The truth was, it wouldn’t matter what changed or didn’t on the farm—I’d never be happy, not after everything that had happened. So if they could, then I shouldn’t hold them back. They didn’t need to suffer for my sins.
“I’ll call Brad,” Pete said. “Maybe he can send us some info on the Oliver listing.”
“I better get back to work. Thanks for the coffee.” Rising from the chair, I took my cup to the sink before heading out the back door.
A few seconds later, I heard Pete’s voice. “Hey, wait a sec.” He jogged to catch up with me. “Thanks, man. Georgia is beside herself.”
I shrugged, sticking my hands in my pockets. “I hope it works out.”
“So why the change of heart?” he asked, lifting his cap off and replacing it. “I’m curious.”
“I don’t know.”
“You get laid last night or what?”
I rolled my eyes, but my cock twitched. “Jesus, Pete.”
“OK, OK. Just asking.” He held up his palms. “You seem different today, that’s all. More relaxed than you’ve been in a long time.”
“So quit bugging me before I get tense again,” I said, resuming my walk across the yard. Actually, I did feel more relaxed. A sense of relief and even peace had eased the tension in my mind and body. My steps were lighter. My shoulders looser. My fingers free of the urge to curl into fists.
Whether that was because of the sex I’d had or the conclusions I’d drawn or the apologies I’d offered, I wasn’t sure. I had yet to suffer any debilitating guilt about having sex with Margot, which shocked me—I’d actually felt worse after the kiss. It had seemed more personal, somehow. Fucking her in the woods felt more like blowing off steam than anything else.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
But the real relief would come in nine days, once Margot was gone for good.
Eighteen
Margot
I was on edge the next morning. Too much coffee had me jittery, too little sleep had me restless, and too much time thinking about Jack had me unsettled. I didn’t feel right in my skin.
I spent the morning trying to catch up on work for other clients, but I struggled to focus. The tenderness between my legs, the soreness in my stomach muscles, the memory of my legs wrapped around his waist distracted me endlessly.
Stop it! It never happened!
After lunch, I took a walk on the beach, hoping a little exercise and Vitamin D might help.
It didn’t.
I tried to take a nap, which was a disaster since what I actually did was lie there and picture every inch of Jack’s naked body (good thing I’d gotten that view from the tree), and replay in my mind every second of The Fuck That Never Happened.
Irritated, I sat up and grabbed my phone. I felt like talking about it to someone, but I hesitated before calling Jaime for two reasons—one, I’d told her I wouldn’t bang the client, and two, I was supposed to be pretending I hadn’t. Telling her about it was not a step in that direction.
I could always call Claire instead, I thought. I’d have to start from the beginning since she didn’t know anything about Jack yet, but—
My phone buzzed in my hand. Mom calling.
I cringed. My mother was the last person I wanted to talk to right now, but I dutifully took the call.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Margot. This is your mother.”
No matter how many times I told her she didn’t have to announce herself, she never failed to do it. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“Fine. I played tennis this morning and I’m about to meet Aunt Dodie for lunch.”
“Sounds nice.” Nothing ever changes in her world.
“So I have to run,” she breezed on, as if she hadn’t been the one to call me, “but I wanted to let you know you can come home whenever. Tripp was caught in flagrante delicto with a waitress at the country club. In the men’s locker room, of all places! Why any woman would want to go in there is beyond me.”
My jaw was hanging open. “Really?”
“Yes, it’s all anyone can talk about. Mimi Jewett’s beside herself, but if you ask me, she had it coming, the way she gossiped about you and The Incident.”
“Right.”
“So I don’t know what your plans are, but do be back for the Historical Society fundraiser at the end of the month. We’re hosting, and it’s important for Daddy’s campaign.”
“What’s the theme?”
“Gatsby.”
“Again?”
“People like tradition, dear.”
I sighed. It was useless to argue with Muffy on the subject of tradition. Her life was ruled by it. Mine was too, for the most part. “I’ll be there. Bye, Mom.”
I put my phone down and looked out the window at the lake. So thanks to Tripp (what an idiot), I could show my face again at home. And even though I was paid up here for nine more days, I knew hanging around any longer than necessary was probably a bad idea.
Because the more I thought about Jack Valentini, the more I wanted to see him again, get to know him better. Kiss him again. Touch him. Feel him inside me. Hear him whisper to me in the dark. Figure out why the chemistry between us was so good. Was it simply a case of opposites attract? Or was there more to it?
Sighing, I gave up trying to solve the riddle and admitted the truth.
There’s no way this can work. I should just leave.
I tidied up the cottage, packed my bags, and called Georgia, explaining that due to a family emergency I was leaving earlier than planned, but I’d be available by phone or FaceTime or Skype or whatever she wanted to use to keep in touch moving forward. She thanked me for my time and said she’d contact me as soon as they’d had a chance to discuss everything.
I also contacted Ann, the property manager for the cottage, and told her I was leaving sooner than expected, but I understood I wouldn’t get my money back.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll mail you a check for the security deposit.”
