by Amberlee Day
Van looked pleased. “A little bird told me.”
Cleo couldn’t think what that meant. They hadn’t eaten tacos since she’d been in Canada. “What little bird?”
“Lily.”
“How did she—oh, the mermaid website. Is that it?” Cleo suddenly realized what she liked about the tunes dancing through the atrium. “And big band music. I love it. Is this Count Basie?”
“No idea, but I admit, I like it, too.” He reached out for the serving utensil, but before he got there, Cleo took his hand. His eyes met hers, searchingly. “What?”
“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve obviously gone to some effort to make this evening about me, and I appreciate it.”
“I’m glad you like it. Now, let’s dig into these tacos. I’m thinking that stack of napkins Mrs. Fortney put here means they’re going to make for messy eating.”
Chapter 17
“Those have to be the best tacos I’ve ever had,” Cleo said. “Mrs. Fortney outdid herself.”
They’d barely made a dent in the delicious food on the table, and while she was tempted to go back for thirds, she wasn’t going to say no when Van asked if she’d like to dance. Big band music, roses, soft lights, and snow swirling outside, almost in tempo to the music, plus being led about the floor Van’s arms. Cleo would have never imagined such a recipe for romance, so she relaxed, followed Van’s lead to the romantic tune, and enjoyed the magical spell it cast on her.
“Actually, I think our visiting chefs put those tacos together,” Van said. “Have you met them? They’re a colorful pair.”
“Let me guess: tattoos and dyed hair?” Cleo took in Van’s guilty expression. “Seriously? You really do have a thing about appearances.”
“In my experience, people with body piercings, tattoos, and, yes, wild hair dyes, tend to live wild lives. Normally best to steer clear.”
“Hm. Well, in my experience, the cover doesn’t always give you a clear picture of the book.”
“Let’s concede to different experiences, then,” Van said. “Besides, as it turns out, these two are amazing cooks.”
Cleo let it drop. The evening was too beautiful, and she didn’t want to waste the feel of Van’s arms around her. After a small cleansing breath, she smiled up at him. “Have I told you what a joy it is to work with Lily?”
“You don’t have to. It shows. You’re wonderful with her.”
Warmth spread through her body. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Is she getting to be an expert mermaid? She keeps telling me to come see what she’s learned, but I haven’t made it down there in a while.”
“She’s getting very good. She’s got the tail flip down well enough that you probably want to be careful what you wear next time you come to the pool.”
“I might get wet?”
“Mm-hm. She soaked Rodney, the pool man, the other day.”
Something about that made Van hold her a little closer, sending waves of electricity through her. “I know you did synchronized swimming in high school and college,” he said, “but how did you make the switch to professional mermaid?”
“I was busy with synchro.” She paused to give him a chance to make fun of the name again, but he only nodded to say he’d behave. “I’d been having some issues with continuing. We had eight-hour workdays, six days a week. Besides the pool, there was Pilates, ballet, and weight room.”
“That’s pretty intensive training.”
“It was. I miss it sometimes. I loved the routines, and had some wonderful friends on the team. But something was telling me it was time to stop.”
“What was that?”
Cleo shrugged. “Injuries. From overuse, mostly, but I’d just had my second concussion.”
“How do you get a concussion swimming?” Van asked. “I suppose you could hit your head on the side, or bottom.”
“Swimmers get hurt all the time in synchro. Elbows, knees, hard kicks. When you’re working that closely to seven other people, sometimes you get hit. You have to keep up, and you push through a lot.”
“Beautiful and strong,” Van murmured in Cleo’s ear, sending another thrill through her. She leaned back again, wanting to see if he was being sincere. Warm, dark eyes met hers. “Lily’s words. She told me mermaids aren’t just beautiful, they’re strong.”
“It’s what I’ve been trying to teach her,” Cleo told him in a soft voice.
“It’s what she needs to hear,” Van said. A new, jazzier song sounded over the speakers. Van spun Cleo around, giving her a happy, dizzy rush. “So, you quit synchronized swimming because of injuries?”
