by Lindsey Hart
She smiled at him as she stepped down the stairs. The dress billowed around her, gauzy, almost fairy-like. The muscles in her sleek arms flexed as she reached down, and he realized she was going to take his suitcase.
“I can do it. It’s not a problem,” he pushed out. He pulled in a long breath, trying to fill lungs that squeezed just a little too tight in his chest.
“Alright.” Maren straightened and tucked her hand back at her side. She was standing not more than a couple inches from him and the smell of salt, fresh air and cloudless skies clung to her hair.
Probably her skin as well. Would she taste like the sea? Owen gave himself a shake. This was not about Maren. Though why he’d never noticed her before, as a woman, he couldn’t say. He supposed he was too taken with Chelsea, with her luxurious curves, her mysterious blue eyes and long blonde hair. He didn’t know a man who wasn’t instantly captivated by Chelsea’s exotic beauty. It hit like a sucker punch. It wasn’t really his fault that he’d been so smitten. He’d watched other men react the exact same way, as though she had an ability to cast a spell over them.
Before feelings of regret, anger and bitterness could take over, he swallowed hard and stepped up, following Maren as she moved. Was it his imagination or did her sweet, alluring scent trail in her wake?
She led the way inside the house, which hadn’t changed at all. It looked much like it had when it was built, over a century before, he imagined. The furniture was slightly more modern, the kitchen updated. He supposed it hadn’t been built with electricity or running water either and that those were added later, but what did he truly know about that?
“Just set your suitcase there by the door. I can bring it up for you later. You have your choice of rooms as I have no other guests arriving until after you’re booked to leave.” Maren smiled softly and it was completely captivating. Owen couldn’t pull his eyes away from her face. The flush of health and outdoor living bloomed on her cheeks.
“Thank you.”
“Now, how about a water? Or I have tea or coffee. I also just bought an expresso machine. I haven’t used it much, but I’m sure I could figure it out if you’d like something a little more complicated.”
“No- uh- water and black coffee, if it’s not too much trouble, would be just fine.”
“Perfect. Can I offer you something to eat?” Maren’s dainty hands clasped in front of her waist. Her eyes twinkled like she actually enjoyed serving other people. It took him a second to remember that she owned the bed and breakfast. Of course, she enjoyed serving. It was her job. Though for her, it seemed to be more than that. The way she was looking at him, it made him feel, for the first time in a long time, that he truly mattered.
Which wreaked havoc on his insides. His stomach curled up on itself, like some inner fist was grabbing and twisting. His chest imploded, and he felt, oddly enough, the soft tendrils of sorrow creeping over him.
“Yes, thanks,” he ground out, his voice oddly stiff.
“I can make you a sandwich. I have fruit. Or a salad? Or soup? I should just get you the menu…”
“No, that’s alright. Whatever you prefer. Whatever is the least trouble.”
Maren laughed softly, a musical sound, hypnotizing, like the gentle lapping of waves over the beach. The sound flowed over him like the sweetest caress, a touch he hadn’t known he’d been missing.
“Alright. I can do that. Would you like to eat in the kitchen or the dining room? Or maybe outside? It’s a beautiful day. I have the front porch if you want to face the street, or the back, if you’d like to look out over the water?”
“You have too many choices,” Owen ground out irritably. Maren’s face fell. Her smile died away and he wanted to punch himself. “I’m sorry- I- I’m not the best of company at the moment. The drive was long and I haven’t slept much and my head is pounding.”
“Oh.” Maren’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. He noticed the way her hands twisted, as though she suddenly wasn’t sure whether to be kind or not. He wished desperately that he could take back what he’d said.
“I… it hasn’t been an easy year,” Owen admitted. The words flowed out of him after that, for some reason, as though he could talk to and trust Maren. Chelsea had once been her best friend after all. “Chelsea was… it was difficult. The divorce took a lot out of me. I’m not normally rude- I- I apologize.”
