by Jean Oram
“I sold most of it. It was too much to manage…” She trailed off, looking to the side, pretending to be interested in the African violet sitting on the counter. To her surprise, it was real. She shifted Xavier higher on her shoulder so she could rub one of the velvety leaves. “I thought these were fussy and difficult to grow.”
“That’s what I’m told.” He wiped his hands on a towel as the doorbell rang. “Help yourself to water if you’re thirsty. Glasses are in the cupboard by the fridge.” He gestured vaguely while heading to a narrow hallway that ran alongside the under-the-staircase pantry. She assumed it led around to the entrance so people didn’t always have to walk through the archway and living room to reach the rest of the house.
The security system chimed, indicating the front door had been opened.
“I heard you could use this.”
Catherine risked peeking around the corner, catching a glimpse of the front entry. Beside Zach was a tall, fit-looking man carrying a frilly white bassinet attached to a matching stand.
Catherine stepped back, the timing of its arrival sending goose bumps down her arms.
“Oh, hello!” The man had spotted her, his face breaking into a large smile. He set the bassinet down and stepped around it. “Welcome to Blueberry Springs.”
“Thank you.”
He kicked off his snowy boots and, moving toward her, thrust out a hand for her to shake. “I have a friend from Dover. What part of England are you from?”
“I’m Catherine,” she said. “I’m from Cyprus.”
“Cyprus? That’s a trip and a half with a little one. You must have fallen pretty hard for ol’ Zach.” He grinned at the man, whose cheeks had turned pink. “I thought Ginger was still playing matchmaker. I guess international online dating is the next big thing. And…marriage?”
Catherine nodded. She’d been surprised when the website had emailed her paperwork, saying they could legally wed online. That it was some sort of loophole in international agreements the site had found and could apply to marriages.
“This is Devon Mattson,” Zach said, still looking embarrassed. “He’s the mayor.”
Devon tipped an imaginary hat. “At your service.”
Him being mayor didn’t explain how he knew about Xavier. Zach could have mentioned she was coming, but she hadn’t once mentioned her son while chatting online, as it had been too risky. While she knew that was a massive omission, nobody back home knew about Xavier and she planned to keep it that way. She’d had her fingers crossed that having a baby wouldn’t be a deal breaker for Zach, and so far he hadn’t said a word, which led her to tentatively assume all was good.
“How did you know I have a baby?” she asked Devon.
He laughed. “Welcome to the town of Blueberry Springs. Nothing stays a secret for long.”
Catherine felt the cold hand of dread squeeze her stomach.
“Especially not babies.” The mayor headed toward the door. “I’ll get out of your hair, as you must be tired from your trip. Just thought you could use a bed for your little one.”
“How much do you want for it?” Catherine moved to the frilly bed, mentally assessing its price. She wasn’t sure how much it would be worth, with the exchange rate and differences in the value of used goods.
“When he outgrows it, just bring it back,” Devon said. “We might be ready to pop out baby number two by that time.”
Something for nothing? There had to be a catch. And Catherine hated catches. She wanted to know what was owed before she accepted anything. Even the temporary use of a baby bed.
“I’d be more comfortable giving you something for it,” she said.
“Just babysit for us once or something. But seriously, don’t worry. It’s just sitting around collecting dust. We’d prefer someone gets some use out of it.”
Catherine assessed the sincerity in Devon’s gaze, forcing herself to relax, to accept the offer. She needed the bed, didn’t she? And babysitting was an acceptable exchange if he truly did expect something in return.
“Olivia’s expecting?” Zach asked.
Devon grinned like he was the luckiest man on the planet. Zach grinned back and clapped him on the shoulder, offering a hearty “Congratulations.” His reaction told Catherine that he didn’t mind having babies around. Not at all. And that Xavier would not be a deal breaker.
As she turned back to the kitchen, so her wet eyes and tremendous relief would go unnoticed, she thanked the heavens for the unexpected gift of Zach, a man who continued to knock her slightly off-kilter and seemed almost too good to be true.
Zach watched Catherine work her way through a heap of spaghetti. With the first bite her lashes had fluttered and a low moan of pleasure had escaped. She was indeed a fan of Italian food, as her profile had said. He had to admit, having a pretty woman moan over the meal he’d whipped up stroked his ego in a way that made him want to try making a lot more Italian dishes, as well as take a more thorough look at their online chats.
“How did Devon know I needed a bassinet?” Catherine asked. She was more than halfway through her plate now, her baby cooing in the bassinet beside the table.
He’d noted how she’d been taken off guard by Devon’s timing as well as generosity, causing a sense of caution to roll in. The timing, he had to admit, had been uncanny.
“Welcome to Blueberry Springs,” he said wryly, “where everyone knows your business. Sometimes even before you do.”
And yet he still knew very little about her business. After the quick call with Logan, he’d slipped online while she’d still been feeding Xavier and had found a rather short thread of messages that had gone back and forth between them. It sounded as though they’d mostly used the live texting chat feature, which didn’t seem to save messages. In other words, there was little to go on in terms of the history of their wooing, and his memory wasn’t bringing up much other than some flirtatious banter, which had been fun.
