She looked into his brown eyes—they really were kind of dreamy. And thoughtful. He was a good listener. She’d dumped her work worries on him. He’d listened patiently while she’d gone on about fundraisers and donation drives. Why not this? Riley was a big part of her life, especially now that he was back in Summer Harbor.
She let loose a sigh. “It’s Riley. I’m worried about him. He puts on this jovial act and tries to pretend everything’s okay, but I’m not buying it.”
Dylan released a skeptical puff of air. “That was jovial?” There was a sarcastic edge to his voice she hadn’t heard before.
She gave him a withering look. “He’s been through a lot. Sometimes he lets his guard down and gets a little prickly. Like tonight. I didn’t handle it well.” She tossed her napkin onto her plate. “I didn’t handle it well at all.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re letting the guy stay with you. You’re practically his nursemaid.”
“Don’t you dare say that in front of him. He’s independent to a fault. And of course I’m helping him. He’s my best friend.”
“Are you sure?”
Her eyes darted to his, questioning. “What do you mean, am I sure?”
Their gazes tangled. His brown eyes didn’t seem so dreamy at the moment. They seemed shrewd, harder somehow.
Her shoulder muscles tightened, and heat flushed through her body.
“I mean . . . ,” he said slowly. “Are you sure that’s all he is?”
She sat back in her chair. “Of course I’m sure.”
“You just seem awfully distracted by someone who’s supposedly just a friend.”
She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully on Dylan’s face. Was he one of those jealous, possessive guys? Was his question a red flag or just a rational concern? In high school there had been a couple guys who didn’t understand her friendship with Riley, who seemed put out when she spent time with him. But she and Dylan were adults. Surely they were beyond the petty insecurities of the teen years.
She pushed back her plate and met his gaze head-on. “Look, Dylan. Riley and I go back a long way. He’s like a brother to me, and I’d do anything for him, as he would for me. If you’re uncomfortable with me having such a close male friend—”
Dylan put his hands up, palms out. “No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go all possessive guy on you. He’s your friend. You want to be there for him. I get that.”
“I appreciate that.”
But observing his unrepentant face, she wondered if he really did get it.
In any case, the polish had quickly worn off their date, and suddenly she only wanted to be at home with Riley. She wanted to apologize for losing her temper and make everything right between them again.
She checked her watch. “I hate to be a fuddy-duddy, but would you mind if we caught the next ferry back? It’s been a long day.”
She knew her tone sounded a little peeved, but you know what? She was peeved. She had enough stress in her life right now without a guy she’d barely begun dating getting all jealous over Riley.
Dylan stared at her for a long moment, his jaw knotting up more with each second that passed. Finally he set his napkin on his plate. “Fine. We’ll catch the next ferry.” He lifted his hand as the server passed nearby. “Check, please.”
What was he doing? Last place Riley should be was out here in the darkened living room, waiting for Paige like some overprotective father. He’d even turned on the porch light, though it was barely dark.
Number one, fat chance she’d come home this early. Number two, what did he hope to accomplish? Did he really think seeing some guy kiss her was going to make matters better?
Maybe it would finally drill into his head once and for all that she was out of his reach.
Or maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment.
A crackle of gravel sounded, and he peered through the slit in the blinds. Lights swept across the room, then went out.
Well, well, well. An early night. Considering they’d gone all the way to Folly Shoals, he hadn’t expected her home till at least eleven. He couldn’t quite smother the glee that rose inside or the smirk that curled his lips. Had something gone wrong? Or maybe Dylan Moore, lobsterman extraordinaire, was worried about his beauty rest. Stupid schmuck.
A car door slammed, then another. Riley edged over on the couch so he could follow them to the porch. Dylan was walking a good three paces behind Paige, but once they were on the porch he narrowed the gap.
Riley had to shift up on his knee and lean in to see them under the golden glow of the porch light.
