “Remember sitting on the cliff’s edge, with the sun setting behind us? It was a beautiful day.” Rays warmed our backs. The hard granite ledge underneath sitting solid and true. And my best friend in the whole world beside me. A moment to capture and hold onto forever. I was sad we’d lost it.

  “I was the one sitting on the edge,” he said. “Seems to me you huddled in the trees.”

  Not quite huddled, but I had held myself back, only going partway out onto the ledge before giving into my vertigo and dropping to the solid ground. I’d wanted to cling to the earth, clutch at the stubby trees. The million-mile drop-off ahead had played with my balance and given me nausea as if the open space could reach out and haul me over the side. “You picked on me about it for the entire ride home.”

  “Never could resist the opportunity to tease, now could I? We were, what, sixteen?”

  I nodded.

  “I’d forgotten about that hike. And about the cliffs.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. Here I am, making you sit in a chairlift, dragging you up ski slopes when heights scare you. I should’ve remembered that.”

  “It’s okay. Sometimes it’s good to challenge your fears.”

  “Like with heights?”

  “Maybe it’s the only way you grow.” And, in my case, it was how you found yourself all over again.

  To avoid the speculation in his eyes, I lifted my menu.

  He did the same, flipping back the cover, then dropping it back onto the table. “I had fun sledding, but I also enjoy talking about the times we spent together when we were kids.”

  Seeing his lips curved down and his shoulders shifted forward made me realize how much I missed talking about our past, too. And how much I loved making new memories with my old friend.

  Because the thought unsettled me, suggesting an ever-present but unknown future for us, I redirected my gaze to the food choices. Unfortunately, I couldn’t focus on the words. I just kept thinking about Roan. Me. Us.

  Cutting Roan from my life had hurt worse than severing a limb. I’d floundered for months trying to find myself. Not just because I’d moved far from home and discovered I was pregnant, or because he’d rejected me to be with Lainie. I’d lost the constant I’d relied on always: my friendship with Roan. Sure, Jason stepped up, eager to be everything to me, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing had ever been the same.

  I’d run away, shoved all thoughts of Roan aside, and locked my memories behind a solid wall. Because it was too hard to separate the good from the bad. Everything jumbled together, adding to my confusion. The only way to deal with what happened between us was to forget.

  But by pushing us aside, we’d lost more than a night.

  We’d lost each other.

  “I’m glad I came with you today,” I said. “We need to do things like this more often.” If we went out casually, we might find a way back to what we’d had before we’d messed up. “We did have a lot of fun together when we were kids, didn’t we?”

  This was something we could build on.

  “Yeah.” Leaning forward, he lifted my hand off the table. “I want to tell you what happened with Lainie and me.”

  Did I really want to hear this? “You don’t need to explain.”

  “She almost ruined me.”

  “How?”

  From the dullness shadowing Roan’s eyes, I could tell she’d done something awful. Which made no sense. While she’d been a witch to me back in college, it had always been clear that she loved Roan, even if her love sometimes came across too possessive. What had changed?

  “She embezzled money from my company. After college—” He released my hand and ran his finger down the menu choices. Hard to tell if he saw them or if they only provided a distraction. “You probably remember she got her degree in accounting.”

  “Hmm.”

  “She kept the books.” He huffed. “Kept the books, all right. While siphoning off money. I didn’t discover what she was doing until just over a year ago. By then, she’d wasted most of it.” He sighed. “I’d borrowed to expand my business, and most of my capital was gone.”

  This sounded like a lot of money. How could someone go through that much in such a short time?

  “You married her after graduation,” I said. Of course, they’d gotten married. Dad had mentioned their wedding during one of his calls. For whatever reason, I couldn’t stop myself from prying out intimate details that would only cause me pain.

  “Not long after.”

  When I’d been puking my guts up, staring in dismay at the pink stripes on the pregnancy test, and hoping—no dreaming—that my child could be Roan’s. But he hadn’t been thinking of me, of our night together, of what could’ve come from it. While he’d been deciding whether to serve stuffed mushrooms or meat kababs at the reception, I’d been wallowing in grief and dismay.

  I held in my wince. I knew he’d married Lainie, but this reinforced that he hadn’t wasted any time getting back together with her after sleeping with me. My ribcage tightened because—again—I could see I’d only been a one-night-stand for him. A transient need that was instantly forgotten.

  How could someone do that to a friend?

  Acid burned in my mouth, chasing away the lingering hint of snowflake possibilities. Dampening my dreams that had barely gotten started.

  Why had I come out tonight with Roan? I should’ve turned him down, told him I wasn’t interested in his brand of friendship. I’d been foolish to rekindle my hope.

  Dreams? Hold on. It was wrong of me to wish for…What had I been wishing for?

  More than I should. I’d let myself start falling for him all over again, which was wrong.

  Forbidden.

  Jason had only been gone for eight months. I needed to hold his memory close, savor the life we’d shared. Keep us in the forefront of my mind.