Maren blinked. It took a moment, but her smile was back, if a little forced. “That’s alright. Can I ask you something though, Owen? A question that I’m sure the entire town will be asking by the time today is over, if you’re spotted?”
Small towns just work that way. I came here, knowing full well what it could mean, knowing that people would talk. He was annoyed, all the same. I came here for what? Escape? Absolution? Closure? He still couldn’t exactly answer that question. Whatever degree of an ending he’d hoped to find, a way to move on, suddenly felt far away and elusive.
“You want to know why I came back? I’m sure it doesn’t make sense since this was the place where it all started. People probably think it’s more painful than anything. They’re right. Just being back here- it brings it all back. I was- lost- and I… it somehow made sense, at the time, that if I came back here, maybe I could just finally put it behind me and move forward.”
Maren nodded slowly, as if his jumbled thoughts made all the sense in the world. He was unprepared for the way she stepped forward, confident. He froze, unable to keep her at bay. All he had to do was say the word and he sensed she would have retreated.
Instead, suddenly she was pressed up against him, her arms sliding around his shoulders, her soft curves melding into his body, sparking the most masculine of biological responses. His blood surged, and his heartbeat hammered in his ears. His cock stiffened painfully, and he closed his eyes, praying she wouldn’t feel it through his jeans.
The hug was brief, but even after she pulled away, her touch lingered. Her delicate scent stayed with him, igniting his senses. His body ached, ached to have her back there, close to him, alive and warm in his arms. He hadn’t made a move to hug her back, but just the slightest touch, the connection of human contact, was a balm to his tattered heart.
“Whatever reason you’ve come, I’m glad you’re here. Welcome back to the Raven’s Gem, Owen. Now, since I spent most of the time cleaning and forgot about lunch, I’m also starved. How about I make us sandwiches and lemonade and we go down to the beach? It’s a shame to waste such a beautiful day inside.”
Say no. Keep her away. Even if she’s just being friendly, this is the last thing I need. Her. Another woman. Here. It’s too much. Say no.
“Yes.” He was surprised at the strength of his voice, at his easy capitulation. “That would be nice.” He was even more astounded, that he actually meant it.
CHAPTER 4
Maren
Some moments in life were so perfect they banished all the bad for just a short while. Sitting on a blue and white striped cotton blanket, eating an egg salad sandwich mixed with just the right amount of mustard and pepper, listening to the gentle waves lapping and withdrawing against the blonde, sandy shore, Maren was content.
She almost forgot about why she was sitting down there with her guest, instead of up at the house puttering around like she normally would have been. She just about forgot that creditors called her every other day and that her loan was way past due.
She couldn’t say that was the sole reason she’d joined Owen down at the beach. She sensed that he wouldn’t want to be there alone like the first time after the day he’d nearly drowned. The waters seemed so peaceful and serene that it was hard to believe anything bad could actually take place in their tranquil depths. It wasn’t just that though, that was making Owen hurt. She knew it was everything, the combined effects of Chelsea and his marriage imploding, being the one left behind, being the one to bear a broken heart. She wasn’t an expert, but she figured the best way to find healing was to talk about the things that hurt the most.
Maren finished off one of the triangles of her sandwich. She kept her face turned to the waves, but Owen was so near she imagined she could feel the heat of his arm, or maybe his thigh. The breeze was gentle, but it played tricks with her nose, one second heavy with a salty tang, the next, masculine, the deep woodsy scent of Owen.
“So… I decided to give the bed and breakfast an overhaul. She hadn’t seen a renovation in a while.” Her voice cut through the gentle stillness of the afternoon.
“Yes. I can tell. You did an excellent job.”
“Well, it wasn’t all me. I might have picked out the colors and the materials, but I had a good crew come and complete it. I’m useless at that stuff.”
“So am I,” Owen admitted, a gentle smile spreading over his face. Their eyes met, which set off a deep quaking in Maren’s stomach.
