Guilt blanketed his face. Using his oar as a sort of anchor, he placed it in her canoe to hold them together.
“I said some pretty cruel things to you.”
She snorted and lifted her brow—and possibly her nose at him. “You think?”
“I didn’t mean any of it.” He cast a quick glance at the girls.
“They can’t hear you. Or me. So, I can call you a lying asshole and they won’t even know it.”
“I was an asshole.”
“Am. Are. You are an asshole. Not let go of my canoe.” She picked up her oar and banged his with it.
Lisa turned around and signed something Charlie hadn’t learned yet. The canoe with the interpreters was almost upon them. She’d be saved in a few minutes. She held up a finger and pointed to Jacklyn coming their way.
Lisa nodded and turned back around.
“I shouldn’t have said the things I said, especially after you were so open with me about your family.”
“I get you want your privacy. We agreed to a purely sexual affair with no strings attached.” Owen’s eyes went wide with embarrassment, and Charlie grinned inwardly. “I’m gonna say the sex stuff is over since part of the unspoken deal was you don’t treat me like shit.”
“I know. God, I’m bad at this.” He rubbed his hand across his face and then grabbed ahold of his hair. His short, clean-cut hair. She’d noticed it when he came to pick up Olivia. The day he reamed her out for poking around in his family’s business.
Had he not turned into the devil, she would have commented on it. The way his new style was sexy and alluring, making him appear all dashing instead of a smoldering bad boy. She would have told him how he changed from Thor in the first Avengers to Thor in Ragnarok. Both were hot as hell, but the short hair reminded her of asshole Owen, so she preferred the long hair.
“I don’t like your haircut.” There. She said it just to be a bitch, and mostly because she liked it too much.
“I thought you’d... I needed a change.”
“Welp. You changed from kindhearted to dickhead.”
Jacklyn and Bobbie pulled up next to them and signed to the girls. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Pretty boy here needed to rest his aching triceps. We’re good to go again.” She tapped the left side of the canoe and used her oar to push off of Owen’s canoe.
“I didn’t peg you as the type to run away.”
Which proved how little he knew about her. She ran away from the rejection and pain her parents caused her by enlisting in the Army. She ran away from responsibilities by failing to commit to a career path while in the Army.
And now she needed to run away from Owen because he hurt her, and he wasn’t supposed to be able to do that. She wasn’t supposed to care enough about him to elicit any feelings at all.
She cocked head over her shoulder and spoke softly, “I’m not running. I know when I’m not wanted.”
Damn her eyes for betraying her. She wiped away the tears and paddled slowly around the pond. Owen’s canoe, as well as Jacklyn’s followed at a respectable distance as they made their way around the perimeter of the pond.
The girls’ parents were due back any time now, so she guided them back to shore and helped them out. She signed I hope you had fun. I’ll miss you.
After she hugged them and Ana and Shannon, she took off for her cabin, not wanting to face Owen again.
“Charlie.”
Too late. The man was persistent, she’d give him that. Granted, he’d been incredibly cruel to her so groveling only made sense. He deserved more than her cold shoulder. She hoped he hadn’t been able to sleep for two weeks, that he had constant diarrhea, and his face broke out in hives. No, pimples. The nasty kind with whiteheads.
“Can you give me five minutes?” The frustration in his voice rang loud through the trees.
She spun around to face him and jabbed him in the chest. “No, Owen, I can’t. You want to know why? Because I’m doing exactly as asked. I’m being a good girl and adhering to your orders of staying the hell away from you and your family.”
“I told you I was sorry.”
“Sorry?” She threw her hands up in the air. “Sorry?” She snorted and stormed off. The whole sticks and stones rhyme was a farce. Words hurt far more than a knife in the back. A wound would heal. Her heart, not so much.
Especially since he’d witnessed firsthand how much damage her parents caused her with their words. When she was young, she’d wished she’d been whipped instead of being on the receiving end of a tongue lashing.
“My father used to beat me and my mother... until he went to jail.”
Charlie tripped over a root and paused once she regained her balance. He’d spoken her thoughts. Not a wish she’d wish upon anyone, especially one she cared so much about.
Owen had come up behind her and spoke low and soft. “You could say I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. For years I’ve done everything in my power to distance myself from my past. When Liv was born... I had to go back. Be part of that world again. It’s a side of me I don’t share with anyone. Ever.”
Slowly, she turned to face him. His head hung low, and his hands were buried deep in the pockets of his work jeans.
“I’m not like him. Or her. I worry about Liv and how much exposure she has to the abuse. Mental, emotional... physical.”
“Your father...”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s been out of jail for a few years. Since then, my mom has been... even more estranged. She goes out at night and leaves Liv home alone.”
“Do you think he’ll hurt her?”
Owen lifted his head and closed his eyes in a delayed blink. When he opened them again, there was worry and fear etched in his face. “I’m doing everything I can to prevent that from happening.”
She placed a hand on his chest, his heart raced under her hand, yet his body stood almost limp as if he had no energy. “Why did me working at the diner make you so angry? Did you think I would judge you because of your mother? You met my parents. You witnessed the type of people they are.”
