by Raen Smith
“You want to know what this note says, Charla?” he asked, lowering his hand closer to the water. The pain in his eyes flashed a deep black. She could actually see the emptiness and anger that filled Liam’s heart.
“No.” A pang soared through her as she watched the note hover over the water. “I told you that. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“Neither do I,” he said, dropping the note into the water. It floated on the surface, rocking back and forth with the gentle ripples of the waves. “I don’t want anything to do with Jack Davis and his goddamn lies. There are only two things I care about in this letter, and those two things have already engraved themselves in my heart. I’ve got it all right here. I don’t care about anything else.” He made a fist and thumped it over his heart. Just then, a drop of rain splashed on Charla’s hand. She looked up to see the gray clouds pushing above the lake, almost directly overhead.
“Okay,” she agreed, trying to press down the regret she felt watching the water soak into the paper. Jack’s handwriting started to smear across the paper. She exhaled, trying to come to terms that she would never know what was in the letter. I don’t want to know, she told herself as she closed her eyes. I need peace. She felt another drop on her hand.
“Okay,” he repeated.
“Okay.” She opened her eyes to see him reaching over the edge to grab the letter out of the water. She leaned forward, trying to balance the rocking of the canoe from Liam’s sudden shift of weight.
“God damn it,” he cursed, letting the water drip from the edge of the paper as he settled back into his seat.
Charla smiled. Jack always had a way of getting what he wanted. “For Christ’s sake, what’s in the letter, Liam? What are the two things you care about?”
“I thought you didn’t want to know,” he said, shooting her a look of contempt.
“I don’t.” She moved back into her seat and folded her arms across the life vest. “I don’t. I really don’t. Let’s get the hell out of here before it downpours. We can pretend this never happened. We never met. Jack never wrote a letter. Jack never had a son.”
“Sons. Jack never had any sons,” Liam said, tucking the note into his shirt. “According to this letter, I have two brothers. Brothers I’m going to find with your help.”
Then the skies opened up and the rain pummeled down as if the clouds had been waiting for that exact moment. He let out a laugh before he dipped the oar back into the water, paddling his huddled and speechless passenger back to shore.
***
Charla slammed the cottage door shut behind Liam. They stood panting just inches apart and dripping on a tiny woven rug not big enough for both of them. They’d managed to make it back to shore in record time thanks to Liam’s fast and furious paddling skills, but they were still drenched.
He let out a raspy laugh as their eyes met. The rain dripped down the sides of his face, leaving tracks of water along the tight angle of his jawline. Not a good idea, she told herself, trying to catch her breath as she glimpsed into his endless eyes. She exhaled heavily and stepped off the mat, dripping onto the linoleum in the dining room.
“Jack’s got some things you could wear. He was a little smaller than you are, but they should work for now,” she said, pulling Jack’s soaked Cubs sweatshirt over her head. The wet cotton clung against her skin, heavy and restrictive as she tried to yank it past her head. She felt a gentle pull with extra hands lift the sweatshirt over her head. The sweatshirt finally popped over her head, and she stood staring at Liam’s outstretched hands holding the sweatshirt.
“Thanks,” she muttered, slowly putting her arms back down. Liam’s small gesture was somehow both the sweetest and sexiest thing anyone had done for her in the past two years. It was entirely depressing and intriguing at the same time.
“You’re not the only person who likes helping around here,” he said, lifting his shirt up over his head. She inhaled sharply at the sight of his chest, following the lines of his tattoos. His chest was harder and more defined than she imagined it to be. She studied the tattoo on his heart, the tattoo just like Jack’s. She fought the urge to trace the lines of the two-inch tattoo with her finger, and instead, clamped her hands by her thighs and tried to ignore the skip in her heart. She could smell the deep hint of spice in his cologne.
You need peace, Charla. Not the Irishman.
“You know, Jack had the same tattoo you have on your heart.” She pointed to the tattoo, making sure she wasn’t in proximity of accidentally grazing him.
“This one?” He took her outstretched finger and brought her whole hand to his chest. He laid her hand on his heart and covered it with his own hand.
“Yeah, that one,” she breathed as she felt Liam’s heart pound beneath her hand. Despite the cool rain, his skin was hot. “Jack’s was bigger, spanning across his whole heart.”
“It’s the Celtic symbol for family. Had it since I can remember. I guess it makes sense his was bigger than mine. My chest must have been pretty small when I got it. I don’t remember getting it, but it’s always been there. It was really distorted when I was a teenager, but I had it touched up when I was eighteen and then again two weeks ago. My parents said they didn’t know how I had gotten it.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat and tried to pull her hand away from his chest, but he held it there, searching her eyes for permission.
