Serenity Harbor

by RaeAnne Thayne

  How could she be so stupid? From the beginning, she had worried about this very thing and thought she had put protective measures in place.

  Their conversation only confirmed it. What did the two of them possibly have in common? He was a genius who had graduated from one of the toughest universities in the world when he was still a teenager, while she had struggled to keep her grades up enough in high school to even get admitted into community college.

  StupidKat.

  The echoes of those childhood taunts seemed to ring off the surrounding mountains. He might be attracted to her, but it wouldn’t last. It never did.

  Bowie had the power to devastate her because she had stupidly handed it over to him.

  How would she survive the next few days without making a complete fool of herself? For one crazy moment, she was tempted to march into his house and pack up her things. She could stay at her mother’s house until her flight the following week—or maybe she could arrange an earlier flight.

  No. She had told him she would stay until the new autism specialist arrived early in the week. That was only a few days away. Surely she could be tough until then.

  She would start right now, by not throwing herself headlong into situations fraught with trouble. Like this one.

  With considerable reluctance, she pulled her hand away and rose. “I should go to bed. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  “Ah. Lake Haven Days.”

  “Yes. It’s only the biggest day of the year around here. Our schedule is completely packed.”

  “Is it?”

  “I promised Milo I would take him to the parade, which starts at ten. That means we’ll have to hit the pancake breakfast at the fire station around eight so we can finish eating and make it to the parade route in time for the first floats. Then it’s on to the boat races and the fair. If he’s still up for it, we’ll head to my mom’s place for dinner before the fireworks.”

  “Wow. You weren’t joking about a packed schedule.”

  She forced a smile, hoping he couldn’t guess at the tumult of emotions churning through her. “The town celebration only comes around once a year. Might as well go big or go home, right?”

  “You don’t think that all might be a little much for Milo? What if he gets overstimulated from so much activity?”

  “I’ll be careful. I have a pretty good handle on his moods by now. If it looks like he needs a break, we’ll return here for a rest.”

  He appeared to mull this over as they moved into the house but didn’t speak until they had reached the kitchen.

  “I’d better come with you,” he announced.

  She stared at him, completely caught off guard. She never would have pegged him for someone who would want to go to a small-town celebration. “What? Why?”

  “You said it. Lake Haven Days comes around only once a year. This is my town now. I want to make a home here for me and for Milo. The people who work for me have done the same. Caine Tech is linked to Haven Point now, just as the town is connected to Caine Tech. It would be irresponsible for me to miss something this important to the sense of community.”

  She couldn’t spend an entire day with him. She didn’t have the strength for it.

  “In that case, you can take Milo. I’ll go with my family.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Milo wouldn’t enjoy the day nearly as much without you there to show him—us—around. You know this town and the celebration much better than I do. I don’t even know where the fire station is.”

  “It’s at the intersection of Lakeside Drive and Bristlecone Road. There. Now you know.”

  “He’ll still want to have you with us. As do I.”

  Oh, not fair. How could she resist him when he looked at her out of those stunning blue eyes that made her want to divulge all her secrets?

  She would have to resist him. She would simply have to suck it up and keep her focus on her future.

  “All right. Bright and early, then. I don’t like to be late for breakfast. The Haven Point firefighters make the best pancakes. Light, fluffy, melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Good night, then.”

  “Right.” He paused. “I did enjoy myself tonight. The boat ride and dinner, yes, but especially out on the terrace with you. I don’t talk about my past often. I prefer to focus on today and tomorrow instead of what I can’t change about yesterday. Somehow I’m glad you know the truth about me, ugliness and all.”

  Oh. How was she supposed to resist him when he made it so very impossible? “I heard no ugliness, Bowie. Only a story of strength and character and survival, about a remarkable man.”

  She probably shouldn’t have said that last bit. That suspicion was confirmed when heat flared in his gaze.

  “Kat,” he murmured, and she couldn’t help her shiver. His gaze sharpened on the instinctive movement, and he stepped forward, eyes intent.

  He was going to kiss her, and suddenly she wanted to taste him again more than she wanted to breathe.

  “Stop me,” he ordered.

  She swallowed and shook her head slightly. How could she do anything else? The heat in his gaze flared to an inferno, and a heartbeat later his mouth devoured hers.

  The kiss was raw and intense, fierce and wild and delicious. He was remarkable, and she found it incredibly addicting that in this moment he wanted her with a passion that stole her breath.

  She wanted him, too, as she had never hungered for a man’s touch. She wanted to tug him into her bedroom and explore every hard inch of him.

  And then what?

  The question slithered into her subconscious somehow, and once it was there, it refused to budge.

  In less than a handful of days, she was leaving. She had no idea how long she would be gone; she only knew that when—if—she returned, she would have Gabi with her and all her choices in life would change.

  She couldn’t have an affair with Bowie. She wanted meaning and permanence and stability, and he offered none of that.