“And you’ve made a new life for yourself. Your family doesn’t define you.”
“And neither does yours.” She stroked his cheek with her palm. “You’re an amazing brother to Olivia. You sacrifice your free time, your social life, your world for her. That screams a man of character. I know it’s cliche`, but what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. You’re a good man, Owen McDougall.”
He toyed with the end of her ponytail. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be kissing up to you?”
“I’m definitely not kissing up to you. You owe me big time for being a jackass.”
Before she had time to realize what he was doing, she was plastered against his front, his lips on hers, and they both got lost in a passionate kiss. Charlie looped her arms under his and curled them up to his shoulders and to the nape of his neck.
“I have a confession to make,” she said between kisses. “Your haircut is super sexy.”
Owen broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “I did it for you.”
“Me?” She leaned back and stared into his eyes. “I loved your long hair. Very Thor like.”
“Neanderthal.”
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me my parents got to you?” Her heart sank at the pain they’d caused him.
He kissed her again then pulled her in for a hug, drawing her head against his shoulder. “You come from a refined family and I... well, my long hair looked the part of—”
“Don’t you think that for one minute. Do you know how many classy men out there have hair like yours? Um, Chris Hemsworth? Can you say holy sex on a stick? Long hair, short hair, the man is a god. Literally. And Jason Momoa.” She fanned herself. “I mean, wow. And—”
He covered her mouth with the palm of his hand. “Drooling over other men while you’re in my arms isn’t doing much for my ego.”
She licked his palm and bit at it lightly until
he moved it. “My point is some men wear it well. You, my sexy cowboy, can pull off any look. Don’t go changing yourself for others. That’s one thing my brother taught me, and I take it to heart.”
“I know. One of the many things I admire about you. Another reason why I didn’t want you to see what my life is really like. I haven’t changed much. I’m chained to my past and haven’t been able to get past it. When Liv is grown and independent, I hope to be something successful.”
“And how exactly do you measure success? Are you talking bank account? Because if you are, I take back all the sexy thoughts I have of you.”
He led her to the hammock and pulled her down with him. They swung back and forth giggling as they tried to lay down together and keep the hammock balanced.
“A sizeable bank account is nice but I’m not that materialistic.”
“What does success mean to you, Owen?”
“A house.”
“Olivia says you have one. A big house she loves staying at and playing in all the rooms.”
“It’s a nearly hundred-year-old fixer upper. Not a single room in the house is fit for company. Ask Drew.”
“Drew’s been to your house and I haven’t? Yeah, you two are totally having a bromance. I’m jealous.”
He kissed her temple and snuggled closer.
“I’d like a home I could raise a family in. I’d like to be successful enough to bring my family on vacations and buy things off their Christmas list.”
And boom went her ovaries. They weren’t even pining away for children until Owen stepped into her life. Babies weren’t on her radar. Kids who needed the camp, yes. The ones she returned at the end of a weekend. Not the kind who lived with you, snuggled in your bed on stormy nights, and made Christmas ornaments for your tree every year.
Hell. Now she was thinking about family stuff. About happily ever after and the white picket fence.
“I’d say you are on the road to success. The only thing getting in your way is yourself.”
“You think so?” He shimmied his body to the side and the hammock nearly toppled them. Owen reached down to the ground to steady them. “So, why don’t you come over for dinner tonight and tell me what you think of my place.”
“Is it really as run down and crappy as you said it is?”
“Worse. You’ll need a tetanus shot before coming over.”
“Maybe we can play doctor and you can give it to me later.”
“My pleasure.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
She’d forgiven him too easily. Part of him had hoped she would’ve turned him away, cussed him out for being a prick. He deserved to be hated on. What he didn’t deserve was her forgiveness and acceptance of his past.
He wouldn’t use his past as an excuse, as a crutch. And here he was turning into his driveway, the woman he... cared about at his side about to see the reality of his life.
“It’s an old farmhouse! I love it. What year was it built?”
She loved it? Granted it was a hundred times bigger than the tiny cabin she called home. Temporary home. In less than two weeks, she’d be leaving for good. Or rather, until next summer. Kennebunk wasn’t far away but he barely had time to sneak in a visit with her only twenty minutes away. Tack on another hour and forty and the chances of them ever getting together were bleak.
“Nineteen thirty-six. The last time it had any kind of renovations was nineteen seventy-four. There are more holes in the walls and floors than in one of your spaghetti strainers.”
“A carpenter’s dream.” She jumped out of the truck and he met her on the cobblestone pathway.
“Careful. Some of the stones are loose.” The entire path needed to be redone. Project four thousand two hundred fifty-two.
“How long have you lived here?”
An innocent question which elicited another embarrassing reply. “Eleven years.” At barely twenty-one and mostly irresponsible, he didn’t have a lot of money in his account and scoured the announcements for foreclosures. The plan had been to have a nice home for his sister and mother to live in.
Only that never happened.