“Charla,” he whispered. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Her mind told her to stop him, to keep this man away, but her eyes didn’t obey and instead, gave him the permission he sought. He bent down slowly and pressed his lips against hers. She felt the warmth of his lips swallow her softly at first. Her lips moved against his, exchanging the sweet, tender kiss. She felt the thud of the sweatshirt and his t-shirt drop near her feet. Then his lips pressed harder, moving faster as he let go of her hand and moved it to the back of her head. She met his pace, moving her lips faster to meet the urgency of his. She felt his hand run through her wet strands and move to her shoulder. He caressed her neck, sending a flood of shivers through her body. She felt her body pull toward him, seeking out the heat of his. Just as he slid his fingers underneath the strap of her tank top, the sound of a ring tone pierced the air.
Charla’s eyes snapped open at the ringing, and she pulled away suddenly, trying to catch her breath. She pressed her fingers in his chest and gave a light push. “We shouldn’t be doing this…”
“Yes, we should,” Liam said, pulling her back in. “Ignore my phone.”
“I can’t,” she said, giving another push. “Your Jack’s son. I just can’t -”
“Yes, you can,” he said, his eyes pleading amid the ringing phone in his pocket.
“I can’t.” She ducked under his arms and stepped a couple feet to the side to take off her slick flip-flops.
“Damn it,” he cursed as he dug into his pants and retrieved his phone. “Yeah?”
She tried to ignore the fact that her body was in complete overdrive with Liam, a feeling she hadn’t felt in as long as she could remember. She tried to think back to the time when she first met Rex. It was hot and passionate in the beginning just like any new couple, but nothing like this. Her whole body felt weak with just that minute of kissing.
She studied the deep lines of his chest, cut like one of the trainers at her gym, and tried to ignore the guy shouting on the other end of his phone. She diverted her attention by looking around the living room, assessing what she all needed to do. She needed to make a list. She was good with lists. It would give her something to work toward and would keep her mind off the shirtless guy in front of her. She started to make a mental checklist. The coffee tables and lamps were dated but still in decent condition, which meant they were definitely donation-ready. Jack’s chair and couch were too old to salvage so she’d put them out on the curb. Maybe she’d ask Liam to help her carry them out tonight.
Liam.
“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Tomorrow. I’ll get him.” His ey
es were steady on her across the room. He mumbled one last thing she couldn’t make out and then slid the phone back into his jeans. “Sorry. Business call.”
“Something with the bar?” she asked, putting her hands on the back of a chair. If she could bring whatever was going on between them back to small talk, she’d be okay.
“No, I have a job tomorrow.”
“You have a second job?”
“Yeah, I’m a bounty hunter.”
“A bounty hunter?” She choked, pressing her hands deeper around the chair. “That’s real?”
“Yeah, it’s real.” He laughed a low grumble that came from the back of his throat. “There’s more criminals that have jumped parole in Clark County than you’d think. I do my best to keep people like you safe. You know, the pretty ones, like you.”
“There you go again with that pretty bullshit. It’s not going to work on me.” The last thing she needed was to get mixed up with some gun-slinging Irishman who chased after criminals, no matter how good that kiss felt. “I’m willing to answer questions about your father, but that’s it. I’m not going to help you find your brothers. I’m not one of those women you bring to the back of your bar. You can’t charm the pants right off of me.”
“I don’t bring women to the back of my bar. It’s not good for business. And, for the record, you’re not wearing pants. You’re wearing shorts so I can’t exactly charm the pants right off of you,” he said, pointing to her legs. “I should be offended, but I’m going to let it slide because I need you.”
“Right,” she scoffed as she folded her arms across her chest. “I know guys like you…”
“You don’t know shit, Charla. I was married for eight years until my wife left me two years ago for someone else. And I haven’t been with anyone else since her. So there. I’m a divorced man with no girlfriend in the midst of a goddamn dry spell. I’m sorry if I got a little eager around a beautiful woman.” Liam put his hands on his hips and hung his head. “I should get going, anyway.”
God damn it. Charla’s face flushed a deep crimson. “I’m just a little jaded, you know. When you catch your fiancé with another woman, you get a little edgy around men. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need your pity. I need you to know you shouldn’t judge ‘guys like me’ before you get to know them.” Liam pulled up his innocent eyes to meet hers.
“I’m not giving you any pity. I’m just trying to be nice or at least not be an asshole,” she said. It was depressing as hell to see a guy torn apart two years after his wife left him. But she knew better than most people that two years could feel like a blink of the eye. The first few months after breaking up with Rex had been agonizing. Cancelling all the wedding vendors was a bitch and even though she played the distraught I-have-a-cheating-fiancé card, she lost all of her deposits. Rex, of course, didn’t pay a dime because he was footing all his bills for medical school. That should have been another tip he was a loser. The bitterness had yet to wear off, and it had been two years. Two years too long, she thought.
“Please don’t leave yet,” she added, feeling guilt wash over her. He was Jack’s son after all, and they were in his house. The least she could do was be hospitable. “I’ll get you some dry clothes and a beer. Plus, maybe there are some things you may want to take with you.”
“What kind of beer?” He cocked his head.
“The only kind Jack would allow in this place. Guinness.”
“Then maybe I’ll stay for one, as long as you promise not to seduce me again,” he said, shaking out his hair with his hand.
