by Meredith, MK
“Claire, wait—”
“No, I need to get this out.”
“Hold on.” He pointed to the front window of the Cape house office, but she barreled on in Claire fashion, pacing a two-foot swath in front of him. Her dress was wrapped at the waist, so narrow he swore his hands would fit around it, then flowed straight down to her knees, drawing his gaze to the tall, black, sinfully sexy boots. She looked hot as hell.
“And you’ll give me pointers on how to get back into the dating game. I’m tired of going to bed alone every night.”
He couldn’t argue. No reason in the world a woman like her should be going to bed alone unless she preferred to.
A throat cleared behind her, and she spun around.
Ryker, standing by the front bay window, raised his water bottle in salute. “Cheers.”
Claire slowly turned back to Mitch with daggers in her eyes.
He laughed with a shrug. “I tried to tell you.”
Hands balled into fists at her sides and her already flushed cheeks turning an adorable shade of scarlet, she closed her eyes for a second. “Not hard enough.”
Ryker squeezed her shoulder. “I’ve got to get home before little Max wakes up from her nap. I’ll tell Larkin to call you.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Her tone was regretful and made Mitch want to full on croon—which was bullshit.
Ryker’s bark of laughter followed him to the front door. “Mitch, let me know what you find out with the easement. You never know what information will inspire a new idea.”
The front door closed, leaving a silence behind that was as heavy as Mitch’s curiosity. Hitching his leg up on the desk, he settled onto the corner and narrowed his eyes.
“What happened?”
Claire played with a thread hanging from the tie securing the top of her dress. “Nothing. Which is the problem.” The look on her face was that of a child having to eat broccoli, but he suspected he was the broccoli.
He remained silent as she made her way around the room that mirrored the one her art classes would be held in, though this one had a large business desk, leather tufted chairs, and a seating place by the front window for more casual meetings. Bookshelves ran ceiling-to-floor along the far wall and behind the desk, filled with everything from local history to romance novels.
Claire casually poked at a stack of papers, then ran her fingers over the printer, until she made her way back to his desk. She pulled in a breath, once again pushing up the swell of her breasts in a way that made his fingers itch to cup them.
Shoving his hands into his jean pockets, he waited still.
“I had a coffee date at Flat Iron.”
He kept his expression easy. This was what he’d been pushing her to do all along. She needed to unwind. The woman worked at an intensity level that couldn’t be good for her heart, or his hide at the rate they were going. She bit his head off every time they talked.
He hadn’t figured out what it was about him that always rubbed her the wrong way, but instead of avoiding her over the past months, he’d found himself coming up with reasons to be around her. She energized him in a way no one else had in a long time. Or maybe ever. Which was a thought he wasn’t nearly ready to explore.
Maybe he was a masochist.
That would explain a lot, actually.
“A date? Good. Then what’s the problem?”
She laughed with a hopeless shake of her head, the razor edge of her pin-straight platinum hair swinging past her jawline. “I ran. I ignored the guy and left...even when he called out my name.”
“Why?” Mitch felt for the guy. Almost. But seeing Claire walk away was even sexier than watching her approach. So the poor bastard would survive.
With a groan, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I...”
“Yes, you do.”
She swung away to pace.
Straightening from the desk, he stepped in front of her, halting her frantic steps. “Let’s try something.”
Eyeing him with suspicion, she said, “No way.”
“Look, we both know I’m not the guy for you. So that makes me safe, right? Just work with me for a second.”
“Fine. Whatever,” she huffed. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”
“That’s the Claire I know.” Then, shifting gears, he gazed into her eyes. “Hi, I’m Mitch.”
She studied him for a beat then burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand.
He let his head fall back. “Yeah, you are awful at this.”
Holding her stomach, she grabbed at his arm. “Wait. Wait. It’s just that I know who you are. I’d pin a guy like you from a mile away and never give you the chance to talk to me.”
He clenched his jaw tight. It shouldn’t matter. He’d avoid her too. Way more baggage than his casual, no-strings-attached lifestyle could carry. But, fuck, it still stung.
“Pretend,” he gritted out. “If you can handle a conversation with me, then you can with any other jackass out there.”
“Oh, great. So your advice is for me to date a jackass? I might as well stick with you then. At least you’re safe, like you said.”
His sharp laugh bounced off the walls. The way she was always tied up in his thoughts, there was really nothing safe about him at all. If she only knew how badly he’d love to be the one to help her blow off some steam, she’d hightail her pert little ass home faster than the Cape squirrels to their trees when Puzzle was let out.
“Safe. Exactly. So pay attention.”
She cleared her throat and focused on him. “Does this mean you’ll do it? You’ll work through my art program and in return I’ll let you give me pointers on how to date without getting emotionally involved?”
The last thing he wanted was her digging any further into his psyche than she already had, but he also needed to help her get back on her feet. Not only in the hopes of having her calm the hell down but because after everything she’d been through, she deserved to live a full life.
