A Small-Town Reunion (8 page)

She forced herself to relax. She didn’t want him to see that his opinion mattered. Or that the way he’d sought out her company meant so much. Far, far too much. She’d wasted years waiting for these things, years craving his attention—his touch. She’d spent years resenting him—and berating herself—for it all.

He was right—the two of them were years beyond
the small-talk phase. “No,” she told him, settling back into her narrow seat. “We don’t.”

“Good.” He tipped his head to rest against the wall and shut his eyes. “I ran out of social conversation about an hour ago.”

She stared at the black lashes fanning over his tanned cheeks. Such ridiculously long, nearly feminine lashes, an amusing contrast to a stern, masculine landscape.

“About those apologies,” he said. “They’re not about being polite. Not really.” He opened his eyes and rolled his head against the wall to face her. “Are they?”

“Why are you bothering to ask me?” She flapped a hand at him. “It’s your theory.”

“And topic number one bites the dust.”

Her lips twitched as she suppressed a smile.

“Okay,” Dev said. “Topic number two. Let’s try things we have in common—plenty of those. A memory. Remember Bud Soames?”

“Your partner in crime.”

“A few.” He flicked a glance at her from beneath those dark lashes. “There weren’t as many crimes as people seem to think.”

“Memory is a tricky thing.”

“Yeah.” He frowned. “Makes me think I used to like living here.”

“Didn’t you?” Addie leaned forward. “Ever?”

She told herself it was only her imagination that his features softened as he stared at her. And that she could see the hint of a wistful smile in his eyes. Because whatever she thought she’d found, it disappeared a few seconds later.

He looked away, toward the massive entry doors. “I didn’t have a choice, did I?”

“Kids don’t. That’s one of the things that makes them kids.”

“Do adults have any more choices, I wonder?”

“Is that what you were doing, sitting in here all by yourself?” She traced a pattern on the carpet. “Contemplating your choices in life?”

“I don’t need to go off somewhere by myself to do that.” He studied her again with that odd intensity, as if trying to look deep beneath her skin to her very core. “Where do you go to do your thinking?” he asked.

Her finger moved around the edge of a fanciful curling vine. “I don’t spend a lot of time doing that kind of thinking. I’m too busy working, most of the time.”

“Ah, yes. Your shop.”

She searched for a trace of sarcasm in his tone before she caught herself falling into the old, defensive patterns. Dev wasn’t judging or teasing. And he had seemed genuinely interested in her business last week when he’d stopped by.

“I don’t mind working so hard,” she said. “I love making pictures with glass. When I took my first stained-glass class, something fell into place for me. Like the way glass pieces click into place when they’ve been ground to fit.”

She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Someone once told me that if you can find a way to make a living doing the thing that makes you happy, you’ll have a happy life.”

His brows drew together. “Now there’s something to think about.”

“What about your writing?” she asked.

“What about it?”

“Does it make you happy?”

“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t count on it making me a living.”

“I remember the story you wrote about the old lighthouse on the point,” she said. “The one that won that award—what was that? The award from
The Cove Press
. I loved that story,” she added when he didn’t respond. “Would you show me another of your stories someday?”

“Yes,” he said after a long pause. “If you’d like.”

The tall case clock in the study bonged the hour, and someone in a distant room laughed. A slice of ruby-red light slid over the back of her hand like a wound, and she turned up her palm and curled her fist to capture it inside.

They should go. She wanted to stay.

“What were you going to tell me about Bud Soames?” she asked.

“I’ve been remembering a day when we were both seniors. I was in my car, out in the student lot, moving toward the exit. And then I saw you.”

He stared at the hall as if he was gazing into the past. “You were standing on that strip of grass between the lot and the street, holding a big stack of books. And you were watching me.”

She remembered that day. It seemed she could recall any day that had included Dev. She nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see her, and waited for him to start again.

“I was going to stop beside you. I had my hand on the button to lower the window and ask if you wanted a ride home.” He turned to face her. “I wanted to talk with you.”

“What would you have said?”

One side of his mouth twisted in a half grin. “There’s another habit of yours—always cutting right to the heart of the matter. Why waste time on small talk when you can skip ahead to the tough questions?” His smile faded. “Why are you so tough on me, Addie?”