“Seduce you?” She huffed, shaking her head with a smile. She let go of the chair and made her way down the hallway to Jack’s room. “You’re just like your old man, you know that?”
“How’s that? Smart as hell?” he called.
She shook her head again in Jack’s room as she dug through a box of his clothes. She grabbed a t-shirt and pair of jeans she’d never even seen Jack wear. He’d stopped wearing pants long before she’d arrived. They’d be small, but the other option was to give Liam one of Jack’s robes. She squeezed the jeans tighter, taking a glance at Jack’s bed.
“What the hell is going on, Jack?” she whispered, resting her hand on his bed. She gave it a light push before she walked into the hallway and shoved the clothes into Liam’s hands.
“Bathroom is right there. They’ll be a little tight, but they should be okay.” She pointed to the door behind him. “I’ll be out in a sec.”
She took a step back into her room and shut the door, exhaling deeply.
“Aren’t you going to lock the door?” he asked on the other side of the door.
Her eyes widened, and she reached out instinctively to lock the door with a click.
“That’s what I thought,” he called before she heard the bathroom door shut.
She peeled off her clothes, struggling to take down the jean shorts plastered to her skin. As she wiggled out, she scanned her closet looking for something not too sexy, but not too tame. She looked over at the set of button down, fleece pajamas on her dresser. She wore them every night for a week straight after breaking up with Rex. Definitely not sexy. She turned back to her closet and cursed herself for not keeping up with the body she worked hard to get. Most of her clothes were comfortable ones that enabled her to lift Jack or get spilled on by him. She heard the door of the bathroom open.
“Shit.” She stood in her bra and underwear for a second longer, thinking of the paper thin wall that stood between her and Liam. She finally resorted to a cotton dress she hadn’t worn in over two years. She pulled it over her head and assessed the outcome in the mirror.
“Not bad,” she whispered as she pulled down the dress. Her cleavage popped against the dress.
“What are you doing in there?” he called.
She yanked the dress back up to cover her breasts and opened the door to see Liam standing in the doorway. He looked her up and down and fought back a smile. The t-shirt hugged his body tight across his broad chest. “Nothing.”
“Like the jeans?” He pointed down to the snug-fitting denim wrapped around his thighs and the bottoms that came up above his ankles. “I’m ready for a flood and that beer.”
***
Liam sat on the ratty burgundy couch in Jack’s clothes, looking through a box of belongings from his father’s bedroom. The contents were a random assortment of books and knick-knacks. She handed him an opened bottle of beer and sat down in Jack’s go-to chair, an old Lazy Boy recliner with a worn footrest. She took a sip of Guinness as he threw a book back in the box.
“At least he had good taste in beer. Irish down to his bone,” Liam said, taking a drink “So, he left you the house, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I didn’t expect it at all. I thought maybe he had some long lost cousin or someone he forgot to mention. I figured there had to be someone he’d leave everything to,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows, not convinced.
“Honestly. I didn’t weasel my way in here and con him into anything,” she said defensively. “I worked for three hundred and twenty dollars a week for the last two years. That’s eight dollars an hour. I had free room and board and food while I finished my nursing degree. It was a good deal, and I didn’t expect anything else from him.”
“You couldn’t find a better job anywhere else?”
“Not with the same flexibility and benefits. He needed more care at the end, but I still made it work. Plus, he needed me. He interviewed twenty people before me. TWENTY. He even had another girl living with him for a week until he kicked her out,” she said, the anger in her voice edging her forward in the chair. “I moved in the same day he interviewed me and never left. I graduated a couple months ago and could have left him for a great paying job at the hospital, but I didn’t.”
“I got it. You’re the devoted type, willing to put up with a lot of crap,” he said, nodding his head in approval. “I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t being swindled, that’s
all. I guess you deserve the house.”
“Damn right,” she said, sitting back in her chair.
Liam laughed before he took another swig. The chuckle was low and incredibly sexy.
Not sexy, just a laugh, she told herself.
“So what was he like?” he asked.
“He had a great sense of humor,” she started, thinking back to all his witty remarks and jokes. Like the one about Pete and Repeat in the boat. She could still hear his voice Pete and Repeat were in a boat. Pete fell out, who was left? Repeat, of course, she would say every time, which prompted his joke again. It always ended in laughter, no matter how many times he said it. “And he was kind and loyal to me. He was the one who made me go back and finish my RN degree. I didn’t want to leave him, but he always told me he would be fine. I finished just before he started going downhill.”
“Did he have any friends or anything?”
“Not really, he was a loner. Kept to himself most of the time. I think I was the closest thing to a friend he’d had in a long time.”
“You know how he got this place? Did he grow up here?”
“I don’t know, never said.” Charla shook her head. “We didn’t talk much about our pasts. We both preferred it that way. He said he was a woodworker back in the day and that he missed Helen, but that’s about it.”
“Hmm.” Liam took another swig of beer.
“Did he mention your brothers’ names in the letter?” she asked.
“Just their first names, Ronan and Brody. They’re younger than me, but that’s all I have to go on.”