by May Williams
“I guess a lot of soldiers were deployed there, huh? What division was your father in?”
“I don’t know. He never talked about it. Said it was in the past. Anyway,” he raised her fingers to his lips, brushing a kiss across them in a playful gesture, “let’s order so I can question you about your day and my rival, Fluffy.”
She understood his need to move away from the seriousness of their conversation. He’d given her some insight into his life both now and in the past. Despite knowing more about him, she still felt that he concealed something, something he wanted to tell her.
She flicked open the menu he handed her and decided it could wait. For now, she would do what felt right and that was trusting him. After they placed an order, she launched into the tale of Pancho and Fluffy in the waiting room.
Chapter Five
She slurped chilled cucumber soup and told him funny stories about the animals at the clinic and her nephew Jamie. Her face lit up and became more animated as she built to the climax of a story. He could listen to the soft cadence of her voice and the tingle of her laughter all night. He’d said enough about himself, more than he’d meant to, but hiding things from her was tough. She was so open and warm.
Talking about his father almost made the truth come out, but he stopped short of telling her about the business deal he had with his dad and his hopes of re-building their relationship. Letting her that far into his life was dangerous. He risked her walking right out the door, a thought that, despite their short acquaintance, made him half-sick.
Focus on now, build the relationship, he reminded himself, and maybe she’d forgive the deceptive way he’d met her. He ignored the nagging questions in his brain about the real estate deal and the financing for his book. Problems for later. Now, he had a beautiful woman to himself for at least the next few hours.
“You haven’t mentioned how your three miniature horses are,” he commented when their main courses arrived.
“They’re doing about as well as can be expected. I don’t know if you want the details while you’re eating,” She gestured to the porterhouse steak on his place. “It’s not pretty when they first come in.”
“Give me the cleaned up version,” he said, slicing off a hunk of meat.
“Okay,” she agreed, “the good news is they’ll recover, but right now, only one of the three can stand.”
“The other’s can’t stand?”
“No, too weak from malnutrition and their hooves are overgrown.” She pushed food around on her plate before eating a thin strand of asparagus. Did she not want to talk about it? He’d let her into his world; he just wanted into hers in exchange.
“I don’t know much about horses,” he said to encourage her. “What about the hooves?”
“Hooves are like thick fingernails. Just walking around naturally helps keep them in shape, but they have to be trimmed as well. Since these three—who I have temporarily named Orsino, Viola, and Olivia—have been penned in very tight quarters, they haven’t been moving and no one has groomed them in probably six months. Their hooves were so long and thick they had given up trying to walk.”
“Twelfth Night, right?”
“Very good.”
“Do Orsino, Viola, and Olivia have real names?”
“I would imagine. The neighbors say the farm was always well taken care of until the owner got sick.”
“What happened to the owner?” He put down his fork to take a drink of wine.
“She’s undergoing chemo for an aggressive cancer and hasn’t left the hospital in weeks. When she first got sick, she hired a young man to look after her animals and thought he was.”
“Took her money and split?”
“No, planted himself a field of pot on the back of the property and ignored the animals. The sheriff’s office spotted the marijuana plants while doing a helicopter search and went to the farm last Saturday.”
“Were there any other animals?” He kept his tone gentle, fearing the worst.
She nodded. Her face remained impassive, but he saw the glisten of tears in her eyes. “Orsino, Viola, and Olivia were the only ones we could save.”
“I hope that young man is doing time.”
“He’s in jail on multiple charges at the moment. I’m documenting everything about the neglect of the horses to present to the court.”
“Will you have to testify?”
“Probably; I have before. It’s one of the hazards of rescuing animals.”
“I’d like to see your place and, of course, meet the cast of characters. Maybe I could take some pictures for you?”
She nodded as she resumed eating. “I could do with some PR pictures. Heck, I don’t even have a website.”
“I know. I searched for you.”
“You did?” She laughed. “Could you make one for me? I’d pay you, of course, but I probably should have one. Maybe I should get a Facebook page as well.”
“I saw the clinic has one, but the rescue center doesn’t.”
“You did look around.” Her brows shot up in surprise, but she seemed pleased with his attention.
“Yep. I friended the clinic.”
“Whatever that means. My mother is the Facebook wizard.”
“So when can I come to your farm?” He persisted, but he wasn’t sure why anymore. He wanted to know more about her, everything about her, and he wanted to see what it was about this land that his father coveted.
“How about Saturday afternoon?”
“I’ll bring my arsenal of cameras.”
“How many do you own?”
“I use two different Canons for still pictures, and I’ll want some video for your website.”
“So what does a professional web designer charge?”
“I’m willing to negotiate a fair price with you. Kind of like on the island, we can work out an exchange of some kind,” he suggested and she glanced up at his face, seeking his meaning.
“What would be my half of the exchange?” She raised her eyebrows. “Do you want a pet?” She teased him.
“No, but you have something else I want.”
“Do I?” Her playful tone said she already knew what he wanted.
