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Eve didn’t want to feel like the pasta’s exuberance had saved her from something, but she knew the semolina had rescued her.
From what, exactly, though? From Spencer Canley? From a kiss?
From finally feeling like she was desirable after a year of feeling like a piece of trash left behind on the curb?
The whole tone of dinner changed, populated by small talk, each unwilling to address what had almost happened between them.
If Eve was being completely honest with herself, she’d wanted the kiss. Wanted to be a part of the emotion, the feeling—something she’d cut herself off from for the last year. She’d needed time to move past the shock of Mark’s calling off their engagement out of the blue, and time to process her mother’s death.
But how could she explain to herself this crazy desire to jump back in to that feeling, that emotion, with the brother of the man who’d made her cut herself off from it all in the first place?
That would be crazy. And if everything in life happened for a reason and gave opportunities to learn, indulging one more minute of this train of thought would do nothing more than show she hadn’t learned the lessons she needed to learn. She needed to play it safe.
And Spencer Canley was not safe.
She knew he was right—he’d just been doing a job both times he’d visited her at the beach house with difficult messages. And she’d heard with her own ears as he’d walked away from it all and quit his job with Mark and his company.
But although she’d heard all those words, only one word actually mattered.
Canley.
Spencer was still a Canley. And she didn’t need any more trouble from any more Canleys.
When the water subsided and this particular Canley brother could drive off again, he’d leave, taking the centerpiece of her former engagement ring with him—and hopefully that old set of Mark’s clothes. Then all traces of connections to the Canley brothers would be removed from her bungalow and her life.
“Care for a refill?” Spencer held up the carafe of water Eve had placed in the middle of the square butcher block table.
“Just halfway,” Eve said, watching as the clear liquid crawled up the smooth curve of the glass.
“Are you okay, Eve?”
She nodded. The truth was she really was okay—or she would be as soon as the last vestiges of the Canley family exited her life—but she couldn’t go much past that. If she couldn’t explain it to herself, how could she explain it to Spencer?
“About earlier—” Spencer started to speak, but Eve waggled her glass in an attempt to cut his train of thought off.
“No, really, Eve, I—” He hesitated again, then picked back up before she could jump in. “I know I should say something like I’m sorry. That’s probably the right thing to do. I’ve been doing the wrong thing by you for too long. I told Mark on the phone you deserved better, and I meant it. So I really should say I’m sorry. But it would be a lie.”
Whatever Eve had been expecting, it wasn’t that. She stabbed the last bowtie on her plate and tried to buy a little time before answering.
“I’m probably not going to see you again after I leave here, Eve. I won’t be running any more errands for Mark.” A shadow crossed Spencer’s face and he paused, then as he began to speak again, it dissipated. “I told you earlier that you were pretty when you smiled. Eve, you’re even pretty with an old towel on your head. You’re my brother’s ex-fiancée, but you deserve to know that fact. No matter what Mark may have made you think, you’re a beautiful woman with a lot to offer.”
Warmth plucked at Eve’s cheeks from the inside. She lowered her head a bit and hoped Spencer would attribute the blush to the steam coming off the pasta.
“Don’t duck your head, Eve. Don’t. You should own that truth.”
“Spencer, it’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve heard it all before, from another Canley brother. He told me everything you just said. Told me it was the truth. Then he left—via a message from a proxy—you. And I’ve never heard from him again. Worse, I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did wrong.” She choked a little bit on the memories as they traveled from mind to heart and out through her mouth.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all Mark. He’s been working on this contract for a year and a half, and he wanted it badly. He saw a chance to get in with Moldayev, who had the right connections with the right people to get it done. They met at a cocktail party while you were taking care of your mom. Once he saw where he could go once he got an international partnership established, Mark became obsessed with this contract.”
“I remember him talking about it.” She’d been in such a fog then, she must have missed the signs that things were going wrong.
“Your mom was dying. But Mark didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about anything except the next contract that would bring in more money.”
“He didn’t used to be like that, you know.” Eve felt heavy with the memory.
“Don’t get up. I’ve got all of this, remember? My treat. You just sit back and relax.” Spencer stood from the table, collected his plate, and then Eve’s. “Mark’s always been driven, but he didn’t used to be obsessed. But like I said, he saw dollar signs, and lots of them, once he realized he had a chance at an international partnership on the scale of Moldayev. It was more fun for David and I when the three Canley brothers were working together on a common goal, doing something we loved. We’d always done things as partners since we were young. But along the way, Mark’s only goal became money.”
