Wes was up at daybreak, working on his motorcycle. Lately, it was the only thing that took him away from his troubles. When he wasn’t busy with his bike, his thoughts were consumed by the lawsuit. He’d been here before. Although his current situation wasn’t as bad as giving up his freedom for prison, his career had been ruined. No one would hire him, thanks to Elliot Lewis. Even so, he was luckier than most would be in his position. His grandfather had left him a trust that he used to view as his emergency fund. Now it was his sole means of support. It wasn’t a lot, but thanks to Delia, who charged him a fraction of what she could get in rent, it was enough to live on.
In that way she had of contriving coincidences, Delia happened along on an afternoon stroll. “So, how are you?”
“Okay.”
“And the case?”
He put down his tools and stood to give her a recap of his meetings with the lawyers.
“Good. It sounds promising.” She studied him. “You sure you’re okay?” She had a way of looking into his eyes that kept him from being able to tell her anything but the truth.
“I’ve been better. But as you know, I’ve been worse. So I know this will end. I just hope it will end with some of my finances intact.”
Delia stared down the road with a thoughtful expression. “Wouldn’t all this go away if the witness to the assault testified on your behalf?”
Wes shook his head. “I refused to do that to her during the criminal trial, so why would I do that now?”
“But how can she do that to you? I’ve never understood it. I’m sorry. I know that you think she’s your friend, but it just isn’t right to put you through all this.”
“Victoria’s been through enough. She’s a widow with two kids to support. She’s lost her job, and no one will hire her, thanks to Elliot. So when he presented her with a nondisclosure agreement, I urged her to sign it for the money. He’d hurt her enough. I saw no need to put her through any more. Nothing has changed as far as she is concerned. If she testified at the civil trial, she’d break the agreement and have to give back all the money he paid her. It’s okay. I’ll get through it.”
Delia gave him that gentle smile that always made him feel as if he were ten years old again, being fed milk and cookies. “You’re a good man.”
Wes discounted her praise with a shrug. As Delia smiled and shook her head at his humility, she glanced over at Emily’s cottage. “How are things with you two?”
“Emily?” Of course he knew who she meant, but it was a stalling technique. He wished he had a stalling technique that would last longer than fifteen seconds. He glanced at his bike. The conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn. “I’m sure Emily’s as fine as I am. We’re just not fine together.” He put on his most charming look of mock reproach. “Although it’s not for your want of trying. There were times during dinner the other evening when I thought a road-company production of Fiddler on the Roof was in town.”
Her eyes twinkled as she smiled with pride. “Thank you. I think I’d make a very good matchmaker. I certainly know two people who belong together when I see them.”
Wes’s attempt at charm was nothing compared to Delia’s superior skills at persuasion, but he would not yield. He smoothed back his hair and lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Not gonna happen.”
“It would if you’d tell her the truth. Frankly, it’s all I can do not to tell her myself.”
Wes took in a sharp breath.
Before he could protest, Delia said, “Don’t worry. I won’t. That’s your truth to tell. But it’s hard to stand here and watch you making a terrible mistake.”
Wes clenched his jaw.
Delia looked up at him with heartfelt concern. “What is it? I don’t understand.”
Wes took a moment to get his emotions in check. “She didn’t trust me. We’d spent time together. She knew who I was. But the first time doubt was raised, she believed it. I didn’t see any point after that.”
Delia trod carefully. “She’s not a mind reader, Wes.”
“Mind reading has nothing to do with it. She should have believed in me, no matter what. That’s what people do when there’s something between them—something I thought we had.” He shrugged. “Look, it’s all water under the bridge. I’ve got a lot of work to do on this bike before it gets dark.”
Delia nodded. “All right. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” Her eyes softened. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Wes gave her a hug then headed up the driveway and got back to work. But it wasn’t the same. He could no longer escape all the worries that plagued him. Not only the lawsuit dominated his thoughts, but now Emily did as well. What if Delia was right? What if he had expected too much? After all, they’d only known each other for two or three weeks. It felt like so much longer—maybe just to him. His feelings for her had grown so strong that perhaps he had assumed far too much on her part.
Unable to work anymore, Wes put bike and tools back inside the garage. All this would make much more sense after a beer. So he headed inside.
Emily sat on the public bench outside of the lighthouse, allowing the sea breeze to wash over her senses. But her thoughts persevered, unrelenting as the waves in their constant assault of the shoreline. This was so unlike her. She’d grown expert at holding her emotions at bay, because she had good sense, or she used to. She’d lost all of it, and in Hope Harbor of all places—the place she had come to regain some control over her life. Instead, the control she so longed for was slipping away.
Footsteps approached. She kept her eyes fixed on the distant horizon, hoping that whoever it was would walk on and leave her alone. But the footsteps stopped by the bench. She looked up to find Wes holding out a to-go cup of coffee.
Emily couldn’t help but smile as she took it. “You’ve got me figured out, haven’t you?”
“At least where mornings and coffee are concerned. I remember from the day we went sailing.”
Of course he remembered her penchant for coffee, because that was what thoughtful people did. It was the sort of thing she did for others. But no one had ever done it for her. She inwardly sighed. Why wouldn’t he just make it easy to distance herself from him? “How did you know where to find me?”
He leaned back and crossed his ankles. “I didn’t exactly. But I’ve seen you return from your walks in the mornings. I’m not stalking you, just so you know. I have my own habits. I happen to sit on my back deck every morning, drinking my coffee, about the same time you go on your walks.”
She nodded and cast a sideways glance. “I know. I’ve seen you. I just didn’t want it to look like I was checking you out.”
Wes lifted an eyebrow. “But you were. Good to know.”
“I wasn’t—so don’t let it go to your head.” She looked into his eyes and felt sudden dread for what she was going to say as soon as she got the courage.