A
DDIE RESTED HER CHIN
on her knees. There were so many answers she could give to Dev’s question, but it would be easier to invent one. Easier on herself, perhaps, but unfair to Dev. “Maybe I’m trying to level the playing field,” she said at last.

He sighed and shook his head. “I wish you didn’t feel at such a disadvantage.”

Disadvantage.
Sitting here with him, like this, it seemed odd to consider the advantages she’d had over this handsome, wealthy, talented man. She’d had a mother who loved and sacrificed for her child, for one. “I’m not sure ‘disadvantage’ is the right word,” she said.

“Maybe not.” He paused and rubbed his hand over his knee. “On that day—that day Bud climbed into my car—I wanted to talk with you like
this
. The way we’re talking now.”

In her imagination, she was back on that soft, grassy strip again, watching him drive toward her. The books were heavy, the edges of the binding biting into her arms as a tickling bead of sweat moved down her spine. Panic mixed with anticipation as she realized he was looking her way, slowing his car.

What would she have said if he’d offered her a ride? What would they have talked about if she’d accepted?
“We were too young to have the kind of conversation we’re having now.”

“Maybe.” He gave her a searing, unsettling look. A look that started the slow, heavy beat of awareness pulsing through her system. She wished she could control her reaction to him.

She wished she could make him react the same way to her. Tempt him to lean close, to brush his lips over hers, to whisper her name, to take her in his arms…

Someone walked by, heels clicking swiftly down the rear hallway near Geneva’s office, speaking in the halting, one-sided bursts of a cell-phone conversation.

“I should go back to the party,” she said.

“So should I.”

But Dev didn’t move, and he didn’t look away.

Addie straightened and folded her hands in her lap. “Tell me what you were going to say about Bud.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dev frowned and glanced away. “He caught up to me, since my car was moving so slowly. And he pulled the door open and jumped into the passenger seat, just like he belonged there. Which he did, because he was my friend.”

Dev lowered his hand to the carpet, his fingers resting a fraction of an inch from the toe of her sandal. “Then you dropped your books, and Bud laughed and pointed at you. He said, ‘What a loser.’ I laughed, too, because that’s what I did—what everyone expected of me. But inside of me, this other voice was telling me that I was the loser. Not because I’d laughed at you, but because I let Bud into my car instead of you. Because we never got to have that talk.”

Dev shifted to face her. “I can’t make up for what happened before. And I’m not sure we can ever be
friends. But I’d like to try. I’d like to have a friendship with you, Addie. I came in here looking for that today.”

He stood and reached for her hand, his palm upturned, offering to help her rise from her seat on the stairs. “Do you think we could at least pretend to be friends?” he asked. “For old times’ sake?”

“I don’t think that would be too hard.” She cocked her head to one side. “But did we ever at least pretend to like each other?”

“Good point.” His smile tugged up at one corner in a more familiar tilt. “That part could be an exciting new element in our pseudo-relationship.”

He leaned in close, took her by the arms and hauled her to her feet. Tipping her off her step, off balance, until she fell against his chest. The stunning contact nearly knocked her senseless.

He held her there for a second longer than necessary. An extra second in which she sensed his tension and absorbed his heat. The slight parting of his lips, the sharp intake of his breath, the intense yearning in his gaze.

“Addie,” he whispered as he tilted his head toward hers.

A door slammed nearby, and laughter blasted through the hall. Dev released her and stepped back, out of her way.

She moved to the entry floor and headed toward the back of the house, Dev beside her. Close beside her. She imagined she could still feel his heat. “I was thinking about leaving the party earlier,” she told him. “Before our visit.”

“I wish you wouldn’t go just yet.” He caught her wrist again, stopping her, and she didn’t have to use
her imagination. His fingers stayed closed over her skin, warm and secure. And this time she didn’t mistake the simmer in his stare. “I’d like you to stay,” he said. “We could pretend to ignore each other.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay, then.” He closed his hand over hers and gave it a soft squeeze before letting her go. “I’ll take what I can get.”