“Thank you. I’m about to get on the road, so I’ll leave the key on the counter.”
“You’re not leaving tonight, are you?” she said. “At least wait until morning. There’s a huge line of storms coming through.”
Frowning, I looked out the window but saw no evidence of impending doom. Maybe Ann was like my mother, who thought every drizzle was a monsoon. But I did drive an old car, whose windshield wipers weren’t the best. I could wait until morning. “I suppose I could wait until tomorrow.”
“I think you’d better, dear. If you shoot me a text when you leave, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks.”
Faced with an evening alone and no food in the fridge, I decided to walk into town and grab a bite to eat and a glass of wine. On my way out the door, I thought about grabbing an umbrella, but a quick hunt for one in the cottage turned up nothing. Oh, well. At this point, the skies looked relatively clear, the water was calm, and only a slight breeze ruffled the curtains. I wouldn’t be out long, anyway.
I walked into town, proud of myself for remembering the way, and purposely chose a restaurant other than the one I’d seen Jack at two nights ago. It was right on the water, busy with a summer dinner crowd, and the hostess seemed a bit put out having to seat a table of only one. “I can sit at the bar,” I told her. “It’s not a problem.”
She looked grateful. “Perfect. It’s right through there in the next room.”
The moment I walked in, I saw him. I might have turned right around and left, except he saw me too. Sitting at the bar, a beer in his hand, he turned and looked right at me, like he knew I was there. Our eyes met, and he slowly lowered the bottle. My pulse galloped.
Dammit. Now what?
Nineteen
Jack
Pretend it never happened.
I knew that’s what I was supposed to do, but the sight of her had caught me off guard, and I found myself staring at her, dumbfounded, my beer halfway to my lips.
I’d purposely chosen this place because she’d been at The Anchor last time, and I wanted to avoid seeing her. But I’d been sitting there thinking about her, when all of a sudden I’d looked up and seen her reflection in the mirror behind the bar—as if I’d conjured her up. I glanced over my shoulder, and sure enough, she was real.
Real and beautiful and walking right for me, a surprised smile on her face. “Well, hello. Guess we think more alike than it would seem.”
Pretend those legs were never wrapped around your body. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Good. I was going to get a table,” she said, gesturing behind her toward the dining room, “but they weren’t too keen to seat just one person.”
Pretend those hands were never in your hair. “Yeah. Busy in here tonight.”
“Is there room for one more at the bar?”
Pretend you didn’t come inside her so hard, your knees buckled. I recovered enough to look around, and noticed the chair next to me was empty. Fuck.
My hesitation flustered her. “I’m taking off tomorrow, and I already cleaned out the fridge at the cottage, so—”
“Tomorrow? I thought you were here longer than that.” If she was leaving tomorrow, I’d be OK. Maybe.
“I was supposed to be here longer, but my mother called this afternoon, and there are some family issues…” She waved a hand in the air. “Anyway, I won’t bore you with it. But yes, leaving tomorrow. So this is my last night.”
“Oh.” Some of my nerves evaporated, and I nodded toward the empty chair. Now I simply had to keep it casual. Light. No touching. “No one’s sitting here. If you’re not still mad at me, you can sit.”
Laughing, she slid onto the seat and set her purse at her feet. “I’m not mad. You apologized. We can be friends.”
“Friends, huh?” I side-eyed her. “I don’t know if I can be friends with a city girl.”
She smiled. “If I can be friends with a cocky, know-it-all farmer like you, you can handle a sweet little city girl like me.”
“Sweet—ha.” I took a long pull on my beer, and damn if she didn’t stare at my mouth the entire time.
“Can I get you something?” the bartender asked her.
“Uh.” Her cheeks grew a little pink as she realized what she’d been doing. “Can I see a wine list? And a menu?”
While she chose a drink and some food, I studied her covertly. She wore the sandals from last night, this time with pink shorts that made her legs look even longer, and a white blouse. Her hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders, and I had to stop myself from leaning over to smell it.
“Have you eaten already?” she asked me.
“Yeah. Earlier at home. I just came up here to get out of the house a little. Every now and then I have to remind myself to do it.”
She nodded. “I get that.”
“You live alone?” I asked her, feeling braver since her departure was imminent. No harm in getting to know her a little better at this point, right?
“Yes.” She swirled her wine around in her glass. “But my family lives close. Not as close as yours,” she said, grinning, “but close.”
“They do live close—too close sometimes.” I grimaced and lifted my beer again. “But I love having my nephew there. He’s so fucking cute. I took him to the park today.”
She placed a hand over her heart. “Awww. Did you?”
“Yeah, he loves the park. He never wants to leave.”
“So cute. And you’re so good with him—I heard you have the magic touch.”
Our eyes met. “The magic touch, huh?”
The blush in her cheeks deepened.
I looked at her lips, and my thoughts strayed into dangerous territory. It would be so easy to kiss her right now. So easy. My entire body tightened up, and I gripped the beer bottle tight.
