Chapter Six
Andie slipped one foot out of her high-heeled sandals and rubbed at the ache in her arch. The air might have been slightly chilly, but the September sun was still hot enough that, despite rubbing on multiple coats of sunscreen, the sting of a burn had spread across her skin. But underneath the folding table she sat at was a metal lock box full of money, money that would go a long way toward saving her building, her shop, her dream.
"Thanks," Conner said, to a young mom as he handed her a huge, assorted box of cookies. "You're going to make your little guys very happy."
The mom rolled her eyes as her oldest boy tugged at her sleeve for attention, while the toddler in the stroller wailed like a police siren. "That's the plan. Or hope, I should say."
Conner grabbed an ice cold bottle of water from the cooler under one of the other tables that was now sparsely populated with baked goods and leaned over to hand it to the toddler. "Here you go, buddy. You look thirsty."
The mom unscrewed the cap and handed the bottle back to little boy, who immediately quieted. "Thanks again," she said, and slowly made her way down the paved trail that wound along the lake's edge in front of them.
Andie had been lucky enough to score a spot in the middle of the Art in the Park event. They had set up between a woman making beautiful sterling silver jewelry and a man who had the most gorgeous, framed nature photos Andie had ever seen, and they couldn't have been luckier. The constant foot traffic to those two popular booths meant they had a huge amount as well, and they'd sold almost all of their treats. She supposed it didn't hurt that they had the world's cutest puppy with them either. She smiled as yet another kid raced over to pet the dog and her mom, who dutifully followed, decided to buy a cake for an after dinner treat.
Andie looked up when someone called her name. Shawn and Logan were winding their way up the lake walk toward them. Logan's face was only a raw, red looking area now. It would probably be sore for awhile, but there was no lasting damage. Andie wasn't sure she could say the same for his heart. An anger had settled on him the day of the altercation, and no matter what Andie or Shawn did, they couldn't seem to get Logan to shake it.
It worried Andie even more because she felt the exact same way. How could she tell Logan to forget it when she was stuck in the exact same place?
But Andie refused to think about Kayla Anderson on such a perfect day, refused to let the memories of the past swamp her and spoil it. The deep blue of a fall sky stretched overhead and the cool air flowed over her skin like a hug. Her family was safe and well and together right now. That was the most important thing to remember, especially when Diana's illness had reminded them all too well how fragile life could be. Not that they weren't going to make every attempt to fight it; she had a mastectomy scheduled within a week and aggressive chemotherapy planned after that. Andie had been calling Diana twice every day to check up on her, until Diana had told her to knock it off and give her a little room.
She slapped a smile on her face. "Hey, guys!" Andie jumped out from behind the table and squeezed Shawn in a gigantic hug before doing the same to Logan.
Shawn grinned down at her, tousling her curls into a mess. "What's that for, sis?"
Andie tried to run her fingers through her hair, push it back into some semblance of order, but when her hand became hopelessly tangled, she gave it up for a lost cause. "I'm glad to see you."
"Well, you're gonna be even happier in a minute." Logan flashed a gigantic grin, then slung his backpack off his shoulder and rooted around in it for a minute. "Ta da!" He held up her most comfy pair of sneakers. Right before she'd left this morning, Shawn had tried to talk her into wearing them instead of her cute, strappy pink heels, but Andie had been adamant. Soon enough she'd have to encase her feet in heavy winter boots, and even then they wouldn't be warm. From mid-October to May, she'd have constant Reynaud's attacks, turning her fingers and toes to a waxy white, each nail a dull purple. If she wasn't carful, she'd end up with tissue damage, especially on her toes. She wanted to enjoy her summer shoe collection, and the warm sun on her feet, for a little bit longer.
"All right, all right. You guys were totally right. My feet are killing me. I don't suppose you brought any socks, did you?"
Logan whipped out a cozy, thick pair of hiking socks and Andie nearly swooned.
She pulled both the socks and shoes on her feet then let out a sigh. "Heaven. So, what are you guys doing here?"