E
ARLY THE FOLLOWING MORNING
, Dev lifted Geneva’s bags into the trunk of her long, luxurious sedan and waited for his grandmother to make her farewells to her whining herd of Yorkies. He’d promised to take care of the dogs’ daily walk, but he’d been careful to avoid promising that he’d be the one on the other end of the leashes. Rosie, Quinn and Tess had driven a hard bargain, but he figured fifty dollars for the kid and a few afternoons spent keeping an eye on her for his cousin was worth escaping two weeks of poop-scoop duty.

“Don’t forget to close the gate after Julia leaves this evening,” Geneva said as she settled in the passenger seat for the trip to the Cove’s miniature airport.

“I won’t.” He gently closed her door and circled to the driver’s side.

“And don’t forget to collect the paper each day from the bottom of the drive,” she added as he climbed in. “They won’t fit in the box if you let them pile up.”

“I’ve got everything written down.” He pulled away and headed down the hill. “I can handle it. I’m a big boy now.”

“I’m aware of that fact.” Geneva gave him a considering look. “And so, it seems, are several women in Carnelian Cove.”

“Not several.” Dev shot her a pained look. “And shouldn’t this subject be off-limits for a guy’s grandmother?”

“It’s not a subject. It’s an observation.”

He’d thought one extra-large cup of coffee would be enough to sharpen his wits and get him through this errand without getting his butt kicked by his grandmother. He’d been wrong. “Any woman who might be aware of my presence in the Cove should also be aware that I’m not interested. I don’t live here. I don’t intend to stick around for long. And I don’t plan on seeing anyone while I’m here.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘Hmm.’”

“And what does that ‘hmm’ mean, exactly?”

“Addie Sutton.”

Dev clamped his lips together. He’d relived those moments on the stairs last evening a hundred times. But they still felt new, fresh and fragile and his alone.

His and Addie’s.

“You told me to stay away from her,” he said at last.

“You were seventeen at the time. And inclined to disobedience if you deemed the punishment worth the effort.”

“Then maybe I never thought she was worth it.”

“Hmm.”

They rode in silence for several minutes. Minutes that poked at Dev until he could feel the lumpy bruises on his conscience. “She wasn’t worth it,” he told his grandmother.

“So you say.”

“That’s right. That’s what I’m saying.”

“The question is, do you still believe it?”

“Now?” He straightened his fingers and slowly wrapped them more tightly around the steering wheel. “I’m not sure what to think. Or to believe.”

Having Tess warning him to avoid Addie and Geneva shoving him in her direction didn’t help the situation.

Geneva pointed at a tall, green Victorian house as they passed. “Stan Waterman’s son was accepted at West Point.”

“Dave Waterman? That scrawny little kid with the white hair? The one with all those rabbits that won ribbons at the fair every summer?”

“He was the starting center fielder on the high school baseball team last year,” Geneva said. “He’ll be leaving for New York soon.”

“Hard to imagine.” On the surface, the Cove seemed the same old place. But things changed. People changed. Maybe Addie had changed, too, in ways he couldn’t see.

“What about the rabbits?” he asked.

Geneva gave him one of her exasperated looks, but she couldn’t quite hide the laughter in her eyes. “I doubt Dave is taking them with him to West Point.”

“What about Jim Franks?” Dev asked. He’d once thought his grandmother had a soft spot for the elegant widower. “Is he still around?”

“Jim died last year.” Geneva laced her fingers together on her lap. “He’d remarried, shortly before he got sick. His widow, Sophie, is on the board at The Breakers.”

Dev turned onto the highway and headed north. Soon the tiny airport, perched on a bluff overlooking
Elkhorn Beach, came into view. A bright-orange Coast Guard helicopter swooped in from the west and disappeared behind a line of tall, twisted cypress.

“Speaking of The Breakers,” Geneva said.

“Were we?”

“Will you be going to the anniversary dance?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“I saw you speaking with that Whitfield woman yesterday.” Geneva’s lips thinned in a disapproving line. “I’m sure the subject of the dance came up.”

“Courtney. She mentioned she’s on some sort of club committee.”

“I doubt that’s all she had to say on the subject.”