Cleo had to catch her breath before she answered. “That, and I was just exhausted. I wasn’t enjoying what I was doing, at least not at that level. Plus we weren’t going to make it to the Olympics.”
“Really? I don’t know much or really anything about the sport, but I thought the U.S. team was the one to beat.”
He twirled her around again. For someone who claimed to be unfamiliar with big band music, Van knew the current tune enough to keep up perfectly with the rhythm. Or maybe it’s just because he’s such a good dancer. She held on tighter, and enjoyed the ride while she tried to keep up conversation. “We were the team to beat, years ago. But then the entire gold medal team retired at the same time, and things had to rebuild.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Plus, the ranking system in synchro that determines who attends the Olympics is crazy hard to move up in, once you drop below a certain level. I still enjoyed being part of it, competing internationally working hard ... until I didn’t.”
“What changed?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t really think too much about it for a long time; I was too busy trying to get through each day. And then a time came when ...” The upbeat music played on, but Van slowed their dancing down to a pace that made talking easier. Cleo looked up at him. Was she ready to confide important parts of her life to Van? It felt natural to do so, and he looked like he wanted to hear. So she took a deep breath, and went with her heart. “I ended up the last person in the locker room one night. It hurt to move, I was so tired. When I realized I was alone, I started crying. And once I started, I couldn’t stop.”
“Because you were in pain?”
“Partly that, and just ... tired. But it was more than that. Eventually one of the coaches came back in, and we talked. She said if I needed to take a break, to say something. So I did.”
“And you started mermaiding?”
“Not at first. I wasn’t sure where to go. I’d been sharing an apartment with several of the team members, to be closer to the pool. I ended up going back to the boat, where my grandfather lived. I hadn’t been back for a long time. I didn’t know he was really sick.”
“He hadn’t told you?”
“He was never much of a talker, not one for sharing. It was really a blessing that I felt that need to quit synchro when I did, because I was able to live there and take care of him.”
“I bet he was thankful you were there.”
“Yes, and no. He felt guilty, like I wasn’t off doing my own thing because of him. One of his friends at the harbor had a granddaughter who was mermaiding. Grandpa helped me get my first job, which was close enough to the boat I could take care of him and mermaid, too.”
“And you stayed with him till the end?”
Cleo nodded.
“That must have been hard.”
“It was, but it was a good thing to do. It was the right thing. Anyway, when he passed, I sold the boat, which was all he had. Gave my mother her share of the sale, moved in with some other girls at Florida Adventures, and that’s about it.”
“That’s the story of your mermaiding life.”
“Pretty much. Now, it’s your turn. What was it like growing up here?”
The song ended, and Van led her over to a bench facing the snowy window. She sat down on one end, and was happy when he sat in the middle, close to her. When he put
an arm around her, she rested lightly in the crook, closing the distance between them. She recognized the new song that came on, Nat King Cole singing “Stardust.” If she hadn’t already been feeling the romance of the evening, this put her over the top. She looked shyly up at Van, ready to listen to whatever he had to say. Ready if he wants to kiss me.
But Van only looked out at the storm, reminiscing. “Growing up here?” Van let out a long breath. “For the most part, it was a child’s dream.”
“Oh?” She cleared her throat, shifting from kiss me to be a good listener. “What did you like to do?”
“Normal things. Skiing, hiking, boating on the lake. Gus’s nephew and a cousin of mine spent the summers here, and the three of us were always off doing something daring.”
“And dangerous?”
He smirked down at her, and her heart fluttered. “Usually. We all survived, so I guess not too dangerous. I loved swimming and ice skating, too. Like Lily.”
“It’s nice you’re passing those on to her.” They were just inches away from each other. The song played—when our love was new—and Cleo sighed. “I’ve never seen you in the pool. Do you still swim?”
“Not so much anymore. Lately the most I do is a hard run on the treadmill, and a bit of weight lifting.”
Cleo’s eyes narrowed, a little practicality seeping through the romantic haze she felt. “You don’t happen to have a home gym hidden somewhere in these walls?”
