Winter's Path: (A Seasmoke Friends Novel) (5 page)

“What’s wrong, Matt?”

All he offered was a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Studying him, I stroked his jaw with my thumbs, loving the rasp of his outgrowth. His light cologne was so him and made me want to climb on his lap. Lick him from head to toe. Our faces were close and the car grew warm. So did...his gaze. Green and brown and gray collided in a potent mix and his pupils expanded as if he were aroused. I had to be reading him wrong.

“What’s wrong?” I repeated, whispering this time.

I licked my lower lip and his gaze dropped to my mouth. Holy shit. Really? My heart pounded and heat burned in my belly. I became hyperaware of everything. It was crazy. The warmth of his skin under my palms...the scratchy hairs on his jaw...the little chicken pox scar just above his right eyebrow. His chest rose and fell in shallow pants before his gaze slowly slid back to mine. His Adam’s apple shifted with a swallow.

Twelve years, and he’d never looked at me that way. Oh, how I’d lain awake at night, wishing he would, hoping he’d one day blink and realize the potential. But he never had, and I wasn’t so sure he was now. He was working something out in his head, was dealing with some ghosts, and it hurt to think this blip in chemistry was because of my proximity and not a result of me. Then again, I always knew I wasn’t good enough. Not only was I not his type, I wasn’t the perfect woman he’d told me he’d been seeking the past couple years.

Pain seared my chest, but I released him and righted myself in the driver’s seat. With great care, I put on my seatbelt.

“Jenny...” He was back to staring out the window. “I didn’t realize how hard it would be, that’s all.”

I didn’t ask what he meant. He could be referencing the move or being in the city where something awful had happened to him or any number of things. Lord knew, it had nothing to do with me. I’d obviously read too much into what just happened. I was a terrible judge of character and had never been good at reading between the lines.

Closing my eyes for a beat, I drew a slow breath, lifted my lids, and told him the only thing that would help him. “You got this.” And then I pulled out of the parking lot and veered in the direction of the furniture store. That’s what Matt needed from me—stability and direction, not convoluted romantic feelings. Especially unrequited ones.

My hands had blessedly stopped shaking by the time we’d reached the store. I’d chosen this one because it was all high-end and hand-crafted imports from Hickory. But as we strolled around, his attention never landed on anything in particular and I suspected he wasn’t in the same room as me. When a salesperson headed our way, I squared my shoulders, determined to snap Matt out of his funk.

“Can I help you two today?” Ick. The guy was smarmy. His gaze darted between my chest and my face. His girth jutted over his belt, his black comb-over was slicked with gel, and he smelled like cheese.

I pasted on a bright smile. “This guy here needs a living room set and four bar stools.” The stools were for his kitchen island. Though there was a small kitchenette table, there was only room for two seats, and most people ate at the counter. The ones his parents’ had were getting old and not Matt’s style.

“Any brand in particular?” He spoke to my chest.

Matt noticed and his eyes narrowed. “Her face is about five inches higher.”

Sigh. My hero. “Where’s your leather selection?” Leather faired better in coastal homes and was much easier to keep sand off.

The salesman blushed and gestured for us to follow. As I eyed the options, he cleared his throat and spoke to Matt. “Is there a specific color you and your wife had in mind?”

“Oh, I’m not his wife. I’m the mistress.”

Smarmy opened and closed his mouth.

“You are not my mistress.” Matt pressed his lips in a tight line, laughter in his eyes. “She is not,” he said to the salesman. He held up his left hand, indicating no ring.

“Don’t be coy, sugar muffin.” I plopped on a loveseat and sank into the cushion. Nice. The leather was butter soft. The back wasn’t too high to block the open floor plan of Matt’s house.

Matt covered his face and laughed. “Is it comfortable, honey boo?”

Smarmy darted his gaze between the two of us, face red. “Uh, that set reclines and comes in four available colors.”

I checked the swatch. “He’ll take the sofa, loveseat, and chair in the navy color.” Masculine, but elegant. Not overstated, like him. Plus, it would match the tile countertops in the kitchen, which could be seen from the living room.

“Would you...uh...like to try it out first, sir?”

“Nope.” Matt shook his head at me, amused. “What the mistress wants, the mistress gets.”

I purred, nearly sending Smarmy into cardiac arrest and Matt into an asthmatic laughing fit. “I just wanna peek at a couple tables, lamps, and prints.” He hadn’t kept anything in the living room, so he needed everything.

