by Kelly Moore
“Better than New York pizza?” He plops down beside me rubbing his stomach.
“Surprisingly, yes.”
“I’d hope so, you ate half a large all by yourself,” he teases me.
“Hey, you ate the other half.” I swat his arm.
“Yeah, but I’m a growing boy. You keep eating like that you won’t keep that cute little figure of yours.”
I roll over and prop myself up on my elbow, then remember the burning sensation from the tattoo, so I sit instead.
“Don’t you worry one little minute about my girlish figure. I’ve always been able to eat whatever I want and not gain a pound.”
He moves to his side and places his hand on my thigh. “I’d like to see more of your curves.” He raises his eyebrows.
“Not gonna happen. We have work to do,” I say, getting off the floor. “Get up.” I hold my hands out, and he takes them. “Do you have any books in this room?”
“Reading is not my favorite thing to do, so that would be a no. They are all kept in my dad’s study.”
“Wait here, I’ll go get one of mine.” I run to my room and take out my tattered copy of The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks. It’s one of many among my favorite romance reads. I rush back to his room and hand it to him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He laughs. “I can go down to the study and find a manly book.” He starts to walk by me, and I grab his arm.
“Oh, no you don’t. We are doing this my way. Sit.” I point to the ground.
He turns and walks over to his bed and sits in the middle, scooting back to lean against the headboard. He entwines his fingers behind his head. “If we are reading romance, we’re doing it in bed.”
I want to argue with him, but he looks so damn sexy, I don’t even bother. I pick up the bag of supplies I bought from the supply store and crawl in next to him. He sets the book in his lap, and I pull out my supplies.
“What are those?” he asks, picking them up.
“They are color transparencies. There has been a lot of research done on dyslexia, and the colors help calm the eyes and mind. They assist in clearing up the print and reducing visual stress to improve reading skills.”
“You must have fifty different colors in here. How do you know which one works?”
“I’m going to lay one colored sheet over the book at a time, and you are going to try reading to me.”
“Out loud?” He scowls.
“Yes.”
“This is stupid. I don’t want to do it.” He throws a leg over the edge of the bed to get up, but I grab his shoulders stopping him.
“Please try it, Will.”
He sits back against the headboard. “I’ve done plenty of therapy. Nothing has worked. I’ve just learned to live with it, and one thing I try never to do is read out loud. I’ve done well enough on my own.” He continues to grumble, and I ignore him.
I place the first color over the book, and he stares at it. “Well, are you going to read or not?”
“You’re making me nervous.”
I take a deep, calming breath like I do with my school-aged children. “Okay, read to yourself, but tell me if any of the color changes make a difference in what you are seeing.”
He nods.
We are about halfway through the colors when I place a coral-colored sheet over the book.
“Stop!” he yells and takes the book and the sheet in his hand.
“What is it?”
“The letters stopped spinning.” He starts fluently reading the book out loud. “This is incredible.” He throws the book aside. A quick tug has me sitting pretty on his lap. “It really works,” he says between kisses on my neck.
“So, we will buy stock in coral-colored transparencies,” I say, laughing but being turned on at the same time.
“I’m betting you’re a great teacher,” he says, nipping at my ear. “You wouldn’t happen to have a teacher’s uniform would you.” His voice is sweet and smooth like syrup but tainted with a sexiness.
“Teachers don’t have uniforms.” I laugh.
“Okay, how about a school girl uniform?” he teases, and his eyes glaze over.
I remove his hands from my ass and place them on the headboard behind us. “How about a real woman? No uniform. No pretend. Only me.”
“I can deal with that.” He moves quickly, pinning me beneath him. He trails kisses down my long neck to the swell of my breasts. “Are you sure about this? You’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” I toy with his hair.
“God, no. I want you to be sure.”
“I’m sure that I would rather have one night with you than to never know what it feels like for you to be inside me.”
He groans loudly and gets up, going into his bathroom.
“Was it something that I said?” I lean up.
“Condoms.” He’s opening and shutting drawers. “Damn it! There are none in here.”
“I guess you didn’t get lucky in your parents’ house too often.”
He snaps his fingers. “I know where I can find some. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“Patrick was always entertaining women in his room.”
He’s out the door before I can protest. Twenty minutes pass, and he’s not back. I get to my feet and go on the hunt for Patrick’s room. Two doors down I see a door cracked open. I peek inside and see Will sitting on Patrick’s bed, holding a picture frame in his hand. He’s so fixed on it, he doesn’t hear me walk inside.
I sit next to him, and it breaks his trance. “I’m sorry,” he sniffs.
“It’s okay,” I say and lay my head on his shoulder.
“I guess I wasn’t ready to come in his old room.”
“Tell me about all these pictures.”
He starts picking them up one by one and tells me stories of his and Patrick’s childhood. When he has shown me the last one, I hug him and hear something crinkle in his pocket.
He laughs and pulls a foil wrapper out of his pocket. “I guess I kinda ruined the mood, didn’t I?” He half laughs, and I wipe a tear that is rolling down his cheek.
“You needed to do this, and I’m glad I was here for you.”
