Close Up (16 page)

But it turned out to be nothing but a series of social-media notifications. Relieved, she wiped her hands on her jeans and turned her phone off. If she was going to be here, really
here,
with Sean, then she wanted to blissfully ignore the outside world and its realities for as long as possible. The truth was, she did want to be here. The cabin was cozy, and while a bit stark, it was clean and well-decorated. The aromas of the chili and the cookies mingled together, making the room warm and homey.

She was still pleasantly relaxed from the two-course meal he had served her on the table. Plus, they were getting along just fine. Neither of them was throwing the past in each other’s face, and it was enjoyable to share old happy memories with him. Setting the timer on the microwave, she decided to go out and help him with the wood gathering.

Besides, it might be time to brave the incinerating toilet. She pulled on her boots and wound her scarf around her neck.

But he was nowhere to be found when she stepped onto the deck. Scanning the trees, she started toward the old cabin, but when she pulled the door open, he wasn’t in there. Just some piles of logs, a couple of canoes, a paddleboat and cushions for the deck chairs. It was hard to see that at one time this cabin had been the main structure for the property. There had been no electricity and no running water. They had slept snuggled up tight together in a sleeping bag in the loft, naked, Sean moving over her as they thoroughly explored each other’s bodies.

The memory made her nipples bead.

Turning, she was pulling the door shut when a branch snapped behind her. Sean was a foot to her rear. “Oh, God! You scared me!”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a bear. They tend to make more noise.”

Her heart was in her throat. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“What are you doing, looking for wood?”

She rolled her eyes. “I was looking for you. I was going to help you, but I also think I need instructions on this new toilet. Where is it and how do I use it?”

“Sure.” He adjusted his hat. “My brother was out on the lake. Scared the shit out of me. I thought he was going to dock, and then I thought, what if he’d come twenty minutes ago?”

Kristine blanched. “Yikes. Was he supposed to be here this weekend? Is he down at the dock?”

“No, he left. He was just buzzing by because he was out fishing and saw my boat. He wanted to know what I was doing.” Sean gave her a sheepish look. “I told him I was entertaining a female friend so keep a wide berth.”

“Oh. Good.” She supposed. Of course he wouldn’t tell his brother that she was the female friend, but it still made her feel weird. “Which brother?”

“Liam.”

“Is he the one with daughters now?”

“Yeah.”

That more than anything made Kristine aware of how much time had gone by since she’d left Sean. Liam had been seventeen and a senior in high school when she and Sean had married. “That’s great.” But because she wasn’t sure how she felt about it, she made a joke. “So I’m your dirty little secret?”

Planning to slip past him, she was startled when Sean blocked her path, and pressed her against the weathered wood of the shed.

“Uh-uh,” he said. “You don’t get to do that anymore. You can’t drop statements like that, then prance away.”

Her cheeks flamed, but her embarrassment caused indignation. She knew he was right, but she didn’t want to admit it. “What? You didn’t tell him it was me, did you?”

“No. Because I wanted some privacy. I didn’t want him waltzing up here to say hello. Was that selfish? Yes. Was it because I’m ashamed to be here with you? No. Absolutely not.”

His vehemence made her freeze where she stood, no longer intent on wiggling past his outstretched arm. “Okay,” she said quietly, because she wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Why do you always assume the worst of me?” he asked, mouth twisted into a grimace. “What did I do to deserve your mistrust?”

Oh, shit, now they were cutting open old wounds. Or rather, she had cut open old wounds. The realization made her cheeks burn even hotter. “It’s not you, Sean. It’s me. You didn’t give me any reason to distrust you. I just couldn’t believe you. I spent nineteen years having my mother beat down my self-esteem, and I couldn’t believe that you genuinely wanted to be with me forever.”

His face softened. “Kristy, I loved you.”

“I knew that. I did. I believed you.” How did she explain what was so hard to understand herself? “But at the same time, I didn’t believe that something better might come along and you’d be able to resist. I thought you’d change your mind, and I am fully aware that is my baggage, my issue, not yours. But I’ve been working really hard on that, and I’m learning to accept and love who I am. It’s just a process, you know?”