Finding a beautiful black coffee table and two end tables with stained-glass tops, I pointed them out, and Smarmy wrote it down on his clipboard. Matt seemed content to follow me around. I picked out a black floor lamp and one for his end table, both with a wide, square base and white cube shade. Lastly, I settled on two prints in black frames, one large enough to go over the mantle and the other for a wall. Both were turbulent paintings of ocean waves, storm-tossed, with a nearly translucent black compass embossed over the center.

Smarmy went in a back room to get some forms.

I shuddered to think what the bill was going to be, but Matt had told me a thousand times last night when we’d packed that money wasn’t an issue. Thus, nearly everything original to the house had been donated. “Are the pieces I picked out okay? You didn’t say much.”

He nodded, a fond smile curving his lips. “I told you, you get free reign over purchases. I don’t know jack about this crap.” His brows lifted. “Mistress?”

I shrugged. “We can go for torrid lover at the home improvement store next.” Marveling as he threw his head back and laughed, my stomach did a little jig. “Much better. Good to see my usual friend back.”

His sigh was lengthy, his smile wistful. He pulled me in for a hug, and I was smashed against his hard chest. “Thanks, Jenny. For everything.”

A woman could spend a lifetime in his arms and it wouldn’t be long enough. I glanced around his bicep and noted Smarmy was coming back. I tilted my face to look at Matt and raised my voice, adding more twang. “I hope this doesn’t take long. We still have to visit the sex shop for our new toys.”

Matt blinked down at me. “The salesman’s right behind me, correct? Because I just got images in my mind, Jenny. And I hope to God you’re joking, because...damn. Those are not upsetting images.”

If only he were serious. I stepped out of his embrace and took in Smarmy’s beet red face. “Can everything be delivered this weekend?”

We were still laughing as we exited the furniture store and flared into hysterical fits picking out paint. Matt nearly had the attendant thinking he was legit when he set down bright pink swatches.

All in all, it had been a great afternoon, and I was reminded, in blaring detail, why I loved him so damn hard. He was such an undemanding, pleasant person to be around. No pretenses. It had been really easy to slip into the fantasy of us playing house, choosing items for our home, us as a couple. I needed to stop doing this to myself. This way laid heartbreak.

As we were taping off the living room and preparing to paint, I caught him openly staring at me several times, and my mind kept drifting back to that moment in the car. And wondering if I hadn’t imagined it after all. I knew better than to hope. Had my past taught me nothing?

Apparently not. That or Matt just blurred the lines.

He dropped his hands on his hips and stared at a wall. “I’ve never painted before.”

My gaze whipped to his from where I was opening a can. “What?”

He shrugged as if embarrassed.

“Huh.” Made sense, I suppose. He would’ve hired people to do this sort of thing, and I swore his house in Greensboro had white walls, too. I set the lid face up on the tarp and poured some of the thick navy paint into a tray. We were only painting two walls in the living room since it opened into the kitchen and the stairs to the second floor. Just accent walls. “Well, first rule is be prepared to get dirty.”

He eyed the brush in my hand suspiciously as I stood. “Dirty?”

“Very, very dirty,” I purred in a sexpot tone.

He swallowed, gaze still zeroed in on the brush. “I have a feeling your idea of dirty and mine don’t mesh.”

I swiped his cheek with the brush, leaving a streak of navy paint in the wake. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move. I put another in his hair for good measure. Grinning, I nodded.

He cleared his throat. “Definitely not my version of dirty.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Jenny

July—Ten Years Ago

I
was so excited to have the Seasmoke crew back in town. This would be our third summer together, and the year seemed to take forever to pass. Matt and I talked once a week by phone and emailed, but it just wasn’t the same.

We’d done the customary bonfire and roasted marshmallows. We got caught up in chatting about our year and how things were going. They told me about where they’d be headed to college, and I got a little jealous. Grampy didn’t have the money to send me to school, and with me inheriting the tavern someday, there wasn’t a necessity. I’d enrolled in a tech program for a few business classes, but that’s all I’d need besides my bartending license.

Ian had been good ole Ian. Flirting and teasing. We hadn’t slept together, but I had a feeling that would change this year. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. He was charming and sweet and, to be honest, safe. My heart could never engage with Ian, but my body didn’t seem to have that trouble. Last year, we’d made out quite a bit, but had never taken it to a sexual level.

With the night winding down, I glanced at Matt through the flames, hoping he’d give me some kind of sign he liked me as more than a friend, too. He’d filled out since last summer. Less lanky and more toned. His biceps had some definition and he had the slight ridges of abs. His handsome face was fuller, as well. Though I willed him to look at me, he kept his head down, gaze lost in the flames.

