by Gina Ardito
He seemed to know me, but honest to God, I’d never seen him before in my life. Trust me, I’d remember someone this gorgeous. He might have looked yummy far away, but up close, this man was downright decadent with dark chocolate eyes, cocoa hair, and a face meant for statues of gods in some faraway Greek isle.
“Paige?” He stopped in front of me, hand outstretched.
Confused but polite, I offered my hand and managed a curious, “Uh-huh.”
He clasped my hand in his much larger one. “I’m Aidan. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“Uh-huh,” I repeated. Apparently my usual gift of gab had deserted me.
My blank brain probably registered in my blank expression because he clarified, “I’m dating your sister…?”
“No, you’re not,” I blurted.
“Yes, I am.” He cocked his head. “Aidan Coffield? Hasn’t she mentioned me?”
I shook my head while my gray matter tried to absorb what he said, one sentence at a time. “You’re dating Nia? Since when?”
“About two weeks now,” he replied. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
He turned to walk away, but I had no intention of allowing him to drop a bombshell and escape unscathed. I needed answers.
“Hey, wait a sec! Don’t go. Please?” When he looked back at me, I pointed to the opposite bench. “Sit, though, because looking up at you is giving me whiplash.”
He smiled again, and I swear, fireworks lit up the darkness. “Now I see the resemblance,” he said. “You two have the same sense of humor.”
“Slow down, okay?” I told him as he joined me at the table. “I’m trying to catch up. You’ve been dating Nia for two weeks. What’d you say your name was?”
“Aidan Coffield?”
I blinked. “As in Coffield’s Bluff and Coffield’s Wharf? Those Coffields?”
“I prefer to think of myself as the owner of Piping Plover Vineyards, but yes, Ogden Coffield is my father.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t form a coherent response. Was this a joke? Nia? Dating Ogden Coffield’s son? How did these two even cross paths?
“Nia didn’t tell you?”
“Nope.” A shadow darkened his features, and I actually felt sorry for the guy. For his sake, I added, “Don’t read anything into that. She and I haven’t spent a lot of time together lately. And when we have…well…let’s just say our communication has suffered from outside forces.” Terri’s drunken binge, our disagreement, and Mom’s sudden reappearance, to name a few.
“It’s my fault you haven’t seen much of her,” he replied. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come here tonight and introduce myself. I know she’s cancelled plans on you a few times recently. To spend time with me.”
And not tell me. Exactly how often had my sister lied to me? “When did you last see her?”
“This afternoon.” He frowned.
“She was with you today?” What kind of game was Nia playing now? Why hadn’t she told me about Aidan Coffield? What other secrets did she keep?
“I was supposed to meet her here tonight,” he said. “Do you know where she is?”
Now I frowned. “No. I’ve been trying to reach her all day. Obviously, she was with you earlier, which explains to some degree why she didn’t answer her cell. I’m guessing she changed her mind about coming, though. She’s probably in her studio.”
“The hot spot in the carriage house?”
“You know about her hot spot?”
“Sure. I was there with her last week.”
Holy moly. He really had spent time with my sister. A lot of time from the sound of it. So how come she hadn’t shown up here tonight?
I think I knew. Because she didn’t want me to know about this guy. No. Not me. Sam. She must have given up on Sam.
Poor Sam. How on earth could he possibly compete against Aidan Coffield? On paper, the two men had a lot in common. Both good-looking, both seemed to care about Nia. Aidan had money, but Sam had waited years to win Nia. That kind of loyalty deserved the reward, in my opinion. Now, though, Sam would have to move fast, before this guy completely stole Nia’s heart.
I shot to my feet, which totally took Aidan Coffield by surprise. “You know what? I hafta go see somebody right now. Are you sticking around?”
He shrugged. “I told you, I’m meeting Nia here.”
Not if I could help it. “Okay, I’ll see you in a bit then. If I run into my wayward sister in the meantime, I’ll send her over here.” Yeah, right. “Nice meeting you.”
