by Eve Langlais
Wiping my face as best I could on my sleeve, I sniffled as I glanced down at Jace of all people. “I’m not hungry.” A lie. My current mood could have used a bag of salty chips with a side of chocolate.
“Then come and have a coffee.”
“I can’t. I have to fix this.” The words emerged a tad more bitter than I liked. Why couldn’t something go right for once? I’d had such a good evening. Would it have killed the world to let me bask in it for at least one day?
It seemed every time I took a step forward, something slammed me back. I was getting mighty tired of it. I wasn’t leaving. My life in Cambden was a thousand times better than what I had before. How dare someone try and ruin it. I couldn’t let them win.
Letting the tiny spark of anger fuel me, I scrubbed at the murder scene on my sign, stripping not only the red but the creamy layer underneath. I exposed the wood. It didn’t look half bad distressed. Maybe I’d leave it.
“Utterly stubborn,” Jace muttered.
I peeked down at him again. “How am I being stubborn?”
“Because you are obviously upset.”
Despite my precarious perch, I swept a hand at the sign. “Can you blame me?”
“Never said you shouldn’t be, but I do think you need to take a moment and step away from the mess.”
“I need to finish.”
“You’re done.”
“No, I’m not.” A glance showed the sign as readable, despite the spot I’d scrubbed clean.
“Get off that ladder. Right now,” Jace ordered.
“Or what?”
He grabbed it and shook it.
For obvious reasons, I grabbed tight and squealed. “Stop that.”
“Get down.”
“You’re psycho,” I huffed as I hit the pavement. And then almost slid on a patch of ice. Stupid sneakers. I really needed go into town, the bigger one a half-hour over, and buy some boots. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground this morning. If I didn’t move my butt, winter would be here and I’d be wearing plastic bags inside my shoes to keep my feet dry.
“Was that so hard?” he replied.
I glared. “I could have been hurt.”
“But you weren’t.”
“Not the point. Why are you bugging me?”
“Because you and I need to have a chat.”
“About?” I crossed my arms and tilted my head.
“I’ll tell you over breakfast.”
“How about you tell me now?”
“I’ll give you a hint. It’s about the company you keep.”
I arched a brow. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
“Watch yourself with Darryl.”
“Excuse me?”
“Stop seeing him.”
Had he just seriously warned me away from another guy? Would he try and pee on me next? “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Darryl isn’t who he seems.”
“You mean he’s not a rude jerk like you?” I sassed.
“You should stay away from him.”
“I’d say that’s my decision to make, not yours. And tell you what, if you don’t like seeing me with Darryl, then don’t be wandering onto my property uninvited.”
“I wasn’t on your land.”
“Close enough. Do you spy on my place often?” Again, I couldn’t stop the runaway words. I accused him, and he gave me an unexpected reply.
“Only when I can’t sleep.”
“And how often does that happen?”
His lips quirked. “Every single night.”
I blinked. “Why can’t you sleep?”
His shoulders rolled. “Dunno.”
“Usually when I have insomnia it’s because I’m stressed.”
“A possibility, especially since you won’t listen to reason and leave this place.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you seriously going to start with that again?”
“Just trying to keep you safe.”
“From who?”
“I think we both know.” He turned and began walking down the sidewalk, only to pause when I didn’t follow. “Are you coming or not?”
Stupid, bossy man. I should say no, and yet this was the longest conversation we’d had. I still wanted to know what he intended to reveal to me at breakfast. “I can’t just leave this stuff lying around.” I pointed to the ladder and bucket of dirty water with its stained rag.
“Who is going to steal it? Besides, Brigda is here. She’ll keep an eye out for miscreants.”
Sure enough, as we argued, Brigda had arrived. She crossed the street, toolbox in hand.
“Brigda, watch the shop, will you?”
She grunted.
“I’ll just be at the diner getting a coffee,” I explained.
“As if I care,” she muttered. Brigda slewed her gaze to Jace then back to me, her expression sly. “My, but you get around.”
An insult that I had no time to reply to, as she entered the store.
It was rude, and yet not entirely untrue. I did seem to have an unseemly amount of men around me. I could argue they were friends, and in Darryl’s case, that would be true, but Jace barely seemed to tolerate me most of the time. As for Kane… I still struggled with my feelings for him.
At this hour of the morning, the diner didn’t have many people sitting in booths, nor did I see Marjorie, just Orville. I leaned over the counter and shouted in the direction of the kitchen, “Do you need a hand?”
Orville stuck his head out the pass-through window. “Nah. JoJo will be back by eleven. She had to run some errands. Grab whatever you need.”
“Thanks.” I brought two mugs and the basket with creamer to the table. My second trip, I grabbed the pot of coffee and bowl of sugar. On my way back to Jace, I stopped and refilled the empty cups of the few diners to their surprise.
I poured steaming java goodness into two empty mugs at my table before sliding into the seat across from my neighbor. I cradled the cup rather than admit I had no idea what to say. Apparently, conversation flowed better when we were fighting.