"We came to take over the bake sale for awhile. Why don't you go get something to eat? Get some supper or an ice-cream cone. We can handle it from here," Shawn said.
Andie glanced at her watch. 5 o'clock. Already the sun was riding low in the sky and the warmth of the afternoon was leaching away. Her brothers could probably handle the last few hours of the sale. She shivered and Logan grinned again.
"What?" she asked.
He reached into his backpack and pulled out her favorite sweater.
A laugh burbled up out of Andie. "And here I thought I was the one taking care of you!"
Logan plopped down in one of the folding chairs behind the table. "We take care of each other."
Shawn let one eyebrow drift upward. "And it might be good if you remembered that every once and awhile."
And it was true. Sometimes, Andie forgot. Sometimes, it felt like all the responsibility for their family fell on her shoulders, but the truth was, she put it there herself. Shawn was a capable and thoughtful man. He was as responsible as she was, but she had a hard time letting go, letting anyone else be in control. And the only person she had to blame for that was herself. Even Logan was getting older now, able to do stuff for himself that he hadn't done before. Maybe it was time to let go a little, to let herself have fun, to find enjoyment where she could. For years, she'd been wishing for this very thing, but now that it was actually here, a little tingle of fear snaked across her scalp. Because if she didn't have the role of adopted mom, or the provider, to hide behind, then who was she? She wasn't sure she was brave enough to find out, but at least she could take a step in that direction.
She moved away from the table. "You're sure?"
Shawn nodded. "Yup. Get going. It's not only your shop we're trying to save. It's our family's shop. We should do our fair share." He walked over to where Conner sat in the other folding chair and gave him nudge. "You too, man. Leave the puppy, too. We'll take care of him for a little bit. Get out of here. I know you've been here all day and that your shift at the pub starts at eight. Go get some food."
The two men stared each other down for a second, some sort of wordless communication passing between them. Then, Conner grinned, his dimple sliding into place. "Thanks, dude." He stood up and slapped Shawn on the back. "I am hungry."
He stepped over to Andie, tucked the curl that kept poking her in the eye behind her ear. "Want to get something to eat?"
She smiled up at him, ready to enjoy the evening, despite the tingle of nerves in her belly. "Sure, but do we have to go inside? It's so beautiful out."
"Why don't we walk down by the water? We could get some hot dogs or something to go at Lakeside."
"That sounds right."
Andie buttoned her sweater over her chest, grateful for the warmth as they walked by the shore. Gentle waves swished against the thick wall of boulders that lined the long, grassy expanse of land that flowed from the hotels and restaurants all the way to the water. White tent canopies glinted in the sunlight as people strolled from vendor to vendor, enjoying the artwork and blaze of red and orange leaves that decorated the trees overhead.
Andie tipped her face up, toward that deep blue sky that only appeared during autumn, the haze of summer washed away by the crisp rain. "Isn't it gorgeous?"
Conner stared down at her, his eyes shuttered and unreadable. Then he reached for her hand. "It is."
Andie's heart skipped around in her chest as the warmth of his skin enfolded hers. "Conner..." She said it slowly, knowing that this shouldn't be happening, but reluctant to stop it.
"Don't think right now. Let's ... be." Conner squeezed her hand and tugged her a little closer to his side.
A little skittering shiver of uneasiness tickled down Andie's spine, warred with the surge of heat shimmering under her skin. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe I should head back. Diana-"
"No. Diana's with her mom tonight. Her family. You of all people should know what that means."
Andie froze, literally, with one foot inches from the sidewalk, her heart lurching into her throat.
Conner turned to her, let one thumb skim her jaw. "That's not what I meant," he said in a gentle voice. "I meant they've closed ranks, huddled together. They're going to get through this, but they need each other right now. You're about as close as family to Diana, but she needs them too. Don't think about that right now. Don't think about anything that worries you right now. breathe."
Conner scanned her face searching for something. "That wasn't enough. Okay." He scrubbed at his cheek, then smiled. "Come on. I know where we can go."