Something about Paige’s posture seemed stiff. Maybe it was her squared shoulders. No, it was the stubborn jut of her chin. He couldn’t see Dylan’s face in the shadows. They spoke briefly while Riley’s heart boomed in his chest cavity. He held his breath, as if the quiet might help him hear their conversation. But the house was too well insulated. Why hadn’t he thought to crack a window?
His heart stuttered as Dylan leaned in, the back of his head mercifully blocking what appeared to be a good-night kiss. Riley’s fingers tightened on the sofa cushion.
He sucked in a lungful of oxygen, trying to get his emotions under control. She’s not yours, Callahan. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he told himself that, his heart wasn’t buying it.
The door whooshed open.
Riley dived away from the window. His stump caught on the sofa cushion, and his good leg got caught up under him, making him lose his balance. He grabbed for a hold, but it was too late. He toppled downward, landing on the floor with a heavy thud.
“Riley!” Paige was at his side before he could get his bearings.
Heat flooded his face, his entire upper body. Seriously, God? He gritted his teeth. “I’m fine.”
His stump was upright against the sofa, pulsing with pain. He pushed up on his elbows and swiveled his body away from her.
Paige grabbed his arm. “Wait. Are you hurt? You’re too heavy. Let me get Dylan.”
“No.” Hadn’t he suffered enough humiliation for one day? “I don’t need his help.” He pushed back, rolled over, and used his arms and good leg to lever himself off the floor.
Paige reached out for him as he teetered.
He jerked away. “I can do it myself!”
He was huffing and puffing by the time he was upright. A sheen of sweat dampened his back, and heat settled like warm pools into his cheeks.
“Are you okay?” The pity in her eyes made him want to hit something.
He hobbled toward his crutch. “Wicked awesome.”
“I’m really starting to hate that phrase.”
He grabbed his crutches and propped them under his arms, ignoring the pain in his leg. “I’m going to bed.”
“Riley, don’t. Let’s talk.”
He swung his crutches forward. “Tomorrow.”
“Please?”
The need in her voice was the only thing on planet Earth that could’ve stopped his escape right then. He stopped in his tracks, giving a hard sigh. His heart was racing like he’d just done fifty push-ups.
“You’re home early,” he taunted. “What’s wrong? Did the dreamy Dylan Moore not live up to your expectations?”
She walked around until she faced him. The porch light filtered through the blinds, giving her face a golden glow. Those baby-blue eyes . . . They sucked him right in every time. His eyes flickered down to her lips. The ones that had just hosted Dylan Moore’s.
His jaw clenched. What did you expect, Callahan? That she was saving herself for a man who can barely pick himself up off the floor?
She touched his arm, and he flinched as a jolt went through him.
She withdrew her touch. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was . . . impatient and short-tempered. I should’ve been more patient with you.”
“I don’t need your pity, Paige.”
She gave him a flinty look. “It’s not pity. It’s compassion. I love you, you big jughead.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He hobbled away.
“Where are you going?”
“To bed.”
She skirted around him again, blocking his path. Great. A hundred-and-ten-pound girl could now outmaneuver him. He’d just reached a new low.
He gave her a dark look, forbidding himself from softening under the look in her eyes.
“You can push me away all you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”
He’d seen that look in her eyes before. It was the one she got when there was an emergency call at the shelter. Like she was on a mission. Like she was rising to the challenge.
He bristled as a fresh flood of heat washed into his face. Gritting his teeth, he locked in on her eyes and lowered his face until they were a breath apart. “I’m not one of your animals, Paige. I don’t need you to save me.”
He held eye contact, making sure he’d driven his point home. Then he shouldered past her, using his crutch to edge her out of the way.
He swung through the bedroom door and gave it a push. It closed behind him with a loud slam.