It didn’t help he said nothing either. Just dumped an unseemly amount of sugar into his coffee before gulping it.
“So—”
We both began talking at once and stopped.
“You first,” he said.
“Since you’ve admitted to being a stalker, I have to ask, have you seen anyone around my place?”
“Your daughter, of course. Tricia and Marjorie. Darryl.” His lip curled.
“Anyone else? Maybe someone who’s been lurking in the woods?”
His gaze sharpened. “Why would someone be lurking? What have you seen?”
“Nothing. I was just asking.”
“That is not something a person just asks,” was his sarcastic retort.
“Fine, you want to hear about my dirty laundry? I think it’s possible my ex-husband, Martin, is the one vandalizing the shop.”
He arched a brow. “Isn’t he in jail?”
“He was. He escaped.”
“Have you seen him?”
I shook my head. “No, but I’ve been thinking about it. I mean it makes the most sense. He hates me. He’s targeted me before.”
“And got arrested for it.”
I shrugged. “I’m sure he blames me for that, too.”
“Have you told the police of your suspicions?”
“No. I haven’t told anyone about Martin.” Not even Winnie. I knew how she felt about her father. I didn’t need to aggravate or worry her. But that might have been shortsighted. Given she lived with me, if Martin acted, she could also get harmed.
“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again, leave town. Start over somewhere else, new name, new life.”
“Because that’s so easy.” One midlife mulligan was enough, thank you.
“You’d have the money to do it.”
“Because you’ll so kindly offer to buy my cottage, is that right?” I drummed my fingers on the table.
“Maybe it isn’t Martin harassing me, but you.”
“I don’t need to play games to have you gone.”
“Think you can scare me away?”
“Here’s to hoping you never find out.” He lifted his cup. Drained it. Got up and tossed some bills onto the table.
“You’re leaving?”
“I’m supposed to be at the mill.”
“What happened to telling me something important?”
“I lied. I just wanted you off that ladder before you fell and cracked open your skull on the pavement.”
“I was being careful.”
“You had no one holding it. That’s foolish. Watch yourself.”
Why did his cautions always sound more like a threat?
By the time I returned to the shop, the plywood from one window rested against the building and Brigda was working on fitting glass.
“What happened to having to wait for a few days?”
“I found some pieces we could use, but I can only get one of them done. The other will have to wait until Monday.”
A single window was better than none. The natural daylight filtering in had me humming as I finished inventorying the store.
My mood was greatly improved by the two email inquiries I had on some items in stock. Could I ship? Hell yes, I could.
I was in business.
15
I made sure to finish my tasks in the shop while it remained light out. Even attempted to make another bowl, a nicer one this time that I didn’t bake for as long. I hoped it wouldn’t disintegrate like the last ones. I’d researched enough to know that trial and error played a huge part in pottery making. The clay had to be just right, the baking just so. I might never get the combination needed, and yet I wouldn’t give up.
Hear that, Jace! I am not giving up. Not running away. This was my home, and whoever kept harassing me would have to suck it.
The drive home proved uneventful, and the driveway loomed empty. Not exactly a surprise. Winnie had texted to say she would be working late, and I wasn’t expecting Trish or Marjorie.
Should I give Darryl a shout? Invite him over and…what? Watch a movie? Play more games? Invite him up to my bedroom?
Nope. Not ready for that. Even if I turned out all the lights, he might see or feel something I’d rather he didn’t.
Could we stick to just the kissing parts?
If he wanted to kiss me.
Maybe he didn’t.
Ugh. I wished I could stop second-guessing everything and just go with the flow. This didn’t have to be complicated. This could be as simple as me inviting a friend over to hang out. A friend who gave me tingles.
Everyone kept telling me to go for it. The only person holding me back was me.
As I opened the door, my cat bolted out, and I could only gape as he ran into the woods. Seriously?
I could have chased after him. In the dark forest, at night, in winter. I preferred to live and see the morning. This wasn’t the first he’d skedaddled by now. He’d returned each and every time, but just in case he lost his way and needed incentive, I’d have to remember to place bowls of tuna at the front and back doors.
I entered the house to find it chilly and musty. Kind of unpleasant actually, which drew my gaze to the kitchen cupboard and the garbage. I’d forgotten to take it out. Had Winnie?
On my way to the kitchen, I got distracted. Was it me or did the place look a bit shabby? I frowned. I couldn’t have put my finger on why it suddenly seemed that way, only that looking around, everything appeared a little more worn than I recalled. Dusty, too. I ran a finger over the console table, and it came away dirty.
Maybe it was just finally time for a deep clean. Maybe I’d been deluding myself about the house taking care of itself.
The idea of cleaning on a Saturday night was pathetic even by my standards. I should be hanging out with someone.
It took me a half-hour of pacing and running a rag over surfaces that appeared much dirtier than they should be before I geared up the courage to call Darryl, only to get voicemail.
Great.
