"It would. It definitely would." Chloe leaned forward, watching his taillights disappear around the corner. "I hope he never comes back here again."
"Do you? Do you really?"
Chloe looked at her friend and grinned. "Well, if all he wants is dessert, and all I want is dessert, then maybe that might be okay? A rebound guy to amuse me while I rebuild my self-confidence and become the independent badass I'm destined to be? That might be okay, don't you think?"
Emma gave her the most solemn, deadpan expression known to humankind, and Chloe's smile faded. "Yeah, okay. You're right. Bad idea."
Wasn't it?
Chapter 6
The next morning, Blue sat on the couch, staring at his gun. It was sitting in the middle of the old log that served as a coffee table in Harlan's cabin. He'd taken the bullets out of it, and the magazine was next to the gun. He couldn't stop thinking about that moment when he'd bolted awake, his hand going to his gun before he'd even woken up.
He'd never forget that look of terror on Chloe's face, or that absolutely horrifying sensation when he'd realized he was pointing a gun at her. What the fuck?
He heard the sound of a boat engine outside, and he immediately recognized it as Harlan's. Swearing, he stood up and headed out to the dock just as Harlan eased his boat up to the dock. "Hey." He caught the bow as Harlan cut the engine.
His former partner was wearing shorts, a ragged tee shirt, a faded Red Sox hat, and a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He looked like a guy who made a living as a beach bum, not the guy who'd strapped on assault weapons and crawled through hell to save people. He'd filled out, no longer as wiry thin as he'd once been. He looked...happy.
Shit. The man looked happy.
Envy rippled through Blue, not for the domestic life that Harlan now led, but for the relaxed state of his shoulders, and the nonchalant cock of his head. "You're good, aren't you?"
Harlan pulled off his sunglasses and grinned, his dark brown eyes deep with satisfaction. The lines of tension that once gripped his face had faded, making him look younger and less dangerous. Shit. He had no idea Harlan could look like that. Almost approachable, even. "Happy as hell, my friend," Harlan said. "I don't miss the trenches at all, and I never thought I'd say that."
The envy became sharper, a harsh jab in his gut that made Blue even more aware of exactly how far he'd crashed. "Glad to see it. You deserve it."
"Thanks." Harlan stood up and draped his forearms over the windshield, leaning on it as he studied Blue. "So, I talked to Emma last night after she got home from letting Chloe into the Parker house."
Blue tensed. "It was great to finally meet her," he said quickly. "She seems nice."
"She is nice." He studied Blue. "She also mentioned that you said you pulled a gun on Chloe. Did you really?"
Blue would never bother to lie to the man who'd had his back for the last ten years. "Yeah. It was an accident, but yeah." He looked at Harlan. "You ever done that? Accidentally seen Emma or one of the kids as a threat?"
"No, and you've never done anything like that either. You're razor-sharp with your instincts, and I've never seen you make a mistake. Ever."
"I know."
For a long moment, neither man said anything. The only sounds were the lapping of the water against the hull of the boat, and the hum of other motorboats in the distance. The weight of the moment pressed down on Blue, until he felt like he couldn't breathe. He coughed once, trying to loosen the tightness in his chest, and released the boat. "So, yeah, good to see you. Say hi to Emma and the kids."
Harlan reached over and caught the post, keeping his boat from drifting away. "Hop in. Let's go for a ride."
Blue laughed softly at the idea of getting in a boat and just chilling for a few hours. "Sorry. Not in that mental place right now."
Harlan studied him. "You've been here for three days, and you haven't come out of the cabin, except to tell me to leave whenever I stop by. How's that working for you? You feeling any better? Or are you so tense that you're pulling guns on women who have the misfortune of waking you up?"
Blue's eyes narrowed. "What's your point?"
"That your way isn't helping." Harlan extended a scrap of paper toward him. "Here's the phone number of a friend of mine named Jackson Reed. Great guy. He owns a construction company. He needs some help. I told him you'd jump in for a couple days."
Blue's fingers closed around the parchment. "Work?"