  Too many times before, she had traded her dignity and self-respect for a few moments of feeling cherished, valued, meaningful, only to discover the feeling was as fleeting and insubstantial as dandelion puffs.

  When she found herself stranded in Colombia, she had made a vow to herself. Never again. She would have to know a man truly cared for her and wanted a future with her before she took the easy way to artificial intimacy.

  But, oh, Bowie was tempting.

  “You’re making me crazy,” he murmured in her ear, then trailed seductive little kisses from there along her jawline and back to her mouth.

  It would be so, so easy to give in to these feelings. They were alone in his quiet house. What would be the harm in making love? At least she would have the memories. That was all she would have, though, and it would be cold comfort. She had enough regrets in her life. She suddenly couldn’t bear the idea that caring for this man so much might one day be one of them.

  She allowed herself a few more moments to savor the wild heat rushing through her, then forced herself to draw upon all her hard-won self-control. “Bowie. We have to stop.”

  His eyes looked dazed with arousal. “Do we?”

  She pressed her lips together, tasting him there on her mouth. “I don’t want to,” she admitted. “If I could, I would stay here and do this all night—but we both know eventually kissing wouldn’t be enough.”

  “Eventually?” he murmured.

  The husky rasp of his voice sent tremors rippling down her spine. She wanted so much to sink into the kiss, into him, and let him sink into her in return.

  What would she gain? Only more heartbreak.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t. Not with you.”

  She escaped the room before she said something el
se that would reveal the depth of her feelings to him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WHEN THE ALARM on his phone trilled the next morning, Bowie was tempted to hit the snooze button, pull the sheet over his head and try to block out the whole freaking world.

  His head ached like a mother, and his mouth held the sour taste of frustration and regret.

  With no small amount of trepidation, he sat up in bed, and the movement sent pain clanging through him like he’d stuck his head in a tin bucket and Milo was gleefully pounding on it with a wooden spoon.

  He had a hangover for the first time since his sophomore year in college, when some of the older students thought it was a funny joke to get the underage brainiac plastered.

  He never drank too much. It was kind of a thing with him. When a kid grew up cleaning up after his mother’s messes from drugs and alcohol, he either followed the example set forth in his childhood or found other ways to deal with stress, to relax and unwind.

  Bo had always been firmly in the latter camp. He would take his bike for a long ride or go for a hard run. He didn’t like being out of his head, not able to make his own decisions. But he had been so damn stirred up the night before when Katrina walked away—frustrated and aroused and angry, all the while aware of the ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

  I can’t. Not with you.

  What had she meant by that? He had stayed up half the damn night trying to figure it out.

  On the surface, he might have thought she didn’t want anything to do with him after he had stupidly told her the truth about Stella and their life, about MIT, about the choices he had made. But then he remembered the other words she had said.

  I heard no ugliness, Bowie. Only a story of strength and character and survival, about a remarkable man.

  He wanted to be that man. He wanted her to look at him with respect and admiration. He wanted her sweet smile and her kisses and her soft kindness that seemed to reach out and heal places inside he thought had long since scarred over.

  He didn’t know what to do with this jumbled ball of emotion in his gut. He had never felt like this for a woman before—never wanted to. Now he understood why. It hurt like hell, especially when she made it clear she didn’t want him in return.

  That wasn’t completely true. She wanted him physically. Her response couldn’t have been feigned—yet she had still pushed him away.

  What had he been thinking when he volunteered to spend an entire day with her and Milo today at the Lake Haven Days celebration? He had a dozen urgent things on his docket and was certain his time would be better spent trying to tick off items on his to-do list than hanging out watching a parade full of tractors and marching bands. He could sneak into the office while everyone on his team had the day off and probably accomplish three times as much as a normal day when he had to field questions and deal with emails all day.

  Good plan.

  He sat for a moment on the edge of his bed, holding his throbbing head and trying to summon the strength to tell Katrina and Milo he had changed his mind and wouldn’t be going with them, after all.

  Shower first, he decided. He made his way to the bathroom and popped a couple of aspirin. By the time he showered and dressed, he felt halfway human.

  He headed into the kitchen, following the siren call of coffee. Katrina was loading water bottles into a backpack, while Milo was playing with his cars on the floor, lining them up on the floor as he did, like his own version of the Lake Haven Days parade.

  “Good morning,” she said. Her voice sounded cheerful enough, but he saw a hint of wariness in her eyes as she studied him. Could she tell by looking at him that his brain threatened to explode out of his skull?

  “Morning,” he managed to answer. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Completely selfish on my part. There’s bound to be coffee at the pancake breakfast, but it won’t be nearly as good as the high-dollar stuff you have here.”

  He paid an exorbitant amount for a special blend from a tiny mail-order company in Costa Rica. He didn’t spend much on clothes or women or fast cars, but he did like good coffee.

  As he sipped, he felt the throb in his temples recede a little more.