“We passed it on the way here. I had one of the suites converted some years back. You’re welcome to use it.”
“Thank you. In fact, I’ve been telling Lily that a lot of my synchro training involved strengthening the core and muscle density at the gym.”
“Wonderful. I’ll be glad to see it get more use. I’m kind of a novice with weight training. I have all this equipment and I know there are probably methods to make the most of them. In fact ...” He finally pulled Cleo a little closer, and his voice dropped to an intimate tone. “I could use the help of a personal trainer. Any chance I could get you to work with me, too?”
Cleo’s knees positively melted; lucky she was sitting down. The music edged her on. She lowered her voice as well. “I might be able to work something out. It’ll cost you, of course.”
“Cost me more? Hm, I don’t know. You are my mermaid, after all.” He moved a curl away from her cheek, his thumb slowly brushing her skin. She wondered if he could feel her heartbeat. “I’d think a few weight training sessions wouldn’t be too taxing.”
“You keep getting mixed up,” she said, looking up through her eyelashes. “I’m Lily’s mermaid, remember? Birthday present?”
“M-mm. You’re Lily’s in the afternoons. The rest of the time ...” He ran a hand slowly down her arm and took her hand, wrapping it perfectly inside his. She saw his Adam’s apple bob, and her fingers itched to touch his throat.
Van paused for so long that Cleo found herself holding her breath, willing him to tell her how he felt. When nothing came, she took a chance. “The rest of the time, I’m yours?” Her eyes met his again, so close. She took a chance that what Mrs. Fortney said was true, that Van was a gentleman, and that he wouldn’t take her boldness the wrong way. “I enjoy being with you, Van. I confess, I don’t always understand you, but there’s something about you. When I’m with you, I feel like this is why I’m here, in Canada. Not just for Lily, but this.”
Van blinked a few times. Despite the romantic music and soft touches, she’d surprised him.
“I’m just ...” She wanted to plow ahead, but her courage was faltering. “I’m glad I’m here, Van. With you. I’m glad I’m getting a chance to know you, and to like what I see.”
“You like what you see?” His voice was hard to decipher, but it was no longer what it had been. “I thought you didn’t judge a book by its cover.”
“I don’t. I hope I don’t, anyway. I’ve read some of your pages, Van. Something keeps whispering to me that you’re a good person, that you’re ... you’re thoughtful, you work hard. You’re honest. You’re a wonderful uncle to Lily.”
Van loosened his grip, and he put some distance between them. A sick feeling came over Cleo. “You’ve read some of my pages?” Van asked.
Now my consolation is in the stardust of a song, crooned Nat King Cole.
“I only meant—”
“That you think you’re getting to know me,” he said. “I got that. The truth is, you don’t know me, Cleo. You have no idea what I’m like.”
“Don’t I?”
“Not me, and not my family. You’re not here for anything more than as a diversion for Lily. Remember?”
His voice, his eyes, his expression, had all hardened, and the change sent Cleo’s head spinning. Why this cruel turn?
Though I dream in vain, in my heart, it will remain.
“I believe,” he said, “you arrived through the side door when you came, not the front door. You’re here as an employee, Cleo, not as a potential Mrs. Rivers.”
Cleo let go of him like she was touching something hot, and jumped up from the seat. Outside, she could hear the wind howl. “That’s a terrible thing to say. I never thought that.”
“No? Where were you hoping this feeling that you’re here for this was going to end?” He gave her that flirtatious, bad-boy look, and this time the meanness behind it hit her hard.
“I think you know you’re wrong there,” she said. “I’m not a gold digger, and I’m not ... I’m not anything like you’re implying.”
“Really? How do I know that, Cleo? How do I know? I barely know you.”
She heard his words, and the crooning of “Stardust” trailing through the room like a ghost who’d been alive just a moment ago but had suddenly begun to haunt. “You do know,” she finally said. Tears were beginning to sting her eyes, and her lip trembled. “You know, but you’re still saying hurtful things. I don’t know why you’re acting this way, because I know you feel something for me. I see it every time you look at me. But if it’s a problem for you, if feeling something for me is inconvenient, I’ll leave.”
