I could only imagine how difficult living with those constant daily reminders had been. My guess was that he’d loved her so completely, he couldn’t bear the thought of removing even the tiniest of mementos, those items she’d last held in her hands.

  Strangely, she hadn’t been wearing her wedding ring when she died—a detail that was whispered about at the funeral. It still sat in a crystal dish on her dresser. That, I left in its place, certain that Shaw wouldn’t want to part with it. He’d since sold the little house and now slept in the back bedroom at his marina. I had no idea what he did with the ring.

  I was still waiting for him to answer.

  “Sometimes,” he said finally.

  It was a strange response, and my brow crinkled.

  “I just need to know you’re okay,” I said, “and if you’re not okay, that maybe you’re getting there.”

  He let out a deep sigh. “Okay? You want to know if I’m okay?”

  I nodded, careful to keep a neutral expression.

  “I shouldn’t be, right? Isn’t that what people think?”

  I kept mute. I had a feeling he was on the verge of snapping if I pushed too hard.

  “Is that what you think too, Chloe? That I’m destined to become this grieving, hardened widower incapable of feeling real happiness ever again?”

  “Of . . . of course not.” I found my voice. “I just want you to know that I’m here to listen if you ever want to talk.”

  He grunted out a response.

  It was always this way. Just as I started to gain some traction with him, he shut down the conversation.

  We sat on my bed with the low hum of the TV in the background and talked about mundane things. The new Cuban restaurant that recently opened in the downtown district, the hurricane season that had almost come to an end without even a blip on the radar. I began to relax a little more, my shoulders not so tense now.

  “And how about you. How are you feeling?” he asked after a moment of silence with just a hint of a smirk on his lips.

  His question was so unexpected, I stuttered, “W-what do you mean?”

  “Is work okay? Business good with the inn?” he asked.

  “All that’s fine.”

  He nodded. “And your brother?”

  “Fine.”

  “And your friends?”

  “Good.” What is with the game of twenty questions?

  He nodded. “And us?”

  I sighed, then took a deep breath. I’d feared this was coming. “I’m glad that I can be here for you to help, but—”

  “But,” he interjected, his tone solemn.

  I swallowed heavily. “But . . . sometimes I wonder if being here for you in that way really helps at all.”

  His fingertips raked along my jawline. “You’re all I have.”

  It was a rare, sweet moment, and I savored it. “I’m here for you, always will be. It’s just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  He pulled us down so we were lying down on the mattress. My heart started to pound.

  “It scares me sometimes . . . this secret connection we have.”

  He gave no reaction, no indication he knew what I was talking about. He just watched me with his dark, hungry eyes.

  “I love the way you fuck,” he murmured, trailing his fingertip down my neck. My heart rate spiked, even though I hated how he always managed to turn our encounters sexual. I knew what was coming.

  “I have my period,” I said.

  “And that’s a problem, why?” His answering grin was predatory and dominating. “You still have two other holes.”

  “God, you’re a pig!” I sat up and threw a pillow at him.

  “I’m kidding, woman.” He sat up too. “Are you . . . feeling okay? Need anything?”

  “I’m fine, Shaw. I’m just not in the mood.” At least that much was true.

  “Understood. Does this have anything to do with the other night at Hank’s?”

  “No. Of course not,” I lied.

  It definitely did, but I wasn’t even sure how to put it into words for him. Our flings had crossed into a gray area that where instead of feeling like I was helping him to heal, it felt like he was merely using me. And what lesson had he been trying to teach me? That he didn’t want me talking to other men? Given our current non-committed status, that wasn’t going to fly with me either.

  “I said I was sorry about that, Sunshine.” His tone was softer, the glint in his eyes more sincere. “If I could return the favor to you right now, I would.”

  “And you’d expect nothing in return?” I said, challenging him.

  “Not a thing.”

  Okay . . . now I was even more confused about how to feel. But for the time being, I stuck to my guns. I needed a break to clear my head.

  “Honestly, that’s not why I’m here, anyhow.”

  “No?” I lifted one eyebrow at him.

  “You never responded to my text. I really did feel bad about how I acted at Hank’s. I might have had too much to drink that night.”

  I waved him off. “I’m over it, Shaw. Let it be.” It was mostly true. I couldn’t stay mad at him long.

  He nodded.

  “Do you want to stay for a little while? Have a glass of wine?”

  I nodded toward the tiny countertop in what I affectionately referred to as The World’s Smallest Kitchen. My brother had remodeled the one-bedroom suite upstairs last year into a studio by installing a mini-fridge and one stretch of countertop along a wall that held a microwave and my hot plate. Exciting stuff. But at least now I had my own space.

  “Sure. Why not?” Shaw shrugged.

  I hopped up from the bed and grabbed the bottle of red I’d opened earlier, thinking tonight was going to be a pity party for one. I poured us each a glass and carried them back over to the bed where Shaw was seated.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. I knew he wasn’t a red wine guy, so the fact that he was here, choosing to stay, choosing to spend time with me when sex wasn’t on the table, felt like a big deal.

  “Thanks for staying.”

