Damn it, damn it, damn it.
Melanie had let Harris get to her. The dark night, quiet conversation and trip down memory lane had softened her heart toward him. Then he’d reminded her of the night they’d broken up and the devastation that had followed. She’d lashed out like a rattlesnake, and instead of finessing her way to an interview, she’d thrown their breakup—and her real reasons for getting close to him again—in his face.
She had headed up to her room, shut her door and sat there in the dark for a long time, thinking about her life and how it had turned out. Thinking about mistakes, lost chances, detours. Deep regrets.
It’s like one day you woke up and changed into someone else. What happened to the risk-taking girl I fell in love with?
That girl had stood in her bathroom the day before they’d broken up, cramping and bleeding and realizing something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. It had taken losing her baby for Melanie Cooper to realize that all her bad, impetuous choices had led to the biggest failure she could imagine. A failure that had hurt someone she’d never get to meet. Maybe she hadn’t caused the miscarriage by drinking too much at a keg party or racing into the icy ocean in just her underwear, but she also hadn’t done anything to protect her baby, either, or to avoid a pregnancy by being more careful with birth control. She had vowed in that moment to change her life, to go to college and be more than the girl who broke the rules and got away with it.
She tossed and turned, then got up in the morning and started writing. She wrote up the story about Stone Gap’s eldest resident on her computer, then emailed it to Saul. She grabbed a bite to eat in the kitchen, partly sad that Harris wasn’t there, partly relieved, then went back up to her room, sat by the window and grabbed a brand-new legal pad and her favorite ballpoint pen.
She began to write, filling the pages of the crisp pad with words. The best way to get out of this town, away from Harris and all those memories, was to use her pen.
She started the story about the fire with finding the bear in the closet, that tender moment when Catherine had given the bear to her daughter and the two of them had hugged. Then she backtracked to the fire itself, leaving a blank space for what had started the blaze, since she hadn’t been able to get that information from anyone she’d talked to. Maybe Colton Barlow, who was with the Stone Gap Fire Department, knew. He’d been one of the first on the scene. Later today she’d stop by the building project and see if she could talk to him.
She’d get the story, with or without Harris’s help. And then she’d move on and away from him and everything he made her remember.
She got two and a half longhand pages written, then set the pad aside. Flexing those long-unused writing muscles had felt good.
Really good.
It was as if she was finding herself again by returning to the kind of writing that she loved. The stories that mattered, the stories that would touch people’s hearts. Or would, if she got the rest of what she needed and could do it justice with her pen.
Crap. She’d gotten so tied up writing, she’d lost track of time. She had maybe ten minutes until she was supposed to pick up Ma and meet Abby at the dress fitting. Melanie left the notepad on the tiny desk in her room, then hurried out to her rental car and over to Abby’s house. Her mother was waiting on the porch, her lips pursed and arms crossed over her chest.
Ma’s gray trousers and coral sweater could have been the same ones Melanie remembered from childhood. Her mother found a style and stuck to it, pretty much 365 days a year, changing only the color. She probably had three dozen of those sweaters and just as many pairs of practical pants. Maybe it came from the years she’d worked as a receptionist at an insurance company, but her attire always seemed to scream office.
“About time.” Her mother passed by Melanie and got into the passenger’s side.
“Good morning to you, too, Ma.” Melanie held the door while her mother climbed in the sedan, then came back to the driver’s side and put the car in gear. The dress shop was only a couple of miles from Abby’s house, which made for a quick car ride. “Abby texted and said she’s running late, too. She got tied up at work.”
“Well, if she organized her days better, she might be able to get out the door on time.” Cynthia shook her head. “Neither one of you has any respect for a clock.”
“Ma, Abby juggles more than you and me put together. Her boys are doing great, and she seems happy, so you really should lighten up.” They were words Melanie had said a thousand times, but they never seemed to be heard.
“Because of those boys, it’s even more important that she have everything on track. That’s what I had to do when your father died and left me with two little girls to raise by myself.” Ma settled her purse in her lap and folded her hands over the small leather bag. “At least you finally have your life in order. And I’m sure that when you and Adam have children, you will run your life on a schedule.”
“I...I don’t think we’re going to have kids.” Melanie parked in front of Daisy’s Bridal Shop, put the car in Park and took the key out of the ignition.
Her mother put a hand on Melanie’s arm before she could get out of the car. “What? Why? He would make a wonderful father. Much better than that idiot Abby used to be married to.”
