The January Cove Series: Books 6-8

by Rachel Hanna

  “Well, then, maybe we need to run an errand.”

  “I don’t need boots. I live by the beach now.”

  “Are you saying you’ll never visit Clover Lake again after this weekend?”

  She studied him carefully for a moment. “I think I would cry if I never got to visit here again.”

  He grinned. “Then lets get you a pair of boots that you can keep here when you need to get away.”

  “Get away from what?” she asked.

  “Your own mind. Come on. We’ll grab some lunch too.”

  A few minutes later, they were in the truck heading toward Savannah. Brett was excited to show her the sights, and she seemed excited too as she talked the whole way and pointed out things on the short drive into town.

  “Gosh, I love this city. It’s so historical and quaint,” she said.

  “Yeah. It feels like being transported back in time, doesn’t it?”

  Brett pulled up to a restaurant in the historic district. “You like seafood?”

  “I love it, and I haven’t had any good catfish in years.”

  He smiled. “Then you’re going to love their pecan crusted catfish and homemade hushpuppies,” he said.

  He got out and she waited this time for him to open the door, which he considered progress. He opened it and helped her down, and then they walked toward the old, historic building. It was dark red brick with lush green plants lining the sidewalk near the door.

  “The owner of this place was Jack Mallard, a good friend of my Dad’s. His son, Mike, runs it now. Best seafood in the state, as far as I’m concerned.”

  They walked inside and got seated. Now he got to look at her. How would he stop himself from looking like some kind of weirdo?

  She was just so different from any woman he’d ever met. Her hair was thick and wavy and dark, like sunshine mixed with milk chocolate. Her skin was what he would call fair, or maybe porcelain, with a smattering of light orange freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. But it was her lips he couldn’t stop staring at. They were the perfect shade of pink without any lipstick and her top lip was upturned toward her nose as if it was begging to be bitten. By him.

  He tried to think of manure again. It didn’t work. So he thought of Phil wearing lingerie and that did the trick for the time being.

  “What can I get y’all to drink?” the waitress asked.

  “I’ll take sweet tea, light ice and no lemon, please,” Paige said.

  “I’ll have the same,” Brett said. The waitress laid two menus down and walked to the back. “Light ice and no lemon.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve ordered the same thing for years. Just never heard anyone do the same.”

  She smiled. “Ice waters it down. Tea should be deep and dark and syrupy. And lemon, well… yuck.”

  Brett laughed. “I guess we have that in common, at least.”

  “I bet we have a lot of things in common, actually.”

  “Oh yeah? Let’s test that. Favorite color?”

  “Blue. And you?” she asked.

  “Green.”

  “Darn. Okay, favorite dessert?”

  “Peach cobbler.”

  “Love it, but my fave would have to be poundcake. And I mean the good stuff made with buttermilk and the whole nine yards,” she said.

  “How did you ever survive as a Southerner in New York City?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “I have no clue,” she said smiling. “But now that I’m here, it feels like home. Weird because I have’t ever been this far South.”

  “Well, I’m glad it feels like home.”

  The waitress brought their drinks, and they both took a sip before laughing at the same time.

  “Perfection,” she said, before closing her eyes and taking a long sip through her straw. His body was starting to react again, yet he couldn’t stop watching her drink from the straw.

  Brett was forced to think about Phil in lingerie again. Didn’t work. That made him feel bad for a variety of reasons that only a psychotherapist could probably uncover.

  “So, you were born in Tennessee but you ended up in New York. Care to tell that story?” Maybe talking would calm him back down.

  Her face went blank and her eyes were staring right through him now. Mistake. He’d made a mistake.

  “Sorry. Too personal…” he started.

  “No. It’s okay. I’m just not used to talking about myself all that much. But we’re friends, and you told me about your Dad…”

  “Still, you don’t have to.”

  She thought for a moment and then smiled. “No. I want to.” She took another sip of her drink and then drew in a deep breath. “I was born to a teenage mother with a love for alcohol and drugs and not so much a love for babies. She abandoned me at a church. It was on the news back then, apparently. I was bounced from foster home to foster home for years. I’m one of those kids who ‘slipped through the cracks’ without ever finding a real family. Had some bad things happen during that time…” Again, her eyes stared through him for a moment. It looked like she was watching an upsetting movie that he couldn’t see.

  “You don’t have to talk about this, Paige.”

  She continued on like he didn’t say anything. “Anyway, when I was a teenager, I was a handful, so they put me with this old woman known for taking in problem kids. She was good to me, protected me from anything else bad happening. But I gave her a rough time. When I was seventeen, she died. I had just graduated high school, so I took off, figuring by the time someone caught me I’d be eighteen anyway. I don’t think anyone ever really looked for me. Slipped through the cracks again, I guess.”

  “Have you made a decision yet?” the waitress asked, interrupting Paige and irritating Brett. He’d been so mesmerized by her story that he hadn’t noticed the woman standing there waiting to take their order. They both ordered and Paige continued.

  “I took a lot of odd jobs, lived as a homeless person, but finally made my way to New York. Long story short, got into working in catering. Found my own place. Things were looking up, and then I met Daniel.”