He couldn’t stand the idea of her all alone, staring out a window on a cold, dark night, like he had seen his own mother do. Besides, if she started dating some fine, upstanding citizen of Cape Van Buren, it would make him keep his distance and look damn good for his reputation to boot. Mitch the Matchmaker.
Had a nice ring to it.
If he could help Claire Adams, maybe people would start seeing the value he actually had to offer this town. This was his home, his people, but they never really saw him.
Not really.
They only saw his dating and drinking and nice clothes. He loved to indulge, but instead of it being seen as a choice, it was judged as a lifestyle of immorality.
They didn’t recognize that he was the one who fought for the tenants in the housing complex on the edge of town, or that he fought for tenant rights of different real estate holdings to make sure safety measures were up to date.
Not to mention the whole legal aspect of the easement that made the Archer Conservation Park of Cape Van Buren even possible, including all the law and policy for the non-profit.
He’d been busy.
Well, he’d just get busier. It felt damn good. And he was a man who loved when things felt good.
Giving her one of his best smiles, he said, “Hi, I’m Mitch.”
Her lip twitched, but she remained serene. She dipped her chin. “Claire.”
His eyes drifted to her mouth—full lips with a very precise cupid's bow. “So, Claire. What do you like to do for fun?” He stepped closer, his voice dropped low, suggestive even.
Her eyes flared, dropping to his lips, then back in panic. “Shit!” She backed away. “I can’t do this. I’m not fun.” She patted her chest for emphasis. “I’m old and boring and—”
“You’re barely twenty-eight. Take it easy.” Leaving his hands at his sides, he watched the expressions washing over her face. “Tell me what’s going through your mind.”
“No one’s touched me since Jimmy. Would he hate me for m
oving on? Will it wash away his memory? Is it disloyal to want to be held again? And what about...”
“Of course, it wouldn’t be disloyal,” Mitch assured her, his chest clenching at the look of pure sadness on her face.
“He was a good man.”
The words were like a slap in the face. “And I’m not?”
She stared as if shocked by her own words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—"
“Yeah. Ya did.” He stepped back behind the desk, a sick rolling in his gut. “That’s enough for today.” Grabbing his cell, he swiped through to check his messages. Anything to keep him from saying more than he meant to.
Claire reached out, then let her hand drop back to her side. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll...I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As she pulled open the front door, he called out. “Let’s make something really clear.”
“Yes?” She paused.
“I have never lied to any of the women I’ve dated. And I certainly haven’t slept with all of them, though the town likes to think so. But more than that, I have always treated the women I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy with respect.”
“Sorry.” Her whisper barely reached his ears, and he refused to look back her way.
No way in hell did he want her seeing more than she needed to.
He’d help her get out of her shell and perfect her program for the kids and keep his business clear of any town gossips. Then, once he worked through this last project for Ryker, his portfolio would be ready to throw in for the open City Attorney position.
He could remember the first time he’d ever been introduced to the right side of the law and visited the court house as a kid. His mom had sent him off with a family friend who’d happened to work there. Now he had a feeling, she’d done it on purpose.
Claire and the rest of the town could judge all they wanted.
As the City Attorney, he’d be able to do a lot for this town, and the last thing he’d think about was the opinion of this pretty, blue-eyed spitfire who made him feel way too damn much.
Chapter 4
Claire tossed back a large swallow of Maxine’s moonshine, hoping it would warm her bones, as she took stock of all the work they had to do winterizing the North Cove Gardens. The savory scents from North Cove Bistro rode on the light breeze, making her stomach grumble in wanting.
Geographically, she was a South Cove Madam, but when Larkin had set her sights on being friends, Claire hadn’t stood a chance. She’d been indoctrinated to the North Cove Mavens before she’d realized what had happened.
And found her home.
Unlike most of her friends, she wasn’t originally from Cape Van Buren. She’d moved here to be with Jimmy after finishing college with her Master of Fine Arts. She was an artist deep down. Everything she did was better if she could make it beautiful. One reason she enjoyed her event planning so much.
She’d officially opened her own business just after Larkin’s baby shower, at the very strong urging of her friends, but when the opportunity to use her art and help the kids of Cape Van Buren arose, she leaped at the chance. Event planning paid her bills and fueled her creativity, but working at the Center fulfilled her in a way nothing else ever had.
One more sip from the moonshine, then it was time to work. This batch, made from Evette’s blueberries and Janice's edible flowers, went down smooth and easy like fresh fruit in whipped cream. Wicked good.
The North Cove Mavens had all arranged their Thursday to combine forces to prune the flowering bushes and wrap some of the more vulnerable perennials. A few pieces from the summer’s garden festival still held center stage. It had been another huge hit with the town, but to the Mavens’ great consternation, they’d had to share this year’s win in a tie with the South Cove Madams.
Maxine fought for a tiebreaker, but with her and Judge Carter on the outs, he refused to even make eye contact with her much less listen to her appeal.
Claire wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then handed Larkin the jar. “I can’t believe Blayne is getting out of this. We should just wait until she comes back.”