He nodded slowly, straightening up, his arm coming off her chest. “I guess that first step is the hardest, huh? Standing your ground and facing your fears is a big deal. I’m glad you came home.”

“Me, too.” She peeled herself off the shed wall, watching him a little warily. “What about you? I would have thought you’d be married again. Or that you’d have pursued a divorce from me at least. I was always expecting one day I’d hear from you.”

“Building a business doesn’t leave much time for love,” he said. “And now there’s my true dirty little secret. I’m lonely,” he said shortly.

But before she could respond, he walked away, going around the side of the shed. “Toilet is this way.”

Why did she feel that she was at least partially responsible for his loneliness?

And why did she feel that at least for this weekend, she wanted to do everything in her power to ease the ache he had?

She owed him that.

She owed it to herself.

She couldn’t change the past, but she could put it to bed.

Literally.

12

S
EAN FELT MORE
than a little annoyed with his confession. He might as well have told Kristine that he’d invited her to the cabin because he was pathetic.

Just seeing the surprise on Liam’s face when he’d said he had a woman with him for the weekend had been embarrassing enough—his little brother clearly knew he got zero action. Or at least had a string of casual first and second dates and nothing more. Women got tired of him fitting them in an hour here and there every two or three weeks.

Then Kristine had asked him why he hadn’t pursued their divorce and the truth had hit him hard—the answer was simply because he hadn’t wanted to sever that connection. Sure, some of it had been pure avoidance, but why was that? Because even now, after all these years, he still wished it had worked out. That knowledge had continued to frustrate him and he had been just agitated enough to go and blurt out he was lonely.

God, he’d made himself sound like a total creep who had conned her into staying on a remote island with him because it was the only way he could get a date.

Ironically though, making himself look like a loser seemed to be the very thing that took Kristine off her guard. She finally seemed completely at ease with him and good-naturedly listened to the lessons on using the new toilet before returning to the house and pulling her cookies out of the oven.

“Now you can taste,” she told him, breaking a cookie in two pieces and holding one half up to his lips.

It was delicious. Hot and sweet, the chocolate chips she’d found in the pantry soft and gooey. “Excellent job. I want more.”

When he pretended to bite her fingertip, she laughed softly. “That’s my finger, silly.”

It wasn’t his imagination that she sounded more relaxed, even tender. Her arms came around his neck, without any hint from him.

“You’re even handsomer than you were ten years ago,” she told him in a flirty whisper.

“Handsomer? Is that a word?” But he was touched, he had to admit. Turned on, too.

“It is now.” She gave him a very sweet kiss then turned and pulled bowls out of the cupboard and started dishing up chili. “I’m starving.”

So was he. For her.

But he took the bowl she gave him and sat at the table. He had a feeling if he didn’t eat his chili she wouldn’t let him have another cookie, and he wanted all the cookies she was willing to give. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, then she asked a few more questions about his brothers, their wives, his parents. About the new cabin. Her interest seemed genuine and he appreciated it. In turn, he asked her about Vegas and her intriguing domestic talents she had acquired over the years. It felt nice to sit and talk and laugh with her.

“Do you want to go fishing after we finish eating?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“There are thicker coats here if you need something more substantial,” he told her. That flannel shirt looked adorable on her, but it was more for fashion than for coverage. He could see her bare flesh between the snaps every time she stretched for something. Which he did appreciate here in the cabin, but somehow he didn’t think she would find that enjoyable out on the lake.

“I did bring a coat, but it’s not exactly Minnesota proof.”

“No worries. I’ll bundle you up.” So he could unbundle her afterward.

Now that he’d eaten and had some time, he found himself ready to go for round two of sex, slower this time, so he could renew his acquaintance with each and every one of Kristine’s curves. Since she seemed to be in a very relaxed and accommodating mood, that should work in his favor.

“You always did take good care of me,” she said, tone reflective.