He still hadn’t quite wrapped his mind around the legalities of an online marriage or how he’d managed to forget so much. But she was here and he was in it. There was nothing to do but move forward.
He’d read the first message, where she’d outlined a bit about herself, which was a decent start. She liked Italian food, as well as James Bond movies—so would she like being married to a real-life James Bond if she ever found out about his past? Zach hoped so. She hated bodies of water where you couldn’t see the bottom. Despised liars. Wished she knew how to knit. Wanted to belong to a book club. Wished to donate more of her time to local charities. And a few other tidbits that said less about her than he’d like.
Catherine’s eyes had darkened slightly as they spoke about Devon and his timing, and her brow had furrowed. Zach could tell she didn’t like having people in her business, which was something he understood. She wasn’t used to small-town generosity, which was based on the assumption that whatever went around came back again soon enough.
“You’re from the city?” Zach asked, idling twirling noodles around his fork. He’d grown up in Philadelphia, on a street that had mostly kept to itself, other than the lady next door who had more kids than she could handle. With that being his last real neighborhood experience, he’d found moving to Blueberry Springs disconcerting. Given the community’s well-meant but snoopy ways, he’d found blending in and disappearing into a crowd nearly impossible. For one thing, there were rarely any crowds. For another, he was the new guy in town and therefore had a certain mystery that drew flocks of curious people, leaving him feeling as though his every move was being watched. Not good for a man who’d spent the past few decades striving to remain invisible, allowing him to go anywhere and overhear everything.
After a few months, because Logan had instructed him to ride it out, he’d discovered that in his new life as a personal security agent—mostly installing puppy cams, a nickname Logan had given home security systems that were more about checking in on the dog while at work than about catching thieves in the act—having a co
mmunity on the watch was a good thing. Someone always seemed to have heard or seen something and was more than happy to talk about it. Even though it sometimes made Zach feel as though his services were redundant, there were enough cases with challenges to keep things interesting.
“I grew up in the suburbs,” Catherine said.
“In Cyprus?”
“No.” She met his eye.
He could tell she was being truthful, and yet not helpful. Was she simply reserved? Or was it something else?
“You grew up near London. Southwest, I’d bet? Maybe Egham? Old Windsor?”
Catherine’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing.
“Your accent,” he explained. A classic London accent with a working-class roll.
“You’re an expert?”
“I had a colleague from there.” Mostly true. Although the arms dealer he’d put away certainly wouldn’t call him anything as jovial as a colleague. “You say some of your vowels the same way.”
She gave a polite smile and picked up her plate, but Zach thrust out his hand, covering her free one. “I get it. You have boundaries and don’t want to share your past. I won’t pry. But I do need to know a few things.”
Catherine’s eyes were clamped to his hand, her breathing shallow. He didn’t release his gentle grip, and she didn’t pull away. There was a warmth from their touch traveling up his arm, almost distracting him from asking what he needed to know.
“Are you wanted by the police?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Does Xavier’s father know you’re here?”
Catherine looked up, her eyes sad. “He passed away nine months ago.”
Zach’s hand slid off hers.
A widow. A single mom.
Tired and alone. That could explain the fear. The mystery in her past she wanted to leave behind.
Was that all it was? He had a feeling there was more, and that she wasn’t ready to reveal it to him. But if he went digging like Logan had suggested, then he wasn’t giving their relationship a chance, was he? He would know things about her and that would change the situation. It wouldn’t allow her to give voice to her personal stories, to trust him with them. He’d know, because he hadn’t trusted her.
The fact that he was having this conversation with himself told him one thing: despite the shadows in her past, he wanted to give this relationship a real shot. Like a normal man would.
A normal man who’d married someone online.
Okay, so he wasn’t a poster boy for “normal” yet. Big deal.
The question was, why was she here? Why had she said I do?
And why had he?
He was running from his own past, but what was Catherine running from? Grief or something else?
Whatever it was, his gut told him that the unpleasantness in her past wasn’t imminent. She’d be more on edge, more emotional if it was. That meant he could afford to give her some time to reveal herself to him before he asked the boys back at the agency to run a check on her. He’d try the “real” way first. What was that called again?
Sharing?
He could give it a go.
“What are you hoping for with this relationship?” he asked.
She shifted, no doubt uncomfortable by his directness.
“Sorry for being so blunt, but if we share our expectations I think it’ll help.”
She nodded slowly.
“Do you need someone to pay the bills while you stay home with Xavier?” he pressed. “Do you need a partner? A friend? A father for your son? A true spouse and more kids?” The idea of that last one made his chest hurt. What would he say if that was what she was hoping for?
He wanted that. Of course he did. But he wasn’t so certain he was capable.