He towed her through the park and down to the marina beyond. The pier swayed a little under her feet as Conner led her to one of the last slips. "Here we are."
She knew this boat. It was his father's excursion boat, his pride and joy. She and Shawn had been on it a few times as kids, either to fish or for a day trip out to one of the islands. She hadn't gone often though. The way Mr. Morgan had ordered everyone around, shouting when his first command hadn't been followed quickly enough, had always left her feeling like she wanted to punch something. And Andie never punched anything.
But the boat. She'd always loved the boat, with its polished wood glinting in the sunlight and the gleaming brass accents setting it off perfectly. There was a seating area on deck, upholstered in leather as smooth as satin, and below, a living area made of the finest materials.
The boat sat silently now, waiting to fill itself with the happy memories that had never come.
Conner grinned at her, his dimple flashing. "After you."
Andie looked at Conner, then back over her shoulder. The park was so far away now that she couldn't even see their booth. "Oh, I don't know."
"Well, I do." And like that, Conner's hands were closing around her waist, strong and firm. For a second she was flying, weightless, through the air, before her feet touched softly onto the polished wood decking. It took Conner less then a split second to vault over the rail behind her. He led her to one of the low leather sofas and gently pushed her down onto it.
"You sit here. Relax. I'm going to see if I can't find something for us to eat." He lifted the seat of the sofa across from her and pulled out a woolen blanket, flecked with a red and yellow plaid pattern. "Tuck up. Keep warm. I'll be right back."
So she did. For the first time in a long time, years maybe, Andie sat still and did nothing. She didn't worry, or think, or plan. She sat there and watched the gulls arrowing across the sky, the sun sinking lower and lower toward the water, the glitter of light on the gentle waves. As she sat there something loosened, then spooled away from her chest, freeing her from some invisible restraint she hadn't even known was there. For a split second, something clenched in her heart, urged her to clutch at whatever she was losing, and then it was gone. She relaxed into the stillness of the late afternoon.
The sky blazed with color; reds and oranges, before deepening to a deep indigo. Stars winked to life overhead, one after the other, a handful of glitter flung against velvet. And then light glimmered around her as a wash of twinkle lights blinked on, their warm glow casting a puddle of contentment around her.
Conner came up from below, balancing a plate in each hand, with a bottle of champagne tucked under his arm. "I did the best I could with what was in the pantry. I don't imagine Dad's been here recently." He set a plate of pasta in front of her. Coating the noodles was a sauce of olives, chunks of tuna, tomatoes and what looked like jarred garlic.
"It smells delicious," Andie said. She meant to smile at him, wanted to smile at him, but she couldn't quite get her lips to move right. Until that moment, she'd never realized that the only men who'd ever cooked for her had been her father and her brother. She was twenty-seven years old, and the only relationships she'd ever had with a man, no, a boy, had been the two flings she'd had in college. And wasn't that the most pathetic thing she'd ever heard?
Conner handed her a fork and a paper towel to use as a napkin, then slid in next to her, close enough that Andie felt the warmth from his body. She hadn't even realized she was cool, until his nearness had chased away the chill.
"Eat then, but first." And Conner popped the cork on the champagne.
Andie gasped at the noise, then laughed at herself. "What are we celebrating?"
"Being together. This night. That the bake sale went well. Take your pick." He handed her the bottle of champagne.
She held it in her hand, looking at it uncertainly. "Um. Glasses?"
Conner shrugged. "Couldn't find 'em."
Andie lifted the bottle in a salute to Conner. "When in Rome..." The bubbles exploded on her tongue, bitter and slightly sweet at the same time, as she took a sip. "Thanks, Conner, for everything."
Conner shook his head, watching her with eyes that had suddenly gone dark with some emotion she couldn't quite identify. "No, thank you. Thank you for all you've done for me, all the help you've given. Even when I didn't want it." He smiled a little at her.
"You're welcome." Andie took another sip of the champagne, then handed him the bottle. "Let's eat before it gets cold."