“I want a kiss, a real one…”
“One kiss?” She held up a finger. He took the opportunity to catch her hand and pulled her toward him in the round booth.
“For now.” He grinned at her, enjoying her nervousness for the moment.
“We’re in a restaurant, in public.” She looked around but no one seemed to notice them.
“Stop arguing and kiss me.” His fingers traced along her jaw softly, but resolutely enough to make her move her head toward his until their lips met. The kiss was brief, but sweet like the luscious tang of a cherry. “You see it’s not so terrible kissing me.”
“I never said it was, but…”
“What?”
“I have a history of disastrous relationships,” she confessed with a sigh. “My sister calls me a bum magnet.”
“Ah…I see.” When she started to pull away from him, he tightened his grip on her hand. “Not so fast.” His gaze stayed steady on her face. “Let me get this straight. The questions earlier were to make sure I wasn’t a bum.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He sighed, kindly. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t want my sister to date a bum.”
“Do you have a sister?”
“No, I have a twin brother. He’s an attorney in Philadelphia. Beautiful house, sophisticated wife, and two semi-perfect children. He is definitely not a bum.”
“Identical twin?”
“Yep, except I don’t have the house, wife, and kids.”
“That’s good since I never asked if you were married.”
“I’m not.” He shoved her purse and shawl aside and slid closer to her on the seat until their thighs touched. His arm wrapped around her waist. The scent of her perfume, floral and light, surrounded him playing tricks on his senses. She closed her eyes, antic
ipating the kiss and he couldn’t wait any longer. He kept the kiss short, but when Ian dropped his hand from her waist and pulled back, she took in a shuddery breath.
“Let’s go for a walk along the bay after dinner,” he said after a moment. He glanced toward the light coming in the front windows of the restaurant, perfect for taking pictures, but he had a different form of perfection here in the booth.
“Let’s go now.” Her head was cocked to the side as though she were evaluating him.
“I thought you’d want dessert.”
“You can buy me ice cream in a little while.” She nodded toward the windows. “You want to go take pictures, don’t you?”
“Sorry. The light is amazing this time of year up here. I can’t get enough of it.” He signaled the waiter for their check. “I’m having a similar problem with something else.” He squeezed her arm then slid away when the waiter appeared.
After paying the bill, they walked into the summer night just a few minutes before sunset. Amber shadows already formed between the buildings, but up ahead in the park, the bright light silhouetted dark figures against the sand and water. Ian clicked open the trunk of his car as they came alongside it.
“Why do you look relieved?” Ian asked after retrieving a camera from the trunk.
“My sister’s other question was what kind of car you drove.” Colette shrugged. “I didn’t know.”
“You saw it in the parking lot when we got off the ferry.” He gave her a quizzical look, then turned his attention to the gadget in his hand.
“I didn’t notice.”
“You waved to me when I was standing by the car,” he said, making adjustments on the camera while he spoke.
“Right, I waved to you. I wasn’t looking at the car.”
“Should I be flattered or do you just lack interest in cars?” The camera in his hand ceased to hold his attention.
A nervous giggle escaped her. “I’m not a car person, but I think it’s safe for you to feel flattered.”
“If I didn’t want to capture the light on the beach so much, I’d show you just how flattered I am.” He slammed the trunk shut and grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
For the next half hour, he snapped pictures of the beach, the water, the lighthouse, kids on the swings, birds in the surf and air. Colette stayed out of range of his camera, but he captured her in a few shots. He glanced in her direction occasionally, feeling guilty about abandoning his date, but she seemed content watching him. .
When the last edge of the sun dipped below the water, he turned to her where she sat on a swing. “I make a lousy date when I have a camera in my hands,” he said in apology. “Can I buy you that ice cream now?”
“In a minute. I enjoyed watching you. Most people don’t work with such intensity.” She tipped her head again, appraising him, and chose her words carefully, “It’s like you are the camera. Every part of you takes the photo. It’s fascinating.”
He shrugged off her words, not wanting to talk about how much of his life was seen from behind the lens. “The light won’t last,” he said simply. “It has to be captured.”
“I think it’s more than that. What will you use these pictures for?”
“Some for the website for the Boyne resort. You know—showing what else is in the area, especially in the summer. I don’t know about the rest.” He scanned through pictures on the LCD screen as he spoke. “I like pictures of beautiful places and beautiful things.”
“What did you photograph in Iraq?” At her question, his lifted his head and focused on her face.
“Nothing beautiful.”
“Did you take pictures for the newspapers?”
“A few made it to the media, but most will never be seen.” He never wanted to see some of them again.
“Why?” She asked like she already knew the answer, already knew of the images of death, loneliness, and tragedy.
“They’re classified and…”
“And what?” She pried, but it was gentle and he couldn’t deny her the truth here.
