Blue Moon Over Bliss Lake
Page 5
She’s going out? He immediately Googled Tunes and Brews. Hmm, interesting place. Maybe he’d have to check it out. Tonight.
Chapter Three
Garlands of autumn leaves hung over the tiny stage where Rosalie sat on a barstool, holding her blue guitar, crooning into the microphone. Her acoustic rendition of Fell in Love With a Boy and her soulful and heartfelt Patty Griffin songs stung Sierra’s soul. She’d never guessed her friend’s voice had grown so powerful, infused with such emotion it captivated every person in the audience. Tunes and Brews dedicated itself to bringing the best of both music and microbrew beer to Bliss, and Rosalie must have helped build the reputation. The place was packed, and at every song’s end, whistles and howling accompanied the applause.
Her friend’s prediction had proved accurate—more than half the audience was men. Men her age. Handsome men. Men with whom most single females would eagerly flirt.
So why didn’t they interest her? Why, every time the door opened, did she search to see who’d entered?
You’re hopeless. The only cure was to do what Rosalie advised: put herself out there, and the first step was actually talking to a man. A terrifying prospect, but the sooner she crossed that hurdle, the better.
At the end of a song, Sierra rose and weaved her way through the bistro tables toward the bar, meeting the gazes of a few men along the way. One showed up beside her as she asked the bartender for a refill.
His arm brushed hers. “You should try the house specialty beer. It’s very tasty.” The way he looked her over, he wanted to taste her.
Hair’s too long. Nostrils too large. Nice brown eyes, if slightly puppyish.
She stared as he gulped from his refilled mug and licked the foam from his upper lip. The memory of Carter’s tongue along her neck gave her the shivers.
“Are you cold?” The guy’s hand warmed her back.
“No, I’m fine.” She shifted away, then caught his disappointed expression. “So you like the beer they brew here?”
He settled his elbows against the bar. “Yeah, for the most part. I bet you’d like the Autumn Spice Lager.”
“I’m actually not much of a beer person. I only came tonight to listen to my friend perform.”
“Rosalie? She’s great, isn’t she?” His knee grazed her leg.
She eased away. “Yes, I had no idea how good until tonight.”
“Really? How long have you been friends?”
“Since fifth grade.” It shamed her to admit she’d been ignorant for so long.
“And you didn’t know how good she was?” His small grunt indicated confusion.
“I’ve been away.” And didn’t let anyone in her life. How selfish, not to have supported her dearest friend.
The door opened, and she strained to see who entered. Someone tall. Damn the autumn decorations, the strands of leaves hid his face. She half-heard the guy beside her say something.
“What?” she asked absently.
He repeated it as Carter stepped into view. He stopped at the end of the bar and signaled the server, who produced a beer. Sipping it, he stared at her.
“Hello?” The guy said in a mix of sarcasm and frustration.
She winced. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Never mind.” He grabbed the mug off the counter and shoved away into the crowd.
Strike one. Way to make an impression my first week back in town.
On stage, Rosalie announced a short break, and women meandered to the rest rooms, while men gathered in groups. Carter headed for her. He came here to see me? Or Rosalie? The closer he got, the more wound up her nerves became, each step twisting them another turn. Tightening. Air. Too. Thick. Hot.
Forcing even breaths in and out, she hurried to Rosalie and Paul, interrupting a kiss when she bumped the table.
“Sorry.” Steadying it, and herself, she said, “You’re amazing, Rosalie.”
“You’re so sweet. But are you okay?” She turned toward Carter. “Oh wow, look who’s here. Carter.” Rising, she waved him over. “What a cool surprise.”
Cool? Definitely not. Her heartbeat ratcheted up to a can-can rhythm. She’d forgotten most dance steps. But the way his hips moved while he navigated between the tables…she fanned the sudden flush of heat away.
“Hi,” Carter said to Sierra then leaned across to kiss Rosalie’s cheek. “I had no clue you played so well. And your voice is incredible.”
A blush tinged her cheeks. “Such a gentleman, you are.”
Sierra couldn’t help staring. What’s he doing in Bliss at all? She’d never dreamed he’d really show up that night. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands while Rosalie introduced him to Paul, first clasping them like a nun in prayer, then wanting to project an aura of cool, grasped the back of a chair and cocked her elbow out. No, now she was ready to punt a volleyball, for goodness’ sake. She settled her hands in front of her, loosely clasped. Carter’s presence ratcheted up her self-consciousness.
“Sit.” Paul gestured her toward the seat she stood by. “Please.”
Sinking into it, she reached for her glass, then knocked over Paul’s bottle. “Sorry,” she whispered, mopping it with her napkin.
Carter nudged her. “Hey, good to see you.”
God, it was so good to see him, too, better than it should have been. “Is your wife joining you in town for the holiday?” Ack, what’s wrong with you?
All good humor left him. “No.”
Rosalie shot her an indecipherable look. “Grab a seat, Carter.”
No, no, please no. Her mute pleadings went unheeded. He pulled up a chair and wedged in beside her, his leg grazing hers. “Sorry.”
Flashing him a terse smile, she scooted over. Heads together, Rosalie and Paul made their own little universe where no one else was invited, apparently.