"Yeah. Inactivity's no good for guys like us. Go pound some nails and haul lumber around."
"I'm not really in the mood —"
"I know. Which is why you have to do it." Harlan studied him, his eyes serious. "You want to get back in the field?"
"Shit, yeah. You know I do." It was all he cared about. He'd do it until he died.
"Then you gotta try something else." Harlan jerked his chin at the paper. "Call him. If you can't rescue someone, at least you can help out a guy who needs some assistance and burn some of that poison out of your mind at the same time." He grinned. "I already told him you'd call. He wants you on site in a half hour."
Blue's fingers tightened on the paper as Harlan started the engine. "I'm not —"
"You have to. I gave him my word you'd be there."
Blue swore under his breath as Harlan shifted into reverse and backed the boat out. Harlan knew damn well how Blue felt about honoring promises. If Harlan had given his word, that was it. End of story. Even if his word had been promising Blue's help, not his own, it still had to be honored. They'd always made commitments on each other's behalf in the past. It was automatic, knowing that the other would deliver.
Just because they were no longer facing deadly situations together didn't change that.
Harlan had given his word, which meant Blue was committed. "Bastard," he muttered under his breath as he turned and headed back toward the cabin. But as his boots thudded on the worn wood of the dock, he couldn't help the pulse of anticipation.
Getting tired, sweaty, and productive sounded better than sitting alone in that cabin, sinking deeper and deeper into the guilt that he'd been running from his entire life. He'd worked damn hard at suppressing it, but after his new partner's recent death, and Chloe's horrified face when he'd pulled the gun on her, he could no longer shove the memories back down where they belonged.
He had to find a way to shut them down again, or he knew one thing for certain: he'd never go back in the field again.
Swearing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number.
* * *
When Chloe walked into Wright's General Store the next morning, she felt like she'd stumbled directly into a Norman Rockwell painting, assuming a Normal Rockwell painting included the enticing sound of energized conversation and laughter, the smells of freshly baked muffins and coffee, and the cool breeze of an early Maine morning drifting in through the open windows.
She stopped just inside the door, grinning as she looked around. There was a deli counter at the back, and a gray-haired woman with a sparkle in her eye was ordering one of her customers to eat more protein. An attractive, fit guy was at the register, charming another older woman wearing a purple straw hat with what appeared to be stuffed loons sewn around the rim. The shelves were stocked full of food, diapers, and everything that might be needed for a picnic or a cookout, or just everyday living. There was an assortment of tables and chairs by the front windows, and they were all packed with people who appeared to have nothing more pressing to do than enjoy the filtered sunshine and the freshly baked pastries. Yes, it was June in a lake town, but the people lounging around seemed more like locals who were immersing themselves in their town, rather than summer renters escaping from city life.
"Chloe!" Emma waved from one of the tables, where she was sitting with two other women. "Come sit!"
She grinned. "Sure. Be right over." Her stomach grumbling, she headed to the deli for breakfast, arriving at the counter just as the woman with the loon hat arrived. "Oh, sorry." Chloe stepped back. "You can go fi
rst —"
"You poor thing." The woman reached out and grabbed Chloe, dragging her into a hug.
Chloe blinked uncertainly. "Um...thanks. I think?"
The woman pulled back, her hands on Chloe's shoulders. "We're so thrilled you're going to open up Louise's old knitting store. We've been waiting for the right person, and we're delighted you're here. Anything you need, just let us know."
Chloe frowned. "Um...I'm sorry, but you must have me confused with someone else —"
The woman's eyebrows shot up. "You think just because I have gray hair and I've buried three husbands that I can't keep track of every person who sets foot in Birch Crossing?"
"Um…no..." Chloe glanced helplessly at the woman behind the counter, who was leaning forward, listening delightedly. "I just—"
"Chloe Dalton, right?" the woman asked. "Emma's friend? Just moved into the old Parker house last night?"
"Well, yes, but I'm not going to open the knitting store —"
"Then why did you move in there?"