Chapter 23
Paige
I took off like a bullet, past the clusters of people coming down to the beach while I climbed up toward the parking lot. A hundred mentions of “excuse me” later, I ran face-first into Sam. Even if his uniform buttons hadn’t cut into my cheek, I still knew him from the familiar sensation of his arms around me.
“Slow down before you hurt yourself,” he admonished gently. “Where are you off to? And where’s my water?”
I pulled away from him and waved off his questions. “Forget that. There’s something I have to tell you. Right now.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” I yanked on his hand, dragging him toward the closed snack shack. We’d need privacy for what was about to happen. The lights around the building illuminated most of the area, except for a small patch of shadow near the stairs leading down to the outdoor shower. Naturally, I led Sam to that darkened place. When I was sure we were out of earshot and sight of any nosy townspeople, I told him, “I just ran into Aidan Coffield on the beach. Do you know him?”
Sam appeared pensive for a moment. “Sort of. I’ve spoken to him once or twice. On the phone. Why?”
There was no easy way to say this without hurting him. Better to say it quickly—get him moving to Nia asap. “Did you know he’s dating Nia?”
“He is? Whoa. That was fast.”
Fast? Whoa? Was that all he could say? On a shriek of frustration, I stamped my foot. No time for delicacy. I had to go straight for his jugular. “Idiot! Don’t you realize what this means? If you don’t tell her how you feel now, you’re going to lose the woman you’ve loved for years to some guy who won’t waste time sweeping her off her feet.”
He had the nerve to smirk. “You think so? I mean, I’m not one hundred percent sure she feels the same way about me…”
“Trust me,” I snapped. “She’s crazy about you. Why wouldn’t she be? You’re amazing. And sexy. And everything any woman could possibly want. Besides that, you love her. So stop waiting for Cupid to hit her with an arrow already.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he replied. “Maybe I should let her know how I feel.”
“Yes!”
Before I could say anything more, he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulled me against him, and planted his mouth on mine.
I lost myself. This man’s kiss not only curled my toes, I swear he curled my hair. He definitely managed to curl around my heart and squeeze. I clung to him for a very enjoyable minute until sanity returned.
I finally jerked away and when I could speak again, I voiced my outrage. “Okay, clearly, you don’t need the practice, Sam. So stop fooling around with me and get out of here. Tell Nia how you feel.”
Grinning, he pulled me up against him again. “Nia knows how I feel, Paige. I love her.”
Even though I knew it, a piece of me died when he said it. My heart slowed, and breathing became a Herculean labor. In the game of love, lucky Nia won the grandest prize.
“I love Nia like a sister,” he clarified. While his index finger traced my cheek, he murmured against my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “It’s you I want. It’s you I’ve always wanted.”
My knees buckled. “Me?” I stared up at him, shock muffling my voice to a whisper. “You love me?”
He nodded once, a slow, certain motion that sped up my heart rate and lightened my lungs. “Is that so hard to believe? I’ve loved you since the day you took a swan dive at the se
nior picnic. I’d always admired you, but when I carried you out of the bushes, I realized I loved you. I still love you. I want to take care of you when you’re sick, make you laugh when you’re crying, and hold you when you’re scared.”
I looked up at the moon. No blue tinge. No pigs. A perfect night. Not backwards at all. But, still. Since high school? “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
That eyebrow of disbelief arched in my direction. “On the off-chance you’d take me seriously? Or to make you stay in this hick town?” He shook his head. “No way, sweetheart. You needed to get away from here. When you were living in Albany, I told Nia that if you ever came back of your own free will, I wouldn’t let you leave again without a fight. But I didn’t want to fight you. You had to decide you want to be here for good, that this is home. Once you did, I planned to go after your heart full throttle.”
The words from my argument with Nia roared through my ears. I came back of my own accord, took over Daddy’s business of my own accord, and I’m staying of my own accord. Because I want to be here. This is home. Not Albany. Snug Harbor.
“Nia told you what I said the other day,” I realized aloud. “There was no disturbance at Petopia, was there?”