Ma had never liked Keith, Abby’s ex-husband—which Melanie understood, because she hadn’t liked him much, either, given how he had left Abby and her children more than once. On the other hand, Adam, with his charm and good looks, had impressed her mother from the start. Maybe because he was on the cover of the magazines she saw in the checkout lane, or maybe because Adam had a natural schmoozing ability. Either way, Ma had seen him as the perfect son-in-law from the first day she met him. She’d never seen his faults—the self-centeredness, the undependability, the chauvinism.
Harris would have made a much better choice. Down-to-earth, smart, funny...
Masochistic thoughts. Harris had proved his disloyalty by breaking up with her without letting her tell him the truth. What guarantee did she have that he wouldn’t do that again? Far better to put the man out of her mind.
“Let’s go inside, Ma.” Melanie got out of the car and avoided any more questions by holding open the door to the shop—which could double as Barbie’s latest town house, given the decor. Poufy white chaise lounges peppered the pink carpeted floor and space between the mirrored pedestals. Dresses of every color hugged the racks against the walls. A small table in the center of the shop held champagne glasses and a tower of macarons.
Sweet. If she was going to have to stand around in a fancy dress and exchange small talk with her mother, having a little alcohol and sugar was going to make the whole ordeal much better. Or rather, a lot of alcohol.
The shop girl bustled up to them, holding two glasses of champagne. “Good morning! I’m Daisy. You must be Abby’s family. Let’s get you two started. You can put your things on the couch there, and while you try on your dresses, I’ll keep everyone’s glasses full of champagne. How does that sound?”
“Fantastic,” Melanie said. Maybe a bit too quickly. Already, she was feeling the pressure of her mother’s expectations pressing up against all the secrets she had hidden, the lies she had told. The fiction she had spun to avoid facing the truth.
For all her efforts to avoid risk and go down a different path, she had failed. Again.
“Great!” Daisy said. “Mom, you’re in dressing room one, and sister, you’re in dressing room two. I already hung your dresses inside. Call me if you need anything.”
Melanie ducked into her dressing room and slipped into the teal-green dress she had ordered online. Abby had given her sister carte blanche on a dress, determined to keep the whole wedding as simple as possible. The dress had a sweetheart neckline and nipped in at Melanie’s waist, giving her more curves than she showed in her usual jeans and T-shirts.
“Oh my, that is just beautiful!” Daisy said when Melanie stepped onto the main floor of the shop. “Come on, come on, stand up here.” She took Melanie’s hand and tugged her onto on the pedestals. “Just beautiful,” she repeated.
Melanie would have to agree. The dress looked even better on than it had on the website. Ma came out of her dressing room, wearing a pale coral mother-of-the-bride dress. It had cap sleeves and a scoop neckline and ended just past Ma’s knees. “Ma, that looks gorgeous.”
Her mother shrugged, then got on the pedestal beside her daughter. “Abby picked it out.”
Melanie sighed. What was her mother’s issue with Abby, anyway? “I think it looks terrific. Abby has great taste.”
“I agree!” Daisy said. “Now, I’m just going to duck in the back and grab some pins, just in case any of you need something nipped or tucked.”
Melanie glanced at her reflection beside her mother’s. Melanie stood slightly taller than her mother and had dark brown hair instead of blond. They had the same blue-green eyes that could edge toward either color, depending on the day. “Be happy for Abby, Ma. Dylan is a great guy, and I think he’s going to be a great father for the boys.”
“I am happy for her.” Cynthia turned one way, then the other. “It’s just...well, I always wanted the best for both of you. And you had your moments, but look at how you’ve turned out. Working for a national magazine. Living in New York City. Abby is living in this Podunk town and working a job that pays a third of what you make. I wanted more for her.”
Daisy came breezing out, a pincushion in one hand. “All right. Let’s nip and tuck where necessary.” She stepped behind Ma first, pinning a dart into place above either hip. “Right here. And here.”
“But Abby’s happy,” Melanie said. “Crazy happy. Isn’t that enough?”
“When that man leaves her with those kids, happiness isn’t going to pay the bills.”
And there, Melanie realized, lay the crux of her mother’s criticisms. Resentment of a man who had died before he could be a father, and a need to keep her daughters from ending up in the same boat, abandoned with children to raise.
“Dylan isn’t going to do that, Ma. Abby made the right choice. It’s not all about money.”
“Try telling yourself that when you’re working two jobs to put food on the table.” Her mother shook her head. “You girls need to learn from my mistakes, not repeat them.”