I couldn’t. We were in public, this was a small town, and rumors would fly. They’d probably fly already, just because we were sitting together. I tossed back the rest of my beer, the moment passed, and she cleared her throat before taking a sip of wine.
Just talk to her, asshole. “You’ll be glad to know I apologized to Pete and Georgia. Told them I’d be willing to consider their ideas. Your ideas.”
She gasped as she set her glass down. “Did you really? That’s great—I bet they were so happy.”
“They were.”
Her head tilted. “Can I ask about the change of heart?”
I took some time with my reply. “I did a lot of thinking last night. Some of the things you said sort of sank in.”
“Really?” She sat up taller, her face lighting up. “What did I say?”
“You said something about changes making people happy, and I realized I didn’t want to be responsible for standing in the way of their dreams.” I studied the label on my empty beer bottle. “And I thought about what Steph would do if she were in my place.”
“Oh.”
I kept my focus on the bottle in my hand, tilting it this way and that. “I know she’d support them. She was completely unselfish.”
Margot took another drink of wine and said, “Tell me more about her.”
I blinked at her. Seriously? She wanted to hear about my late wife? Not only did it seem strange in light of what we’d done last night, but no one ever asked me about Steph. “What do you want to know?”
Margot shrugged and smiled. “Anything. I know she was short and cute and loved her boots, but what was she like?”
Exhaling, I tried to come up with words that would do her justice. “Feisty. Energetic. So damn smart. She was accepted at three different medical schools. Granted scholarships at all of them.”
“Wow! I didn’t realize she was a doctor.”
“She wasn’t. She didn’t go to med school, said she’d changed her mind.” Which her parents had always blamed on me, even if they never said it outright.
She drank again. “Tell me more.”
“She was stubborn as hell. Once she made up her mind about something, she never wavered. None of us could talk her into going to school.”
“She must have wanted something else more,” Margot said pointedly.
“I guess.” I shrugged, feeling guilty again. “Me. The farm.”
“I take it you feel bad about that?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Sometimes. But she had me convinced it really was what she wanted. And if she wanted something, she never gave up, and she didn’t care what people thought. She was a firecracker.”
“Ha. I like her.”
“Everyone liked her.”
She smiled again, a little sadly. “Were you high school sweethearts?”
“No. She was two years younger than me, and I thought she was a pest. I’d known her since we were kids, though. And I knew she had a crush on me, but I never looked at her that way until I was out of school.”
“Did you go to college?”
I nodded as the bartender offered me another beer. “For a year, but it wasn’t for me. I hated being in a classroom. I was restless and bored. Then 9/11 happened, and I joined the Army.”
“Really,” she said, as if she’d never heard of such a thing. “And how long were you in the military?”
“Eight years.”
“Wow. And she waited for you?” Her eyes went wide.
I nodded, smiling ruefully at the memory of her insisting she’d wait for me, even though I told her not to. “She did. Swore she would, and she did. I mean, she went to college while I was gone, but we kept in touch, saw each other when we could.”
“And you got married when you came home?”
I nodded, taking a sip of the new beer. “We got married after my dad died. About five years ago.”
She propped her elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand. “Tell me how you proposed.”
I grinned at the memory. “Actually, she proposed to me.”
Her head came off her hand, her lips opening in surprise. “Now way. Really?”
“Really.
She knew we were right for each other and I wasn’t one for ceremony. I’d probably have just asked her in the chicken coop or something.”
Margot rolled her eyes. “You and that chicken coop. Thank goodness she had more of a sense of romance than you.”
“You don’t think the chicken coop is romantic?” I slapped a palm to my cheek. “I’m shocked.”
“No, I don’t.” She poked me in the chest. “Now go on.”
“About what?”
“The proposal!” She slapped my shoulder this time, rolled her eyes. “Sheesh!”
“Oh, right.” But I was distracted by the way she kept touching me. “Uh, she asked me at the cabin. Brought me breakfast in bed on my birthday and there was a little note on the tray that said ‘Marry Me.’”
Again she put a hand over her heart, and her expression went wistful. “So sweet.”
I felt some heat in my face, remembering how things had gone after that. I’d said of course I would—promised to love her and take care of her forever, the way she’d been taking care of me. We’d made love over and over again that day, on the bed, on the floor, in the shower, on the kitchen table. I never felt safer or more sure of myself than when I was lost inside her. I missed that feeling so much. And I missed taking care of someone. “Yeah. It was.”
“Was she your first love?”
I hesitated before going on. It felt a little odd to be talking about this with Margot, but it was also kind of nice. And as long as conversation stayed on the topic of Steph and our marriage, I was safe from other, less honorable thoughts. “Definitely. I was a typical guy in my teens, totally uninterested in any emotional attachments. But when I joined the Army, it kind of forced me to reevaluate what mattered in life. I realized what I had in her. And when I got out…” I paused, nervous to reveal too much of myself but unable to deny that it felt good somehow. Just keep it focused on Steph. “I kind of struggled to adjust, and losing my dad made it worse. Steph was there for me. She pushed me to get better.”
After We Fall Page 11