“Of course there was.” His dark chuckle rumbled through me. “But…Paige, sweetheart, did I really need to check on you because Mrs. Pomerantz—all ninety pounds of her—got angry at the groomer a block away?”
Sucking helium couldn’t make me float higher. I had to smile at how blind I’d been, and for how long. Even Lou Rugerman had tried to tell me how Sam felt. Seems everyone knew but me. “You really love me?”
His thumb brushed my chin. “I really love you. More importantly, how do you feel about me?”
I pursed my lips at him. “Kiss me again and find out for yourself.”
So he did.
~~~~
Nia
I didn’t want to let my mother into my house. Honestly, I couldn’t. Grandma would haunt me for a lifetime if I let this woman cross her threshold. I know how harsh that sounds, but seeing my mother again after all these years was not going to be one of those sappy, Hallmark Channel reunions. I had my reasons for wanting nothing to do with her, reasons I’d never shared with Paige, or even my father. Some wounds cut too deeply.
Once I stopped ruining my azalea bushes with my lunch, I raced past her and into my house. I bolted straight for the bathroom where I quickly brushed my teeth and gargled, although a quart of mouthwash wouldn’t remove the sour bile taste.
When I stepped out again, my mother loitered in my foyer, a half-smile on her face. “Not exactly the greeting I anticipated.”
I fisted my hands at my sides. “No? Try this one on for size. Get out.”
Sighing, she shook her head. “Paige warned me you’d be difficult.”
My stomach plummeted, and I gripped my abdomen. “Paige? You’ve seen Paige already?” An occurrence I would have prevented, given the opportunity. This woman was poison, and I would never let her hurt my sister again. “When?”
“Yesterday.”
Oh, God. Poor Paige. She must be a mess of confused emotions right now. And where was I when she needed my support? I hadn’t checked my phone—either of them—all day.
“You should have heeded her warning,” I told the woman in my hall.
She was not my mother. Not in the myriad ways a woman mothered a child. I didn’t recall any warm, fuzzy memories of bandaging skinned knees, baking cupcakes for birthdays, help with homework, or makeup tips. All I remembered was a note and, years later, a doctor’s puzzled statement.
“Nia, please.” She held out her hands as if to reach for me.
For what? A hug? Too late. By about twenty-five years.
“I have nothing to say to you.” My head pounded. Anger heated my skin from the inside out. A red mist obscured my vision. On trembling limbs, I managed to reach the staircase and my hand clutched the bannister. “You wanna see how ‘difficult’ I can be? Watch this. Get out. Now. You found your way here, find your way out. Don’t make me call the police.”
If she attempted an argument, I never heard a word over the high-pitched buzzing in my brain. I had already deleted her from my presence. I climbed the stairs, then strode down the short hall into my bedroom where I collapsed onto my bed. As I’d promised myself on the drive home, I shattered. While tears flooded my pillowcase, I pounded my fists on the mattress.
Today had officially become the worst day of my life—worse than the day my mother left, worse than when Daddy died. The ringing telephone on my bedside table blared, and I glanced up to see the Caller ID illuminate. Paige’s cell.
I had a pretty good idea why she was calling, and I let her go to voicemail. No great urge to hear her message now. Curling into a ball, I clutched a bedroll to my abdomen. I only regretted throwing up in front of that woman. I would have preferred to retain my dignity. Let her know that her sudden appearance meant nothing. Less than nothing.
Images of my mother’s hurt expression melded into the same look on Aidan’s face when I sped away from him at the vineyard. I squeezed my eyes shut to seal out the memories. More pain I could lay at Mom’s feet.
When I opened my eyes again, the room was black, except for the greenish glow from my alarm clock, which read 2:13 a.m. I’d fallen asleep for nearly ten hours. No use in trying to climb under the covers. I might as well go down to my hot spot, work on my new autumn pieces.
I changed into more appropriate work attire and grabbed my cell out of my purse. When I powered on, the phone buzzed. The screen lit up. 22 Missed Calls and 7 Voicemail Messages blared at me. I dialed the number to retrieve my messages as I headed downstairs. I knew what I’d hear.