  “Do you want to take two cars to the celebration today?” she asked. “That way you don’t have to feel obligated to stay all day. You can go to the breakfast and parade and then leave from there to do your thing.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her he had changed his mind and was going to skip all the celebrations. The words somehow clogged in his throat. He couldn’t do it. All the reasons he had given her the night before—about community and finding his place in it—still rang true. Now he had the added impetus, the somber reminder that this would likely be his last chance to spend any significant time with Katrina.

  Everything was about to change. Debra Peters would arrive early in the week, and Katrina would return to Colombia and the child she loved.

  “I would think parking is an issue at an event like this, where everybody in town wants to be in the same place at the same time.”

  “It can be,” she acknowledged.

  “Let’s not add to the congestion, then. We’ll take one car. If I need to leave, I can always walk back here. It’s not that far, and it should be a nice day.”

  So much for his good intentions to stay out of her way until she left. When it came to Katrina Bailey, every plan he made seemed to disintegrate.

  “There. That’s the last of the supplies,” she said as she zipped up her backpack. “We’re ready whenever you are.”

  “Go,” Milo said as he jumped up from the floor.

  “We’re going. Don’t worry.”

  Bowie didn’t miss that Katrina’s smile to his brother didn’t seem to extend to him.

  * * *

  AS THE LAST floats in the parade went by, Bowie looked around, more interested in the parade watchers than he was in the actual event itself.

  So this was what being part of a community meant. He saw fathers with children on their shoulders, older men helping their equally aged wives fold up blankets and lawn chairs, giggling teenage girls whispering behind their hands while a couple of guys who looked to be about sixteen casually posed with their chests out and their scrawny biceps flexed while pretending not to pay any attention to the girls.

  “What do you think, Milo? How was your first parade?”

  His brother lifted his gaze to Bowie at the question. He didn’t smile with his mouth, but Bowie could see happiness beaming out of his sparkling eyes. Only the most hardened of hearts could have resisted smiling back.

  “That good, was it?” he asked.

  Five minutes into the event, it was obvious Milo had never seen a parade before, just as Bowie had suspected. He had been hypnotized from the moment the flag had marched past, carried by a local wounded veterans group followed by the scraggly high school marching band playing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” to the last patrol car driving behind a float filled with what looked like youngsters from the local 4-H group showing off their baby goats.

  For the first ten minutes or so, Milo hadn’t even budged, had sat on the curb staring with wide eyes, enraptured by the entire spectacle of a small-town parade.

  Bowie’s brother hadn’t even moved when those riding the float that advertised the local grocery store started throwing out handfuls of taffy for the kids. One piece of candy even hit him in the arm, but he still didn’t pick it up until Katrina explained that the taffy was for anybody who wanted it, as long as they could move fast enough to grab the flying pieces.

  He couldn’t blame Milo for not knowing what to do. What kid wakes up expecting candy to be pelted at him out of nowhere? Still, Milo didn’t race out until a sweet little girl in the group next to them brought a piece of candy over for him. Then it was a mad scramble
as he filled a plastic shopping bag Katrina had thoughtfully provided.

  “What about you? What did you think?” Katrina asked him. “I know as far as parades go, it’s not much, but we like it.”

  “I’m glad I came,” he answered truthfully. “I would have hated to miss the riding lawn mower brigade and their fancy tricks, riding in formation. I do believe my life is complete now.”

  She made a face. “Be careful. They’re always looking for new recruits.”

  Before he could answer, Katrina looked over his shoulder and shrieked. He jerked around instinctively and came face-to-face with her sister, heading toward them.

  Katrina rushed to Wynona and threw her arms around her as if she hadn’t seen her in months. “You’re back! I thought you weren’t coming home from Banff until next week.”

  Wynona gave a rueful-sounding laugh. “You know Cade. He couldn’t bear the thought that the Haven Point Police Department might have to run crowd control without him during the busiest weekend of the year.”

  “That was a short honeymoon,” Katrina said.

  “I know. But he’s promised to make it up to me with a longer trip when things slow down after the first of the year.”

  A honeymoon lasting less than a week wouldn’t have been nearly long enough for Bowie. He would want to keep Katrina to himself for weeks—and he had a feeling that still wouldn’t be long enough.

  Maybe he would take her to some gorgeous secluded beach in Tahiti, all sun-kissed skin and lazy afternoons, or a ski lodge in the mountains, where they could hole up together while a blizzard raged outside...

  Where the hell did that come from?

  Aghast, Bowie jolted his thoughts away from that dangerous direction. He wasn’t having a honeymoon—with Katrina or anyone else. Long ago, he had figured traditional happy-ever-afters weren’t meant for guys like him.

  “Since you’re home early, I hope that means you’re going to dinner at Mom’s place later,” Katrina said.

  “Yes. Cade has to work, but I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it, since this might be my last chance to see you before you leave.”