For a moment he thought she was going to excuse herself and avoid the question. Instead, she tipped her head thoughtfully, her focus hazy as she said honestly, “I’m hoping for a fresh start. A quiet town that’s perfect for raising kids. A man who’ll be at my side. Just someone who…” She briefly met his gaze, a vulnerability exposed for a brief moment. “I want quiet. A life with football—that’s called soccer here, isn’t it?—and a minivan and knitted woolly jumpers. Someone to sip tea with me on the patio and watch the sun set.” Her lips twisted slightly and she shook her head. “That’s a tall order.”
“It sounds normal to me.”
“I’d be happy having a partnership that values caring and kindness. One that offers support as well as independence.”
Well, he’d guess that her deceased beau hadn’t been awesome in the family department. Not that he’d had much of a chance, seeing as she’d likely been about two months along before he was permanently removed from the family photo.
Catherine’s blue eyes were focused on him again. She blushed, as though realizing she’d revealed more than she’d intended. And yet she held his gaze, silently asking if he could provide any of those things.
Zach drew a deep breath, his chest tight as he envisioned the life she’d outlined. He wanted that, too. It wasn’t the moon, just a reasonable slice of contentment.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her cheeks pinking even more. “I’m overtired. I get sentimental sometimes.”
She stood, and Zach swallowed over the lump in his throat. “That all sounds pretty good to me. Maybe we should take baby steps.” What did people do when they first started dating? “Like start with coffee?”
She let out a shaky laugh and he loved her for not being offended, for seeing the humor in their situation.
He stood as well, helping her clear the table. “So you’re not looking for love?” He was embarrassed by the way his words came out, awkward and husky.
She gave a quick shake of her head.
Of course she wasn’t.
He was a fool to have asked. The father of her child had passed away less than a year ago. She was grieving. People didn’t mail-order a spouse because they hoped for a soulmate. They just wanted somewhere to belong, to fit, so they were no longer alone.
“Are you?” she asked. Her eyes were dark and wide as she awaited his answer.
He gave a light huff and pushed a hand through his hair. “Don’t know that love is in the cards for me.”
“Bad relationships?” she said carefully, as though unsure how much they could ask each other.
“Nah, just never really happened for me.” He stacked the dishes on the counter over the dishwasher and began running water for the pots. “How about you?”
“Maybe.” She gave a quick shrug that told him she had found love but was still feeling its sting.
“You don’t know?” he asked, aware he was being a bit cheeky. But he was curious. Curious how life had treated—and obviously managed to beat up—a beautiful, strong woman like Catherine.
“I thought maybe I had…” Her gaze had softened, focused on the distance as though watching a memory float past. “It doesn’t matter.” She opened the dishwasher and began setting plates and cutlery neatly inside, maximizing space, her system eerily similar to his. “Neither of us is looking for love, right?”
“Right.” He began washing the pots, then stacking them in the drainer so they could air dry. “We’re looking for companionship.” He glanced her way.
Catherine avoided meeting his eyes and finished with the dishwasher, then took the tea towel off the oven door handle.
“If you’re tired you don’t have to help.”
“It’s nice to do something homelike and grounding after—” She cut herself short.
“After?”
“It feels like I’ve been traveling a long time,” she said quickly, her moves suddenly jerky. “Xavier had colic for the first two months and I developed some bad meal habits. Just…surviving, right?”
“I can imagine.”
They worked together in silence and Zach wondered just exactly what her living conditions had been like in Cyprus with a colicky baby. Judging from her body language it hadn’t b
een good.
“Were your parents divorced?” he asked, curious if there was more to her not-looking-for-love story than simply being a grieving mother in need of help. In other words, how soon would she leave him once she was back on her feet?
Why was he even thinking that way?
Because he’d been trained to prepare for the end of a mission as well as the operation itself.
This isn’t a mission, he reminded himself. It’s life.
“No,” she said. “They stuck it out. Yours?” By her tone he gathered that her parents had fought a fair amount and hadn’t had a magical marriage.
“They didn’t officially divorce and I suppose they’re still out there somewhere.” Assuming they haven’t overdosed on drugs. “I was raised by my grandmother.”
“Is she still with us?”
He shook his head, noting how she’d carefully avoiding asking about his parents. His grandmother had been his whole world, his family. Once she was gone he’d been adrift, taking increasingly dangerous missions as he worked his way up the ranks in the military, then increasing the number of secret missions he accepted until he found himself deep in the intelligence business. His grandmother had taught him many skills that still served him well, and they had helped him through difficult times. Patience, kindness, understanding, how to cook, how to laugh.
But not how to get over her loss.
Catherine and Zach had finished the few dishes and stood staring at each other for a long moment. Her gentle gaze was taking him in, trying to see more than he was willing to reveal.
She placed a hand over his. “I’m sorry.”
He jerked in surprise at the depth of her sincerity, at how much she must have seen. Or maybe he was just used to army men grunting their apologies when they came across that personal history tidbit before moving on.
He turned away. “She’s been gone some time now.”
“You’re alone though, aren’t you?”
He gave a minute nod, his back muscles tightening. “Are you?”
As he wiped down the cooled stove, he could hear her behind him as she let out a long, slow breath before saying, “By choice.”