Men were all the same. At least she liked to think so. It was all Hettie’s fault that she felt nervous, that her palms were clamming up and sweating, that though her sandwich was delicious, and she was starving, she had trouble swallowing. She was aware, in all the wrong places, of the man sitting beside her. He made her body tingle, burn and shiver in alternate waves.
“Uh- yes… well, anyway, it’s done now. It’s been in my family for- well, I guess you could say three generations. Technically I’m the fourth, but my mom didn’t stick around so I don’t know if that counts or not.”
“I had no idea.” Owen finally picked up his sandwich. He ate with the ardor of a man who hadn’t eaten all day and she wondered why he’d held back at first, waiting for her to finish. Maybe he was just lost in thought. They’d sat out there for almost half an hour in silence, which she wasn’t at all disturbed by.
“My great grandfather built it for my great grandma. I guess you could call the house a great love story. It ended up being way bigger than anyone imagined, and they decided to take on boarders since they only had one child. My grandma. I’m sure they wanted more, but it was never in the cards. My grandma Jane was completely doted on all her life. She was very loved.”
“I’m an only child as well.”
“Really?” Maren reached into the wicker picnic basket she’d brought and produced an apple. She didn’t bother with the knife she’d thrown in, but bit into the crisp peel. The juices flooded her mouth and she nearly sighed in delight.
“Why? Don’t I seem like I’m the only child sort of person?”
“Not at all. What about me?” Maren waited, apple poised halfway to her mouth, the bite mark slowly turning brown. Owen frowned. The effect was absolutely devastating.
Maren would never have admitted it, but she’d always found Owen far too handsome, what some woman might have termed dashing, if that term could still be used. He was one of those men that walked like their feet didn’t touch the ground, and she meant that in a good way. His features were angular and chiseled, almost rugged, which was odd, considering he worked and lived in Seattle, in the heart of the city. He was fit, which made him look younger than he likely was. She pegged him to be around thirty-five, but she couldn’t quite remember if that was the base or not. He was tall as well, his body that of a man half his age. He had the physique of a man who worked out and ate well. Maybe even jogged every morning. His hair was jet black, not the brown black that some people had which oddly enough didn’t look at all arrogant when he oiled it back. Instead, it looked vintage, ageless, like he’d stepped out of another time. His eyes were deep brown, almost as black as his hair and his lashes were far too long and thick to belong on a man. His jaw bore the shadow of black stubble, but she thought that it probably always looked that way, even freshly shaved.
“I… I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you are an only child as well. Seeing as you’re alone here, at the bed and breakfast.”
“Maybe my siblings just weren’t interested. Monterey isn’t exactly the hot spot of the world.”
“Oh.” Owen blinked those long, amazing lashes and Maren’s mouth dried out a little. She quickly took another bite of her apple and chewed thoughtfully before she spoke again.
“I’m an only child,” she admitted. “You’re right about that. My mom- she- uh- well she was a little troubled growing up. She had a great childhood. I mean, my grandma and grandpa were good people. Her dad died when she was seventeen though, suddenly of a heart attack. That was really hard on her. My grandma said she really went down the wrong path after that. She disappeared, left Monterey for three years and then all of a sudden came back, pregnant. She stayed long enough to give birth to me and then she left again. My grandma and I never saw her again. I’ve never met her, to this day.”
“I’m- I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s alright. I mean, I had the best grandma in the world. She was the best mom anyone could ask for. My mom used drugs during her pregnancy, so I was actually born an addict as well, I guess you could say. I went through all the withdrawals, as a newborn. My grandma says it was the hardest thing she ever had to watch.”
“Jesus.”
“Yah. Well, she was tough. She was tough and amazing. She ran this place all on her own after my grandpa died. She missed him, every single day. She loved him very much, but she got on with it. She never expected to have to raise another baby, but her heart was one of the best on this planet and I was so loved.”
