by Amanda Ashby
Laney had had her fair share of bad ideas. Like the time she used lilies in a hanging display and pollen had stained the bride’s (very expensive) veil. Or when she’d tried to cook meatloaf for Simon and he’d chipped a tooth on it. But this?
What was I thinking?
She darted around her apartment, quickly tidying up. Before she’d bought it, a pair of free-spirited surfers had lived there, and the walls had been covered with pinup girls, along with handwritten notes on where to catch the best waves. Jessica and Brett had helped paint, and she’d filled the space with her beloved greenery. Monsteras, ferns, and spider plants.
Usually, she loved the jungle effect, but right now jungles were making her hot, and being hot while in the company of Adam was a bad idea.
“Rwoar.” Violet let out a mournful growl, as if expressing her displeasure over the whole sorry scheme.
“It’s fine.” Laney dumped a pile of gardening magazines under the sofa, closed her laptop, and packed up the stack of sketches she’d been working on for an upcoming commission. Not to mention the columns of figures she’d gathered for her meeting with the bank tomorrow to discuss her loan. “We’re just two neighbors sharing dinner. Stop reading so much into it.”
Violet blinked her huge dark eyes. The message was clear. Who are you kidding?
“Hey,” he called out from the top of the stairs. She’d left the back door unlocked for him to come up. And here he was.
“Hey, yourself.” She slowly turned around.
His jeans hung low on his hips, and his square jaw was covered in faint stubble. Like when they’d first met.
Like when all she’d wanted to do was kiss him. While naked.
Violet was right. This whole thing? Big mistake.
“Come in,” she said, hating the breathiness in her voice.
“Thanks.” In his hands was a six-pack of beer and a pair of running shoes. He held them up. “Thought I’d better bring supplies in case you were joking about food.”
Some of the tension in her chest lessened, and she smiled. “It’s not too late to change the menu.” She led him to the sitting room. Her pale pink sofa was too delicate for his muscular frame. He didn’t seem to notice as he put the beers on the table.
“Great place.”
“Not everyone shares my love of greenery.”
“Then you’re hanging around with the wrong people.” He dropped the shoes to the floor. Violet eyed them suspiciously and retreated to Laney’s side. “I don’t think she likes my gift. Are shoes like sticks?”
“She definitely likes chewing shoes, though it depends on the smell. And the price tag. She has expensive tastes.”
“So I’ve given her shoes that smell of someone she hates.”
“Not hates. She’s just dubious. She had a bad experience when she was little. It’s not just you. Luke came around to repair some guttering the other day, and she acted like she’d caught him stealing panties. Her previous owner was elderly and stopped being able to care for her. I think she’s protective of me because she’s worried that her new life might be taken away from her.”
“Poor girl. No wonder she wasn’t happy to keep seeing me.”
“You won’t be here long.” Laney nodded to the kitchen. “If you want to wait here, I’ll go and cook.”
“I can help.” He grabbed two beers and followed her.
“You cook?” she said as he twisted the top off a beer and passed it over. “I recall you survived on grilled cheese.”
“My dark, dirty past once again comes back to haunt me.” He let out a rueful chuckle. “Turned out Eloise couldn’t cook, either. It was survival of the hungriest. I lost. Or won, depending on how you look at it.” He twisted off his own beer top and held up his bottle. She clinked with him and took a sip. He was too close, and she took a step back, pressing herself against the sink.
Why’s my kitchen so small?
Most of the time, it was roomy, with a long window looking out over the courtyard, white counters, and open shelving with her collection of mismatched vintage crockery, all chosen for the flowers on them. But with Adam leaning against one counter, it was miniscule.
She gulped a mouthful of beer and reached for a couple of chopping boards.
“You can start with the onions. And garlic,” she added. Just in case her itch got any funny ideas.
“Sure.” He gave her an easy smile and spent the next twenty minutes chopping and frying. Laney drained the thick, glistening noodles and served up the plates. She’d contemplated whether they should eat in her courtyard, but she’d never bothered to install lights.
And no good could come from candles. She flicked on the bright overhead light instead.
They ate the meal at her little table, followed by a slice of Patsy’s lemon meringue pie. They didn’t talk much, but the silence was companionable. When Adam insisted on clearing away the dishes and washing up, Violet didn’t even bark at him.
Laney settled herself down on the couch and picked up the notes she’d prepared for her meeting. A faint clatter of pots and pans accompanied by soft singing came from the other room. It was a familiar song, and she hummed along to the chorus as she went over her pitch, their harmonies weaving in and out of each other.
Then the singing stopped, and the hairs on her arms pricked as he strode back into the room. A curious expression gleamed in his eyes, and heat stung her cheeks.
He heard me.
“You look like you’ve got buyer’s remorse.” He sat down in an armchair. Still too close. A low hum of energy swirled around the room.
“No, I’m fine,” she lied, not wanting him to read anything into it. Especially not that she’d so easily slipped back into being comfortable around him. “Just going over what I need to do before tomorrow.”