So they sat under the stars and ate the pasta that was very good, even if it wasn't great. They talked, and they laughed. Andie did remember why she had cared for him so many years ago, no matter what she might have pretended before. She knew, if she let herself, that she could care for him again. It was thoughtless and reckless and probably one of the worst ideas she had ever had. But for tonight, she was going to let herself think it. The morning would be soon enough to go back to being sensible, responsible Andie. And, God, she was so sick of playing it safe.
So when Conner took her plate, stacked it with his and set them on the floor, she didn't stand immediately like she normally would have. When he slid closer, so that they were touching, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, she didn't lean back.
Conner lifted his hand, tucked one loose curl behind her ear. But then he lifted his other hand too, cupping her face. His lips curved into a smile. And then he leaned forward and settled his lips against her own.
Heat rushed through Andie and it felt like she was finally warm for the first time in years. She let her arms slide around his back and revealed in his heat, in the feel of his body against hers, in the knowledge that at this moment, he was thinking of her and only her.
"Conner." His name was a whisper on her lips before she let her tongue sweep forward. He tasted so good. He felt so good. She wanted him, wanted this more than anything. She wanted to feel him against her. She wanted to forget everything but the man sitting next to her. She wanted to remember what it felt like to be wanted.
His lips skimmed across her cheek then back to her mouth, an unexpectedly tender touch that sent a spiral of longing through Andie's heart. In that moment, she knew she wanted too much. If she opened that door, let all those old feelings and emotions out, she didn't think she'd be able to bear shutting them up again when this ended. And it would end.
Andie leaned back, feeling the cool night air flow between them, an intangible, but very real barrier. "I should get home. Thank you for supper."
Andie watched Conner's eyes flick back and forth as he scanned her face. His lips were still pink from their kisses, his body bowed toward her with the strength of his desire for her. But finally, he nodded. His hands dropped away from her face, leaving Andie with nothing but the dusty taste of regret on her tongue.
Conner rose, gripped the brass railing of the boat as he stared out over the marina. "It's getting late. Let me wash up these dishes and I'll walk you home."
Andie folded the blanket into a precise square. "No, I can walk home myself."
"I'm sure you can, but tonight, I'm going to walk with you. Besides, I have to pick up Jack."
"Oh. I'd forgotten about him. All right then, but I'm going to help you clean up." Because if you couldn't give yourself to a man, helping with the dishes might be an adequate substitute, right? And she bent to pick up the plates before following him down into the tiny galley.
As soon as she was there, she knew she'd made another mistake. They were all but in each other's arms as they washed and dried the dishes and pans, wiped the counters, put away supplies. Each whisper of a touch, each time their skin brushed together, a shiver of awareness shook Andie's chest, in an area that felt suspiciously like her heart. When she turned to put the pasta strainer away, and instead rammed directly into Conner's body, she knew she couldn't take it anymore.
"Why don't I go wait on deck? There clearly isn't enough room for two people in here."
Conner tucked the dishtowel neatly through a towel rack on the side of a cabinet and grinned at her. "Too late. All done. Come on." He took her hand in his before she could stop him and tugged her up the narrow, step stairs and into the star-lit darkness. He swung her back onto the dock, then grabbed her hand again. When she pulled at him, trying to free herself, Conner looked at her, one dark eyebrow shooting upward.
"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little handholding?"
"No, of course not," Andie said, immediately going still. Which, she was sure, had been precisely his intention when he'd challenged her. Her pride demanded that she prove him wrong. It was one of her weak spots, and it always had been, even back when they were kids. And, of course, he knew that, knew precisely what he was doing.
So they walked home in the darkness, their hands intertwined, and a sick burn of anxiety, knotted together with want, squeezing Andie's stomach.
Conner would be gone soon, in a matter of months. Even if, by some miracle, he stayed, he wasn't right for her. How could she be with someone who didn't value family or home? With someone who would risk their own life day in and day out, in the reckless pursuit of the next adrenaline surge?
Andie's brain had neatly analyzed the situation and told her to run, but her traitorous heart hadn't gotten the memo, because it insisted on doing foolish flips and dives the entire walk home.