“You don’t hate your mom for just- leaving you here?”
“Never. She couldn’t save herself. I think she knew that, but she could save me. She came back here to give me a chance to be loved. She knew I would never have that anywhere else, not in any kind of system, in a home being raised by strangers. At least, most kids don’t get that, though some are lucky and wind up with a loving family. She did the best she could, and that was to leave me with my grandma.”
Owen ran a hand through his hair. He raised his forgotten sandwich to his mouth and finished it off in a few bites. The air between them was tense, strained, but not because of what she’d shared. She could tell that Owen was working on a confession of his own. She’d shared, and in doing so, she gave him the opportunity to open up. It wasn’t a game with her. She’d never minded sharing things that other people considered quite personal. Maybe it was why some people said she was so easy to talk to.
“I imagine Chelsea was a little like your mom. She never wanted to come back. It wasn’t natural. She never talked about her past. I knew I’d made a mistake almost as soon as we were married. Right from the start, it wasn’t truly me she wanted. It was a better life.”
Wow. The undercurrent of loss in Owen’s tone cut Maren to the core. He truly loved her and she played him. Maren sighed. “There is something you should know about Chelsea. Maybe then you can understand why she did what she did. She was raised by her dad. Her mom took off when she was ten. Her dad was abusive as hell. He was always out of work and I think he was really ashamed of that. He was mean normally but when he was on the drink, it was so much worse. He used to hit her. I knew about it. Everyone did, but no one did anything. She was my best friend. She was so beautiful and vibrant and smart. I wanted to help her, but I didn’t know how. She put up with that until she was sixteen, then she moved out with her boyfriend at the time. That didn’t last long. She bounced around, going from couch to couch, house to house. Most people were okay with having her crash with them for a little while. I think they felt sorry for her. Anyway, she finally moved in with me at the bed and breakfast. I needed some help around here, though she wasn’t very helpful. My grandma didn’t mind her, though she was flighty and wild at best. I liked having her here, especially after my grandma died. I don’t know, I guess we were just always friends because deep down, we were two broken little birds and we just meshed well. I didn’t mind her craziness. I didn’t mind that she bounced around. I didn’t mind any of it. I kind of felt like she made me whole.”
Owen laughed. Maren started. She hadn’t expected it. She turned to look at him, but he was looking out at the endless water. “You know, I felt kind of the same
way. I’d never met anyone who I just… loved. It was instant. From the first moment I opened my eyes on this beach, after she saved me. I looked up into her eyes and I was just lost, but I felt like I’d been found. I never saw myself getting married. I thought I was past all that. I liked being single, but one look at her and I was finished.”
“I think that Chelsea loved you, in her own way.”
Owen snorted. “That’s very kind, considering she never even contacted you after she left.”
“I don’t think it’s because Chelsea used me or forgot about our friendship,” Maren said slowly. “I think it was because she just didn’t know how. She was trapped in a cycle that she didn’t know how to break. She was looking for love, but she didn’t know how to heal herself and I don’t think she could ever truly learn to love and be with another person until she did.”
“That’s very perceptive.” Owen paused and the silence settled in around them, thick again. It was much later when he spoke again. “I guess it helps a little, to hear those things, given what happened. I did feel used and I did feel betrayed.”
“What she did wasn’t right. I don’t really know anything about it.” Maren dropped her eyes as her face heated.
“It does help, really, what you said. It’s very compassionate.”
This time it was her turn to stare out at the water. The sun glistened off the surface, stinging her eyes just a little. She got lost in that point where the sky met the water. She traveled back, as though time reached out and gripped her. She went back to that day, the morning when Owen almost died. He’d been crazy, to go swimming when the water was that rough. Though, she supposed, someone unfamiliar with it, wouldn’t have known just by looking at it, that it wasn’t quite calm enough, that the undertow could be deadly.
When she finally tore her eyes away and looked back at Owen, she could tell he was thinking about that day as well.