  I hated the desperate lilt to my voice, but I had to remember that I’d been strong tonight. There wouldn’t be any sex. Just two friends reconnecting. Maybe this was the way to get him to see there could be more between us.

  Maybe.

  But it felt like a start. One I didn’t want to squander.

  I took a sip of my wine and contemplated what to do, when it suddenly struck me.

  I had to do the only thing I knew would ensure I didn’t give in to him. Wednesday night after work, I had to go out.

  Chapter Eight

  Shaw

  The heat from the late afternoon sunshine beat down on my back. I’d been helping my crew clean boats all afternoon and was regretting not using sunscreen.

  “Nice job today,” I said, tipping my ball cap as the newest member of my crew grabbed the last of the gear and trash left behind in a pontoon rental.

  “Thanks, boss,” he said, hefting the items out past me and scurrying away.

  With the bright sunlight, the gentle hum of the waves, the occasional call from a seagull, you’d think my thoughts would have been serene and tranquil. My mind was on other things, however. The deep, dark void inside me that sought solace in the company of Chloe. She was my sanctuary. And since she denied me the last time we were together, I was more than ready to be done with work for the day to partake in our ritual.

  After a quick shower, I swung by that taco stand Chloe liked and picked us up some chicken-and-quinoa tacos with the green salsa she loved, along with a six-pack of beer, and headed to her place. It was just after six o’clock, and while I was early, I knew her routine well enough to predict that she was done with her workday and probably upstairs showering. That was fine. I could have a beer and wait.

  Except there was no answer at her door. I sent her a text as I made my way downstairs. Maybe she was still working, or just hanging out with her brother. I knocked at the door to the main house and stood there holding our dinner. No answer there, either.

  I peered through the window. It was quiet and still inside. What the hell? It was Wednesday, wasn’t it? I checked my phone again and saw there was still no response from my text.

  Calling Jason was risky, but fuck it. I was too far gone to care.

  He answered after the third ring. “Yeah?”

  “Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “Your sister. I swung by and no one was home.”

  “No clue. Did you . . . need something?” he asked.

  “Not really. I just grabbed some tacos from that place she liked, wanted to stop by.” That much was true, and seemed innocent enough.

  “So you haven’t eaten yet?”

  “No. Why?” I looked down at the bag of food in my hand.

  “Because I have an idea . . .”

  • • •

  Ten minutes later I pulled into the parking lot of a well-known tourist bar. You know the type—little picnic tables right on the beach, fruity drinks with colorful paper umbrellas, and plenty of toned, tanned skin as far as the eye could see.

  I hadn’t been here in years. The place was a meat market, and I had no interest in picking up some random girl, trying to make conversation and watching her face fall when I explained why I was single. Yet somehow here I was. At Jason’s request. I felt my temper rising, and the urge to punch something flared inside me, yet I put one foot in front of the other and headed toward the back patio.

  “Over here,” Jason called, rising from his seat to wave at me.

  Reluctantly I started toward them. He was seated next to a brunette, with his hand on her knee. Across from them, a blonde was perched in her chair, her legs crossed, looking bored. She was apparently the reason I was here.

  “Hey, thanks for coming.” Jason reached out to give my hand a casual shake.

  “Sure.” I was promised free dinner and drinks, and Jason said I’d be bailing him out of an awkward situation. The bastard. I didn’t sign up for some fucking double date.

  “This is Sara,” he said, looking fondly at his date. “And that’s Lindsey.” He grinned at me with a smile that said you’re welcome.

  “Hey,” I grunted, sliding down into the open seat next to Lindsey.

  “Another round,” Jason said cheerily, signaling the waitress passing by.

  Good fucking thing too. I needed a drink—or ten—right about now.

  “Ladies, this is Shaw. As I mentioned before, he owns the big marina down on Lancaster Boulevard.”

  He’d apparently been talking me up. I didn’t own the place—my parents did—but I didn’t argue.

  “That must be so nice, working near the water all day,” Lindsey commented, shifting closer to me.

  I looked at her for the first time. She actually appeared as out of place as I felt. Maybe she wasn’t any happier about this setup than I was. She had shoulder-length blond hair styled in loose waves and wide-set blue eyes. She was cute in a sort of innocent, girl-next-door way.

  “I love the water, so it’s perfect for me,” I responded. “I couldn’t imagine working in an office all day. I’d rather be outside in the sun and the breeze.”

  “Oh, I agree. I work for a florist, and we have a booth at the farmer’s market. I love it.”

  “Cool.” I found myself smiling at her. “Are you hungry? I haven’t eaten yet.” The bag of tacos I’d bought for Chloe were stuffed into a trash can outside.

  “I’m starved. And they have the best coconut shrimp here, with the most amazing creamy mango dipping sauce.”

  Just then the waitress returned with our drinks—fruity, frozen concoctions for the women and pint glasses of beer for Jason and me.

  “Two orders of coconut shrimp and a side of fries, please,” I told the waitress, and then directed my gaze at Lindsey. “Anything else?”

  “An ice water,” she added.

  “Make that two,” I said.

