Butterfly Cove

by Christina Skye

  She reached down for the file folder with the shop yarn orders and winced as pain shot through her shoulder. The pain reminded her that she had at least a week of rest before she would feel even close to normal.

  “Livie, what’s wrong?” Jilly scowled at her. “I told you not to lift anything. That’s what we’re here for. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because I forgot, okay? I was distracted, thinking about the yarn shop and how beautiful it will be. I forgot that I’m a helpless mess.”

  “You’re not helpless and you’re not a mess. You did a brave thing in the storm. So stop arguing when we try to help you.” Jilly picked up the box of sorted yarn and carried it to the nearby counter. She read each tag and put the ball in its color-coded shelf. “Besides, the lasagna is almost finished. I also think you should sleep here tonight. We have that spare bedroom nearly finished on the second floor. If you have a problem or need anything, you won’t be alone.” Jilly glanced at her watch. “Now it’s almost time for you to take a pain pill.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes, but secretly enjoyed Jilly’s concern. Olivia’s role had always been to handle details quietly. She was usually the organized, capable one who worked without drama or attention.

  Jilly crossed her arms, ready for a fight. “Well?”

  “Well, it’s a good idea. I’ll stay.”

  Jilly looked surprised that Olivia hadn’t argued. Before she could say anything else, car lights swept across the front porch. Jilly smiled. “It’s Walker. Let’s get ready to eat.”

  A second set of car lights swept the front of the Harbor House.

  Olivia glanced at the door as footsteps hammered across the porch. Walker opened the door and Olivia saw that he was nearly hidden behind a stack of boxes from the post office. “Mail delivery. I’m guessing this is more yarn. Why you would need more yarn is beyond me.”

  Olivia stiffened when she saw the tall figure who followed Walker inside, carrying more boxes. She felt heat flood across her face.

  Jilly took some boxes from Walker and carried them to the far wall of the yarn shop. “Rafe has been working around the clock. I figured it was our civic duty to feed the new deputy.”

  Olivia shifted restlessly. It had been one thing when she lay in the hospital, hazy with pain pills. It was another thing entirely to face Rafe now, clearheaded and acutely aware of their tangled past. The whole thing was awkward—and stirred up far too many emotions better left forgotten.

  Rafe put down his pile of boxes and turned slowly, studying Olivia’s face. “Is my being here a problem?” he asked quietly. “If you’d rather I go...”

  “No.” Olivia answered in a breathless rush. “It’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “You tell me.” Rafe’s voice was rough. “You’re the one who looks like she was just broadsided by a truck.”

  Did she really look that way? Or was it only Rafe who could see through her?

  Somehow he had always been able to see through her.

  “What makes you think you’re so important? I’m hearing a Carly Simon song here.”

  The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched. He leaned down, his face inches from her mouth. Slowly he picked up the heating pad that had fallen onto the floor at her feet.

  “This isn’t going to do much good on your feet.” The soft fabric curved over her shoulder. Olivia felt the brush of Rafe’s fingers.

  That simple touch hit her hard, leaving her breathless and off-kilter. It had always been that way. If Rafe was in the same room, she felt it. As a girl, she hadn’t understood where that kind of desire could lead.

  But Olivia was grown-up now. She knew exactly how passion could dull your logic...and open you to heartbreak.

  She pushed away a flood of memories. “Is there something I can do, Jilly?” She ignored Rafe. “Maybe I should get the napkins—”

  “You just sit there, rest and entertain Rafe,” Jilly called. “Tell him all about the yarn shop. I’m sure he’ll be fascinated by the fiber density and staple count of merino in comparison to alpaca,” Jilly said dryly.

  Then she vanished back into the kitchen, rattling pans and laughing with Walker.

  Olivia looked down at her hands. She couldn’t think of anything to say. Once she could have spoken about any subject with him.

  She cleared her throat. “You must be exhausted from dealing with this storm.”

