by Zoe Mullins
The server brought over a Smoked Baltic Porter and a half-liter of red wine, along with a starter of stuffed mushrooms with clams.
Where Cait had been worried that the conversation would be strained, Patrick made sure that never happened. He accompanied each course, pulling up a chair and telling them how he had chosen the recipe and ingredients. When Patrick wasn’t with them, and they weren’t eating, they talked about the studio, the construction company or the town and what had changed over the years.
“This has been a lot of fun,” Cait said as they finished the duck.
“Patrick’s cooking is award winning. He earned several medals prior to moving here to open Savour.”
“How much did you have to invest in this place to encourage him to move?”
Jackson laughed, obviously surprised that she realized what he’d done. It was a good move for the town and a good investment. Cait appreciated how he’d downplayed his involvement, thinking that was just like Jack.
“I was surprised you kept your aunt’s cottage.” Jacksontook a sip of water, changing the subject.
“I couldn’t get rid of it,” she admitted. “I kept it rented out and the extra money from the rent was invested in little upgrades to it.”
“You know it needs a new roof.”
She frowned. How could she not know when a large bucket sat in the middle of her bathroom, catching water each time it rained? “Don’t do it, Jackson,” she warned. It was exactly what he had done twelve years before when her aunt had died. He was Mr. Take Charge and he started taking charge of everything. Pretty soon, he had the next five years of her life planned out. Where she’d finish school and intern and get a job, and how she could keep the house, blah, blah, blah.
“Do what?” he asked innocently.
“Don’t start taking over.”
“I don’t make the same mistakes twice,” he replied coolly, but he could tell she didn’t believe him. Her hand was tense in his and he knew she was fighting the urge to snatch it back.
“Finish your wine.” He tried not to make it an order, but damned if she wasn’t right. If he had his way, there would be a crew—his crew—out there tomorrow, putting a new roof on the place. And fixing the siding, replacing some windows, and maybe installing new front steps because those concrete ones needed new footings. “Patrick won’t let us look at dessert until our glasses are empty.”
She finished the last bit of her wine, and as soon as her glass was emptyPatrick was back to ask about dessert and drinks.
“I have two offerings tonight. I know Jackson would rather the cardamom brulée with candied cashews. But I think you are a chocolate woman. I have lemon patterned pound cake with dark-chocolate bark, blueberry pearls and coulis with crème anglaise.”
“That sounds amazing.”
Patrick smiled. “Tea or coffee? Or something else? A port would go nicely with that brulée.”
“I will stick to coffee tonight.”
“Then trust me when I say you will need a strong and bitter brew. And for you, lovely lady, something soothing. I have a black vanilla tea that should go nicely.”
After Patrick raced back to the kitchen, Jackson squeezed her hand. “Why the fidgeting?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“When you are alone with me for more than five minutes, you begin to fidget. I want to know why.”
“I’m not sure.”
He kept a loose hold on her hand. “Try again.”
She sighed and gave a small frown. “We’ve gotten all the way through dinner and you didn’t mention the dress.”
“I told you that you looked beautiful tonight, that the style suited you.” He narrowed his eyes. If Logan wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him, he thought, for keeping Cait so insecure.
“But it’s coral,” she said, and looked at him expectantly as if that was supposed to mean something. “Oh, never mind. I was just being stupid I guess.”
“First, you are never stupid. Something is bothering you and that’s okay. We talk about it. Second, so what if your dress is coral or peach or whatever. Why do you think this is an issue?”
“You said you still loved me in green.” She gestured with her hands at the dress and she explained. “This is not green.”
He exhaled as realization dawned. “I do love you in green. The green scarf you were wearing this afternoon was beautiful and brought out the flecks of green in your eyes.” He smiled, looking at her eyes now. “But I’m also enjoying you in this color,” he said gently. “I would probably love you in any color so long as I got to see all those sexy curves. Potato sack included.”
“Oh,” she said, and he felt her relax in her seat finally. “I thought…” She covered her face with her free hand.
“I understand what you thought.” He let go of her hand as the server brought over the drinks. Patrick wasn’t far behind with the desserts. Jackson gave him a meaningful glance.
Patrick left the sweets saying only, “Please enjoy.”
Once they were alone again Jackson continued, “I think I also know why you thought it.”
“I’ve been on pins and needles wondering if I disappointed you, and chastising myself because I care.”
“Logan was hard on you.” It wasn’t a question.
She shook her head. “He was very easy, if you did as he said.”
Jackson fought the urge to growl.
“No, don’t get mad at him,” she warned. “It’s just that Logan had rules. And you didn’t break the rules.”
“And if he had said he liked you in green, you would have worn something green.”
“Or I would have dropped everything to go out and buy something green.” She fiddled with the little teapot. “He didn’t tell me what to wear all the time. But when he did, he expected his request to be honored.”
“I can’t say I didn’t wonder what your life was like with him.” He sighed. “I would much rather see what you would pick out for yourself.”