"Because it was free, and I needed a place to stay. It's just for a few days. I'm looking for a job as a social worker —"
"They fired you, didn't they? Why would you want to go back to a world that doesn't appreciate you?"
Chloe blinked, startled by how much the woman knew about her, as well as by her audacity in addressing it. "Um —"
"Eppie." Emma walked up and put her arm around Chloe's shoulders. "At least introduce yourself. Chloe, this is Eppie Orlowe. She has the biggest heart in Birch Crossing, so don't let her scare you." Emma nodded at the woman behind the counter. "And this is Ophelia. She's been running this deli counter for about fifty years, and she's amazing."
Ophelia beamed at her. "I make the best breakfast on this side of the Atlantic Ocean, so don't you ever make breakfast for yourself again. Just come down here, and you'll be set for the day."
Chloe couldn't help but grin. Ophelia's warmth was contagious, making her feel like she'd been enveloped in a bear hug. "Thanks. Can I have a piece of that spinach quiche and a black coffee?'
"You got it, sweetie. I'll warm it up for you. It'll be just a few minutes." Ophelia winked at her, and Chloe grinned back.
"I won't feed you, but I'm the one who knows everything about anything in this town," Eppie declared, tipping her hat back so the loons didn't obscure her view of Chloe. Her face was wrinkled, but her eyes were vibrantly sharp, as she picked up a mug that Ophelia had set out for her. "Let me know if you need any help ordering supplies for the shop. I'm quite dialed into the knitting community."
Chloe blinked. "I'm not opening a knitting store. I'm leaving in a few days."
"Of course you're opening the store. No need to be so humble. I'll start spreading the word." She hugged Chloe again, and then turned away, waving her hands and shouting something to a woman apparently named Judith, who had just walked in.
Chloe stared after her, not quite sure what to make of it. "Is she real?"
Emma laughed. "Yes, but she's somewhat harmless." She tucked her arm through Chloe's. "Ophelia, give us a holler when Chloe's food is ready, okay?"
"You bet." Ophelia winked at her. "Welcome to Birch Crossing, Chloe. Let me know when the Knitting Well is open again, and I'll swing by. I so miss that place."
Chloe frowned. "The Knitting Well?"
"Yes, your store." Before Chloe could answer, Ophelia turned away, shouting for someone in back to bring out more bacon.
"But —"
"Don't worry about it," Emma tucked her hand through the crook of Chloe's elbow. "They've been trying to get someone to open that store for the last year. I adore them, but you have to learn to ignore the peer pressure coming from them. You don't have to open a knitting store," she said with a wink.
"Well, thank goodness for that. I don't know anything about crafty things or running a shop." Chloe's voice faded when she saw Emma was guiding her across the room toward the table with two women. She noticed that they looked about the same age as she and Emma, except they each had strollers parked next to them. One baby looked to be about six months, and the other was a toddler about a year old, both of whom were sleeping. Both women were wearing jeans and brightly colored, casual tops. They looked stylish and utterly casual at the same time, and they were laughing hysterically over some private joke, nearly bent over they were laughing so hard.
Envy flicked through Chloe as they neared. They looked so at home, as if they belonged there.
"Hi, guys." Emma still had her hand on Chloe's elbow. "This is my friend Chloe that I told you about. Chloe, this is Astrid Munroe," she said, nodding at the woman with bold auburn hair tied up in a colorful scarf. Gorgeous silver phoenix earrings sparkled, matching a similar silver pendant.
"Hi! So great to meet you." Astrid bounced to her feet, still laughing, as she hugged Chloe. "Welcome! We need more women our age in town."
"I'm just visiting for a few days —"
"And this is Clare Friesé," Emma said. "She's responsible for all those amazing smells coming from the bakery next door. Best baker ever. If you need pastries for opening day of the Knitting Well, Clare's the woman for you."
"I'm not opening the knitting store —" Then she saw the teasing sparkle in Emma's eye, and she realized Emma was jesting. "It's nice to meet you, Clare."
"Awesome to meet you!" Clare hugged her tightly, so tightly that Chloe's throat seemed to clog up. All the women were so friendly that Chloe felt like she was a long-lost friend.