Daisy scooted over to Melanie. “Oh my. You should have ordered a size smaller. I’ll have to take this in quite a bit.” She gathered up the back of the dress and pinned down the spine.
There’s an article idea—have your life fall apart and lose ten pounds quick and easy.
Melanie looked at her twin reflection with her mother and realized that she didn’t want to become this jaded, unhappy woman. All the years she’d worked at the magazine, coupled with Adam’s betrayal, had turned Melanie into someone who put up walls, kept others at arm’s length. But unlike her mother, who pushed people away with an abrasive personality, Melanie kept everyone at a distance. If she opened up, she’d have to let everyone see what a colossal mess she’d made of her life.
“I need a few more pins,” Daisy said. “I’ll be right back.”
Cynthia primped her hair and smoothed the front of the dress. “I hope Abby makes this one last. At least you and Adam have a life together. Now if you’d just have some children...”
“We aren’t going to have children, Ma. We can’t. Because...” When she’d been young, she’d lied to escape punishment, to gain approval, to smooth the waters in a rocky home. All those lies had piled up, turning Melanie’s life into something she didn’t even recognize. Someone she didn’t want to be. She’d ended up going through the traumas of life alone—her miscarriage, her divorce, her job loss—instead of reaching out to the imperfect people who loved her.
The shop phone rang. Daisy answered it from the back of the store, her voice a low background murmur.
“Because why?” Ma asked.
Melanie swallowed and let the truth out. “Adam and I got divorced, Ma.”
“You got...” Her mother’s jaw dropped. She shook her head. “No, you didn’t. You would have told me. And besides, you two were so happy. Why on earth would you get divorced?”
“We weren’t happy. We hadn’t been for a really long time. I’m not sure we ever were, really. I know you liked Adam—”
“He’s a wonderful man.” Her mother pivoted toward her on the dais. “One you should have appreciated.”
“He was a jerk, Ma.” Melanie sighed. How long had she kept that to herself? She hadn’t even really told anyone at work. Adam was a darling of the modeling world, and that made him a star in the eyes of the magazine world, too. He charmed everyone he met, and the few times she did complain about him, her friends at the magazine waved off Melanie’s concerns. By the time the divorce was final, Melanie had lost her job anyway, and it seemed easier to let the lie stand. “He cheated on me, pretty much the entire time we were married. I found out when he came home and told me he was in love with someone else. I filed for divorce the next day.”
“When was this?”
“The divorce was final a year ago.”
“A year ago!” Her mother glanced to the back of the shop, then lowered her voice. “Why would you keep that a secret from me for so long?”
Melanie opened her mouth to explain, then hesitated. A thousand things were wrapped up in the whys. Her childhood, her struggle to please someone unpleasable, the sense of failure she had battled most of her life.
Abby breezed into the store, saving Melanie from a response. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Wow, you guys look great. Those dresses are gorgeous!” She stopped by the pedestal. Her gaze flicked between Ma and Melanie. “Uh...did I miss something?”
“Your sister has just told me she has been divorced for a year.” Ma put a fist on her hip and raised one judgmental brow. “I assume you knew about this and didn’t say anything?”
“Ma, Abby didn’t know anything. I didn’t tell anyone.”
Her mother kept talking, as if she hadn’t even heard Melanie. “Why didn’t you counsel her? Lord knows you’ve made that mistake yourself. You’re the oldest. You should have—”
“Ma—”
“I had no idea Melanie’s marriage was in trouble.” Abby’s gaze met Melanie’s, and visible hurt flickered in her eyes. “She never told me.”
The betrayal hung heavy in the bright pink room. Abby stood six feet away, but with the chill between them, it might as well have been six miles. Guilt filled Melanie’s chest, burdened her shoulders. She’d never thought about how Abby would feel once she knew the truth—and realized how long Melanie had kept it from her. Melanie hadn’t thought beyond her own need to keep pretending she hadn’t failed. That she hadn’t let them all down again.
In the end, she had done it anyway.
“You lied to me. Over and over again.” The hurt in Abby’s voice almost broke Melanie.
“I’m sorry.” Two words that weren’t nearly enough. But how could she tell them about how badly she’d needed to be a success in their eyes? About how she had left for college, determined to turn her life around, to become a better, more responsible person? To finally be someone they would all be proud of? And just when she had attained that, she lost it all, as if some cruel poltergeist had yanked the rug out from beneath her.
Daisy came out of the back room just then, her arms full of wedding dress. “Abby! You’re just in time. I have your dress ready for you to try it on.”