  Rafe rubbed his neck. “One day normal, the next day traffic pileup and roads closed. This one storm could drain half the state’s total winter-road budget.” He walked to the window, studying the sweeping green lawns that led down to the rugged coast. “You four have really made something remarkable here. All I remember about this place is boarded-up windows, weeds in the grass and graffiti on the sidewalk. But you four always did have great vision, didn’t you? You saw what this place could become. That takes guts.”

  Olivia felt her jangling nerves relax slightly. “It hasn’t come cheap. The house was in worse shape than any of us realized. Given its historical designation, we’ve been limited in the materials and kind of improvements that we can make. Jilly just told me that she wants to add a conservatory on the south side of the house so she can cater private weddings and have upscale brunches in the summer. It’s a fantastic idea—but it will be difficult to get zoning approval. The neighbors may object to the noise. There are groundwater issues to consider with a new business, and we need to maintain the house’s historic look. It will all be complicated.”

  “If anybody can smooth-talk the bureaucrats, it’s you,” Rafe said gravely. “You were always the one to talk your friends out of trouble. You always knew the right words to say.”

  Olivia stiffened. For some reason his description made her angry. “You mean, I was the town good girl, so no one could say no to me.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I—”

  Olivia cut him off. “Isn’t it? Well, let’s get this straight. I did my share of bad things growing up. Jilly wasn’t the only one who got into trouble. You make me sound like a sleazy manipulator.”

  Rafe shook his head. “I didn’t mean to. It was a compliment, believe me. It takes skill to calm people down. As I recall, you always had that skill.”

  Olivia couldn’t find anything to argue with there. But arguing seemed much safer than letting down her guard. “So what are your plans? I expect you’ll move on to more exciting places like South America or Asia. You always said you wanted to see the world.”

  Rafe looked at her gravely. “You remember that?” His voice hardened. “Then you should also remember that I wanted to go to those places with you. That never happened, did it?”

  Olivia took a sharp breath. Suddenly the room was filled with memories and unspoken emotions. “Not through any fault of mine.” Olivia stopped right there. The last thing she wanted was to open up old wounds. They couldn’t go back.

  Rafe had made that decision over a decade before.

  He rested an arm on the windowsill and studied her, eyes narrowed. “What about you, Livie? Did you ever see the world? I seem to recall that Italy was on the top of your list.”

  “I got to Italy. It was everything I’d expected. If things had been different...I might have stayed. There was an old olive mill that would have made an amazing bed-and-breakfast. I could have started a lavender farm and maybe raised some sheep.” She stopped, angry at how easy it was for him to draw her out.

  “So what happened?” Rafe frowned. “Why aren’t you in Italy right now raising those sheep?”

  “Because I have responsibilities. Because I made a promise to my friends and to myself. We’re going to get the Harbor House on its feet as a stable, long-term business. And because—”

  She looked away grimly. Her father’s financial choices had crippled her own plans for the future, and she didn’t have all the details yet.

  “What else?”

  Why was it a surprise that he could read her so easily and knew there was much more that she had not told him? That ha
d always been one of his skills. “My father died earlier this year. You might not have heard. I have his legal affairs to settle. Between that and the Harbor House opening, I won’t be free for any travel for the next couple of years. Pretty boring, isn’t it?”

  “Not boring. Not with the right person. With the right person, a little patch of mud can be heaven.”

  Olivia caught a breath. Was this the same Rafe talking? He had always been the first to get into trouble. The first to take a dare.

  And the first one to leave town, looking for new adventures.

  “I guess that’s the problem. Finding the right person isn’t easy.”

  Rafe stood up and walked to the row of black-and-white photographs that lined the walls outside the yarn shop. “This looks like Milan. Did you take these?”

  Olivia had forgotten about these photographs from her Italian trip. She didn’t want to discuss them with Rafe. There was too much of her heart captured on those carefully processed papers. “They’re mine. Something to remember my trip by.”

  “You loved it there, didn’t you?”

