Butterfly Cove

by Christina Skye

Olivia couldn’t seem to process the idea. Photography was a fun hobby that she picked up when she had a spare moment, but she’d never taken lessons or worked with any professional.

  “Why? I’m not trained.”

  “So what? You’re good. And if your shots are bad, you can just erase them. That is the beauty of a digital camera. At least it will keep you busy.”

  “My camera is at home. I may not be able to find it.”

  Jilly gave a guilty laugh. “Walker and I went over this morning. I grabbed some clean clothes for you, the book on your nightstand and your camera bag from the closet. I almost got your knitting bag, but I figured that would be cruel and unusual punishment, seeing as how knitting is off-limits for at least another week.”

  “How can I go without knitting?”

  “Stay busy. Use your small digital camera. It’s so light you won’t have any problems.” Jilly continued in a rush, “The nurse at the emergency care center is a knitter. She knew exactly how you feel, but she warned me that it would be a bad mistake. Knitting uses small movements, but it involves your whole upper body. Why risk a setback?”

  Olivia sighed. “You’re right. Fine, I’ll try some photos. But I make no promises.”

  Olivia listened to the sound of Rafe working at the window next door. “Maybe I’ll go sit on the porch.”

  “Perfect. I’ll bring you out a cup of tea and some chocolate scones. Maybe Rafe will be done with the window by then,” Jilly murmured.

  * * *

  WHEN OLIVIA OPENED her case, the camera battery was charged. She was methodical that way. She put things away clean and ready to use.

  The little camera felt good in her hands, and if she was careful the movements caused no pain. Still sitting, she took a dozen surreptitious shots of Rafe as he moved up and down the ladder. Then she forced her attention down to the beach, where the storm surge had deposited chunks of driftwood and dead crabs and fallen seabirds.

  Her camera wasn’t high-tech. It fit nicely in the palm of her hand, without big lenses, and it was easy to hold.

  The German lenses were very good and Olivia captured the cove in sun and in shadow, with seabirds hovering at the end of the pier and a group of seals riding the surf out beyond the harbor. She liked to work like this, sliding into the zone, unaware of anything around her, becoming an extension of the lens. When she recorded the messy, chaotic, beautiful flow of life around her, Olivia felt safe. She wasn’t sure why, but probably it came from the way she had grown up, working hard but never feeling her father loved or even cared much about her. But behind her camera, Olivia was alive. She defined her world and forced it into clarity. At her drafting table, making complex architectural designs, she felt the same way.

  Rafe had moved to the far side of the house now, his hammering muted. According to Jilly, they had lost several shutters and a dozen or so roof tiles in the storm. Given the damage farther up the coast, this was nothing. They had been very lucky.

  Olivia felt a pang at her shoulder, but she ignored it. Caro would be over in an hour and Olivia was going to help her organize the new knitting patterns in big binders so all the designs were easy to find and beautifully displayed.

  Olivia had taken pictures of some beautiful sweaters while she was in Italy. She wondered how they would look blown up and framed. Or maybe even as sketches for the yarn shop walls.

  Then she discarded the idea.

  She had no training or special skills, after all. Probably the photos would turn out to be ugly.

  “Finish your tea and stop frowning.” Jilly stood at the door to the porch, hands on her hips, frowning. “I hate it when you get that look on your face, wistful and worried. You always looked that way after your father yelled at you for doing something wrong. Except you never did anything wrong. He was just blowing off for no reason.” Jilly caught back a breath and shook her head. They had had this argument before. It never solved or changed anything. Jilly hadn’t liked Olivia’s father.

  “I’m perfectly happy. The weather is beautiful and I’m enjoying my camera. For the record, I’m not frowning or looking wistful about anything,” she said flatly.

  “If you say so.” Jilly leaned closer. “Rafe looks pretty good in that tight black T-shirt. If I didn’t have Walker, I could be very tempted.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. Jilly was never subtle about anything, even when she made a joke. “It’s nice of him to come and help Walker. Any new problems?”

  “The upstairs back bathtub is leaking now. Walker went to get caulking and some kind of rubber gaskets this morning. Frankly, I think we should invest in a hardware store of our own.”