“So,” Carter said. “This place is new, huh?”
She wished she’d ordered a stronger drink. “They built it a few years ago, according to the menu.” Could she be any more boring? And could he smell any better? Was that sandalwood? It reminded her of the desert. A camel ride under the stars. God, he’d make an amazing sheik with those dark eyes blazing under a white head wrap.
He scanned the room. “Nice.”
Get a grip! Knee bouncing, she stared at the exit, wishing she could make a hasty one before she made a fool of herself. “When are you leaving?”
“Depends. How long are you staying?” He grinned, the same way he used to when he teased her. And expected her to tease him back.
Tonight was not the night for games. Or girlish daydreams. “That has nothing to do with it.”
His smile remained steady, but his brows furrowed. “I didn’t say it did.”
Then why did he look so damn pleased with himself? Why did her thoughts scatter as soon as he turned those intense eyes her way? “I’d better go.”
All smugness fled. “So soon?”
“I have to get up early for work. Don’t you?” Why had he come to Bliss? Excitement fluttered along her nerves.
He picked at the label from the beer bottle. “My schedule’s flexible. One of the perks.”
“Of owning your own business. Right.”
“Actually, it’s more of a downside. I tend to work around the clock. I’m always connected.”
Connected to his work. But what about his marriage? “Too bad.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It must be hard on your personal life. You don’t get to spend much time with your wife.” It went against her nature to be rude, but she couldn’t help it. What was he doing there? Hanging out, so casual, acting as if their past hadn’t been severed. As if he hadn’t abandoned her, abandoned Bliss, ten years ago. As if he weren’t Carter Grove, bajillionaire, and not exactly an eligible bachelor.
His smile thinned and hardness glittered in his eyes. “Her choice, not mine.”
“She doesn’t mind you going out without her?” Why push him? Because I have to know.
Too bad the subject was a living, breathing woman. One with feelings.
She wound her scarf around her neck. “Like I said, time to go.”
“Sierra, wait. Let me buy you a drink.”
Alcohol wouldn’t make her forget, only remember. She’d rather not. “Good night.”
He started to rise. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
She waved off the offer. “I didn’t drive.”
He stood anyway. “Then I’ll give you a lift home.”
“No.”
“It’s not safe.”
“Seriously? We’re in Bliss, remember?” Getting a chill would be the worst that might happen. She had a cure for that, and it didn’t include a married guy, even one so handsome. Even one whose touch still reached so deep inside her, it left a warm impression, like a handprint.
He shifted his stance, and everything about him softened at once—except his focus on her. “I remember.”
Spoken with strong emotion, those two words packed such a punch, she had to brace herself.
For a moment, the world fell away and they were teenagers again. He looked ready to ease in for a long, lingering kiss, the kind that made her melt into his arms. His eyes held deep love, complete and intense and full of promise.
He gave that promise to someone else. Reality snapped her back to the present, and left her queasy. Never had she imagined he could cheat, on anyone.
She steeled her emotions. “Take a seat, Carter.”
Still staring, he eased onto the chair.
When she flashed a sad smile, he gripped the table as if to stand again, but she held up a hand for him to stay and shook her head.
His brow knit, and he slumped back.
A few backward steps took her closer to the door then she headed for the exit like it was the door to her sanity about to close. Why did he have to be the only man who understood her so fully without having to say a word? I will not let him get to me. Unfortunately, no other guys got to her either. Not the way Carter knew how to.
Used to. All in the past. Best to leave it there.
Outside, she welcomed the blast of cold air that hit her. It spurred her to walk faster, away from the brewery, away from her past.
So why did it feel like her past was catching up to her?
***
Déjà vu. If she’d given him the slightest indication she wanted him to follow, Carter would have snapped it up. She hadn’t glanced back once. Despite all the cheery decorations, all the people, the room held no warmth without her.
“Hey,” Rosalie bent her head to catch his attention. “Don’t look so down.”
He raised his glass. “Here’s to Bliss.” Yeah, right. He’d need more than a freaking road map to find the real thing.
Rosalie squeezed his wrist. “Are you all right?”
“Sure.” If all right included being a total loser.
“She needs time to heal.” Rosalie’s soft voice reminded him Sierra had suffered a tragic loss less than a year earlier. Grieving took time, yes, but he sensed her reluctance. “Wish it were that simple. I’d wait forever.”
Rosalie tucked her hands beneath the table. “Like you did last time?”
Her words pricked him deeply. “I was young and stupid. Now I know what we had was a once-in-a-lifetime relationship. All I want is a chance.”
She pursed her lips. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Her tone was meant to prod him, but the reason escaped him. “What?”
She blinked her eyes wider. “You’re married, Carter.”
Funny how it slipped his mind. He’d gone through the motions for so long, and every day he and Barbara grew further apart. At first he’d passed off her distance as a gimmick, something for the show, but her vehemence toward him on camera had soon become her attitude in real life. They could barely hold a conversation.
“My marriage is a sham.” The first time he admitted it aloud. It felt good. Freeing.
“Not legally.” All softness left Rosalie’s voice.