Chapter 8
Saturday morning found Paige in a back booth at Frumpy Joe’s, opposite Eden and Lucy. The three of them were unlikely friends. First of all, Paige had been dating Beau when Eden came along and stole his heart. And a year and a half ago Lucy had left town a week before her wedding to Zac, leaving him brokenhearted and thus a sworn enemy of the Callahans. But then she’d turned up all lost and confused last summer, and the two of them had ironed everything out.
Paige had let both girls off the hook long ago. Forgiveness wasn’t so hard when she witnessed the perma-smiles on Beau’s and Zac’s faces.
The girls ordered, then settled in, starting with an overview of Paige’s date with Dylan. For some reason she skipped over the awkward conversation they’d had about Riley and focused on the romantic aspects. When their need for details was exhausted, they moved on to the reason for their meeting.
“What we need,” Eden said, “is a fundraiser to get you through the short term. Then we’ll work on finding new sponsors.”
“How about a picnic auction like we put on last year for the firehouse?” Lucy said.
“I think we need something fresher,” Paige said.
“A spaghetti dinner?” Eden suggested.
“The Rotary Club just had one of those.” Lucy tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder. “How ’bout a bachelor auction? One of the sororities did that while I was at Harvard. They raised a boatload of cash.”
“That’s an idea,” Paige said.
“We should do it.” Eden clapped her hands. “Oh, this sounds like a ton of fun.”
Paige shot her a look. “Simmer down, Miss Future Callahan. You don’t get to join in the reindeer games.”
“Trust me, it’ll be more entertaining as a spectator.” She arched a delicate brow at Lucy. “This is a prime opportunity for matchmaking.”
“I’m not sure I like where this is going,” Paige said.
“Relax. I’ve been taking notes from Aunt Trudy.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “Heaven help us all.”
Eden and Lucy began pitching ideas back and forth while Paige jotted them down. After a while the topic shifted toward Eden’s upcoming wedding, and Paige’s thoughts scattered as she doodled beside her copious notes.
She’d slept horribly, waking every couple hours to stew over the words she’d exchanged with Riley. At five o’clock she finally gave up. She’d been hoping to clear the air before she left, but he’d still been in his room. By the time she’d met the girls she was buzzing with caffeine.
“Earth to Paige . . . ,” Lucy said.
Paige looked up to find both women staring at her. “Sorry, what? I drifted off.”
“What’s the big frown all about?” Eden asked. Her gaze bounced off Lucy, then returned to Paige. “You’re not . . . Would you rather we not talk about my, um, wedding?”
“What? No.” Paige put her hand on Eden’s. “Hey, I’m nothing but happy for you and Beau. You two were always meant to be.”
Eden couldn’t really help that she’d captured Beau’s attention practically the minute she arrived in town, in all her desperate-fleeing-woman glory. Beau had always been a sucker for a woman in distress.
It was true Paige was hurt when Beau broke up with her. But time had a way of healing wounds and bringing clarity. Beau was completely wrong for her. They were definitely lacking in the sparks department. And Paige was holding out for sparks.
“Is it the auction then?” Lucy asked. “Are you not keen on the idea?”
“No, no, it’s a great idea. I’m just . . .” She sighed as she pulled her hand back and began picking at her napkin. “Things aren’t going great with Riley, that’s all. He’s been irritable, which is completely understandable. He doesn’t want any help from me, and I just feel like I keep doing and saying all the wrong things. I thought I knew him so well, but right now I feel like I don’t know him at all.”
“Aw, sugar,” Lucy said. “I’m sure that’s not true. He’s been through an awful lot. War alone can cause a lot of issues, but to top it off he’s dealing with the loss of his leg and the trauma from that. He’ll be faring better in time, sure enough.”
“I know that, and I’m here for him as long as he needs me. But it’s so hard to find a balance between helpful and smothering. No, there is no balance. He doesn’t even want ‘helpful.’ It’s like he wants to be all alone in this. He’s done nothing but push me away lately.”
“Is he getting counseling of any kind?” Lucy asked.
