Claire and Aida were asleep by the time Marlow worked up the nerve to get her bike out of the garage and pedal to the cove. She and Claire had wound up going swimming with Aida and Reese, after all. They’d talked, laughed and drank until eleven, but then Marlow had told them she was tired, and they all walked back to the guesthouse together.
She’d been a little nervous when they were saying goodbye to Reese that Aida would suggest staying out later with him, but she hadn’t. She’d had so much wine she’d grown maudlin and teary over her divorce, and that had changed the dynamic. Marlow didn’t know what would happen as the summer progressed, but she wasn’t going to have to worry about Aida sleeping with Rosemary’s youngest son tonight.
Once Aida and Claire had gone to bed, she’d tried to sleep, too, telling herself she’d apologize to Walker when she saw him next. But she had no idea who would be around then. And the memory of him risking his life to pull her out of the ocean, as well as the hurt on his face that day at the airport, as though he’d known better than to try to kiss her again but simply couldn’t help himself, kept cycling through her brain. Since she couldn’t stop thinking about him, she’d finally gotten up, pulled on some shorts and a T-shirt, and quietly slipped outside.
She might as well apologize now and get it over with. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but at least she would’ve done all she could to right her wrongs where he was concerned.
She hadn’t been to the cove since high school. She’d driven past the turnoff that led to it, but she’d had no reason to go any closer.
The dirt road that jutted off from the main road always used to wash out during hurricane season. The house down on the beach used to flood, too. Hurricane season started in June, so it was just getting underway. Fortunately, there hadn’t been any major storms yet.
As she left the streetlights behind, along with the pavement, she had to use the flashlight on her phone to light the ground ahead of her, which made it hard to hold on. But she didn’t have much farther to go.
It was nearly midnight—too late to show up at someone’s house unannounced. But she hoped Walker would understand when he heard what she had to say. She also hoped the dark and the quiet would provide enough privacy to make the conversation a bit easier.
Or maybe he was already asleep. When she thought of that, and how nervous she was, she was tempted to turn around. But she’d already made the effort to come out here, so she decided to keep going.
Her arms acted like shock absorbers on the handlebars as she rolled over rocks and through ruts. The beam of the flashlight on her phone bounced around, too, but there was a full moon that hung low in the sky, giving her just enough secondary light that she knew she could make it.
Once she saw Walker’s house, she knew it wasn’t likely to get flooded again. It’d been repaired, painted and lifted on stilts. And the improvements looked so new she assumed he was the one who’d made them.
“Here we go,” she muttered as she got off her bike. She could no longer pedal on the gravel he’d used as part of his landscaping.
She would normally have paused to admire the setting—the fat moon above the water, the soft sand sloping down to meet the fingerlike waves of what appeared to be a calm sea, the palm trees that made his house seem remote. As Rosemary had said, it was particularly pretty here. But now that she’d arrived, she found her errand even more daunting than she’d expected.
The lights in the house were on, and once she leaned her bike against the closest piling and crept up the stairs to the door, she could hear the TV.
For a second, she was reminded of the flippant remark she’d made earlier suggesting he might not be spending the evening alone. Did he have company?
Rosemary had said he wasn’t married. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be in a relationship, however. And if he did have a woman over, Marlow’s appearance at his house in the middle of the night would be even weirder.
Attempting to check things out before she made him aware of her presence, she peered through the front window and saw him right there in the living room, watching TV while lifting weights. He didn’t have anything on except a pair of cutoff sweatpants that hung low on his lean hips, but he seemed to be alone.
He looked good, she thought grudgingly. Too good.
Again, she almost left. Walker didn’t need her friendship—not anymore. This was a case of too little, too late.
But somehow, it was important to her to make sure he knew she wasn’t the person she’d been. She’d often considered apologizing to him, if the opportunity ever presented itself, not only so he might forgive her but so that she might be able to forgive herself. Why not follow through and get it over with?
Drawing a deep breath, she lifted her hand and knocked on the front door.
He continued doing arm curls, didn’t react. He hadn’t heard her, so she knocked louder.
When he dropped the weights, she felt the vibration through the floor and curved her fingernails into her palms as the door swung open.
“You.” Visibly taken aback to find her on his doorstep without any prior warning and in the middle of the night, he wiped the sweat that was dripping off a few of the curly locks that fell across his forehead. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is your mother okay? Is my mother okay?”
Of course he’d jump to the conclusion that there must be an emergency. Since when had she ever sought him out? “They’re fine. I...”
The words jammed in her throat. What had made her think this was a good idea? Her conscience had put her up to it—her conscience and Claire. But now she was here and he was standing so close, she couldn’t seem to focus on anything except his chest, muscled and slick with perspiration. He seemed so much taller than ever before, which was sort of intimidating, and he smelled earthy and warm with just a hint of cedar.