He’d picked me up earlier, but Ian would be driving me home. Matt had been his usual self, hugging me and grinning. We’d talked half the afternoon. But then the others had arrived and he’d put up his shield.

Ian nudged me with his shoulder. “Ready to head home?”

I glanced at Matt again. Now or never. Tell me not to go with Ian. Tell him I’m yours, not his. But he didn’t move a muscle. My stomach sank in vivid realization. Honestly, what was I hoping for anyway?

“Sure.” I rose, dusting the sand from my shorts, and said goodbye to the others. I smiled at Matt. “Laters, handsome.”

He nodded, shoulders tense, still not meeting my gaze.

As Ian drove me home, pain and rejection clawed at my gut and I felt like an idiot. Okay, I hadn’t told Matt I liked him, and it wasn’t as if he was psychic. Yet, he had to know from the way I looked at him, right? Or maybe guys were just clueless. Then again, Matt had never given me any indication he wanted me that way.

I glanced at Ian’s profile. Sharp features and dark hair. He was a great guy. And he may not like me enough to want to stick to more than one week a year, but he was obviously attracted to me. I guess that made me his second choice, seeing as he really wanted Summer. I’d never been anyone’s first choice. Seemed I wouldn’t ever be either. So what did it matter?

Ian parked by the stairs leading to the private apartment entrance over the bar and cut the engine. The parking lot was pretty full and Grampy would be downstairs until at least two.

“I’ll walk you up.”

Nodding, I climbed out of the car and trotted up the steps, my nerves pinging. I hadn’t been with anyone since Jared and that awful first time. I wanted to invite Ian to stay, wanted to move on from that memory, but I wasn’t completely past the fear of pain. I was eighteen years old. An adult now. Too old to be afraid to be with someone.

I paused with the key in the lock. Palm leaves crackled in the slight breeze. The hot, humid day had cooled since dusk, but the air was still sticky. Wisteria from the vines next door mingled with salt and I closed my eyes.

“Jenny...”

“Would you like to come in?” I bit my lip.

He studied me a quiet beat, his gaze assessing and somber. Ian could crack a smile as fast as he could fly into a rage. But I wasn’t accustomed to the third degree from him. Finally, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Is this your first time?”

Swallowing hard, I shook my head.

“What about Matt?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper.

Ah, so he’d noticed my interest. If Ian had, why couldn’t Matt? “What about Summer?” I quipped.

Closing his eyes, he smiled. Nodded. He sobered, holding my gaze. “Touché.” Sighing, he stared over my shoulder. “How about some ground rules?” At my nod, he elaborated. “One week a year, you and me. If either of us is dating someone else, we call it off. If Summer ever notices me, or if Matt ever wises up and discovers you, we end it for good.”

Two years ago, I’d already decided I’d never date a local again. Tourists came and went, and there was no potential for more. I had a sinking suspicion Matt would never take note of my foolish interest in him, and if he did, he wouldn’t acknowledge it. I’m not sure what gave me that notion, yet it rang true. What Ian was offering was perfect for the both of us.

I smiled. “Deal.”

His finger traced my collarbone above my tank top. “You’re trembling. We don’t have to do this tonight.”

“I’m nervous, that’s all. It’s been awhile since I’ve done this and my first time...wasn’t so great.”

He stilled slowly in degrees and, for a second, I thought he could read my mind, had known about Jared. A hard edge filled Ian’s eyes and then was gone. “I won’t hurt you. I can’t commit and I can be insensitive at times, but I’d never hurt you. To repeat, we don’t have to rush, don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

And that—that right there—was why Ian was the right choice. Proof I was making a good decision. He was nothing like Jared. Plus, we couldn’t break one another’s hearts because they, in a way, belonged to someone else.

Leaning forward, I used up some stored bravado and kissed him. It took him no time at all to cup my shoulders and pull me into his arms. By the time he eased away, I wasn’t nervous anymore. We went inside and to my bedroom, shutting the door.

And with no hurry, using half the night, Ian took my body. He made the experience all about me. There was no pain, and any awkwardness was gone after a short time. I didn’t know respect until then. In truth, I wasn’t so sure I even deserved it. But I latched onto what Ian gave me in case I’d never find it again.

Matt

Present

W
ith Jenny in a chair beside me on the back deck, we watched the moonlight over the ocean. I’d left the exterior lights off, stars twinkling overhead the only illumination. It was hard to tell where the water ended and the sky began. Though the day had been pretty mild, once the sun went down, it got downright chilly. The air was brisk, scented with brine and a rare tinge of snow. I’d doubt we’d get any, not this early and this far south, but there was a tease in the wind. It was so quiet, the waves were a thunderous roar and every shift from Jenny made the rustling of her clothes a loud echo.