  Not be pulled into Roan’s orbit all over again.

  Remember your focus. Open my business. Hold onto Arie. And pay back the good man who’d loved me until the day he died. I owed him my ongoing loyalty.

  “I’m sorry about Lainie.” My voice shook. At this point, he was welcome to her. Not her stealing, but I had this raging compulsion to see him hurting for once like I’d been hurt six years ago.

  I didn’t like that I took satisfaction from his misery.

  He grimaced. “It was rough going for a while. I thought I’d lose everything.”

  “Did she pay you back?”

  “Spent all of it. She’s in jail, now. Four more years.” Lifting his knife, he tapped it on the tablecloth, creating dull thuds. He stared out the window for a long time before looking back at me. “But I also wanted to bring up the past. Our past.”

  Unsure my heart could take more, I said nothing. A sip of water did nothing for my parched throat.

  “I’m sorry about what happened. I never should’ve pushed. It was a mistake, and I want you to know right now, I apologize from the bottom of my heart. If I could take it back, find a way to erase that night…” He scrubbed at his eyes with his palm, and his voice deadened. “Well, I would.”

  My stomach tightened, and a wave of nausea passed through me.

  His chest lifted and fell, and his eyes locked on mine, refusing to release me. “I’ve missed you. Missed what w
e had together before…You know.”

  I gulped and tears smarted in my eyes.

  Even with anger and resentment churning inside me, there was no denying I missed my best friend.

  That was why I’d come with him tonight. Despite what happened, despite my pain, I still wanted, no, needed Roan in my life.

  Alone, we functioned. Together, we were something more.

  Could I take what he offered and find a way back to what we’d had long ago before everything fell apart?

  No need to ask. My heart shouted yes. I wanted that more than anything.

  “I promise it’ll never happen again,” he said.

  “I think I—”

  “What can I get you two?” A man in black pants and a white shirt stood beside our table.

  I fumbled, staring at the menu, the thought of putting food in my belly holding no appeal. “I’ll have the pasta with vegetables.”

  “I’ll have the pasta with sausage.” Roan cleared his throat and glanced at me. “How about some wine?”

  “Sure.”

  “Merlot okay?” He lifted the drink card and squinted at it.

  I waved my hand. “You order. I’m open to whatever.” Avoiding his gaze, I unrolled my napkin and settled my silverware on my placemat, making sure everything lined up neatly, trying to rebuild order in my scattered life.

  The server left, darting around tables, heading toward the kitchen.

  Silence hung between us, but I wasn’t sure how to turn our conversation into something lighthearted. Friend-like. Because, I wanted that, even if I shouldn’t.

  Fortunately, the server returned with our wine, and I was able to occupy myself with my glass. And the view, which couldn’t be better. Staring through the window, I sipped my drink, a rich dark red with hints of cranberries.

  Our meals came and we ate, talking about the weather. About Arie and my father. How my building renovations were coming along. His factory. His sister, Sam, who I needed to look up again because we’d been friends back in high school.

  Safe topics that skated around anything painful.

  Because there was no safety in talking about Cara and Roan.

  Roan

  I shouldn’t have brought up my ex-wife, let alone what happened six years ago.

  Why had I? All talking about that night had done was make Cara clamp her hands on her chair like she wanted to bolt for the door.

  From what Jason told me back then, she needed to forget that night. She’d drank too much. I’d pushed her for a kiss. And then we’d somehow wound up in bed.

  Hell, had she been with me solely out of pity? The thought twisted my gut into a knot.

  She probably hadn’t even wanted to hear details about Lainie. They’d never been close. Tolerated each other, most of the time, from what I remember.

  Funny. Kind of like me and Jason. Our only true connection had been Cara.

  We ate in silence and I hated that I couldn’t find a way back to what we’d lost. For a while tonight, I’d thought we could grow close again, that she’d be able to separate the past from the present and move forward. But this growing gap between us suggested otherwise.

  “Do you think less of me because I let Lainie steal from me for years?” I finally asked. Anything to break through the thick air hanging between us like a heavy curtain.

  Cara frowned and swallowed her bite. “Why would I? I doubt she made it obvious.”

  Lainie hadn’t bought flashy cars or jewelry after her theft. But she’d sure loved playing with those slot machines in Bangor.

  “Did she hide the money away in offshore accounts?” Cara asked. The candlelight flickered, gold against her long, dark hair. Her gray eyes held hints of caution.

  I’d put that look there.

  “Gambling,” I said. Lainie always suggested she made more money pulling that handle than the machines took from her, and I’d believed her. While we’d settled into a relatively average marriage, one that never should’ve happened since I was still rebounding from Cara, I’d had no reason to doubt my wife. Except… “I was naïve.” Stupid.

  Far too trusting.

  “You believed the woman you loved. Nothing wrong with that.”