“And share the moonshine? No way. More for us.” Larkin took a sip herself. “It’s so good to be drinking again. I think the hardest thing about carrying baby Max was missing out on all the wine and moonshine.”
Claire forced a grin. She’d give anything to carry her baby to term. And she’d give up even more. Even Maxine’s moonshine.
“Are you okay?” Larkin paused with her pruning shears poised to cut a dying stem from one of the large rose bushes. Her eyes shot wide, and she dropped the scissors to the ground. With a horrified expression on her face, she wrapped an arm around Claire. “I’m so sorry. That was incredibly insensitive of me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Claire shook her head. “You’re fine. Stop. I know what you meant.”
And she did. There were parts of being pregnant that she hadn’t liked. Which, now having her lost her baby, made her feel like karma had a hand in what had happened next. Jimmy had died at the hospital the day he’d gotten in the accident with Larkin’s first husband and little boy, Archer.
Claire had been heartbroken, unable to sleep, could barely eat. Panic attacks had kept her on edge for weeks. She’d never imagined that she could bear any more grief than losing the man she loved. Until she woke up to a horrendous pain in her stomach and blood all over her sheets, washing away every last dream she’d hoped to grasp on to.
At just under eight months, her baby had been stillborn. In a panic, she’d grabbed at the sheets, as if holding onto the telltale sign of death could somehow keep life from slipping through her fingers.
A silent wail of despair filled her head with the memory.
She bent to inspect a set of small bushes to give herself a chance to blink back tears before Larkin could see them. Her friend’s comment had been fueled by the innocence of happiness. Nothing more, nothing less. There was no reason for her lovely friend to feel guilty for basking in her own joy. She’d had enough sorrow herself.
That said, it was hard for Claire to watch her friends move forward with the life she’d been promised. She was sincerely thrilled for them but sad for herself. She was alone, by choice, and it was something she needed to come to terms with.
Larkin was the bravest woman she’d ever met. Her friend had found her way through the loss of her sweet boy, had trusted her heart, and prepared to risk it for love.
Claire couldn’t imagine doing that. She refused to ever put herself in a position again where she could feel that much pain. She’d heard the saying that it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.
And she called bullshit.
You didn’t know what you were missing if you didn’t have it in the first place, and when there was a chance it could be lost, not knowing was way better. Ignorance was bliss and all that.
“Promise you’re okay?” Larkin asked.
Pulling from her reserves and channeling Blayne’s feisty attitude, Claire jumped up, grin in place, and grabbed the moonshine. “Woman, I’m the one who helped you move on at the cemetery way back when, remember? I’ve already dealt with my shit. I am fine.”
And she was...as long as she didn’t think about the baby she’d never held in her arms or the man she never would again.
Mitch’s face popped into her head. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings yesterday and had regretted the thoughtless words as soon as they’d popped out. Apparently, she wasn’t always very sensitive either.
But she’d also been surprised. He’d never played down what a playboy he was before, and she couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal now.
As for Jimmy. He knew how to love a woman. Gentle and quiet. He was always easy. No surprises.
No adventure.
The disloyal thought jerked her from the trap her brain had set as Maxine and Janice joined them.
“Damn Judge Carter better stay free and clear of me, I’ll tell you tha
t right now.” Maxine said the word judge like she questioned its meaning and focused on chopping at a section of one of the bushes that made up the C for the initials of Cape Van Buren.
Janice grabbed the sheers from her friend. “When are you two going to make up already? Your little spat was cute at first, but when it starts affecting the rest of us, enough is enough.”
“I agree,” Evette added. “I never thought you much of a masochist, but this almost seems to be like pleasure-pain foreplay with the two of you at this point.”
Maxine’s face went hot. “He embarrassed me in front of half the town.”
Janice snorted. “You were selling moonshine while dating a judge. What the hell did you expect him to do?”
Red curls bobbing, Mitch’s mother put her hand out for the canning jar, and Claire didn’t hesitate. There was no getting between the ladies and their moonshine...or each other.
Maxine eyed Janice with censure. “You sure are enjoying that moonshine you think I should just give away, my friend.”
“Oh, I never said that. I just think you should be sneakier than selling it where the judge could find out.” Janice laughed. “The extra money goes a long way in my garden and our ‘howl at the moon’ nights on the Cape.
Larkin titled her head. “Didn’t Ryker say you guys had to stop those now that the Cape was opened to the town?”
Three sets of eyes with more spunk and wisdom than the oak trees of Maine had leaves turned toward her with a slow, measured slide.
“Never mind.” Larkin raised her hands up to ward them off.
Claire stepped between them all. “Can we get moving? I’m meeting Mitch at the Center at four, and we’ve barely two hours to get this done.”
Janice perked up like a moose on a willow trail. “What’s this now?”
Regret and panic caused a pounding at the base of Claire’s skull. “Don’t even. He’s helping me get ready for my program for the kids. A bit of an experiment.” Then she added with a frown, “And he has final say from a liability standpoint.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’d like to experiment on that one,” Maxine teased.
Heat flushed through Claire’s chest. “Is it always sex with you?”