  Rafe walked up the stairway below the porch, pulling off his black T-shirt as he spoke. “Jilly, can I take Duffy for a run on the beach? I’m pretty sweaty here, despite the chill. I think the two of us need a swim.”

  Sweat glistened on his bare chest and slid slowly down his powerful biceps, and Olivia strangled a sigh at the sight of that tanned, rugged body.

  The man was drop-dead gorgeous. Didn’t he realize that?

  Olivia could hear the sudden drum of her heart. Rafe had always been good to look at. But now, after hard years of exercise and fieldwork, he had a dangerous, lean body that left Olivia wondering what it would be like to set a match to all that hot, dangerous energy and feel it explode.

  She coughed hard, angry at the direction her thoughts had taken.

  Rafe stared at the two women. “What?”

  “What what?” Jilly muttered.

  “Why are you staring at me?” Rafe tossed his T-shirt over his shoulder. “Do I have grease all over me? I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t think those shutters have been cleaned in fifty years.”

  “Nope. No grease. Not a speck.” Jilly shot a covert glance at Olivia. “Go take Duffy for that run. He’ll love it. Watch the current, though. This time of year that riptide can be dangerous.”

  “You think I’d forget that? When I was twelve I almost drowned out there,” Rafe said quietly.

  Olivia hadn’t known that story. The tides could change quickly out beyond the cove, and there were danger signs posted all around the island, but occasionally swimmers got cocky. Usually they were vacationing tourists, too excited to be near the water to pay attention to the warnings.

  “What happened?” Olivia kept her eyes on his face even though they kept trying to drift south to that hard-muscled chest.

  “Usual thing. I thought the signs were for everybody else. Lucky thing a fishing boat picked me up about a mile out. Otherwise my body would have floated all the way to Mexico.”

  Olivia shivered. It wasn’t remotely a joke. Knowing Rafe, he had been swimming alone, without telling anyone of his plans. He might have lost consciousness and drifted off, then never been seen again.

  Her hands clenched.

  “Hey, no worries. I’m fine. It taught me a good lesson. I always read the signs now,” he said with a grin. She felt the warmth of his skin and the heady scent of wind and man and sea.

  She tried to pull away, but their fingers brushed when he turned a page of her notebook. “You did these? That one looks like Venice. Is that one a sweater? What are all those crisscross lines?”

  Olivia had to clear her throat twice before she could talk. “Cables. It’s a sweater. A sweater pattern. I’m designing it. From memory. It’s something I saw in Venice.”

  She bit back the jerky explanations. How did he manage to unravel her this way?

  Rafe leaned closer. Olivia saw the glistening line of his shoulder close enough to touch. She smelled his skin, and she wanted to run her hands along that curve of muscle and then her tongue.

  “Oh, I get it now. That’s the sleeve. And that top thing is the collar.”

  Olivia couldn’t answer. It was taking all her willpower not to lean over and touch his glistening skin.

  Jilly cut through the haze of Olivia’s sensual distraction. “I’ve never seen that pattern before, Livie. When did you make it?”

>   “New one. Took the picture in Italy.” Olivia closed her eyes, summoning up her calm and control. She wasn’t going to allow Rafe Russo to get under her skin like this.

  Not again.

  “Have a nice swim, Rafe,” she said tightly. “I’d better get back to work while my imagination is hot.”

  She winced at the word choice. When she tried to avoid his gaze, her eyes fell, trailing across the muscled lines of his chest and the sculpted abs that ran lower, disappearing beneath his worn jeans. The sight made her pulse skip and flutter.

  “Have a nice time. Down at the beach. You and Duffy,” she rasped.

  “Yes, go on, Rafe. You’re disgusting and sweaty. You and Duffy go clean yourselves up and I’ll have chili ready by the time you get back.” Jilly waved a warning finger at him. “And take care of my dog. Don’t let Duffy get into any trouble down there.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Rafe gave a mock two-finger salute, shoved his T-shirt into his waistband and called for Duffy. Then the two of them raced toward the beach.