Except she wasn't.
She was a stranger, and this wasn't her world. She didn't belong here, even if they tried to make her feel like she did. She knew the truth.
One of the babies began to cry, and Clare turned away, scooping up her child with gentle murmuring. Her baby's wail had woken Astrid's daughter, who appeared delighted to see her mom. Astrid giggled at her and started chatting to the baby, making her laugh hysterically. Emma leaned over her shoulder, grinning as she made faces at the toddler behind Astrid's back.
Chloe's throat tightened as she watched the three women dote on the babies. It was the perfect image of friendship, of family, of children who were going to grow up loved from the first breath they'd taken. If something happened to Astrid, it was clear that Emma would be there for the baby. Or Clare. Or even Ophelia or Eppie. Those children were safe, loved, and had a home forever.
Chloe's chest tightened, and suddenly, a deep, pulsating ache hit her so hard in her belly that she had to look away.
Emma glanced up, a surprised look on her face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." But she couldn't move. Suddenly, the store that had seemed so warm and appealing felt like a frenzied mass of people, of best friends, of a life-long belonging that Chloe wasn't a part of.
Astrid looked up as she pulled her daughter onto her lap, and smiled at Chloe, a warm inviting smile designed to welcome her into their world. "Please join us, Chloe. We'd love to get to know you."
Longing flooded Chloe, a visceral sense of yearning and loss that seemed to pour pain directly into her heart that was already so bruised.
She suddenly didn't want to be there, in that store, surrounded by people who dove into each other's lives like they cared. "I would love to sit down and hang out," she said, "but I really need to grab some groceries and get home, so I can start job hunting." She started backing up. "So, yeah, hopefully we'll get a chance to hang out later."
Emma frowned. "You have to eat."
"I'll get it to go." Chloe managed a smile. "All those other social workers are going to be job hunting as well, so I need to get a jump on it." Chloe's fingers tightened into fists as she fought to keep a smile on her face. "Love you, Em." Before her friend could protest, she whirled around and started weaving through the aisles to the front door, where she'd seen several small grocery carts. She grabbed the nearest one and spun around, charging toward the milk just as the front door opened.
She yelped and tried to stop, but her attempt was too late and too pathetic, and s
he plowed the metal cart straight into the hip of the man who had kept invading her dreams all night long.
Chapter 7
Blue leapt sideways, his hands going up in a defensive posture as he spun toward her. He stared at her for a split second, and then he relaxed, his hands going down as a smile spread across his face. "Hey there."
His already familiar deep voice resonated through her, and she couldn't help her own stupid grin. God, it was good to see him. Here was a man who was an outsider here, like her, and she already had a sense that he had his own shadows he was dealing with. She felt more comfortable with him, a man like her who maybe didn't belong anywhere either. "Hi."
She'd thought Blue had looked sexy the night before, but now he was so much more compelling. Maybe it was because she'd spent the night replaying his kiss. Or maybe it was simply because she was feeling so out of place in Wright's, that Blue felt like a safe, familiar anchor. Either way, it was enough to make her want to sit down and get to know him.
He clearly hadn't bothered to shave, and his shadowy whiskers made him look rough and untamed. His jeans were old and splattered with paint, and he was wearing the same heavy boots as the night before. Another tee shirt, this one a faded navy blue, hung loosely over his muscular shoulders, revealing toned biceps and forearms that were corded and strong.
Heat washed over her like a sudden desert breeze, and her fingers tightened around the handle of her cart. "What are you doing here?" she blurted out, in an appallingly indelicate and awkward attempt at conversation. Yikes.
Blue, however, didn't seem to notice. In fact, his smile appeared to widen, making him look even more charming than he already was. "Getting coffee. You?"
"Groceries. Coffee. Breakfast." The words tumbled out with none of the wit and charm of the previous night. Her brain felt like mush, still bogged down by the weight of seeing Emma's friends with their babies, and distracted by the surprise of seeing him again so soon.
He narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong?"
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