He waited to answer for a minute, and when he did, he kept his voice low, “Most Americans sitting at home don’t want to know what the troops saw and did. They just want to know about success. They want glossy pictures in Time Magazine of confident-looking, geared up troops going into a combat zone, which they presumably came out of. Those are the pictures that the guys who work for the AP take. I took the other pictures. I took the pictures of the nineteen-year-old who was so scared his hands were shaking when he picked up his weapon. I took the video of the battles and I took pictures of the dead.” He dropped his head to study the images on the little screen in front of him, not seeing the beauty of the photos he’d just taken. Unwanted, the photos from two tours of duty flashed through his mind.
“Is that why you’re doing this book?” She stood up from the swing and moved toward him, offering him the comfort of her touch on his back and circling around him.
“Yeah. Those at home are never going to understand what it was like, but eventually we came home and that’s still in us. Only other veterans understand. I’m doing this to help them.”
“And yourself?” She rested her hands on his shoulders and rose on her toes. The light filtered between them and danced on her lips before she kissed him.
“I guess.” His arms went around her, the metal of the camera grazing her back. “Now, since I’ve bared my soul to you, you have to tell me something in exchange.”
“Okay, if I can.”
“How did you get the slit in your bottom lip?” His thumb rubbed over the mark on her lip.
“My mother assures me that most people don’t notice it.”
“Professional habit. I’m always aware of details, especially when they’re on something that interests me. What happened?”
She blushed a bit, the faint glow showing in the dimming light.” I got bit by a goat at a petting zoo when I was four.”
“No way.”
“Yes.”
“On the mouth?” His fingertips took a slow circuit of her lips, feeling each ripple and indentation.
“My dad says the goat wanted a kiss.”
“The goat didn’t turn into a prince, did he?” He teased her. “Should I be jealous?”
“I think only frogs can do that. I startled the poor guy, but I learned a valuable lesson that day.”
“What?”
“To be calm and patient with animals, especially the highly strung ones.”
“Is that how you can manage rescue animals?” His fingers feathered over her cheek before brushing hair back from her face. The last of the light was swallowed up by the night, leaving them in heavy shadows.
“Yep. Your intensity would frighten them.”
“Is that why Romeo avoided me at first?” he asked, not sure how to take her honesty.
“He’s skittish around everyone, but, yeah, you frightened him.”
“Do I frighten you?” Here was the key question for their relationship.
She hesitated before answering, making him hold his breath. “A little, but for different reasons.”
“Still afraid I’m a bum?”
“More like afraid you’re not one.” She wove her fingers through the hair on his neck and gave his head a slight tug down toward hers.
“I think I like that answer.” His words were lost against her lips.
After Ian walked Colette to her Jeep and gave her a lingering kiss goodbye, he drove out of Petoskey and onto the lonely road to Boyne. When he was with her, he didn’t feel like a hypocritical ass. He felt good, better than he ever had in his life. As soon as he was alone, the terrible game he was playing came back to haunt him. He glared into the lights of oncoming traffic. What the hell was he doing?
He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his brother. Tom answered on the second ring, sounding breathless.
“Hey, what are you doing? Running a marathon?”
“Wrestling the kids into bed. I have to be a WW
E champion this week and body-slam Nick into bed. Last week, I had to sack him. When we move onto hockey, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Try not to get accused of child abuse,” Ian said in a droll tone, but he could hear the laughter of his seven-year-old nephew in the background. In spite of it all, he smiled. “You’re a good father, Tom.”
“I’m trying.” A door closed in Tom’s house and Ian heard him juggle the phone. “We didn’t have much of an example. How’s your situation?”
“Shit.” Ian had called his brother on the drive from Grand Island to Boyne a few days ago to fill him in on his meeting with Colette.
“That good, huh? Have you seen her again?”
“We just had dinner.”
“Ah. You told her the truth?”
“I couldn’t.” If it’d only been a friendly meal, he’d be okay. But when he replayed their kisses and the way her hands on him made his skin hot and his blood boil, everything changed.
“I said I would, but as soon as I saw her—No way.” He didn’t want to play with Colette like this. He sure as hell didn’t want to wait for the moment when she realized who he was and what he was up to. He had to tell her their meeting wasn’t a coincidence. Spending the night at her cottage was an accident. A damn nice accident. Colette might even call it fate right up until he told her why he met her.
“It’s only going to get worse if you put it off.” Tom repeated what he’d said the other day and Ian’s own thoughts. “Tell her the truth now. She’ll probably be pissed, but she won’t feel used. You let this go any farther and you’re in deep shit. Did you tell her about your book?”
“Yeah.”
“What was her reaction? Did she like the idea?”
“She was definitely sympathetic. Her father’s a Nam vet.”
“Good. If you explain that you made this deal with Dad so you could get the book published and establish a relationship with your father, she’s bound to be understanding.”
Ian thought about that for a few seconds. His brother was right, but the situation was complicated. He punched the accelerator, swerving around a slow moving car. His feelings for Colette were only part of the mess. He needed to talk about his other concerns regarding the deal with his dad, and Tom was the only one who could understand. “What do you suppose Dad’s game is? You’re an overpaid attorney used to analysis. Help me out here.”