Abby flipped a glance at Melanie, then back at Daisy. “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to reschedule. I’m just not feeling up to a fitting right now.” Then Abby walked out of the shop without ever looking back.
Swinging a hammer felt damned good. Harris wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, then reached into the coffee can beside him for a handful of nails. A few feet away, Jack Barlow was holding the other half of the wall they were framing. “I forget sometimes how hard this work is,” Harris said.
“That’s because you’re the boss and spend your days telling other people how to build the houses, not doing the heavy lifting.” Jack grinned. “Want me to finish up the wall?”
“No. I’m enjoying this. It feels...productive.”
“That’s why I love construction.” Jack slipped the next two-by-four into place, then stepped back while Harris hammered it down. “All right. Now that this wall is in place, let’s get the next one up. Before you know it, we’re going to have a house.”
And not a moment too soon, Harris thought. He glanced over at Catherine, who was handing out ice water and lemonade to the volunteers. John was cutting boards for the framing and handing them off to Luke Barlow. Dylan had picked up the Kingston kids and brought them to the community center for the afternoon. Vivian Hoffman at the Good Eatin’ Café had donated sandwiches, and though there wasn’t as big of a group here as there had been the first morning, all of the Barlow brothers had rotated in for at least part of the day. Della was busy drumming up support for the fund-raiser, which looked like it was going to be a big hit.
Except for one quick update visit, the television reporter had stayed away. Saul had talked to John a couple times about an interview, but John had asked the editor to respect the privacy of the family and Saul let it go. All in all, it was a good day. If not one that felt a tiny bit...empty.
He’d gotten up this morning, figuring he’d see Melanie at breakfast, but her rental car was already gone. He told himself that was good. She’d made it clear the other night that all she wanted was a story from him. Her words still stung, a slap that he hadn’t seen coming. Of all the people he imagined trying to wheedle the truth out of him, Melanie Cooper wasn’t even on the list.
“Looks like we have an extra set of hands,” Jack said, nodding toward the driveway.
Harris turned and saw Mellie getting out of her car. God, she was beautiful. Her hair was back in a ponytail today, exposing the delicate lines of her neck. His gaze trailed down to the V of her T-shirt, over the curves of her breasts, her hips. Didn’t matter how many years passed or how much the truth had hurt, his heart still skipped a beat whenever he saw her.
Damn, he was a masochist. He turned back to the wood and damned near took his thumb off when the hammer swung too wide and missed the nail head by a mile.
“Seems you’re a bit distracted,” Jack said. He chuckled. “A woman like that can drive you crazy.”
“Who? Melanie? There’s nothing between us. We’re...”
“Friends?” Jack arched a brow. “Because it sure seems like a lot more than that by the look on your face. And the look on hers.”
Harris saw nothing different from usual in Mellie’s features. He picked up another nail. Sank it in place with one hard thwap. “We’re just friends.”
Maybe if he said it enough he’d believe it.
“If you ask me, a woman like that is the kind you shouldn’t let get away,” Jack said, leaning close to Harris. “I should know. I let Meri get away after high school and almost lost her before I got a second chance. Best decision I ever made.”
“Some people just work out like that,” Harris said. “But other relationships are...complicated.”
“It’s not complicated when you care about each other. I’ve seen you two together.” Jack put his hands on his hips and stretched his back. “I’m feeling the need for a break. Let’s get something to drink, then come back and finish this.”
“Sure, sure.” Harris put down the hammer so fast, it tumbled off the makeshift worktable and fell on the ground. He scrambled to put it in place, then brushed the sawdust off his jeans as he crossed to Mellie. Who was conveniently standing along the path to the water cooler, as if Jack had placed her there himself. Harris glanced at Jack, but the Barlow man was already heading in the opposite direction, a big grin on his face.
“You actually here to help? Or get the scoop?”
She scowled. “Why do you find it hard to believe I might be here just to help?”
“Because last time we spoke, you made it clear that all you want out of me is my story. And that’s something I’m not giving you—or anyone.”
“Let’s call a truce, okay? I am here for a story, but today, it’s just about the fund-raiser. I’m not as heartless as you think, Harris.” She took a step closer to him. “You know me, or at least you used to. Have I ever been the kind of person who uses other people to get what I want?”
“That honor goes to my father.” Harris studied her, pausing a beat to take in her heart-shaped face, the hint of a smile on her lips. Every inch of him ached to touch her, that masochistic urge pounding in his head along with an insidious voice saying that maybe she had just said that in the heat of the moment, but not really meant that all she wanted from him was the inside story on the fire. He put out a hand. “Truce.”