  Daniel. The fiance.

  “His family is one of the wealthiest in the whole New England area. But he was different. Good. Giving. Wanted to be more than a rich guy. We hit it off and he proposed a few months later.”

  “Sounds like you really loved him a lot.”

  “I did. I still do… But there were issues. Actually, one main issue - his mother. She’s an evil woman, and she tried to pay me off to leave him. There was no way she wanted the likes of me marrying her son.”

  Brett’s blood felt like it was literally boiling. How could anyone not like Paige? He had this protective instinct over her, but it didn’t make any logical sense. He’d only just met her.

  “Seriously? I thought that kind of thing only happened in movies. Did Daniel know?”

  She swallowed hard. “No. He never got to find out.”

  “I’m so sorry, Paige.”

  “And then she refused to let me see him after the accident. I waited in the hospital for hours every single day, and she wouldn’t let me in. I couldn’t see him or touch him or say goodbye. And then one day, he was gone. No funeral or anything. So I left. I couldn’t stay there anymore. Reminders were everywhere. She kicked me out of his apartment, so I stayed with a friend until I could create a plan.”

  “Why January Cove?”

  “You’ll laugh.” She explained the story of pointing to a map and selling her engagement ring.

  “You are one amazing woman, Paige Emerson.”

  Her eyes widened as she looked at him. “What?”

  “You have to be one of the most resilient people I’ve ever met. I’ve had my share of problems in life, but nothing even close to what you’ve experienced. You’re really very impressive.”

  She blushed a bit and smiled. “Thanks. But I’d rather have avoided the problems and impressed you with my singing skills or something.”

  Brett laughed. “Ca
n you sing?”

  “I can’t, which made for a very short-lived job as a street performer. People paid me to stop singing.”

  They both started laughing, and Brett couldn’t remember a time he’d laughed as hard, especially with a woman. Normally, he found himself walking on eggshells, trying not to say the wrong thing or trying not to start an argument. But with Paige, everything was easy.

  The waitress brought their food a few minutes later, and they ate while chatting about random things. Gossip in January Cove. Elda’s younger years and how she was as a great aunt. How Brett learned to run the ranch. Nothing too heavy. They had already covered heavy topics enough for one day.

  When they finished up, Brett paid the bill. “Ready to go look for some kicky Southern girl boots?”

  “Of course,” she said as she stood up.

  They walked the short distance to a leather shop called The Tannery. Brett loved to come here and buy belts and boots and anything else he could find. It wasn’t cheap, but it was quality stuff and lasted forever.

  “What about these?” he asked, picking up a pair of brown cowboy boots with turquoise threading throughout and matching gemstones.

  Paige’s eyes got wide as she took the boot from his hand. “Oh my gosh, these are amazing! Look at the detail…” She turned the boot over and noticed it was her size, so she kicked off one shoe and slipped it on.

  Brett couldn’t help but watch her as she smiled and turned in front of the mirror. That happy look on her face was priceless, especially now that he knew more about what she’d been through her whole life. He felt like a protector, and as long as he could keep her in January Cove or Savannah, he’d make sure she felt happiness as often as possible.

  Oh, man, this was bad. How was he already falling for her? No matter how he tried, he couldn’t seem to help it. Conjuring Phil wearing lingerie AND manure didn’t even help.

  “I love these!” she said, a squeal in her voice.

  Brett smiled. “Then get them. They look awesome on you.”

  Paige grinned and then reached inside the boot for the tag. When she did, she sucked in a sharp breath and sounded like she was choking. “We should go.” She placed the boot back on the shelf before slowly letting go of it.

  “What? Why?” Brett asked. He pulled the tag out and noticed the boots were $400.

  “Brett, can we go?” she asked, not looking at him.

  “Paige, what’s wrong? Is it the price?” he whispered. She shot him a glaring look and walked out the door. He followed her outside a moment later and touched her arm. When she turned around, she had tears in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just being stupid.” She sat down on a nearby park bench and stared at he moss-covered trees lining the street.

  “You’re not being stupid, Paige. I should’ve warned you about the prices in there. But the boots are high quality and will last for years…”

  “It’s not that. I’m sure they’re worth it. It’s just that it suddenly hit me in there.”

  “What did?”

  She paused and sighed. “You know, I’ve been struggling my whole life. Struggling to make money, to keep a roof over my head, to eat. And maybe a part of me was happy to be with Daniel because I knew money would never be an issue again. I told myself that I didn’t love him for his money and power, but I think a small part of me did, and that just made me feel like dirt.”

  Brett instinctively reached his arm around Paige. She looked at him for a moment and then laid her head on his shoulder. It wasn’t romantic; it was more of a friendship feeling. But he was okay with that.

  “Paige, you’re a good person. You didn’t love Daniel for the money. I think you loved him for a lot of reasons, but part of that was probably the security he gave you. That’s okay. Security comes in many forms. Apparently, he made you feel safe.”

  She took in a breath and then looked up at him, her eyes soft but intense. “I feel safe right now.” She laid her head back down and they sat there for what seemed like hours but didn’t feel like enough time at all.