“I’m sorry, Mags. I really wanted to be with you tonight.”
“Don’t be sorry. Come on. It’s getting late, and I have to catch the train in the morning.” I walk with him back to his room. “Do you have a T-shirt I can borrow?”
He frowns and rummages through one of his drawers and throws me a long shirt. I unbutton my blouse, fully aware that his eyes are on me. I remove the dressings that were put on by Tank, then unfasten my bra. It falls to the floor followed by my shorts. I walk over to his bed and pull the sheets back.
I look over, and Will has undressed down to his boxers. He’s so damn perfect in every way. “Come to bed, and I’ll curl up with you.” His face looks so drained of emotion and tired. I don’t want anything sexual from him; it’s not what he needs right now.
He climbs in, and I turn off the light, curling up next to him. “Lay with your back to my front.” He does, and I wrap my arm around his waist, tucking him into my side.
“I think we have this backwards,” he whispers.
“Not tonight. I want to hold you, and have you fall asleep in my arms.”
“Any other night I would fight you, but I’m so exhausted.” I can already hear his voice fading into sleep.
I kiss him between his shoulder blades. “Good night, Will.”
A sunbeam is coming through a slate of the blinds, peering into my eyes. I stretch my arms and feel my skin tugging under the soreness of the tattoo. Next to me, the bed is empty, and the clock is shining eight a.m. I throw the covers back and stare down at the shirt that Will let me use. I rub my hand down the soft gray, well-worn material and think about how close he and I came to having sex last night. I wanted to as much as he did, but I guess it’s for the best that we didn’t. My train leaves at
eleven this morning, heading to my original destination. A big part of me wants to stay here and explore what might grow between us, but he needs time to heal, to get his life back together.
I pick up my clothes from the floor and peek out the door to make sure I’m not seen going back to my room. After my shower, I carefully dry my tattoos and admire them in the mirror. I do think they add a certain sex appeal, and I’m finally free of my scars.
I dress in a short denim skirt and a long-sleeved pink blouse, making a note to do some shopping once I get to Southport to buy some sleeveless shirts. I repack my suitcase and slip on a pair of matching navy sandals. I scoop up my hair into a messy bun and head downstairs.
Voices and the smell of freshly brewed coffee are coming from the kitchen. I roll my suitcase next to the front door. Will and Caroline are sitting at the large hand-carved wooden island in the middle of the kitchen. Will has a book and is reading out loud to his mother. I see the coral-colored sheet of paper laying on top of the book. I have to laugh to myself because he’s still reading from The Notebook. Tears of joy are streaming down her face. I see nothing but sheer happiness as she looks at her son.
I look around the room, and there is no sign of Will’s father. I wish he were here to listen to Will read flawlessly.
“Good morning,” I say, stepping into the kitchen where they can see me.
Will hops up from his chair. “Hi.” He looks a little embarrassed that I caught him reading to his mother. His cheeks pink up, and he stares down at his feet. Caroline comes from around the counter and stands in front of me.
“You did this?” She smiles over at Will.
“No. He did this. I only gave him the tools he needed.”
She grabs me into a hug. “Thank you, sweet girl.”
Throat clearing behind me has us pulling apart. I can tell by the tension pulling at Caroline’s eyes, that she is still angry with her husband.
“What’s this all about?” he asks, straightening his tie.
“Maggie helped Will with something.” She walks back over to her coffee cup that’s resting on the counter. I’m glad she chose her words wisely because Will may not be ready to share with his father after yesterday.
He walks by Will and lifts the book that is in his hand.
“Figures you’d try reading a girly book.”
I see Will’s free hand doubles up into a fist as his eyes grow stormy, and he shoots his father a venomous look. He opens his mouth to say something but glances my direction. When he looks back at his father, his jaw is clenched so tight it must hurt.
Instead of watching it all unfold, I quietly leave the room and walk out the front door. Before the door shuts behind me, I hear Caroline’s anger-filled voice echoing off the kitchen walls.
I drag my bag behind me and slip my phone out of my purse to call for a cab. As soon as I hang up, I see the front door swing open, and Will is storming toward me. “I’m sorry you had to see any part of that.” He says the last word as he makes it in front of me.
“It’s okay, Will. It’s not your fault.”
“Who were you on the phone with?” He points at the phone still resting in my hand.
“I called for a cab.”
He loosens my grip from the phone and hits recent numbers dialed. “Cancel the cab you have logged to this number. She won’t be needing it,” he says sharply and hangs up.
“You have so much going on, I didn’t want to bother you.”
He gently places his hand on my cheek. “You are not a bother. I want to take you to the train station. Hell, at this point, I want to go with you, but I have some things to settle here first.” He looks past me and waves the limo driver over. While he’s placing my luggage in the trunk, I slide into the back seat. The front door of the house opens, and Caroline walks quickly in my direction. Her face is beet red, but I can tell she’s trying to calm herself.
“Maggie, I’m so glad you came. I wish it were under better circumstances, but please know that I’m so thankful that Will has had you here, honey.”