Eve heard the sadness in Spencer’s voice and she realized Mark had taken away something very personal from him, too. She wasn’t the only one who had been hurt by Mark’s single-minded quest to get more and be more.
As an artist, Eve knew the right light could change a picture entirely. She’d already seen Spencer in a bit of a different light this evening. Now, it seemed almost as though one of those lightning strikes outside had brought a bright glow near to them both, changing her perspective.
She’d gone from enmity to empathy.
And it felt like a weight had just dropped from her shoulders.
Her New Year’s sabbatical at the beach house wasn’t ruined after all. In fact, maybe this was the first of many realizations on the road to finally being free. Maybe this was some kind of sign that she would get the healing she needed, starting now.
“I thought I needed to be alone this weekend to make sense of things and move on,” Eve said, more to herself than to him. “Now I think you’re here for a reason. I’m not happy about the reason you came, but I’m glad you’re here, Spencer.”
Spencer loaded the last dish in the small dishwasher. “I’m not glad about the car repair bill that’s coming, but I’m glad I’m here, too, Evie.”
The rain continued steadily throughout the night. After dinner, Spencer fixed them both a cup of coffee. Eve hung Spencer’s wool sweater up to dry and threw his corduroy pants and socks in the dryer with a few towels, so hopefully he'd have suitable clothes to wear when he left in the morning.
When the caffeine had worn off and yawning set in for them both, Eve showed Spencer to the guest bedroom, then went down the short hallway to her own room. The conversation into the early morning hours had stayed steadily casual. No more mentions of Mark, or what could have been in the kitchen. Eve talked about her latest projects and a gallery showing she’d had in Dallas in the fall. Spencer shared stories about his summer vacation, SCUBA diving in the Caribbean. It was more personal than just some general small talk, but still safer than the previous talks of conversation.
It made sense. They weren’t strangers. In fact, they’d once been friends. Time had changed so many circumstances, but the heart had a way of never forgetting the good times.
Hearing about Eve’s career as an artist fascinated Spencer. Mark had always made it sound like she painted as a hobby, when in reality, Eve was a sought-out painter who exhibited her work around the country. Spencer hadn’t ever really thought much about Eve because Mark had never spoken of her in a way which gave Eve her due. But tonight, with the specter of Mark Canley pushed firmly out of the way, all Spencer could do was think about Eve.
Even the sound of the rain and the waves couldn’t bring Spencer much fitful rest. He laid awake for hours, watching the clock, the ceiling, the drops sliding down the windowpane. The guest room also served as Eve’s studio, and the narrow day bed had been placed in the far corner, giving him a full, moonlit view of Eve’s latest project on an easel by the window.
The painting was just beginning to take shape. She’d sketched out the basic form on the canvas and had begun to fill in the first layers of paint. A seagull, flying high against the sun. From his spot in the middle of the bed, Spencer studied the gentle curve of sketched graphite that made up the outlines of what would become a highly complex wing of feathers and light and shadow.
He closed his eyes, turning over the image in his mind. The gull’s wing morphed behind his eyelids into something else—a towel falling from softly curled hair darkened several shades by water, illuminated by a lightning strike. He saw Eve’s face, saw the shadows on one side and the light on the other. And as he studied the gentle curve of her face and the soft fullness of her lips, he finally fell asleep, using his mind to turn what could have been into the reality of dreams.
Eve loved the quiet of mornings on the beach. The rain had stopped sometime overnight, and the sound of the tide gently roaring was all that broke the stillness. She started a pot of coffee and looked out the window. Today, Spencer would leave, taking the final remnants of her past along with him.
She’d craved that sense of moving on for the past year. But now that it finally seemed here, waiting at her doorstep, she hesitated to open the door. The realization frustrated her. She’d spent a year ridding her mind of thoughts of the Canleys. She’d thought the problem was just thoughts of Mark and what should have been.
Then another Canley walked onto her beach and sent everything haywire. Since when had she cared what Spencer Canley did or what he thought? She wanted to beat her wayward head against the wall—maybe that would banish thoughts of all the Canleys, once and for all.