I didn’t leave a message. Instead, I decided to have a bath in that massive claw-foot tub. I ran the water hot enough it steamed and added scented oils to it. I sank in with a sigh. Looking down at my bobbing boobs, I was reminded of what they could look like if I had them fixed like Trish and Winnie suggested.
Me? Plastic surgery? That was something the rich and famous did. Not an ex-housewife. Then again, I was now a divorcee, and only halfway through life. Did I want to live with this saggy body for another forty years? Afraid of intimacy for fear of judgment? Hating myself because I couldn’t love my body?
On the flip side, surgery? Being put under with a mask feeding me gas on my face, having someone take a knife to my flesh, trimming away the excess, stitching me up into something new? I could only imagine the pain and discomfort. I’d be in agony.
What of the complications? I’d heard they had to move the nipples. What if the nipple didn’t reattach? It might fall off. My stitches could split open. The—
Women did it every day.
The reminder slammed through my what-if moment. If other people could do it, why couldn’t I?
My cell phone rang, jolting me. I’d brought it with me into the bathroom, just in case.
Admit it. Just in case Darryl called.
I thrashed in the tub, trying to sit up. Without even looking, I grabbed the phone with slippery wet hands.
“Hello,” I said more huskily than I meant to.
“Well hello to you, too.”
Hearing Kane’s deep voice snapped my mouth shut. I’d not expected to hear him.
“Did that cat of yours get your tongue? It is a delicacy you know.”
“Why are you calling?” I’d not spoken to him since the window incident.
“Can’t a man check in on his lady?”
“I am not your lady.”
“Was I being too polite about what happened between us?”
“Are you calling me a whore?” I huffed, immediately indignant.
“A whore would have done more than slip me some tongue,” he said in a laughing, mocking tone.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“I heard you had more trouble.” His voice hardened.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“That’s not the point. You shouldn’t have to.”
On that we agreed. “Are you calling to tell me to leave town like your brother?”
He snorted. “Is he still trying that tactic? Idiot should know by now that you’re here to stay.”
“I haven’t actually decided,” I lied.
“You won’t leave.” He sounded so sure.
“I might if I keep being attacked.”
“Has someone come after you?” Again, his voice took on a low, dangerous edge.
As if he cared. Which made no sense. “Why are you really calling?”
“Would you believe me if I said I had an urge to hear your voice?”
“No,” I scoffed even as my heart gave a little flutter. “How is your trip going?” I leaned back in the tub, the water sloshing as I adjusted myself.
“It’s going slowly. Did I hear water?”
“I’m taking a bath.” The admission slipped out.
“How enticing.” He purred the words.
I wrinkled my nose. “Not really. And I wish you wouldn’t pretend I’m some hot babe.”
“What makes you think I’m pretending?”
“Because I’m not some supermodel. I’m well aware of my faults, and I’ll bet you are, too.”
“You think I am shallow.” Stated flatly.
“I’m saying that I know you’re used to pretty women who haven’t had a bunch of kids and lost a ton of weight and who are half my age.”
“You obviously don’t know me as well as you think. My attraction to you is real.”
“I don’t believe you,” I blurted out. “I’m not stupid.
I know you’re faking interest in me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you want me to sell you my property. And it’s a no. I’m not selling, so you can stop pretending,” I exclaimed, starting to get angry. It took me a moment to realize why. It was because I liked the attention from Kane. Liked hearing him talk and act as if I were worth his time. But it wasn’t real.
“What if I told you I don’t care about your property?”
“I’d call you a liar. We both know Airgeadsféar wants it.” I’d gotten enough offers with increasing amounts to know.
“Not anymore. Turns out we don’t need it.”
“Says you.”
“Yes, says me. So you see, my interest in you is quite genuine.”
I sighed. “Stop.” A part of me suggested hanging up. It lost to the part of me bantering in the tub with a man who made me tingle.
Who was I harming? Nothing wrong with a little flirting on the phone. It wasn’t as if anything would happen.
“What will it take for you to believe me? Despite what you think of me, I am mature enough to not really care about a person’s exterior shell.”
“Let’s say that’s true. You don’t know me well enough to claim you know the inside of me either.”
“I know you better than you might expect. I’ve been watching you for a long time.”
I shivered and sank deeper in the water. “Do you have any idea how creepy that sounds?”
“I’m not the only one interested.”
“Not helping. If you ask me, too many people are sticking their noses in my business. I wish it would stop.”
“You’re too special for that to ever happen.”
My laughter emerged brittle. “Now you’re laying it on thick. The only thing special about me is my kids. They’re amazing.”
“You shouldn’t sell yourself short.” His voice purred in my ear. “You have a destiny, Naomi Rousseau. One that even your grandmother couldn’t stop.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I sat up abruptly and spilled water onto the floor.
“It means there are so many things you don’t know. Knowledge that was kept hidden from you. But fate will have its way.”
“Way to sound melodramatic.”
“For someone who claims to want the truth, you’re awfully resistant to it.”