She shook with him, then laughed. “Deal.”
He reached for a pair of water bottles and handed her one, breaking their contact and changing the subject in one swift move. Every time he was close to her again, his thoughts got fuzzy and he forgot all those reasons why they weren’t together. “I’m surprised at how quickly this is coming together. The Barlows have been a huge help.”
“It’s like this town is a team,” she said. “Gives this jaded reporter a little hope that good people still exist in the world.”
“They do indeed. This town has kind of grown on me.” He’d spent several weeks in Stone Gap on this trip, long enough that Connecticut seemed farther away every day.
“Me, too, truth be told.” She uncapped the water bottle and took a long drink. “I had a lot of fun writing that profile on the oldest resident for Saul. He liked it so much, he tried to talk me into taking over the paper so he can retire and fish all day.”
If Mellie did that, she’d have to live in Stone Gap. Considering he was already thinking about moving here on a permanent basis, that meant they’d see each other more often. Harris wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “You know, if you were editor, you’d get to decide which stories were written. You could do more meaty pieces, or lighter stories. No more kale salad or thin thighs.”
Mellie laughed. “Maybe Saul should put that in the job description.”
Harris leaned against the tree and took a swig of water. The day shone bright and cheery, with a smattering of clouds in the sky and a light breeze. The hum of conversation carried in the air, punctuated by the pounding of hammers and the whine of a table saw. “I agree with you on the town. I’ve even been thinking about moving here permanently.”
“Really? Why?”
“I have nothing holding me in Connecticut. I don’t talk to my father, and my mother died last year. And I like it here. The people are fantastic.” There was also enough custom home building in the surrounding areas to keep him busy. Maybe not commanding the prices he did up north, but the lower cost of living would counteract that. “Now, if I could just get Della’s home cooking every day, I’d be all set.”
She laughed. “It might be a little expensive living at the inn on a permanent basis, just to get home-cooked meals.”
“I’d have to build a lot more houses, that’s for sure.” He tipped the water bottle in her direction. “What about you? Living here is a whole lot cheaper than living in New York. And that would mean you could afford to take on the assignments you like, if you didn’t take over for Saul.”
She scoffed. A tease lit her features. “Are you asking me to move in with you or something?”
The thought didn’t totally terrify him. In fact, the idea of seeing Mellie every day seemed...nice. He tried to read her thoughts, but she was as cool as the breeze, and just as hard to pin down. He closed the gap between them. Her eyes widened, and the soft scent of her perfume filled the air. His gaze dropped to her lips. “Or something.”
“Harris, this whole thing between us is temporary, nothing more than—”
To hell with caution, with past history. He leaned forward, scooped her into his arms and kissed her. She hesitated a moment, then her arms went around him, the water bottle cool against his back, and she kissed him. She fit against him as she always had, filling in the spaces inside him.
Mellie’s kiss was tender and sweet, easing a gentleness out of him that spoke of long nights and dark spaces. He dropped his bottle to the ground, then cupped her face, deepening the kiss, bringing his body against hers. A mew escaped her, igniting a roar of desire inside him and shoving coherent thoughts out of his head.
The whir of a table saw jerked him back to the present moment. They were in a public place, and pretty damned far from any kind of a bed, even though every inch of him wanted to be in one with Mellie. Right now. And for the foreseeable future.
He grabbed at some sanity, stepped back and smiled down at Mellie. Her face was flushed, her breath hurried. “Temporary, maybe, but definitely more than just a thing.”
She shook her head. “I’m going back to New York, Harris.”
To his ears, the statement sounded less sure than the last time she’d said it. “Why don’t we talk about how temporary this is over dinner tonight? Whether you stay here or go back to New York, it’s just one meal.”
She considered that for a moment. So long that he thought she was going to say no, but instead she nodded. “The Sea Shanty again?”
“I was thinking somewhere a little more private.” He shifted nearer to her, keeping one hand on her waist. Her eyes widened, and the flush bloomed in her cheeks. “Meet me in my room at seven?”
Mellie smiled, that seductive, sweet smile he knew as well as he knew his own name. “Are you cooking?”
“Not if I can talk Della into doing it.” He moved closer, tamping down the urge to finish that kiss. “I promise, we’ll have something edible. And memorable. Say yes, Mellie. Just say yes.”
“You’re a hard man to resist, Harris McCarthy.”
“I’d say that works both ways, Melanie Cooper.” He pressed one more quick kiss to her lips, then headed back to the job site.