  “I think maybe we need to call 911.” Jilly blew out a slow breath. “I forgot how he was built.”

  “So did I.” Olivia didn’t bother to lie. When you knew a friend as long as she had known Jilly, lies were generally pointless anyway. “He does look great. I had no idea about that crazy swimming story he told. What if he hadn’t been picked up? He could have died.”

  Jilly shook her head. “He’s told me about a few of his crazy adventures. Some of them were worse than that.”

  Olivia frowned. “Worse than getting pulled out to sea?”

  Jilly gave a rueful smile. “That’s right. But if you want details, you’ll have to ask him yourself.” She turned to search Olivia’s face. “You look like you’re feeling better. The sun and wind have put some color back into your cheeks. Or maybe...it wasn’t just the weather,” Jilly said astutely. “No need to get up. You keep an eye on Rafe and Duffy. I’m going to organize lunch.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  MAYBE IT WAS the sunny weather after long days of rain. Maybe it was the need for distraction. Either way, Olivia found her pencil flowing in sketch after sketch while Rafe and Duffy ran along the beach. By the time Jilly came out with a small table and lemonade, Olivia had completed four different sweater designs.

  She looked down as Duffy was dashing over the sand, chasing the stick that Rafe had thrown through the air. Both of them looked happy and soaking wet from a quick swim in the ocean.

  But Jilly was far more interested in Olivia’s sketches then her dog’s antics. “These patterns are great, Livie. I really like that little shrug thing.”

  “It looks complicated, but actually it’s totally easy. I think I’ll write that one up first with a chart. Do you think anyone would buy it?”

  “If you knit up samples in three different colors and sizes, I’m sure we could get five dollars for the pattern.” Jilly frowned. “Make more designs like these. Things that are simple but elegant, just the way you always look. In fact, maybe we should set you up with a website. We can put it right under the Harbor House site. I’ve been thinking of offering a few specialty foods for sale through the website, too.” Jilly drummed her hands on the porch railing. “We could hook you into that big knitting site that you love so much. You could post your sketches and your photographs from Italy. How cool would that be!”

  “I don’t know, Jilly.” Olivia was comfortable writing a few informal patterns to sell in their yarn shop, but she wasn’t ready to share them at a huge knitting website. She had no kind of formal training, after all. “No, I don’t think they would be good enough.”

  “Just consider it, okay? I’m not pushing you to anything you don’t want to do.” Jilly flipped a dish towel over her shoulder and glanced down to the cove. “I see the two males are bonding over sweat and sticks down on the beach. I’m glad Rafe is giving Duffy a good run. Walker has been distracted with this plumbing work, and I just don’t have time to run Duffy the way I should.”

  Olivia didn’t answer. She was too distracted by the sight of Rafe pulling on his T-shirt and sweater as Duffy charged up the slope, then raced back toward the water.

  Something about the sight of Rafe and the racing dog looked exuberant and primal. Every movement held raw energy, which for some reason made Olivia aware of how long it had been since she’d been involved with a man.

  She was fascinated by the way Duffy and Rafe charged in mad circles, lost in the pure joy of movement. She smiled at Rafe’s bark of laughter drifting on the wind.

  “Earth to Mars. Are you here?”

  Olivia looked up, surprised to see Jilly smoothing a white linen cloth over the table. “I’ve been asking what you want to drink. That is, if you can tear yourself away from watching Rafe.”

  Olivia flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And iced tea would be fine.”

  Jilly glanced back and waved to Rafe. “Keep him entertained, will you? I’ll have lunch out here in a minute. Walker should be down by then.”

  Rafe trotted up the front steps with Duffy close behind. He toweled Duffy off and let him inside and then sat down on the railing, one leg dangling. He looked tired but relaxed.

  “Duffy was in dog heaven down there.”

  “He’s got way too much energy. I doubt I could have kept up with him much longer. I’m glad Jilly has a great dog like that.” He cocked his head, sniffing the air. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Olivia smiled. “Cowboy chili. Jilly’s special Southwest recipe. Pull up a chair. She’s bringing the food out here so we can eat on the porch, since it’s so sunny today.” Olivia started to stand up. “I should go help her.”