He exited the highway and began the climb toward the airport parking area. Since he couldn’t think of a way to respond to Geneva’s comment without launching into a topic he didn’t want to discuss with her, he said nothing.

“She asked you to escort her, didn’t she?”

“Why the interrogation?” Dev punched the big metal button and yanked the parking ticket from the machine at the gate. “You’re not in charge of my social life. Not anymore.”

“I was never in charge.” She pointed to an empty space beneath a tall tree. “If I had been, I would have chosen a different set of friends for you.”

Dev switched off the ignition and settled back against the seat. “Maybe you should have.”

“You wouldn’t have listened.”

“I’m listening now.”

“Yes, you are. You have been listening this summer. I don’t know whether to be grateful or concerned.” Geneva glanced at her watch and then back at him. “I
think we have time for a drink in the lounge before I have to go through security. We could find a quiet spot to continue this discussion.”

“It can wait. Don’t worry,” he said, grinning, “I promise I’ll still be listening when you get back.”

He stared ahead, watching distant waves crest in white ridges and crash to foam along the shore. On the horizon, a string of boats marked the edge of a fishing ground. “There’s something more important I want to discuss right now.”

“Your father’s papers.”

His grandmother had always possessed an uncanny ability to guess what was on his mind. “Where are they?”

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in refusing to answer that question, since you’ll likely turn my house inside out looking for them in my absence.”

“This trip of yours does give me an excellent opportunity to do some quality ransacking.”

“Sorry to spoil your fun, but I left the key to the family files where you’ll easily find it. In the top right drawer of my desk.”

“Well.” Dev tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “That was easy.”

“You haven’t yet seen the files.” Geneva’s lips turned up in a sly smile. “Everything is in order, but there’s a great deal of it.”

“And it just so happens I have a great deal of time on my hands this summer.”

He exited the car and jogged to the passenger side to open his grandmother’s door. She followed him to the rear of the car and waited as he hauled her suitcases from the trunk.

“Julia left a few dishes for you in the freezer,” she said.

Geneva’s cook was taking a holiday, too. “She didn’t have to do that,” Dev said, “but I’m glad she did.”

“Please leave her kitchen tidy, if you use it.”

“I know how to clean up after myself.”

“I wish I could take credit for that,” his grandmother said, “but it must be a habit you developed after you left home.”

“Amazing what the sudden absence of a maid and a cook will do for a guy.”

He closed the trunk, stacked the cases and fell into step beside Geneva as she walked toward the terminal entrance. “Say hi to Aunt Jacqueline for me,” he said. “And have fun on your cruise.”

“Leaving me with a list of things to do?” She walked through the sliding doors and turned to take her bags from him. “Wait for me here, if you don’t mind.”

Dev nodded and strolled toward a compact lounge area a few feet away. A twenty-minute drive to the airport, dozens of parking slots within a few yards of the door, a nonexistent line at the check-in counter—this small-town airport routine was a nice change from the big-city hassles.

Geneva returned a minute later, her boarding pass in hand. “I won’t keep you long.”

“I don’t mind waiting.”

“That’s right,” she said as she tucked her ticket into a purse pocket. “You have all summer.”

“What did you want to tell me?”

“I wanted to remind you that you’re not seventeen anymore.” She stepped in close to press her cheek
against his in one of her formal displays of affection. “I hope you don’t take the entire summer to realize that fact.”

Y
OU’RE NOT SEVENTEEN ANYMORE
.

Geneva’s words lodged in his brain like a catchy but obnoxious advertising jingle, annoying him as he sped down the highway, heading back to Carnelian Cove.

Okay, so he wasn’t seventeen. He knew that. But damn, every second he spent in Addie’s presence made him feel as though he were stuck in some sort of time warp. Awkward. Insecure. Hormonal. Out of control.

There had to be some way to snap out of it.

Why did he care about her so much, anyway? It wasn’t as if he wanted to date her. Get her in bed, yes—that’s what any normal, healthy heterosexual male wanted to do with an appealing, single female. But with Addie, the normal-and-healthy routine would never be as straightforward as it should be.

She’d always held some strange and powerful fascination for him.