“Another commission?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Not exactly,” she said. She hadn’t told many people about her plans. Mainly because she hadn’t wanted to jinx it. And because Jessica didn’t approve. But right now she needed…more. “I’m seeing the bank manager. I want to buy a property and start a flower farm.”
“Like that place off to the left of the beach road?”
“Yes, that’s Hollywell Farm. India’s parents run it. I’ve been buying my flowers from them, but they’ve been getting more and more contracts and are feeling stretched. My operation would be smaller—just enough to supply the store.”
“Like foraging, but in a more organized manner,” he said. His eyes glittered, almost like he admired her.
Like she wasn’t Nina anymore.
The woman who didn’t take risks.
Violet jumped up on the sofa and put her paw out. “No manicure tonight, sweetheart.”
“Wait, she really likes having her nails done?”
“I wouldn’t do it otherwise. No matter how pretty it looks,” Laney said in surprise.
“I’m starting to get that,” he said, then he let out a throaty laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. Sorry. I’ve been living on my own too long. You know, when it’s completely acceptable to laugh for no good reason,” he apologized. “I was thinking how strange this town is. You have a dog who loves wearing nail polish, the funeral director is a fairy godmother, and most of the citizens dress up as food for no reason.”
“That’s why I love it here. It doesn’t matter what you do; you can always fit in.”
“Paige said something similar,” he agreed as a Britney Spears song rang out on his phone. He didn’t move, eyes still holding hers. Her skin danced with warmth. It had been a long time since anyone had given her their full attention.
“Don’t you want to answer that?” she said, pleased by the interruption. Her itch was just trying to convince her she was lonely. But it wasn’t true. She had everything she needed.
“It’s Ryan. Probably wanting to tell me how many times he and El have done it.”
Laney coughed. “Seriously? Isn’t that a little—”
“Weird? Inappropriate? Unnecessary?”
“I was going to say hurtful,” she said. He closed his eyes, jaw tight. She wanted to smooth away the tension. She ran her fingers through Violet’s fur instead.
The little dog let out a contented snuffle.
“He’s just wired differently. Maybe that’s what gave him the edge I never had.” He spoke slowly, as if he was walking around something dangerous.
“With Eloise?”
He shook his head. “With everything. He’s always had something extra. It’s what pushed him to be the player he was. He did what the rest of us didn’t dare.”
Why hadn’t she known this?
Because I didn’t ask.
When they’d dated, his brother had been big news. But there had never been any mention that Adam had wanted that dream, too.
“When you talked about him, you were always…a bit detached. I didn’t know.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that. Sure you and Eloise haven’t been exchanging war stories?” His tone was light, but his eyes were wary and guarded. Now she knew why.
Eloise had left him for Ryan. The brother who could do everything.
And yet he was still close with them.
“Is it why you became a sportswriter?” She sifted through her mind, trying to rearrange what she thought she knew. But she’d never questioned it. He’d majored in journalism. The job had seemed like part of his career plan.
“Not exactly.” He stared up at the ceiling. “When it became obvious the job in San Francisco wasn’t going anywhere, Ryan pulled some strings. That’s how I got the job in Boston. I was punching way above my weight, but it was a great opportunity. And I didn’t want to let him down.”
She couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been.
“Why didn’t you tell me at the time?”
“I was vain enough not to want you to know I didn’t get it on my own merit,” he said in a dry voice, eyes clouded. He’d already told her he felt like a fraud because his book had been based so much on her…and now this.
“Ryan might have helped you through the door, but you were the one who went to work every day and made it a success.”
His phone beeped again. Something rippled across his face, and this time he picked it up. The furrow between his brows shifted, and a bemused smile tugged at his mouth.
“A text from Carl. She said yes.”
Laney leaned forward and let out a yelp. “He proposed?”
“Yeah, he talked about doing it. Good on him. Here, he’s sent a photo.” He walked over to the sofa and sat down next to her. Too close. Much too close. He held out the phone, his fingers almost touching hers. Heat brushed against her spine as she tried to concentrate on the screen.
A radiant-looking Carl had his arm wrapped possessively around a doe-eyed woman with delicate features and long, dark hair. Her adoring gaze was unmistakable. And splashed across the bottom of the photo were the words, Thank you, Cupid.
Moments later, her own phone beeped, and the same photo popped up with the matching thank-you message.
Cupid?
The irony that she and Adam had unwittingly played a part in two people getting engaged was the exact release the building heat in her had been waiting for. Laughter rose in her throat. She tried to choke it down but failed, and it burst out. He cocked an eyebrow.
“You don’t think it’s real?”
“It’s not that,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. She took a shuddering gulp of oxygen, embarrassed at her reaction. “You have to admit it’s funny. I’m a widow, and you’re divorced. We’re the least likely people to play cupid.”
He dipped his head and let out a soft groan that turned into a rumble of laughter. It was contagious, and she joined him. Her stomach ached by the time she finally straightened.