  “Forget it. Stay right there and keep on doing whatever you were doing.” Rafe leaned over Olivia’s shoulder. “Are you designing clothes now? Sweaters? I thought you were an architect. Did you change careers while I was gone?”

  No, she had just lost one career. Olivia swept the papers up and turned them over. “I was just...doodling. I’m still an architect. I just happen to be an unemployed one right now.” Olivia frowned. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone about that yet.

  “Sorry to hear it. You’ll bounce back.”

  Olivia didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t manage small talk with Rafe, and every important topic made her uncomfortable. She cleared her throat. “Walker is working upstairs. He should be down any minute, and then we can eat.”

  Rafe frowned, brushing sand off his feet. “Is this hard for you, Livie? Do I make you uncomfortable? If so, I’ll leave.”

  “Uncomfortable? Me? What makes you think I’m uncomfortable? That’s ridiculous,” she sputtered.

  Rafe slipped on his old sneakers. “Right now your leg is banging up and down, and you keep opening and closing your hands. You’re definitely uncomfortable and I’d like to know why.”

  “I’m fine. Jilly invited you and that’s that. Go help her with the food. Bring me the napkins and silverware while you’re at it.”

  But Rafe didn’t move. His eyes lingered on her face. “Are you sure, Livie? Because I didn’t come back here to pick up where we left off. I want you to know that. There’s no point in opening old wounds.”

  Olivia looked up and felt how intensely he watched her, as if she was the only thing that mattered at that moment. She fell down into the darkness of his eyes, into the cold strength of his face. But the joy was gone. It was a stranger’s face now.

  “That’s just the way I want it, too. After all this time, who could remember the things we said to each other anyway?” Olivia gave a shrug, ignoring the pain that bit into her shoulder.

  It was nothing close to the cold regret that settled over her heart.

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Absolutely. Now—go and help Jilly, will you?”

  There was nothing more for them to say. They couldn’t go back.

  Life had taught Olivia how to live with pain and distance. In a way, she was glad for that now. An
d as she looked at Rafe’s face, she was certain that the grim reality of war had taught Rafe that same lesson.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JILLY’S COWBOY CHILI vanished in less than four minutes, attacked by two hungry men with a little help from Olivia. When Jilly produced a double-chocolate cake, Rafe found room to put away two pieces before his self-control returned.

  “I’m glad I don’t eat this way every day. I’d have to go to the gym and work it off at a punching bag.”

  “You?” Jilly sniffed. “You’ll never be fat. You’ve got that metabolism that never stops burning. I hate people like you,” she said dryly. “Duffy, let’s go for a run.” Jilly brushed off her hands and then raced down to the front lawn, chasing the big white dog while he barked with a puppy’s enthusiasm.

  “Jilly always had a way with pets.” Rafe leaned back, watching the two race in a mock charge toward the pier. “And your dog is a service dog, is that right?”

  Walker nodded. “He has a Congressional Medal of Honor,” he said with quiet pride. “He saved my skin more than once.”

  Rafe looked down, toying with the last crumbs of his cake. “I seem to recall hearing something about that dog of yours. It was back during my first tour of duty in Afghanistan.”

  Walker didn’t answer. Rafe caught the little glance he angled at Olivia. Clearly, the man didn’t choose to talk about those days.

  Rafe understood perfectly.

  “Any luck with the plumbing imbroglio? I don’t go on duty until midnight, so I’m open to lend a hand.”

  “Finish your cake. Jilly will kill me if I disturb your dessert. But once you’re done, I’ll show you the problem.” Walker drummed his hands on the table and glanced at Olivia, one eyebrow raised. “Unless you two had something planned for the afternoon?”

  “No. Not me. Nothing planned at all,” Olivia said quickly. “I’m just going to sit here on the porch and sketch. You two go off and work.”

  Rafe stood up slowly, searching her face. “How about I bring you some lemonade or iced tea before we go? Jilly will be out to check on you, but you may be thirsty.”