“I’m still learning to do that. Pick things out for myself,” she told him, as she tried covertly to wipe a tear as it formed at the corner of her eye. “Logan made life very easy. He made most of the decisions.”
Jackson was beginning to realize how incredibly hard this last year must have been for her. After having relatively little say to be suddenly responsible again for making each decision on her own.
“From what I see you are doing very well making your own decisions.” He poured her tea. He had learned more than he wanted to know. About his friend, and their marriage. And she had honestly thought Logan was the lesser of two evils. At one time he might have been, but it sounded as if the more successful his friendgot, the more controlling he got too.
He reached over, and using her fork, cut a piece of her dessert and offered it to her. She opened her mouth and let him feed her. “That’s better,” he said. “If Patrick sees that we’re not eating like gluttonous bastards he’ll be disappointed.” He left the fork on her plate and then took a bite of his own dessert.
Cait smiled and cut another piece of dessert. “I’m not sure what I expected but I’ve had a nice time tonight. Nicer than any I remember for quite a while.”
That simple admission was a kick to Jackson’s gut.
“Me too.” He told her. “It’s been a hectic spring, what with all the rain. I haven’t had a chance to do this in a long time.”
Cait nodded in understanding. “I know. It seems as if I’ve been working nonstop. Between the move, my certification, and taking a crash course in business management, I don’t think I’ve taken a break except to watch a movie with Sophie.”
“You’ve done a good job at reinventing yourself here.”
“I have a poster in the studio,” she told him excitedly. “It says life isn’t about finding yourself, it’s about creating yourself. I think that’s what I’ve been doing this year. Creating the person I want to be and the life I want to have.”
Whether it was the woman sh
e was, or the woman she was creating, he knew he still loved her. But the question was how, after she had worked so hard to carve out her independence, could he ask her to step back into his world? To cede some level of control to him? He wondered how to get her back without clipping her newfound wings.
Chapter Three
Cait was cross-legged on the floor. She was trying to distract herself, but her mind kept going back to the note she had found slipped under the door this morning. “You don’t belong hear, bitch!” Here spelled h-e-a-r. At least the note told her one thing the other two hadn’t. That whoever was sending them relied too much on their spellcheck.
She was still on the floor, feeling oddly superior thanks to that, and unpacking the new shipment of mats and blocks, when the bell over the door to the studio chimed. Cait tried to pop up quickly from where she sat but tripped on the box to fall right into Jackson. His arms wrapped around hers, holding her upright.
Her breath caught. She hadn’t seen him since he had dropped her off at home after dinner a few nights before. He had walked her to the door, hugged her, placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and left. She didn’t know how she felt about that. She supposed she should be glad he hadn’t pressed for more. You warned him not to take over, she reminded herself.
She straightened, trying to shake the packing tape off her sock. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I like coming to your rescue.” He chuckled, bending to pull away the tape.
“Ha, ha,” she said, putting the counter between them now that she was free. “What can I do for you?”
“I was thinking lunch.” He held up the bag he had brought with him. “Sandwiches from the deli across the street.”
“I don’t really take a lunch.”
“Yes you do.” He looked at his watch. “You always close the studio between two and two forty-five if you don’t have a salesgirl in.”
“Stalker much?” she mumbled.
“It’s a small town,” he replied with a smile.
It was one of those devastating smiles that lit up his eyes. She couldn’t say no. “Then you know I usually take a walk on the beach or down the street to the park.”
He gestured out the back door where the wind was whipping the sand across the beach. “Unless you like actual sand in your sandwich, I would suggest the park.”
When she still hesitated, he looked at his watch. “Let’s go. I have a three o’clock meeting I can’t be late for.”
“Yes sir.” She laughed, grabbing her sweater and turning the sign on the door to Closed.
Five minutes later she was biting into a Montreal smoked meat with Swiss and hot mustard on rye. “I can’t believe you remembered.” It had been years since she’d had one of these.
“I remember the important things,” he said, taking a bite of his own. “Do you remember the first time we snuck away for lunch?”
She grinned. Yeah, she remembered. He’d driven her out to the lake where his father had purchased a parcel of land and he had needed to take a look to figure out what they could do with it. How they would parcel it out.
She didn’t remember how they had started fooling around, but she remembered his breath hot in her ear as he told her how he’d been thinking about the feel her lipsaroundhis cock. Next thing she knew, she was on her knees in front of him. His hard cock between her lips as he had taught her how to take all of him. She had always prided herself on being a quick study, and she had felt a swell of pride to feel him shooting his cum down her throat.
“I remember what we did there,” she told him, as she watched him shift uncomfortably, trying to hide his erection. “That was a long time ago.”
“Are we going to talk about it?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “It’s water under the bridge.”
“No, it’s not.” He put down his sandwich. “It never will be.”
No, it never would. Even though she had cut him out of her life pretty thoroughly when she’d left St. Augustin with Logan, he’d always been there. A part of her marriage. A part of her husband. A part of her soul.