“Starts next week. Maybe that’ll help.”
“I bet it will,” Eden said. “It’s sure helped me cope with the remnants from my first marriage. Emotional trauma takes a toll, but he’ll come out of it. You’ll see.”
“Hey!” Lucy said. “We should get Riley to be one of our bachelors.”
Paige squirmed in her seat. “I don’t know. I think he needs to focus on his therapy. Besides, with the mood he’s been in, he might scare away all the single ladies.”
“Are you kidding me?” Lucy said. “What’s more appealing than a handsome, broody marine? The ladies’ll be fighting over him. I bet that would perk him right up.”
“Maybe she’s right,” Eden said. “Having a little female attention might be just the ego boost he needs. Plus he’d be raising money for a good cause. Feeling productive is great for the mood.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Paige searched for a valid excuse and came up empty.
“I could ask him if you want,” Lucy offered.
“No, that’s okay. I-I can do it.”
“Why don’t we come up with a list of names,” Eden said. “We’ll divide them up and ask them this week. Next time we meet we’ll have a list of willing victims—er, participants.”
“I think you had it right the first time.” Paige gave a playful grin.
But inside, the thought of asking Riley to be one of the bachelors made her feel anything but playful.
Chapter 9
Riley secured the towel at his waist, leaned against the bathroom counter, and wetted the razor. After last night’s debacle he felt the need for a clean slate of some kind, and his face was the easiest target. The mirror began fogging up, so he opened the door leading into the bedroom.
He’d been a real jerk with Paige last night. Why was it everything seemed so different, so clear, in the morning? Just because he was all knotted up over her didn’t give him the right to be nasty. She didn’t know the close proximity was hard for him. That watching her go out with Dylan was torture. She was only trying to help him.
The razor scraped as he drew it along his stubbled jaw. He rapped it against the sink, drawing in a deep breath of the humid air. Somehow the bathroom always smelled like Paige after he showered. The bedding smelled of her, too, no matter that it was freshly washed. Living in her private space
was its own special kind of torture.
He wondered where Paige was this morning, hoped he hadn’t chased her from her own house. He’d gotten through his exercises and was feeling restless. He was tired of being cooped up. The thought of facing people didn’t thrill him, but he had to get out of here, find something to do. Was it too soon for a job?
Hard as it was to admit, he didn’t know if he had the stamina for that. After the exercises and shower, he was beat. His heart was pounding hard just from standing upright, and his stump was throbbing.
Plus, he couldn’t drive, and he couldn’t walk far, making him dependent on others for transportation. He gave the razor an extra hard rap against the sink, rinsed his face, and blotted his freshly shaven cheeks with a towel. Much better. If only he felt as normal as he looked.
Now for the exquisite treat of getting dressed. He grabbed his crutches and hobbled into the bedroom.
His eyes darted toward a movement in the open doorway. Paige froze at the threshold, one hand poised to knock.
“Oh. Sorry.”
Her eyes slid downward, and he looked away before they could drop past the towel and fasten on his naked stump. Now there was a sight sure to please. He wished he could tug his towel south to hide it, but that would expose other areas she had no interest in seeing.
He gritted his teeth, continuing toward the bureau. “How was your morning?” he asked, pleased his tone sounded more agreeable than he felt.
“I had—” She turned her head and cleared her throat. “I had breakfast with the girls—Lucy and Eden.”
“That’s great.” He pulled open a bureau drawer. His gaze flickered up to the mirror where he could see Paige avoiding eye contact. Her fingers fiddled with the top button of her shirt.
Was she uncomfortable at the sight of his bare stump, or just feeling awkward after their argument the night before? The tape of his ugly words played one more time in his head.
“Listen, Paige. I’m sorry about last night. I was a jerk.”
“Riley . . .” Her eyes darted to his and then away.
He faced her, skivvies and cargos in hand. “I know you’re trying to help. I was just in a mood.”
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