  Olivia simply nodded.

  “I can see it in the light and the way you captured the buildings.” Rafe ran a finger slowly along a photograph of the Piazza San Marco. “I hope you get back one day. I hope that life brings you everything you wished for, Livie. If anyone deserves it, you do.”

  Olivia was trying to muster an answer when Jilly emerged from the kitchen with a steaming platter of lasagna. “Come on and eat, you two. Everything is ready. Rafe, help Olivia, will you?” Jilly’s eyes narrowed. “She won’t admit it, but her shoulder is hurting again and she won’t ask for help.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE CONVERSATION FLOWED, punctuated by laughter and occasional arguing. Olivia had to admit that Rafe fit right in. Somehow they gathered up the threads of town gossip and old memories easily; Walker had to laugh more than once at their stories.

  She tried hard to relax, but it was impossible. His leg kept bumping against hers and their hands brushed as he poured water for her. Even those small contacts were excruciating to Olivia.

  “I was trying to tell Livie how good her photographs of Italy were. She shrugged it off.” Rafe finished a third piece of lasagna and pushed away his plate. He turned around, gesturing at a black-and-white photograph next to the table in the unfinished café. “I’d say that’s the bridge over the Arno.”

  “Have you been to Italy, Rafe?” Jilly poured more wine in Walker’s glass and then topped off Rafe’s. “I never knew Italy was on your to-do list.”

  “Oh, I had a very long to-do list in those days. I’ve narrowed it down quite a bit since then.” He glanced at Olivia. “I got to Italy once. It was only for a few days, but I managed to work in my own little Roman-history tour.”

  Olivia couldn’t process this. Rafe and Roman history? When did that start? “When were you there?”

  “After my first tour in Afghanistan, I wanted to kick the dust off my feet. I hit Italy and France. Then a few stops in Asia. I didn’t have anything holding me, so I figured I might as well travel.” There was something hard in his voice. Olivia glanced at Jilly and saw that she had heard it, too.

  “Try this, Rafe.” Jilly held out a piece of chocolate-espresso cake with whipped cream.

  “Haven’t you heard about high cholesterol?” He shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d better check in with the station. We’re understaffed right now. The lasagna was great, Jilly, but I should get going.”

  “You don’t want cake?” Jilly looked stunned.

  Rafe shook his head. “Thanks just the same.” He turned his hat in his hands. “You’ve done a great job here with the house. I’m sure you’ll make a big success of it. It strikes me that anything you four ladies agree on turns into a success. You always did stick together.”

  He glanced around the room for a moment and Olivia had the odd sense that he was memorizing the details as if he wanted to save them.

  But his eyes were cool and distant when he picked up his jacket and strode to the door, and he did not look back.

  * * *

  JILLY KEPT STARING at the door, confusion on her face. “Was it my cake? Does he have something against chocolate? Who refuses fresh chocolate cake?”

  Despite Jilly’s joking tone, the abruptness of Rafe’s departure left them all a little stunned.

  “Maybe he was tired.” Walker passed a slice of cake to Olivia and then cut two more pieces. “You heard what he said about being short staffed after the storm.”

  Jilly drummed her fingers on the table. “I don’t think that’s it. Didn’t you see how his face changed? He was looking around, measuring everything. I can’t figure out what happened.”

  Walker smiled and slid a hand over Jilly’s. “Then don’t try. You don’t have to be responsible for everyone. You don’t have to figure them out or straighten them out. He’s a grown man, honey.”

  Jilly huffed out a little breath. “Just as long it wasn’t my cake that sent him off. When people walk out on my food, I get grouchy.”

  Walker leaned down and kissed her gently. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll eat mine and his, too.”

  Jilly gave a muffled laugh and ran her hands through his hair, whispering softly.

  Olivia looked away, happy for them yet embarrassed to be the third wheel. But she figured she ought to get used to it. Being the third wheel would probably be a major part of her future.