“Let’s hope they have better luck than we did.” He dropped his phone onto the coffee table and angled toward her. His head was tilted, and his eyes were searching her face. Familiar longing pounded in her temples. Despite their history, there was so much about him she hadn’t known.
And whose fault was that? a chiding voice echoed in her mind.
If I’d moved to Boston, he would have opened up sooner.
I would have understood him.
“So…are you going to tell me about him?” he finally said.
It was so unexpected that her jaw dropped.
Up until this point, he’d been careful not to mention Simon. She was used to it. Even after five years, people still had a tentative expression in their eyes if it ever came up. As if they were unsure how to proceed.
She couldn’t blame them. It’s how she felt most of the time.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Three weeks ago, this conversation would have been out of the question. But now it almost seemed overdue.
He’s been honest with me.
“It’s okay,” she said, her voice faltering as Simon’s face flashed into her mind. He was nothing like Adam. Dark hair, dark eyes, brilliant smile. Gentle. Kind. Caring. There when I needed him.
“After you moved to Boston, I was a wreck. I didn’t do much but work and stay at home. Simon did some pro bono dentistry work for some of the kids at school, and we became friends. He was the guy who let me cry on his shoulder. Then he invited me to his parents’ wedding anniversary. Here in St. Clair. I guess I fell in love with him and the town at the same time. We started dating, and after two years, he proposed. I was the one who suggested we move back here. The local dentist had retired, and the practice was for sale. It made sense.”
“He sounds like a great guy,” he said as something flickered in his eyes. Was he hurt that she’d moved for Simon but not for him? Her throat felt raw, like she’d swallowed shards of glass.
“He was. Ever since my dad walked out and my mom died, I’ve been in a shipwreck, clutching at anything I could to stop from going under. Simon was my life raft.”
“And I was the one who let you drown.” He looked away. Something jabbed at her chest. For so long, she’d been mad at him. But if things had been any different, she wouldn’t have met Simon.
The love of my life.
“It wasn’t like that,” she said truthfully. “I didn’t know what I needed until Simon came along. Meeting him. Moving here. It was like being given a backstage pass to a magical show.”
“He knew what he wanted and what to do with it when he got it.”
She nodded. There was only one thing that had stopped Simon from being completely perfect. He hadn’t been able to live.
Abruptly, she got to her feet and walked over to the window.
A crescent moon hung over the water, turning everything a pulsing shade of pale blue. Like someone had painted it with nigella.
“I should get going,” Adam’s voice said from somewhere behind her. “Thanks for feeding me. And good luck with the bank tomorrow. You’ll knock them out.”
“I hope so.” She slowly turned around to find him standing just a foot away. He tilted his head and studied her. Her itch squirmed, and the room shrank. All pounding energy and nowhere for it to go.
Lie.
There was one place it could go.
“I really want to kiss you.” His voice was rough. Her pulse flickered, and her skin ignited, but she didn’t move. Part of her screamed to kiss him. To forget about being Laney George, sweet widow. Just for one night.
But he was the guy she’d been mad at for so long.
Who left me.
And who’ll be leaving again.
“Adam, I’m sorry.” She sucked in a breath and took a shuddering step away from hi
m. This could only end one way. Badly. She might have misjudged him, but nothing had changed. He’s still going, and I’m still staying.
And despite her itch, the life she’d built for herself was good. Great, even. If she let Adam in and he hurt her again, she might tumble back into the dark hole she’d found herself in so many times before. With her dad’s departure, her mom’s death, Simon.
I can’t go there again.
“It’s fine, Laney,” he said with a shrug, though his mouth was pressed shut Was he disappointed? Didn’t matter. She’d made the right decision. And when she looked up at him again, his face was placid like the sea on a calm day. “Thanks for a great night.”
She shivered as he walked out the door, then leaned back against the wall. Hoping he had no idea just how close she’d been to succumbing.
…
“Laney, I swear you’ve got a disease,” Jessica said the following afternoon as she held up a tiny onesie with bright green pine trees printed all over it. Her sister-in-law had popped into the store at closing time for a chat. They were settled in the courtyard with her favorite teapot and two delicate floral teacups.
“Don’t be silly. I can give up anytime I want,” she protested. Maybe. Truth was, she found it impossible to walk past cute baby clothes and not buy them. “I’ve just been to the bank. It’s been a good year.”
A very good year.
She could buy the farm.
And Adam wants to kiss me.
What am I meant to do with that?
The idea their relationship might have been different was like discovering a tiny flower had been picked too soon, before the petals could unfurl. But, if they hadn’t broken up, then the greatest, most wonderful part of her life might never have happened.
Her head pounded.
She’d made the right decision in stepping away from him. Of course she had. It might just have been a ploy to have something else to write about. She quickly dismissed it. Which only complicated things more. Because if she trusted him not to betray her again, then what had been stopping her from kissing him?
Nothing.
The single thought that had been taunting her all night and day. There was nothing stopping her. It had been five years since Simon had passed away, and Adam wasn’t the villain she’d made him out to be. Instead, he was reminding her of what it felt like to share things with someone. Even painful things. Which meant—