  Had I loved Lainie? It was hard to remember. The past overflowed with memories of my friendship with Cara and all the emotions that came with our relationship, making it hard to separate out those moments with Lainie, to see if they held true. “A big mistake on my part. Not just trusting her with the money but getting back together with her at all.”

  Cara’s fork clattered onto her plate, and she pushed away her half-finished meal.

  There I went again, messing with her evening. I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut.

  “Full?” I pushed my food away half finished, too.

  “Yeah, full. That’s it.”

  The waiter appeared at our table as I set my napkin beside my plate. “Would you like to-go bags?”

  We shook our heads. Cara lifted her wine glass and studied the dark fluid, before sipping.

  “Any room for dessert?” the waiter asked.

  “Not me,” Cara said, and I echoed her. “We need to go.”

  “I’ll get your bill then,” he said. “Can’t say I blame you for wanting to get out of here.” He glanced toward the window. “We all want to get home before the driving gets bad. We’re closing up early, here.”

  “The weatherman said we’re only getting a few inches.” Turning, I frowned at the flakes falling outside. Those few inches had multiplied.

  “They changed the forecast.” The waiter’s gaze shifted between us and his watch. “Now they’re saying we could get up to two feet. Perfect for the ski area. Not much fun for those of us who still have to drive home in it.”

  Cara threw her napkin onto her plate and shifted forward on her seat. “We really need to go.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for my wallet. “I never would’ve picked something so far from home if I’d known.”

  I wanted to grab onto the soft smile she gave me and hold it tight, but I sure didn’t deserve it.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I had no idea we’d get this much out of the storm, either.”

  I should’ve checked the weather report before leaving. But, with Sam off for a few days, I’d been busy. A tank had sprung a leak. If I hadn’t been there, caught it in time, I would’ve lost an entire specialty salsa batch. There was nothing enjoyable about washing profits down the drain.

  We settled the bill and took the chair lift down the mountain. The wind gusted, blowing snow like pellets, stinging our faces. The slopes were almost empty, only a few daring snowboarders taking on the thickening snowfall.

  Wet sticky whiteness encased us in an icy cocoon by the time we reached the bottom. We hurried to my car, where I jumped in and started it. While the engine warmed, we rushed around, cleaning off the outside.

  “There must be six inches on the ground already,” Cara said, her voice high-pitched. “Or even eight.”

  We climbed inside and buckled.

  “Brr.” Cara tucked her clasped hands underneath her chin, pinching her arms close to her sides, shivering.

  If only I kept a blanket in the back. Then I could cover her up until the heat kicked in.

  While the wipers slapped at high speed, smearing slush across the windshield, I backed out of my parking spot. Turning the vehicle, I headed for the exit. My tires responded somewhat, digging through the snow to grab onto bits of pavement beneath. But I could barely get control of the vehicle when I pushed it over thirty. “It may take us a little longer to get home.”

  “That’s okay. Arie’s with Dad tonight. Take your time. Get us there in one piece.”

  A wall of falling whiteness spread for an eternity ahead of us and on all sides. I switched on the high beams, but they only made the visibility worse, because the lights reflected back on us from the endlessly falling ice crystals.

  I glanced at the speedometer, upset to see how the car on
ly crawled. When I gave it more gas, the tires spun, so I slowed back down to thirty-five. That little longer might be a lot longer.

  Cara chewed on her nails and gazed wide-eyed out the windshield. “It’s bad out there. How can you see?’

  “Not well, actually.” Nothing I could do but endure a white-knuckled ride.

  We slowly left the valley and small town behind, heading into what I knew was a long stretch of country. The miles blurred. The world outside closed in so whitely, I could barely find the road. One mailbox. Another. I ticked them off as if we’d reach safety when we hit one hundred. Or a thousand.

  “How far do you think we’ve gone by now?” Cara asked.

  At thirty-five miles an hour—no, make that twenty-five—not far. We’d already traveled over a half an hour. At this rate, we might reach home by dawn.

  “Hard to say.” I didn’t want to worry her. I held enough worry for both of us.

  She turned on her phone, clicked around, then sighed.

  “Not much service out here,” I said. Even without driving in a blizzard, the cell towers were few and far between.

  She turned and stared out her window, her hands fidgeting on her lap.

  Another half hour passed, and by now, the car only crept along.

  “This is stupid,” she said in a burst. Her hands clenched. “We should turn around. Go back.”

  If I could see well enough to find a drive to turn around in, I’d consider the option. But I could barely make out the edge of the road.

  She gnawed on her nail again. “Does the ski place have a hotel?”

  “No, but I bet they can find a few blankets. We can sleep on benches.” Which meant a grueling night, but it sure beat driving through hell. Or, in this case, the Antarctic.

  “Let’s look for a hotel, then,” she said. “We can wait out the storm and go home when it ends. Daylight will make a huge difference.”

  I glanced at her quickly, before training my eyes back on my driving. If she kept at them, she’d have no nails left.