Now he was no longer relaxed. Something about her statement made him profoundly uncomfortable. Picking up his empty dish, he pushed his chair back abruptly. Using the faucet with the lake water, he quickly scrubbed out his bowl and set it on the dish rack. “How about we take some of these cookies out on the water with us?”

“Sure.” Her voice was even, calm.

Sean was afraid to look at her and he wasn’t sure why. Afraid of what he would see? Or afraid of what she would see?

So instead of turning back to the table, he went into the closet and found a hunting jacket that probably belonged to his sister-in-law, Mary, Liam’s wife. It was hot pink camouflage. “Try this on,” he said, handing it to Kristine.

Her eyebrows shot up. “They’ll see me in Canada wearing this.”

She had a point. “I’m not sure it’s the most effective camouflage, but it looks warm. Sorry, it’s my sister-in-law’s.”

“It will clash with my red hair, but I don’t think Ely Island is about fashion.”

“You’d look beautiful in anything,” he told her truthfully.

The minute the words were out of his mouth, he felt like an idiot again. But Kristine just smiled.

“Thanks,” she said, standing up and taking her own bowl to the sink. “Just for that, not only will I let you take the cookies, but I will even put some milk in a thermos for you.”

Truthfully, he would have preferred coffee, but the gesture was pretty damn sweet, so he wasn’t about to complain. “Thanks.”

In five minutes, they were heading down the stairs to the dock.

“It still freaks me out that you just walk away and don’t lock the house at all.”

“Who’s going to steal anything? A bear?” he asked, amused.

“I don’t know. The neighbors. There’s what, three or four other cabins on this island? Someone on the lake who could dock here and go up to the house.”

“If some fool is willing to burn up his fuel cruising around the lake, parking at every dock to go up to every house on the off chance that it’s unlocked, and if it
is
unlocked there may be something of value to take, then I say more power to him. But most likely, they’d spend more money on the gas than on any score. It would not be a bright crime.” It wasn’t something he was going to worry about.

“I guess that’s true. So what are we doing again? Just dropping an anchor?”

“Why does that sound so bizarre coming out of your mouth?” he asked, amused, as he stepped down onto the boat. “No, we’re going trolling.”

“Speaking of bizarre.” Kristine, looking damn adorable in a knit hat he’d found for her, a fleece blanket wrapped around her shoulders, cautiously put a boot down in the boat. “Trolling makes me feel negative about myself. Like I’m desperate to snag a fish. Can we call it something else?”

“Fishing. How about that?”

“Sure. That works. But you’re fishing, not me. I will be knitting.” She held up her bag.

“That sounds good to me.” He had to admit, he was curious to see her knit. This domestic side of Kristine was pretty damn sexy.

Sean steered them out onto the lake then let them coast as he cast his line and watched it drag across the surface. Kristine was already busily clacking away with her knitting needles, a blue blob descending between her legs. He had to say that if anyone had said to him a week ago he would be out on the lake fishing while his ex-wife sat across from him knitting he would have laughed six ways to Sunday.

This
was what was bizarre. He and Kristine, having a perfectly friendly and comfortable afternoon floating on Lake Vermilion.

Damn it, he liked it. A lot. More than he ever should.

How the hell was this supposed to get her out of his system?

All it was doing was causing greedy little unrealistic thoughts to pop into his head. Thoughts that ran somewhere along the lines of the possibility that if today could happen, why couldn’t other things happen? Like a future between them?

It was way too dangerous.

Fortunately, after two hours of floating and stuffing his mouth with cookies so he didn’t say anything that would scare Kristine into jumping off the boat, he felt a tug on his line. “Got a nibble.”

“That’s what she said.” Kristine made a face at her own silly joke and then laughed.

Sean laughed with her. “What does that even mean?”

“I have no idea.”

“You are a goofball.”

“One of the best.”

He reeled in his line. “This is a big one. Will you grab the net for me?”

“Sure.” Kristine put her knitting project back into the bag she was pulling yarn from and stood. Immediately, she stumbled.

“Careful. I don’t want you to take a tumble into the lake.”