Sure enough, message after message came from Paige, each one growing more impatient. She started with, “Hey, we need to talk. It’s important. Call me back as soon as you can. Bye.” Two calls later, she segued into, “Childish much? Listen, Nia, when you’re over your snit, call me. It’s important.”
Snit? What snit? I nearly slapped my forehead when I suddenly remembered. I hadn’t spoken to her since our disagreement in her office. Did she now know I’d been testing her? That I’d given Sam the green light? Had he said anything yet? Maybe one of her other messages would give me a clue.
By the time I reached message number six, I heard, “Forget it. I’m stopping by the store first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll bring the coffee. Extra larges because we’ve got lots to talk about.”
That Paige sounded happy, excited, in love. God, I hoped so.
The voice on the last message had me fumbling the phone. Aidan. “Hey. I don’t know what happened tonight, or this afternoon for that matter, but you can rest easy. I won’t bother you anymore.” There was a long pause before he added in a ragged tone, “I really thought better of you, Nia.”
Yeah. Me, too.
Despite the sting to my heart and conscience, I had to let him go without a follow-up call or explanation. Better he dislike me now than despise me later.
The biggest problem with being Ogden Coffield’s son is that nothing in my private life is very private.
Understandable. And the problem with being a Wainwright was that we had too many skeletons in our closet. Each one more gruesome than its predecessor. If Aidan ever learned the truth, he’d count his blessings we kept our interludes a secret. Especially with his vineyard set to open next month. The last thing he needed was a scandal attached to his name—even through his casual associates.
Stuffing my phone into the pocket of my work pants, I opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. From the corner of my eye, I caught movement to my right. A shadowy figure rose. What the—?
I quickly reopened the door and jetted back inside. After securing both the lock and the deadbolt, I flipped on the porch light.
The woman moved into the illuminated beam, and her blond hair registered on my frantic brain. My heart took longer to calm down.
“Are you out of you
r mind?” I demanded. “What kind of lunatic sits on a porch all day and all night?”
“Someone who has a lot to say and is willing to wait for the opportunity,” the woman replied. “Nia, please. Talk to me.”
Apparently, my mother hadn’t left when I told her to. She’d remained here, waiting to pounce on me. The woman must have a death wish, or more likely, she had a yen for men in uniform and wanted to be arrested. May as well grant her last wish and have her tossed in the county jail.
“I’m calling the police,” I shouted through the door and pulled my cell from my pocket.
“Fine. Go ahead. Be sure they use their sirens and flashing lights when they show up here in the dark of night. They can arrest me, carry me screaming off your porch, and I’ll be back the minute I make bail. Then we can start the process all over again. And again and again.”
I shivered at the idea of my neighbors watching this drama unfold, which was, no doubt, her intention. The woman wasn’t just insane; she was diabolical.
“Or,” she added, “you can open the door now, give me fifteen minutes of your time, and be done with me, once and for all. Which would you rather do, shortcake?”
Shortcake. No one had called me shortcake in decades. Not only because my height made the nickname ludicrous, but also because my mother was the only person in my life who knew the secret behind that particular moniker. As a child, I’d hated my red hair—how it set me apart from my blond twin and mother and my dark-haired father. Mom told me I was a strawberry blonde, like the doll, Strawberry Shortcake.
“Shortcake?” she repeated.
I lifted my gaze to the ceiling and begged Grandma’s forgiveness. On a sigh of defeat, I opened the door. My mother’s smile seemed superior. To keep from attempting violence, I focused my attention on the gingerbread scroll beyond her head while I muttered, “Come in. Let’s get this over with.”
“Thank you.”
As she stepped inside, I swept an arm past the staircase. “I’m sure you remember where the kitchen is in this house.”
I had no intention of offering her any hospitality. This was war. Despite the years that had passed since her death, I still felt Grandma’s comforting presence in the kitchen. I’d take any allies I could find—even the dead ones.