A rustling sound cut through the roar of the gulf and Eve turned, face to face with the reason for her frustration.
“I guess I’d better go down and check on my car. I looked out the window of the guest room, and it seems like the water has receded.”
“It usually does. This whole area is flood prone because of being right at sea level, but once it stops raining, the water usually drains quickly.”
Eve poured another cup of coffee in a mug decorated with a scene of beach umbrellas and handed it to Spencer. “How do you like your coffee?”
Spencer reached for the cup, brushing the tops of Eve’s fingers where she held the mug as he took the handle. The touch felt light, like the tickle of a cat’s whiskers, but the fact that it made her think about the near-miss kiss from last night followed her as close as the constant companionship of a pet dog. It stalked her every move, chased her every thought.
“Oh, I’m pretty simple,” Spencer replied, taking a sip.
Eve could barely contain a short laugh of irony. Nothing about Spencer was simple, she’d come to realize.
Certainly not the way her whole range of thoughts had shifted about him from just a few hours of getting to know him better.
Spencer didn’t waste time sipping the coffee. He’d finished the whole steaming mug before Eve had enough milk mixed in hers. He walked past her and placed the empty mug in the sink.
“Wish me luck,” he said with a wide grin.
“Oh absolutely.” Eve buried her head in a long, deep sip of caffeine, wishing luck was all she needed to figure out why watching Spencer walk out the front door left her feeling so hollow. She tried to shift her thoughts back to the coffee, knowing that she didn’t want to overthink what had happened in the last day.
Only a few minutes passed before the front door opened again, bringing a brush of early morning air along with Spencer.
“Well, it still won’t start. Guess I need to get a mechanic. Know anyone I can call?” Spencer ran a hand through his dark hair.
“Sure. Mike Renwick. He owns a small shop over off 61st Street.” Eve picked up her smartphone off the counter and searched for the number. “Want me to call him, or you?”
“Just give me the number. I’ll call him.” Spencer pulled his own phone out of his back pocket.
“Ok. It’s 555-1070.”
Spencer dialed with his thumb, then waited as the phone rang. “No answer.”
“I know he’s around. I just saw him at the grocery store yesterday morning.” Eve looked down at the face of her phone and checked the time. She couldn’t let Spencer stall around here anymore. She needed to find a way to facilitate his departure off Provident Island. “I’m sure my Jeep is ok, since it sits higher than your car. Why don’t we go into town and just go by his shop? He lives in an efficiency on site. I bet we can track him down.”
“That sounds perfect. Maybe I can get my car towed over to his place and he can get her running again.” Spencer smiled, and Eve couldn’t help but notice how white his teeth were.
Which made her thoughts turn inevitably to last night’s moment that wasn’t.
Was everything going to come back to that? What had happened to her? Eve mentally lashed herself. She’d spent years with Mark and never thought about kissing him as much as she’d thought in the last twelve or so hours about not kissing Spencer.
She needed to stop, though. Nothing Spencer had done this morning indicated that he still thought about that close call in the kitchen. Everything he’d done and said since walking in the kitchen pointed to one thing—getting his car running and getting out of Port Provident. He probably had plans for tonight.
After all, it was New Year’s Eve.
A time to dress up, meet up with someone special, and ring in the New Year. The turn of the calendar. A day made for celebrating possibilities.
Although they’d spent hours talking last night, the truth of the matter remained. Eve didn’t really know Spencer. She didn’t know if he had someone in his life. They’d carefully avoided any discussion of that. At the time, Eve figured it was because they were trying to avoid talking about Mark, and therefore Eve’s former relationship with him.
But there was probably more to it than that.
“I’m ready when you are, Spencer.” Eve picked up her keys from the hook on the wall at the edge of the kitchen.
More than that, she was ready to get back to the weekend she planned before the middle Canley brother showed up. She’d had a nice detour last night, settled some old questions in her mind.
But the conversation also opened too many new thoughts in her mind—crazy thoughts, thoughts full of sparks and near-kisses—and it was best if she shut those lines of attraction down before she spent another year trying to get another Canley out of her mind.
“Is something wrong?” Eve responded to a stifled angry word from Spencer as she pulled out on the main highway and pointed the Jeep back toward town.
“Just thinking that I need a car with some off-road capabilities.”