Sometimes she resented the hell out of him. And sometimes she had missed him so badly. She wished he’d been around for her to lean on, to talk to, to temper Logan’s outbursts. They had been a good team. Everyone said so. And she was the one who had come between them.
“He regretted it, you know.” She turned slightly on the bench to look out over the river. “That he hadn’t taken you up on your offer to stay here, to be your partner even though he hated this town.”
“He found his own success,” Jackson offered.
“So had you. He hadn’t expected that.” During that first year, Logan had kept expecting Jackson to show up on their doorstep. She told him that.
“I did what I had to do,” Jackson reminded her.
Logan hated his family, and they had given him every reason to. Dysfunctional was an understatement, even compared to her own. It’s why Logan had spent most of his time at Jack’s house growing up, and why he couldn’t wait to escape to university. Why he had never suggested to Cait that they come back here to vacation.
Jackson’s family and his relationship to them was different. But even knowing how close Jackson was to his parents, Logan couldn’t understand why Jack had felt obligated to come back and take over the business when his dad had gotten sick.
Once Jackson’s father had recovered from his stroke, he had stayed on to run Steele Construction, letting his parentstake time off together. His father, she knew, finally retired from the business completely five years ago.
“You belonged here, anyone could see that.” She put her hand over his. “No one thought twice about you coming back. You and your family have a place here, a position.”
“You could have had a place here too,” he reminded her.
“My aunt was part of this community. I wasn’t.” She shook her head. “I would have always been living down my mother’s reputation. The church ladies were all waiting and watching for me to go wild and become like her.”
“You were wild. The church ladies just didn’t know it.” He winked at her and she laughed.
“True.”
He pressed. “So that doesn’t explain why you left.”
“It was too much, too soon.” She shrugged. It had seemed so reasonable at the time. Goaway and get a little space between them. Breathe.
“Too soon?”
She heard the tinge of anger in his voice. It was a weak excuse. She knew that, but she had never come up with a good reason for why she ran. She was just scared, and Logan gave her an out.
“You left and two weeks later you married Logan in Vegas.”
“What do you want me to say? That I made a mistake?”
“Did you?” He caught her chin when she would have turned away, and forced her to look at him. “Was it a mistake?”
“Sometimes,” she snapped, squeezing her eyes shut to stem the tears threatening to flow. “But the rest of the time, I knew that I was the only person Logan loved and trusted, except for you.”
Jack let her chin go, and would have turned from her but she reached out and held his cheek so he would look at her. She had to make him understand. “Logan could be an arrogant showoff, demanding respect he felt he deserved. And I could give him that. But he was also a wounded little boy, looking for acceptance. And I could love him for that. I understood that.”
She didn’t expect the tenderness in his eyes. “He hurt you.”
“Those you love are in the best position to hurt you. It’s unavoidable.” She meantLogan. She meantJackson. Hell, she even meant herself.
When Jackson didn’t say anything, she sighed and looked at her watch. “I have to get back to work.” She grabbed the remainder of the sandwich—she couldn’t afford to let good food go to waste—and headed back to the studio, alone.
Chapter Four
She swung the door open expectantly, took one look at him, and shut it in his face. “Son of a bitch,” she thou
ght aloud. She wasn’t sure who she was expecting but it wasn’t Jackson. She hadn’t talk to him since they’d had lunch the other day. It hadn’t ended well, and she feared Logan would always be there between them.
“Cait.” He knocked again. “Come on, open up.”
She opened the door again, not as widely. “What do you want?”
“Cliché, I know,” he said, holding the bouquet of flowers out in front of him. “But I also know that you could never resist tiger lilies.”
She leaned in and took a sniff, before looking up at him. “Okay.” She took the flowers from him. “Thank you.” She stood in the doorway, unsure what to do next.
Jackson finally broke the silence by asking, “Are you afraid I’ll attack you once the door is closed?”
“No, it’s just that—” She was unsure what she meant to say. “The place is a mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Caitlin.” When he said her name it sounded like honey. Smooth and thick and rich. She hated when he used that tone on her, because she couldn’t resist it. “Go put the flowers in water.”
She finally opened the door wide to let him in as she headed toward the kitchen.
As she filled the vase with water, she watched as his eyes took note of everything. She didn’t doubt that he remembered well the house he spent so much time in that summer. After her aunt had passed away, he had lived here more than he had lived with his parents.
She had given the main living area a bit of a facelift when she moved back in. It was shabby chic because that was what she could afford and it was what she liked. She had painted the walls white, as were the sofas. The wood was a warm gray brown. It made it easy to change the color of the accessories when the mood struck her. Right now, the room was awash with accents of orange and red. From the pillows, throws, candles and vases, to the fresh flowers he’d brought her. The house represented to Cait a clean slate. A chance to start fresh.
“Caitie.” He stopped her as she put the vase of flowers on the coffee table. “Where’s your furniture?”
“You are looking at it,” she said with a frown.