We’d eaten subs and showered off the paint, but she had missed a spot just below her jaw. I’d been wanting to wipe it off, get close to her again, but I refrained. I don’t know what had happened between us in the car earlier, but Christ if I hadn’t almost kissed her. She’d been holding my face, hers close to mine, the scent of her exotic shampoo filled the enclosed space, and her allure hit me like a punch.

The sudden, blaring desire reminded me of all those years ago when we’d met. I’d nearly forgotten. She’d been a vision with her wind-whipped hair down her back and the sunlight on her face. Such a bitty thing. I’d been sixteen so, of course, teenage hormones ran rampant. But she was the first girl who’d stolen my breath. It wasn’t love at first sight, but there had been an insta-connect. I’d spent the rest of that day trying to work up the nerve to ask her out. Then Ian had swooped in, and there’d been no chance of her looking my way. We’d stayed in contact off-season, but the opportunity had passed. Once we’d turned eighteen a few summers later, I stopped thinking about her that way, and for ten years, this...interest had been dormant.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was huddled in one of my old sweatshirts, which dwarfed her and went past her knees. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, like a...female. Even if she had felt the same pull, she wasn’t the right woman for me. Not anymore.

My gaze dipped to her inner wrist where the tattoo of a musical note peeked out from under the shirt cuff. She had at least two more I knew about—a few wavy lines of water with a seashell on her nape and a strip of sheet music very low on her back. Jenny liked to compose music. Or write lyrics. She told me once she liked to sing, too, but I’d never heard her voice.

Last time I’d gotten involved with an inked woman, it had ended in disaster. The kind a person doesn’t walk away from. My reasoning had little to nothing to do with tattoos, but seeing a tat on Jenny only served as a reminder. Ever since Cara, I’d needed a no risk woman. One who didn’t drive motorcycles, run a bar, take chances, or have a family history of dependence. Period. And, numero uno, someone I couldn’t fall too hard for, someone I couldn’t lose myself with.

Jenny hit every no-no on my requirement list. And yet I was still remembering the way she’d licked her lower lip and how I’d wanted to trace the same path with my tongue. That was the other thing...the swift blow of lust. I could never go all in when I felt that way. Attraction couldn’t be contained and then I’d get stupid.

She sat back in her chair, tilting her face toward the inky sky. “Do you miss her? Summer, I mean.”

Wonder what made her think about that? My quiet contemplation, perhaps. Inhaling, I thought it through. “No. I miss the friendship and being with someone, but that’s not target specific to her. We’ll always be close, at least every July anyway.” I glanced at her, surprised to find her steady gaze on me. “What about you? Do you miss Ian?”

Her gaze dropped as she shook her head. “Same here. Ian was good to me at a time when I desperately needed it. But like you said, I miss the idea of being with someone, just not him.” She sighed, peering up again. “I knew the minute he got to town this year things were different. Even before he told me about Summer, I’d guessed.”

Jenny wasn’t promiscuous and her yearly fling with Ian had been the closest thing to a relationship she’d endeavored. I knew she’d had other affairs. Brief ones. We’d discussed them, but she hadn’t taken many lovers. Fewer than me, actually. She had this rule to date tourists only, never locals, for as long as I’d known her. In the past, I’d wanted to ask why, yet didn’t. And something about her tone, the phrasing of her answer, rubbed me the wrong way. Had my hackles rising.

I rubbed my lips with my fingers and stared at the water. “Why do you only date tourists? Don’t you want long-term someday? Marriage?”

Her spine stiffened. “I’m not exactly the kind of girl a guy takes home to meet the family.”

My gaze jerked to hers, anger pounding my temples. Her profile offered me no insight to that bullshit answer. “What the hell does that mean? I’ve taken you home countless times. Explain.”

Pulling her knees to her chest, she rested her chin and wrapped her arms around her calves. Everything about her posture screamed defensive, even her avoidance of my eyes. “We never dated, though, and your view of me is skewed.”

The hesitant, reserved tone had my stomach knotting. And how I viewed her was not skewed, distorted, or any other effing thing. “Jenny, start talking.”

She rubbed her forehead in clear frustration. “When you grow up with next to nothing, people treat you like you’re nothing. After my mom died and I went to live with Grampy, I was in a better school in a better part of town. The location changed, people didn’t.” She shrugged as if she didn’t give a good goddamn, as if that was the end of the conversation.