  Jason ordered a burger, and when his date asked for a side salad with low-fat dressing on the side, Lindsey and I exchanged a conspiratorial grin, knowing we were moments away from sharing deep-fried goodness. With creamy mango sauce.

  Soon our food arrived and while we ate, I found the conversation flowed easily between Lindsey and me. It had been a long time since I’d been in the presence of a woman other than Chloe, and found it was quite like riding a bike. We chatted, drank some more, and later shared a slice of key lime pie.

  There was no fucking, no escaping the grief completely, but still, a much better night than if I’d gone home alone.

  Chapter Nine

  Chloe

  I had a bad feeling stewing in the pit of my stomach and I couldn’t figure out why.

  “Where were you last night?” Jason asked as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

  I was intent on getting our social media pages up to date this morning, a task I always put on the back burner. Because there was always something else more pressing that needed to be done.

  “Nowhere special. I ran some errands. Got my eyebrows waxed. Nothing exciting. Why?”

  He grabbed a mug from the cupboard and joined me near the coffeepot to wait for it to finish brewing. “Because apparently Shaw stopped by here last night with your favorite tacos and when you weren’t home¸ he called me.”

  Tacos? Calling my brother, looking for me? This was not the sex-starved, one-track-mind Shaw I knew. I’d made it a point not to be home last night, but now my heart ached.

  “And what did you tell him?”

  He shrugged. “Told him I didn’t know where you were, but I invited him out to a double date with me and Sara. She’d brought her roommate Lindsey, so it worked out perfectly.”

  My heart leaped into my throat. “And did he go?”

  “Yeah. They got along great, actually.”

  “How great?” I narrowed my eyes, my stomach turning over.

  Jason studied me for a beat before continuing. “After dinner, they left for a different bar to grab another round—just the two of them.”

  All the air felt like it had been sucked from my lungs, and I braced my hands against the counter, trying to breathe. Fuck. Why in the hell had I lied the other night—told him I was on my period? And then I had the grand plan to leave last night—to ditch our Wednesday tradition—all because I’d read in one of those stupid women’s magazines about absence making the heart grow fonder, and the idea that holding out on your man might actually get him to fall harder.

  Wrong. What ill-fated advice. My absence apparently sent him straight into the arms of another woman.

  “I have things to do,” I muttered. “Talk to you later.”

  I made my way out of the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. I said I needed to get to work, but what I really needed was to be alone.

  • • •

  If he’d just had a meaningless one-night stand, it might have hurt less. I knew how cold and detached Shaw could be about sex. He probably never would have talked to her again.

  But going to dinner with a woman? An actual date? That wasn’t something even he and I had done. And his past was riddled with long-term monogamous relationships, which was what really scared me about this date. It signaled that maybe he was on his way toward moving on—with someone other than me.

  After spending the morning updating our inn’s social media accounts and answering a slew of inquiry e-mails, I decided to text Shaw.

  Chloe: Sorry about last night. But it sounds like you kept yourself entertained.

  I couldn’t help the snarky tone in my message. We’d never had a spat, a lover’s quarrel, or even a disagreement as friends, and I wondered if we were about to experience our first. After all, I was the one who ditched out on him last night. But him spending time with another woman wasn’t a scenario I ever imagined.

  Shaw: Yeah, sorry about that. Something came up.

  Chloe: And by something, you mean Lindsey.

  Shaw: Ah, shit, thanks for that. I couldn’t remember her name. ;)

  I tossed my phone down onto the desk and growled out a curse word. He had to be the most frustrating, infuriating man on the planet.

  I’d spent eight long months lusting after him, giving him every piece of my body and soul, not to mention my heart. I’d grown closer with him than I even thought possible. Afraid to admit the truth, even to myself, I knew I had fallen in love with him. And now this?

  My phone chimed, signaling a new text. I rolled my eyes and grabbed my phone.

  Shaw: So, where were you last night . . . hot date or something?

  I chewed on my lip, half of me wanting to lie to him and say yes, make him think I was out with another man. But I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. I swallowed my pride and replied.

  Chloe: No, just needed a break.

  I wondered how he’d interpret the message . . . that I needed to put some distance between him and me? That I needed some time off from our Wednesdays together? As I reread the words on the screen, my heart sank. It was just the type of response to send him running into the arms of another woman. I felt raw and vulnerable and scared as I waited for his response.

  Shaw: Okay.

  After that, he didn’t reply and I didn’t know what to type back, so I shoved my phone in my purse and ignored it the rest of the day.

  • • •

  “Are you sure this is a good idea? He’s leaving in a month, right?” I asked.

  “Exactly. That’s why this is perfect. It’s a low-risk commitment with a finite end date. It’s the perfect thing to get you back up on the horse.”

  I winced. Courtney sounded like she’d rehearsed this speech before we met. We were sitting inside our favorite coffee shop. The floors were concrete and the walls were lined with shelves of dusty books; there was nothing fancy about it. But they had damn good coffee and the best fresh-baked cinnamon rolls in the world. They were as big as a dinner plate and held a mountain of cream-cheese frosting. I appreciated a hefty frosting-to-cinnamon-roll ratio. Not to mention the whole place smelled like vanilla and cinnamon.

 

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