“Are you going to finish that statement?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. She was an attorney; she was never at a loss for words. But she didn’t know how to get this conversation started. After so long, apologizing to him seemed random and out of the blue—like the stupidest idea ever. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry for interrupting your evening.”
Whipping around, she grabbed the railing so she wouldn’t fall as she hurried down the stairs.
“Marlow!”
She was on the third step when she turned.
“You’re not here to complain about Reese, are you? I told him to stay away from you and your friends, but...”
He’d told his brother to stay away? Why? “But...” she prompted, her curiosity piqued.
He shrugged. “I didn’t get the impression he was going to listen to me.”
“Why did you tell him to stay away?”
He blinked in surprise. “Because I knew you wouldn’t like it. He’s no different than me, right? He’s the housekeeper’s son.”
He still thought she considered herself too good for them both. That should’ve given her the intro she needed to tell him how wrong she’d been when they were younger and how sorry she was. But everything she read in his body language indicated that, even if she said the words, it wouldn’t make any difference. “So you’ve already made up your mind about me, and no matter what I say, you’re not going to change it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Is it going to be this terrible every time we see each other?” she asked.
“Terrible?” he echoed.
“I feel this...overwhelming negative energy coming from you.”
He scowled. “Because I don’t worship at your feet anymore?”
“I don’t expect you to worship at my feet,” she said. “But I was hoping we could—I don’t know—bury the hatchet. Maybe...try to be friends.”
“I’ve been nothing but polite,” he insisted.
He’d purposely ignored her offer of friendship—another sign he wasn’t interested. “I’m not saying you haven’t. This is something else. I can tell how much you don’t like me, and—”
“I never said that,” he broke in.
Her mind flashed to their encounter at the airport, the one that’d ended so badly. “Actually, you did. You said you hated me.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“So?”
“I don’t care anymore. And for the record, you said you hated me, too.” He stepped out to look around. “Where’s your mother’s car or whatever you drove over here?”
I don’t care anymore. She wasn’t sure why those words hit her so hard, but it was all she could do not to flinch. “I didn’t drive,” she said numbly. “I rode a bike.”
“You what?”
She gripped the railing a little tighter. “It’s only a couple of miles.”
“It’s dark,” he pointed out as though she must be an idiot.
“There were streetlights until I hit the turnoff. And I had my phone.”
“Your phone’s not going to be any help if you get hit and killed by a car.”
“I’m not going to get hit. God, forget I came!” She finished descending the stairs, more eager than ever to escape. Tough divorce attorney Marlow Madsen was on the verge of tears, but she didn’t want him to know that.
The wooden steps creaked as he followed her down. “Wait. Let me give you a ride.”
“No, that’s okay. There’s no need,” she insisted, so he’d go back inside, and was slightly relieved that she sounded somewhat normal, despite the tightening of her throat.
He took her bike away before she could get on it. “Have you been drinking?”
Shocked, she stepped back. “I had a couple glasses of wine earlier, but I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I hope not. Because it’s against the law to bike while under the influence. You know that, right?”
She felt her jaw sag. “Are you kidding me?”
“Not at all. What if you veered into the street? You could cause an accident.”
“Are you looking for a reason to arrest me?”
“Only if I have to.”
She got the impression he’d like to do exactly that. Apparently, he hated her even more than she’d thought. “You’re serious!”
“It’s nothing personal,” he said. “I’m the chief of police on this island. The safety of its citizens is my responsibility.”
True, but she suspected he wouldn’t be making a big deal out of this if she was anyone else.
“That includes your safety,” he continued. “I can’t allow you to ride home in the dark, especially if you’ve been drinking.”
“Don’t let the power go to your head,” she said. “I’m completely sober.”
“This isn’t about power. I owe it to your mother to make sure you’re safe.”
“No, you don’t. Give me my bike.” She tried to wrest it away from him, but he lifted it over his head, out of reach, before setting it behind him.
Angry, embarrassed and ashamed that she’d given someone her mother loved so much a reason to be treating her this way, she began to blink faster. “There’s almost no traffic this time of night,” she argued.
“All it takes is one car. But there’s no reason to be upset.” He put out his hand as though he was soothing a frightened or dangerous animal. “Just stay put until I get my keys, and I’ll take you home. Okay?”
He was waiting for her to agree. “Okay,” she said. But as soon as he went back up the stairs and into the house, she grabbed her bike, jumped on it and took off.
So much for attempting to apologize. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want her apology. He didn’t want anything from her. She should’ve known it would be a mistake to come here. The day he’d told her he hated her—and meant it—something had snapped inside him.
She’d seen the change in his eyes.
By the time Walker had thrown on a shirt, shoved his feet into a pair of flip-flops and jumped inside his SUV, Marlow was out of sight. But he caught up with her easily enough. She was still trying to power through the soft dirt and rocks to get back to the road.
He didn’t try to stop her, though. His only goal was to make sure she got home safely.