He didn’t say anything, but she could see he’d lost control of his emotions. A dark look froze on his face, but there was panic there, too. He didn’t know what to do, and this time Cleo wasn’t willing to help him figure it out. She spun around, and headed to the stairs.
“Go!” Van roared, as he’d done the first time he saw her in the library. “Go somewhere else to find your rosy happily ever after! You won’t find it here, Cleopatra!”
Chapter 18
Cleo ran down the stairs and through the doorway, into the south wing. Tears fell, and makeup stung her eyes. All she could think about was getting away.
Where was she going? Not to her room. She didn’t want to feel trapped there. She needed movement, air. There was a snowstorm outside—she’d need a coat.
She entered the back staircase door Van had shown her earlier, taking the narrow spiral steps as fast as she dared through blurry vision. He wasn’t coming after her; that was good anyway. Even if he suddenly felt bad for his bizarre mood change and apologized, she needed out. Out and away from this Eagle Hill, and from Van Rivers. Away from the tender feelings she’d begun to share, but that Van had so callously torn to shreds.
The song still played hollow in her head. It had all happened so fast, all in the space of one song. One moment she’d felt cherished and on the verge of something she’d prayed for: someone to love, someone who would love her back. She wasn’t wrong, even if she’d begun to accept it too fast. It was Van who was wrong, Van who wouldn’t face his own feelings.
Cleo burst out into the kitchen hallway. No one was there, and she reined in her emotions enough to decide what to do. Quietly, she closed the stairway door and looked around.
A coat, she remembered. The mudroom door was open, but the light was off. She felt her way among the items hanging on the wall, until she came to Mrs. Fortney’s long down jacket that she’d borrowed for ice skating. The familiar
feeling boosted her. This would do. She wouldn’t go far, after all. Just needed some air.
When she opened the back door—the one she’d entered that first day, she thought bitterly; because she was an employee, after all—the cold air and snow blasted her. It took her breath away. She hadn’t been thinking it would be this bad out there. There was no way she could go out in this. She’d be lucky if she could push the door closed against the frigid wind.
She started to close it, but something brushed past her from behind.
“Samson!” Where had the dog come from? And what did he think he was doing, running out into the storm? She opened the door wide again and yelled into the wind. “Samson, come back here!”
But the dog trotted straight outside, as if he didn’t notice the blizzard around him. Cleo look around to see if anyone was with Samson, or if anyone had heard her yell, but she was all alone.
This can’t be right! Samson can’t be allowed outside in this alone. He’d get lost, freeze to death.
There was only one thing to do. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the blizzard, pulling with all her might to get the door closed behind her.
“Here we go,” she said, turning to face the storm. She couldn’t even hear her own words over the roaring, frozen wind.
VAN PACED THE ATRIUM floor, feeling like a caged animal. What had he been thinking?
Of course Cleo had thought dinner was a romantic date ... because that’s what it was! I was the one trying to kid myself. Idiot!
Had he really thought he could keep things casual? Enjoy Cleo’s warm beauty, and how she made him feel, but not actually have feelings come into it? Of course not. Nothing about that even made sense. She probably thought he was a crazy man, pulling her close just to push her away.
Crazy, or a sadistic jerk. Either way, she’d be right.
The worst part was, he’d acted like he didn’t care about her. He’d made fun of her, and demeaned her for thinking he did. Of course she hadn’t come to Banff to land a rich husband, or to do anything other than earn her wage as a mermaid instructor. And yet, he’d fallen in love with her. The realization tormented him, but he had. Two weeks in the same house, seeing each other nearly every day; it wasn’t enough, surely, for love to begin. He’d told himself it couldn’t happen that quickly. And surely it was too soon to know, but the point was he’d sworn not to become emotionally involved with a woman, and definitely never to marry. That was the one thing he could never do.