“I’m glad I could be here. It was so nice to meet you. And I’m very sorry for the loss of your son.”
Will hugs her. “I need to get Maggie to the train station. I’ll be back soon.”
Will gets in the back with me, and Caroline dips her head inside. “Please come back for a visit, Maggie.”
“If I’m ever in Savannah, I promise I will come see you.”
The limo driver leaves the long driveway and pulls out into the road. Will takes my hand, and his thumb strums the back of my hand the entire ride.
We make it to the busy train station with five minutes to spare to board. Will lifts my bag out of the trunk and takes my hand. With all the sounds around me, the only thing I can hear is the thump of the suitcase wheels rolling over the cracks in the concrete.
We stop at the counter, and I hand the train personnel my ticket. Will walks me to the large concrete area with a covered awning, where passengers are already boarding.
He takes both my hands and his gaze locks with mine. “Thank you, Maggie, for everything. I wish our paths would have crossed at another time. You have my number if you ever need me. I plugged it in after I hung up with the cab company.”
There is a prickling of tears forming behind my eyes. I’m going to miss this sweet man that I barely know. “Take care of yourself, Will.” I stand on my tiptoes and place a deep kiss on his lips. His tongue delves inside and makes it that much sweeter. We are both breathless when we pull apart.
“It was so nice to meet you, Harper, Maggie Harper.” He smiles then presses his forehead against mine.
“You too, Will Taylor.”
We part, and I drag my luggage on the train. I find my seat and look out the window for one more glance at him. I could fall in love with this man given more time.
Chapter 7
The light mist of rain doesn’t take away from the beauty of Southport. The downtown is a quaint, quiet area. There are only a handful of shops with few people walking around in the rain.
Out on the edge of the water is a blue two-story old wooden house that has a market on the first floor. As I go to enter, the screen door flies open, and I’m greeted by a gray-haired elderly gentleman.
“Come on in and get out of the rain.”
I brush off the small droplets that have formed on my blouse and step through the open door. “Thank you.” As I walk by him, his crystal blue eyes sparkle, and I can’t help but notice how handsome his features are even over his wrinkles.
“Welcome to Southport,” he says and steps behind the small counter.
“Hi, I’m Maggie Harper. I’ve rented a place here for the summer and was wondering if you could help me find it.” I open my purse and take out the handwritten address.
He puts his hand up. “No need for the address, Ms. Harper. I’m glad nothing happened to you, I was expecting you several days ago.”
“I’m sorry Mr….”
“Hank.”
“Mr. Hank, I…”
“No, just Hank.” He laughs.
“Hank.” My smile matches his. “I had an unexpected detour. I hope you didn’t rent it out.”
“Nope. You paid in full ahead of time. The house is all ready.” He reaches beneath the counter and pulls out a drawer. He slides a set of keys over to me. “This one will open all the doors. This one is to the mailbox.” He points to each one.
I pick them up and place them in my purse. “Is the place far from here?”
“It’s about a mile or so down the road, but I already have you some wheels.”
I’m confused, but I follow him out the door.
“She’s yours to use while you’re here.”
He pats a wide, black seat perched on a three-wheel yellow bike that has a large basket fastened behind it. He picks up my luggage and places it in the basket.
“Maybe you could give me directions while I get a few things in your store.”
As I ring out at the
counter, Hank is whistling a happy tune. There is a smile on his face with everything he does. He carefully places all my items in a canvas bag and carries it to the bike.
“There you go. Anything else I can do for you?”
“Is there a sandwich shop around here somewhere?” My stomach growls.
“I know just the place. The owner makes the best sandwiches in town.” He holds out his elbow for me to take.
I follow him, but I’m even more confused when he takes me back inside the market. We take the white wooden steps up to the second story and into a bright yellow kitchen with windows covering every inch of open space. You can see the sandy beach with the waves rolling onto shore.
“This is a beautiful view,” I say, looking out.
“It was my wife’s favorite spot. She would sit at that wooden booth and read for hours.” He motions to the far corner of the room that houses a red, cushioned booth.
“You said was?”
“She died five years ago,” he says as he takes lunchmeat out of the fridge.
“How long were you married?”
He laughs as he takes the lid off the mayo. “I don’t recall a time that I wasn’t married to Alice. We grew up together in this little town.” He stops and moves to one of the windows. “I remember the first time I saw her. She was on the end of that pier, trying to reel in a fish. Her pigtails were swaying as she whipped her rod back. When I saw her take the fish off her hook with her bare little hands, I fell in love with her at that moment.” He’s pointing to the pier out over the water that I can barely make out in the distance.
My heart melts. I wish I had a love story like his. “Did you have any children?”
His face was shining with love when he spoke of his wife, but the creases in his face relax as a look of sadness takes over in his eyes. “Not for the lack of trying. Alice had two miscarriages late in her pregnancy. It damn near broke her.” He clears back a choke, then starts making lunch again. “After we lost the second baby, we decided that it would just be the two of us.” He recovers his smile. “And, she was one hell of a wife.”
“Sounds like you truly loved her,” I say as I sit in the booth.