“Just keep pedaling,” he said, even though she couldn’t hear him, as he rolled slowly along behind her. “And whatever you do, don’t fall.”
When she twisted around to look at him as though he was making her nervous, he slowed even more, giving her plenty of space. As long as he could see she was safe, he didn’t plan on forcing her to get into his truck. Why would he? Marlow Madsen had always been his kryptonite. The less contact he had with her, the better.
As soon as they reached the main road, he flipped on his hazards. Although he planned to creep along behind her for the whole two miles, if that was how she wanted it, another few feet later she got a flat.
“No way,” he said as he leaned up over the dash to see what was going on.
Marlow ducked her head to peer at her back tire, but she kept pedaling—or trying to.
Coming up beside her, he lowered the passenger window. “Do you mind if we make this easy?”
The bike wobbled so much she had to get off. But she didn’t turn to him for help. She began pushing it instead.
“Marlow!” he yelled.
She looked over at him.
“I don’t want to spend the rest of the night doing this. Do you?”
“You don’t have to be here,” she said. “Go back to your place. I can manage.”
“I’m not leaving until I know you’re home safe. There’s not much crime on the island, but shit can happen anywhere. Can you imagine how your mother would feel if someone were to find your dead body on the side of the road in the morning?” Just mentioning the possibility brought the death of her father to mind. Walker had always respected Tiller Madsen, wanted to be like him instead of his own deadbeat father. Although Tiller had been too preoccupied with his work and his own family to give Walker much attention, he had paid for his education and been kind whenever he did notice him.
Walker felt he should probably say something to Marlow about her recent loss. But he didn’t know how to broach the subject, not while keeping her at an emotional distance.
“My dead body?” Still pushing her bike, she gave him a dirty look. “That’s gruesome.”
“It could happen. Why risk it? Let me throw your bike in the back and drive you the rest of the way. We can be at Seaclusion in a couple of minutes.”
Ignoring him, she plodded on.
“Quit being so damn stubborn!” he said. “This isn’t even making sense.”
He must’ve gotten through to her at last, because she finally gave up and stood in place while he got out and came around. “Thank you,” he muttered as he took the bike.
He paused to check that the passenger door wasn’t locked, so she could get in while he loaded the bike.
Once he’d finished with that and climbed in beside her, he turned off his hazards and veered back onto the road. “You must’ve picked up a nail,” he said. “I’ve done so much remodeling in the past six months it doesn’t surprise me. But Reese can change that tire for you tomorrow.”
No response.
He glanced over at her. “Now we’re not even speaking?”
“What do you want me to say?” she asked.
“My mother and brother live on your family’s property. On top of that, this is a small island. We’re bound to be thrown together now and then—at least until you leave at the end of summer.”
“I bet you’re already counting the days,” she grumbled.
He didn’t comment on that. He was sort of counting the days. He had three months ahead of him—three months to prove to himself, if no one else, that his lifelong obsession with Marlow no longer held sway over him. She’d extended an olive branch, which was kind enough on the face of it. But the fact that she was being nice only made her more dangerous.
Given his weakness for her, something he’d had since he could remember, he couldn’t risk associating with her in any way. That might well tempt him back into the quicksand from which he’d finally escaped. “I’m saying there’s no reason we can’t be polite to each other while you’re here.”
“You want me to keep my distance—so there’s no real friendship between us—but to be polite when we do happen to meet. Is that it?”
When he looked over at her again, he saw the tears glistening in her eyelashes and purposely strengthened himself against them. Whatever she was feeling, she’d get over it. He didn’t have the power to hurt her; she’d never cared enough about him. “That sounds reasonable to me.”
She nibbled at her bottom lip while he turned into the drive at Seaclusion and put his truck in Park.
“What do you say?” he asked before getting out. “For the sake of our mothers, can we be civil to each other?”
He saw her throat work as she swallowed. Then her chest lifted, and she turned toward him with a determined yet wobbly smile. “Of course,” she said brightly—too brightly. “I realize my comeuppance is long overdue. So you’ve had the chance to hit me back, which I hope felt great, and now I’ll stay away and respect your wishes.”
“I would never hit you, so maybe you could choose a different metaphor. But thank you. I just want to be left alone.”
“Understood. You’re not interested in an apology, so I won’t attempt to burden you with one. I’d still like to thank you for...for saving my life that night I almost drowned, though. I pretended it was nothing at the time, but...I was in serious trouble.”
With that, she got out and waited patiently for him to unload her bike. “Thanks for the ride,” she said softly, careful not to brush his hand as she took the handlebars.
“Good night,” he said and let his breath seep out in a long sigh as he watched her put the bike in the garage and go into the guesthouse. He wanted to believe he’d put up a valiant defense against what she did to him—what she had always done to him. But as he got back into his truck, he knew she would haunt him for the rest of the night.
He was afraid she might just haunt him for the rest of the summer.