“Typical.” They stood at the bottom of his rotting front porch steps and he watched her scrutinize his home. His investment.
Well, he didn’t want her easy forgiveness. He might as well have her home-bashing. “I warned you I come from—”
“Shush.” She placed a finger over his mouth. “Typical of you to take care of everyone else before yourself. Your home is another example of how big your heart is.”
Not the direction he imagined the conversation going and he loved... No. Love was not part of the picture. He appreciated her acceptance.
“You may change your mind when we get inside.”
“If I don’t want to have sex on your sofa, I’m sure there’s a table or kitchen counter that can hold us.” He tilted his head to the side in amusement. “A wall? Surely your walls can handle us.”
“Come on.” He laughed as he took her hand and helped her up the steps. “Stay to the left. The right side is more worn.”
“You’ll call me when you plan on fixing these, right?”
“Um, sure?”
“It should be a hot summer’s day. You won’t need a shirt. I can picture it now.” She held up her hands making a square with her fingers and squinting through the hole. “A table saw setup over there, dark jeans with a hole in the back pocket molded to your ass and thighs as you lean over your workstation. Sweat dripping down your back and sawdust flying in the air. This is all happening in slow motion too.”
“If that’s how it’s going to happen then what I picture,” he faced the house and mimicked her pose, holding up his hands as if framing the scene, “is you stepping out of the house with a tall glass of ice water for me. You’re wearing short shorts... no, a tiny scrap of a bikini. Your hair falling across your shoulders.”
“Why am I wearing a bikini in the house?”
“Why am I shirtless?”
“Because it’s hot and you’re working in the sun.”
“I don’t have air conditioning so it’s hot inside.”
“Fine. If that’s what you want.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. “Show me the inside where I’ll be laying around in my bikini sweating while you’re flexing your muscles in the sun.”
He liked the sound of her in his home. Too much. Even though they were teasing, it meant there was a possibility of them being more than a summer fling.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He unlocked the front door and waited for her to go inside first. “Like I said, it hasn’t been updated since the early seventies. The paint is faded, the wood is—”
Again, she stopped him with a finger over his lips. “Instead of telling me what’s wrong, tell me what you plan on doing in each room. Show me your vision.”
“Like you showed me yours of the front steps.”
“Kind of.” She grinned. “I get I’ll be walking around in a bikini. Tell me what your vision is for each room.”
“I wouldn’t want to bore you.” Especially when he’d rather show her his bedroom. Damn. He mentally slapped himself. Thinking about Charlie in a purely sexual way was fine a few months ago, but now that they connected on a more emotional level it seemed wrong. Like he was disrespecting her and what they had together.
“Oh, I like the open foyer.” She craned her neck to look up at the railing and he stared at her bare skin and imagined kissing it.
Stop. Focus on the house.
It was one of his favorite parts of the house as well. That and the view from the back. The L-shaped staircase had held up fairly well as had the railing. Still, he’d feel more comfortable when he replaced it.
“Do you have wood floors throughout the house?”
“Yeah. The living room has wide planks. You can’t buy those anymore without a special order and a sizeable bank account.”
“Why not?” She poked her head in the first room on the left. “
Office?”
“You lose integrity of the floor with anything over eight inches.”
Charlie lifted a brow and glanced down at his crotch.
Clearing his throat, he continued. “The boards warp. These have held up well though. They’re more solid than today’s wood.”
“I like your euphemisms.”
He rolled his eyes with a chuckle and took in the closed in space. A yard sale desk and an aging desktop computer, and his crates of paperwork stacked on the floor. “Temporary office. I want to knock down this wall to make a larger living room. I’d rather have one front-to-back open space than two small living rooms.”
“Makes sense.” She made herself at home and crossed through the foyer again and into what would be a dining room. “Oh, I love the built-ins. You’ll keep these, won’t you?” She ran her hand along the arched built-in shelves.
“Yeah. I plan on adding crown molding and a chair railing as well.”
“You’re going to keep the character of the house?”
“That’s my plan and still add modern amenities. Time and money are the only things in my way.”
“I can’t wait to see it all done.”
“It’s going to take me years to get the house to where I want it.”
“I know.” She wandered into the kitchen. “I’ll be around in the summers. You have to promise to show me your progress.”
Again, his heart dipped into his gut, a weighted anchor reminding him what he and Charlie had was temporary. It’s what he wanted. Needed. He’d been clear about his inability to commit to anyone. Hell, he couldn’t even commit to his house.
Summer fling, he reminded himself.
“Yikes. This kitchen needs some serious upgrades. As much as I love vintage, your appliances and countertop are beyond hope. Same thing as the Black Fly Diner...” She cringed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring it up.”
“It’s okay.” And it was. Sort of. Her statement about the condition of the diner was on point and wasn’t judgmental towards him or his mother. “On my list of side projects as well.”
She peeked out the kitchen window and gasped. “You have a view of Sugarloaf? So cool. I couldn’t tell from the front yard. The sunsets must be stunning.”
A Thousand Sunsets (Band of Sisters) Page 19