“You’re right.” Why hadn’t Barbara answered his text? Time to take control of the situation. Pulling out his cell, he scrolled through his contacts and pressed the number for her attorney. One ring and the man answered. “Hey, Steve. It’s Carter. Did Barbara let you know I’ll sign the divorce papers? No?” What the hell? He couldn’t wait on her. “I’ll text you an address so you can overnight them to me.” He signed off and slid the cell back into his pocket. “It should make her day. She can’t wait to get rid of me.”
Rosalie shook her head as if to clear it. “If your wife wanted a divorce, why didn’t you give it to her?”
He grimaced. “One divorce is more than anyone should have to endure.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I fought as long as I could for my marriage.” Even though it wasn’t worth the struggle. And he wouldn’t fight the inevitable any longer.
Her tone conspiratorial, Rosalie leaned in to ask, “Is your wife really as awful as she seems on television?”
“Now she is, yes.” What happened to the smart, savvy woman he’d fallen for? Kind and nurturing when they were dating, she acted out her Unhappy Housewives role as seriously as if vying for an Oscar.
Rosalie heaved a long sigh. “Wow. I feel like we should have a moment of silence or something.”
“Why?”
She squeezed his arm. “You just took a life-altering step. A huge leap into the unknown.”
“Sometimes the unknown is preferable.” Bitterness burst out on a breath and lasted only as long. He had something tangible to work toward. Something worthwhile.
“Weird,” she said, absently.
“What?”
“Sierra’s doing the same thing. She came home to start her life over. And now you’re starting your life over, too.”
Maybe déjà vu hadn’t been so far off the mark, then. Was that why he’d come back, too? All the repressed disappointment, all the unfulfilled personal hopes, he’d told himself were payment for his success.
Bullshit on that. He wanted the package deal. “We all deserve happiness, don’t we?”
Rosalie raised her glass. “Exactly. And it’s about damn time we all found it.” She smiled at Paul.
Hope had Carter in its delirious clutches. A chance to talk to Sierra. Spend some time with her. Show her he was still the same guy. That’s all he needed.
“No.” Rosalie’s seriousness surprised him.
“What?” Had he said it out loud? He hadn’t meant to.
“You can’t be the same guy.” She poked his arm with each point. “That guy left her heartbroken ten years ago. If you want her back, you have to show her you’re the new, improved Carter.”
“I have learned some things since leaving Bliss.” Namely, that he never should have left.
“Hallelujah. You can be saved.” She leaned closer, a sweet-faced menace with blonde curls. “But if you break her heart again, Carter….”
“I won’t.” He tried to contain a grin. “I’m ready.” Leaving may have been his worst mistake, but coming home was the best decision he’d made in years.
***
The digital clock read 4:15 when Sierra’s head finally hit the pillow. In two hours, she’d have to get up to help at the store. How had a brief encounter with Carter unsettled her so much? Her mind whirled with memories of their time together. Dreams disturbed what brief half-sleep she managed—vivid dreams of Carter’s arms tight around her, his breath warming her skin, her heart racing as longing pulsed through her veins. Each time she woke to an empty bed, loneliness and frustration haunted her worse than ever. His presence caused her heart to turn cartwheels and her brain to go MIA.
Well too bad, he’s married. Another memory pinged to the forefront: their first date. Carter had surprised her with tickets to see U2, he
r first concert in a large stadium. Who should end up a few rows behind them but Tammy Sorensen, the girl Carter had split up with months earlier. The girl who stalked him, who claimed he was still hers, whose presence grated their nerves so badly, they’d beat an early exit from the concert.
Strange how history repeated itself. She could practically feel Carter’s wife shooting her the evil eye long distance from California.
By 4:15, after a fitful sleep, she readied for work. Arriving at The Sweet Spot, she found customers lounged on the sofa, or waited at the counter.
Her mother’s look of alarm reminded her how awful she appeared. Ellie drew her aside. “Are you sick, honey?”
Sick at heart. “No, I stayed up too late. It’s my own fault.” For spending time with Carter. It only set her back and she needed to move forward.
Mom nodded. “Can you take the counter today? I’m betting we’ll have more takeouts than usual with the holiday tomorrow.”
“Sure.” She put on a perky face and took orders, but it drooped when Carter walked in.
He strode toward her with determination. Damn if he didn’t look like a movie star, his strong jaw set, every step giving his hair a gentle swish, jeans molding to his legs to accentuate every muscle….
Stop it! She snapped out of it in time to exude a professional air. “What can I get you, sir?”
His brows furrowed in anger. “I’d like to talk to you.”
Angry? He had no right to be. Sweetly, she said, “I’m working.”
He set his mouth in a grim line. “Fine. I’ll wait at a booth until you have a break.”
She recognized the stubborn expression. “I’m afraid you can’t loiter here.” When a few customers appeared surprised, she felt ridiculous. Her parents had an unwritten policy that always encouraged people to stay as long as they wished.
He took a deep breath. “Okay then, may I have a large coffee?”
Grateful for something to do, she filled a takeout cup and handed it to him. “One fifty.” She straightened the fundraising jug to appear busy.
“Who are your parents collecting for now?” He peeled two dollars from his pocket.