  Chapter 8

  “Dang it. I dropped my keys back there somewhere. Do you mind grabbing us a couple of coffees while I go look for them?” Brett asked. Paige looked at him inquisitively, but decided she wanted some coffee too.

  “Sure. But I’m buying,” she said, turning before he could argue. She glanced back, but he was already gone, and then made her way to a small coffee shop next to the restaurant.

  A few minutes later, she had two coffees in hand - well, actually one coffee and one sugar-laden latte for herself - and stood by the truck. When Brett appeared, he was hiding something behind his back.

  “What are you up to?” she asked with a smile. He had a terrible poker face.

  “Don’t get mad.” He pulled a brown shopping bag from behind his legs with The Tannery written on the side in Wild West lettering.

  “Brett,” she warned.

  “Let me explain…”

  “Why did you buy the boots? I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. I thought you understood…”

  “Paige. Please. Listen.”

  “I’m listening,” she said, putting the coffee on the hood and crossing her arms. When the cups started sliding, Brett dropped the bag and grabbed them both.

  “You’re my friend and my employee. I asked you to come help me at the ranch for a few days, and you should be paid for that time.”

  “I don’t make four-hundred dollars a weekend at the store, plus you’re already paying me, Brett. Try again.”

  “Okay, fine. You need boots on a farm. I don’t want to be responsible for messing up your spiffy sneakers there.”

  She tried not to smile, but she couldn’t help it. “You hate my sneakers.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to. And again, I appreciate the thought, but I can’t take these.” She lifted the bag and held it out to him.

  “Sorry. I lost the receipt. And they’re non-refundable. And if I go back in there, they threatened to shoot me. Do you really want to be responsible for that?” He plastered on a fake, toothless grin.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked softly. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad for me. I’m not that person.”

  He put the coffees on the curb and walked closer to her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, like a prisoner trying to get out of a cage.

  “I know what kind of person you are, Paige. You’re the kind of person who will put herself in harm’s way for an old woman, even if it means tasering a stranger. You’re the kind of person who will stand up to a rich woman no matter how much money she offers because you love her son. You’re the kind of person who will listen and truly help someone who is dealing with an Alzheimer’s diagnosis in their family. You’re the kind of person I want to aspire to be. You’re also the kind of person who deserves for someone to do something nice for her, and I’d selfishly like to be that person.”

  She stared up at him for a moment and then hugged the shopping bag close to her. “Thank you. This is a very nice thing you’ve done, Brett Larson.”

  He reached down and picked up the coffees. “Let’s go home.”

  Home?

  The ride back to Clover Lake was quieter, an air of tension overpowering the atmosphere inside the truck. Paige didn’t really know what to say, and he didn’t seem to know either. So, she looked out the window for most of the trip, taking in the sights and enjoying the spring air that was blowing in her face.

  “Can I show you something?” Brett asked as they pulled back up the driveway at the ranch.

  “Sure.”

  They stopped about halfway down the drive and he helped her jump down from the truck. “Might need those boots now.”

  She smiled and pulled them from the bag as she sat on the running board of the vehicle. She slipped off her sneakers and tossed them in the floorboard before sliding the boots onto her feet.

  Brett reached back and took her hand, le
ading her through some thick brush. A jolt of electricity shot through her hand and up her arm, and it was unlike anything she’d ever felt. But she didn’t pull away because it felt good to have Brett holding her hand, and that thought alone scared the crap out of her.

  They walked for a few minutes, and she was very glad to be wearing her new boots because the brush was pretty thick and snakes were known to be in places like this. As the woods thinned out, she heard running water and could see it sparkling in the afternoon sun between the trees. When they were finally out of the thicker woods, the sight in front of her was astounding.

  It was a wide creek with crystal clear water and a small waterfall raining down on the side. There were thousands of smooth rocks and pebbles of every color imaginable under the water, and moss growing on most of the trees and larger jagged rocks nearby. The sunlight streamed in through the surrounding trees, making a beautiful artistic pattern of darks and lights.

  Around them was deafening silence except for the sound of the waterfall, lazily cascading over the rocks, and the occasional bird chirping in a tall tree nearby.

  “Wow. What is this place?” she asked, whispering as if she would damage the beauty by talking too loudly.

  Brett smiled broadly. “This is where Aunt Elda got married.”

  Inexplicably, the thought of that brought tears to Paige’s eyes. She tried to imagine a young Elda standing by the creek making vows to the man she loved, a man she would be married to for almost fifty years. She was still holding Brett’s hand for some reason, so she used her free hand to quickly brush the stray droplet away from her cheek before he could see it.

  “It’s stunning. Truly beautiful. I could stay here forever.”

  “Then let’s sit down,” he said, pulling her toward a large rock that overlooked the creek. He climbed up, letting go of her hand, and she felt the void. But then he reached down and took both of her hands, pulling her up onto the rock beside him. There was no space between their bodies now as they sat side by side staring into the shallow creek bed below.

  For awhile, neither of them said anything, and that was okay. Paige assumed this was what she’d heard people refer to as “companionable silence”.