He slumped back against the bench. “Oh, I don’t think I’m in danger of having anything go to my head as long as I’m with you.” He flashed a grin, but it faded when he saw the look on her face. “What?”
The water reflected the morning sun in a thousand shimmering flickers of light. It was going to be one of those beautiful days by the sea, the sort of day that should have no regrets. And she was about to ruin it. She began in a quiet, apologetic tone. “I like you.”
“Oh, shit.”
She turned quickly, thinking something had happened. Maybe he’d spilled his hot coffee on his lap, or something else—anything else but her. But his gaze was steady, if stunned. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but I think I’m about to find out.”
She said, “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m thinking I shouldn’t have come looking for you.”
She could not quite agree, but she couldn’t help being curious. “Why did you?”
Wes shifted his weight and rested his arm on the back of the bench, inches from her shoulder. “Delia and I had a talk. Apparently, I haven’t been fair to you.”
That took Emily by surprise. “Oh?”
“I haven’t quite told you the truth about me, at least not all of it.”
Emily tried not to frown. “If this is another one of Delia’s attempts to get us together, I wouldn’t take it as a reason to… uh… what I mean is, you don’t owe me anything.”
“I need to tell you the truth.”
“Wes…” She felt like she shouldn’t want to hear it. Continuing to talk about it just postponed the inevitable. It was time to let go. Yet she listened.
“I’m not the horrible person the newspapers would have you believe. I was protecting someone.”
“Your overnight houseguest?”
His eyes narrowed. “Vic? Well, yes, but not the way that you’re thinking. We weren’t together. It wasn’t like that.”
“Okay. So you helped her. You did the right thing. Delia thinks way too highly of you for there not to have been a good reason. So now I know you’re a good guy. I respect you for it, but nothing has changed where you and I are concerned.”
He brushed back a few strands of hair that the sea breeze was having its way with. “Man, I read this so wrong. I thought we had… something.” He turned to her. “Look, it’s okay. I just thought we connected. I thought there was… I don’t know, more than this.”
Emily turned and looked into his eyes, and she felt that connection. She’d felt it before, but this time it made her heart ache. The least she could do was tell him the truth. “That’s the problem. There’s too much. I just can’t.” She couldn’t look at him anymore. Her emotions were too close to the surface.
“Look, Em…”
He’d called her that a few times when they’d worked on the lighthouse campaign. No one else called her that, and it made her heart swell every time that he said it. The nickname itself wasn’t so magical, but it was between them and nobody else. It seemed a bit foolish to have such a reaction, but there were feelings between them that she’d never felt with anyone else. He couldn’t have any idea of what the mere act of his sitting beside her did to her. And to think that I came to the bench to clear my head! Her mind was more clouded than ever.
He touched her chin with his finger, and she turned, lifting her eyes to meet his. “Emily Cooke.” He gave a slight shake of the head. “It’s okay. I’ll take a step back—or two, or as many as you want. Look, I get it. I’m not looking for anything more than your friendship—not now anyway. Let’s give it some time.” He leaned closer and lowered his head until he could look up into her eyes, whether she wanted him to or not.
The look on his face was so sincere and vulnerable that it tugged at her heart and weakened her resolve. Her brain was so muddled that it was all she could do not to lean into him and touch her lips to his forehead and cheek and mouth. She took in a breath, hoping the influx of oxygen would do better than her wavering will. “The thing is, I haven’t had time to myself for a couple of years. I didn’t mind. It was my mom. And my aunt. They were sick. I was all that they had. I would do it all over again.” She stopped and fought back the tears that were stinging her eyes. “But it took something out of me—something I came here to find.”
“You’re grieving, and I know that you need time to work through it. All I’m asking is for some leftover time now and then for us to get to know each other—as friends. No expectations.”
She tore her gaze from the horizon and looked into his eyes—eyes that were gentle and sympathetic, which only made her feel worse. “The thing with relationships is, there’s no return on investment unless you’ve got something to give. I’ve got nothing. My emotions are spent. I just can’t. No, that’s not it. To be perfectly fair, I just don’t want to feel. I don’t want you to care. I came here to get away from the people who care. They hovered around me until I just couldn’t breathe.”
Emily looked away and took a moment to pull herself back together then continued. “I don’t want to care whether a pretty woman pulls into your driveway and spends the night. Or why it was worth it for you to spend six months in jail to protect her. I want it—or you—to mean nothing to me.”
“I don’t blame you for wondering about Vic’s visit or my past or anything else. I know how it feels to be desperate for solitude. For six months, I was constantly watched. I was never alone. I came here to escape from that personal hell. When I got here, I could not even stand to make small talk. I had lost faith in humanity. Two people helped drag me out of that dark place. Delia convinced me to work on the lighthouse restoration. And then I met you. But being here and working with you has helped me to see that life isn’t all bad. There are good things in life. You’ve been one of those good things for me, and I think I could be that for you—if you won’t shut me out.”
“I have to.” Emily sighed and looked up. “Even friendship comes with a full set of baggage that neither of us can carry right now.”
“You don’t have to carry anything, Em. Just let me be here.”
“Well, you pretty much are, since you live right next door.” Her face wrinkled up into a self-deprecating smirk. “Sorry. I seem to get stupid when I’m uncomfortable.” She let out a nervous sigh. “Which I am. Wes, if I’d met you any other time… I mean, you’re pretty good-looking!” She smiled at the understatement. “And you’re smart and fun. I’m not totally on board with the motorcycle, but I know it’s a guy thing. So other than that, you’re as close to perfect as they come. But I’m not ready, and it’s going to be a long time till I am.”
And here come the tears. That just won’t do. “Oh, dammit, I can’t do this right now.” She got up and left for home before her emotions got the better of her. If she cried, it would be on her terms—at home and alone.