“No more sports car, huh?” The traffic was pretty light, and Eve appreciated that. In the summer, this stretch of road was jammed with tourists trying to get from their hotels to the beach and the other attractions Port Provident offered. Driving seemed so much less stressful in the off-season.
Too bad she couldn’t put being this close to Spencer in the same category. She’d only had one cup of coffee this morning, but the flashes of adrenaline speeding through her veins made it seem like she’d emptied an entire pot.
“The Jeep definitely seems more conducive for trips to the beach.” Spencer watched the waves as they drove back into the city from the beachside neighborhoods.
“Are you planning on making more trips to the beach?” She could only hope her voice sounded calm. Spencer probably had a summer getaway weekend in mind for him and some friends, and nothing more. She could not embarrass herself by reading more into his one line than he could have possibly meant.
“I think I might, yeah.” Spencer turned his head toward Eve briefly, then returned to watching the scenery off the edge of Texas. “I can’t believe I’ve never considered spending more time on the island.”
Well, so much for trying to not overthink things.
At least she could keep from embarrassing herself, Eve decided, if she kept her stinking mouth shut.
Nothing spoken, nothing to worry about.
Right?
“Do you visit to the beach house often?”
Wrong.
Stay focused, Eve. It’s just casual conversation.
“When my mother died, I inherited the beach house. I try to come down and spend one or two weekends a month, but I find myself coming more and more lately. In the spring, I’ve always liked to paint out on the deck. The light’s great and it’s nice to spend time in the sun and the breeze. I’ve been thinking more and more about a way to stay here permanently. But I have relationships with galleries back in Houston. I’m not sure what I’d do here.”
Spencer nodded quietly. “So this had been your mom’s house?”
“She grew up on the island. This was home for her. And, I guess, in a way, for me too.” She put on her blinker and moved to the turn lane. “Lots of memories here.”
Some had been good.
Some had been bad.
And some, like last night...well, the jury was still out on how she completely felt about that. She wanted to feel good about it. But the stakes seemed too high. Eve didn’t want to look like a fool—not to Spencer—or herself.
“I think I need to make a few more memories here.” Spencer smiled as he spoke. Eve caught the grin out of the corner of her eye.
Eve jerked and hit the brake. The Jeep’s tires stopped short and the whole car kicked, as though in the wake of a karate chop.
“Eve? You ok?”
So much for not looking like a fool.
Eve scanned the intersection. “Um, I thought I saw something in the street,” she muttered, not believing a word of her lame excuse for a second. No doubt Spencer saw through it too.
“Ok. You kind of scared me there.”
More muttering. “Sorry.”
She made a few turns and brought the Jeep to a stop in the driveway of Renwick Auto Repair. The garage bay was open and a car sat high on the lift.
“That’s Mike.” Eve pointed to the man standing at the side of the front tire to the gunmetal gray Chevrolet suspended in the air.
“Great. I’ll go see if I can talk to him for a second.” Spencer opened the door of the Jeep and hopped out, then strode to the edge of the garage bay.
Eve watched as Spencer talked with Mike, turning his hands as he spoke, trying to paint a visual picture of what was happening—or in Spencer’s case, not happening—with the car. As she watched the twists and points, Eve’s mind flashed back to last night, when those same hands had tangled in the wet twists of her hair and pulled her close.
Too easily, she remembered the jolt of electricity she’d felt.
She’d been held before—she’d been engaged before, so of course she’d been held, been kissed.
But never had those moments caused lightning strikes in her veins that rivaled the real thing cracking just outside.
And never had she spent so much time wondering what could have been after something that could clearly never be.
Because even though she’d heard Spencer give Mark his notice, the fact still remained. Spencer Canley was Eve’s former fiancé’s brother.
There was no future for Eve in a world with Spencer. That was a world where she’d receive Christmas cards from Mark or see him on holidays or at family events. Her ex had pulled himself out of her life in a selfish, tearing way. He’d left scars on her heart she had only now begun to not feel every time the silence overwhelmed her.
Spending a good deal of her free time in a beach house meant Eve now knew well the sound of silence and the gentle roll of white-noise waves.
If only the man in front of her had been Spencer Smith, or Spencer Jones, or Spencer Black.
Anyone but Spencer Canley.
Spencer Can’t-ley.
As in “You can’t have a future with your ex-fiancé’s brother, Eve.”