  * * *

  MUCH LATER, AFTER she had awkwardly made her way upstairs, undressed and slid under the covers, Olivia allowed herself to think about Rafe.

  Jilly had insisted she take her last pain pill and now she was drifting somewhere between present and past, listening to rain patter on the window.

  She couldn’t lie to herself. She still felt the same sensual pull for Rafe. Time had not changed that chemistry. Several times that evening, when they had been talking, Olivia had the sense that Rafe was trying hard to sort out his own memories.

  She let her mind drift on, comforted by the murmur of the rain and the sound of the breakers beyond the point.

  Olivia told herself that she and Rafe might as well be strangers, but her body did not believe her.

  * * *

  THE SOUND OF hammering woke her early the next morning. She sat up abruptly and winced in pain from her shoulder.

  Slow down, she reminded herself. Displaced joint and torn ligaments, remember?

  She blinked as the noise outside grew louder. With small movements she stood up and moved to the window.

  A lean body in a black T-shirt and worn jeans perched at the end of a ladder, hammering a shutter in place right outside her window.

  Olivia couldn’t look away as the taut muscles at his shoulders rippled. Sweet heaven, he had always had an amazing body. Now it was harder and stronger than ever.

  Olivia watched Rafe work, every movement slow and controlled. His palm smoothed the new shutter and eased the wood into place. His broad hands were powerful and confident. Suddenly heat swirled in hidden, warm places that Olivia had almost forgotten.

  She forced her eyes away. There was nothing going on between them. Nothing was going to take place between them. She wouldn’t make another mistake in her life.

  No matter how tempting it might be.

  As if aware of her thoughts, Rafe turned around on the ladder. His cheeks were red from exercise and the cold wind, and Olivia thought he looked younger and less distant than he had the night before.

  When he went back to work, she found herself watching him again. Every one of his movements was smooth and methodical, as if he had done this kind of repair before. She had always wondered what he had done after leaving Summer Island. Town gossip had it that he had gone straight into the Marines, but now Olivia wasn’t so sure.

  She ran a hand through her hair and winced. Even that small movement sent pain radiating through her shoulder.

  There was a knock at her door. Paws raced alo
ng the corridor. “Duffy, stay. Are you up, Livie?”

  “Sure. Come on in.”

  The door opened, and Jilly’s big white dog bounded straight toward Olivia. She put up a hand, afraid he would knock her over, but Jilly’s loud order made the Samoyed freeze in his tracks.

  “Duffy, sit.”

  Amazingly, the command worked. Clearly, Jilly and Walker had been doing intensive work with obedience training.

  Another furry body appeared at the door. Walker’s trained service dog, Winslow, trotted across the room and sat down next to Duffy. Winslow was controlled and well behaved, while Duffy shivered with energy, eager to get up.

  The interaction seemed good for both of them. Duffy was learning control, while Winslow got a high-octane friend for long runs on the beach.

  Olivia reached down and rubbed Winslow’s ears carefully, then gave the same treatment to Duffy. She was finally starting to feel comfortable around the dogs. “Is your shoulder better?” Jilly looked anxious. “The doctor at the emergency care center said that I should call if the pain got worse. You’re not to lift anything for two weeks. They’ll reassess you after that.”

  Two weeks.

  Olivia was going to become a lunatic if she didn’t find something to keep herself occupied.

  “I’m fine.” Olivia forced her eyes away from the window as Rafe continued to work on the shutter.

  “He’s good with a hammer, isn’t he?” Jilly glanced out the window. “He volunteered to fix that banging shutter. No way was I saying no.” Jilly blew out a breath. “So where were we?”

  “With me being bored to death for two weeks while my shoulder heals,” Olivia said dryly.

  “Why don’t you take your camera and shoot some photographs of the Harbor House. I know you’ve been wanting to make an architectural record of the site, and Rafe was right. Your photographs are amazing, Livie. I think we should blow them up and frame them for the café. They would make a wonderful portrait of the house.”