She wondered how many times she’d have to remind herself of that fact before she finally quit letting her mind wander. Hopefully Mike would get Spencer’s car running ASAP so he could go and she could go back to her new year.
Spencer gestured back toward the Jeep. His business-like face broke into a grin as he met Eve’s gaze just above the steering wheel. There was no use trying to feign disinterest.
Eve had been looking and she just got caught.
“Thanks again,” Spencer said to Mike as he opened the door to the Jeep. “You have my number, so just give me a call and let me know. At this point, just make any repair you need to make.”
He gave a small jump into the car and slid across the black leather seat. “He’s going to take his tow truck out to your place and bring the car back in to check it out. He said he should have a better idea this afternoon.”
Eve nodded, but looked straight ahead. If she looked over at him, she knew he’d see right through her—if he hadn’t already. “Do we need to head back to the beach house and meet him?”
“Nope. I gave him my keys, and with the car parked under the stilts and not blocked in, he said he could get to it without a problem. Since we didn’t have anything but coffee this morning, I thought maybe we could grab a bite to eat. You hungry?”
“Starving, actually.”
In fact, she knew she was starving for something she could never have.
But maybe lunch would keep her mind off of things a little longer, until Spencer could cross the Causeway and go back to the mainland.
“How about something with a beach view? Anything good with a view?”
Eve backed out of the lot at Renwick’s Auto Repair and headed back toward the main shoreline artery of Port Provident, Gulfview Boulevard. “How about Porter’s? They don’t have outdoor seating, but they do have lots of windows. And the shrimp bisque is the best I’ve ever had.”
“Sounds perfect. Great view, great food, great company. I think that’s exactly what the doctor ordered.”
“The doctor?” Eve gave a short laugh. “You mean the mechanic. Mike will love it that you’ve elevated him to doctor status.”
“Well, he did seem like one of the best mechanics I’ve ever worked with, but no. I was actually talking about a real doctor. Dr. Arthur Mills at the Methodist Hospital of Houston, to be specific.”
“Dr. Arthur Mills at the Methodist Hospital of Houston wants you to have a good meal with a view of the beach?” The curiosity got the best of Eve and as she pulled up to the stoplight, she turned and looked at Spencer with full curiosity written across her face.
Spencer looked quietly at the waves for a moment. The light turned green and Eve re-focused back toward the street, then quickly angled into the Porter’s parking lot. “Let’s go inside. I’ll explain more over this bisque you mentioned.”
As soon as Eve came to a stop in a parking space, Spencer hopped out of the Jeep. He moved so quickly that he was able to open Eve’s door before she’d even tucked her keys in the little pocket at the top of the interior of her purse. It had been a long time since someone had gone out of their way to open a door for her. Even Mark had stopped doing it months before he’d ended their relationship.
If Eve had been one open to conspiracy theories and writing on walls, the slow but sure ebb of “the little things” from Mark should have told her that despite having an engagement ring made from a stone that had belonged to royalty, she wasn’t going to get her fairy-tale happily-ever-after.
As they stepped onto the sidewalk and headed toward the door, Spencer brushed his hand lightly and let it rest on the small of Eve’s back. Even though it was January, the day was already unseasonably warm at the edge of Texas. The gentle contact of Spencer’s palm had the same effect as adding another few degrees to the thermometer.
She glanced briefly down at her watch. Only twelve hours left in this year. Her resolve to start fresh, to quit looking back, to make the coming year one of triumph and new beginnings hadn’t changed.
So what would it hurt, she wondered, if she silenced that little voice in the back of her mind for the next seven hundred and twenty minutes?
What if she decided to act like there was no tomorrow?
What if she decided to just forget that Spencer was a Canley and forget that her engagement ring was in his pocket, waiting to go to some other woman?
Everyone made New Year’s resolutions, and Eve knew she was no different. Every year since childhood, she would set one key resolution. Her determined spirit would not allow her to break the goals she’d set in front of her.
But for the next twelve hours, Eve Larson decided to make a New Year’s Evie resolution. She smiled as she remembered Spencer casually giving her the nickname.
She would give living in the moment her best shot. It would be hard to silence that little skeptic in her head. She resolved to try—no, she resolved to succeed—and enjoy her time with an attractive, intelligent man.
Then, midnight would come and go and she’d turn the page back to her normal, orderly self tomorrow morning.
