Their Last Second Chance Page 8

“You never said you love it, either.”

  She shrugged. “How many people love their jobs? Anyway, I’m here for some lobster mac and cheese, not a discussion of my career choices.”

  He grinned. “That’s a pretty rebellious choice, coming from the woman who wrote the book on thinner thighs.”

  She raised her water glass and mocked toasting him. “I’m not the rebel I once was, Harris.”

  “Neither one of us is the person we used to be, Mellie.” He took a sip and glanced out over the water. He thought of the job he had done, the people it had impacted, the way he had been scrambling to change those lives ever since. “And I, for one, think that’s a pretty damned good thing.”

  Chapter Six

  Melanie couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this much. She’d forgotten about Harris’s dry sense of humor. They’d talked around their past, discussing people they both knew, businesses in their old small town that had closed or expanded and the impact of the new highway that now cut through the center of town.

  What they didn’t talk about was their history. The feelings they’d had. The way things had ended. Melanie told herself it was better that way.

  The truth came with complications. Pain. Heartache.

  She could close her eyes and be right back in that moment, standing on the sidewalk, as devastated as she was relieved. The comfort of someone else’s arms when all she’d really wanted was Harris’s comfort.

  Hearing his voice, speaking her name. Not Mellie that time, but the full Melanie, the word full of outrage and accusation. He hadn’t paused long enough to hear her side. He’d assumed and decided she was guilty. And then, at the end, one hurt and shattered Mellie before he walked away.

  And left her alone to process it all over the years that followed. She’d forgotten him, or maybe just convinced herself he wasn’t who she thought he was.

  But now, sitting across from her was the man she remembered. The same man she had fallen for in high school. Funny and charming and handsome as hell.

  Which put her dangerously on the edge of losing her objectivity and focusing on kissing him again, not on the story that would save her career. Circle back, she told herself, to what mattered, and away from what didn’t anymore.

  “So how is Mrs. Josephs? Still threatening to run for senator?” Melanie said. The quirky older lady had lived two doors down from Abby and Melanie. A widow, she tended toward bright orange hats and even brighter dresses along with an ever-evolving collection of rain boots in whimsical patterns.

  “She got remarried to that guy who owned the deli on the corner of Spruce,” Harris said. “Took the whole town by surprise. They had a big wedding in the park, invited everyone in a three-county circle. She told everyone that was because she wanted everyone she knew to believe that happy endings exist.”

  Melanie laughed. “Who knew she was such a romantic? All I remember is her standing up at town meetings and ranting at the board of selectmen and calling them all—”

  “A bunch of yellow-bellied toads who couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag.” Harris chuckled. “She was one colorful woman.”

  And a crazy romantic who believed in things like soul mates and world peace. Melanie didn’t have time for such insanity. She was here for a story. Somehow she needed to redirect the conversation to the fire and what had happened. Real life, not some hopeless notions about happily-ever-after.

  The waitress came by and asked them if they wanted anything else. Melanie looked down and realized they’d both cleaned their plates. Their conversation had been, as it had in the old days, so engrossing she’d barely tasted her dinner or the pinot grigio Harris had ordered. The man was too damned distracting.

  “How about dessert to go?” Harris asked her. “We can take it down to the beach and eat it there.”

  A romantic stroll on the beach with a little sugar. Not distracting at all. If she was smart, she’d stay right here, in the well-lit, crowded restaurant and order bracing, non-romantic, non-beach-shareable coffee. “Sure. That sounds great.”

  Sounds like a mistake. And an easy way to forget why she was here.

  “Two slices of the raspberry cheesecake, please,” Harris said to the waitress. She nodded, then headed for the kitchen.

  Damn. Raspberry cheesecake? She was definitely in trouble now. “You remembered my favorite dessert?”

  “I remember a lot of your favorite things, Mellie.”

  And just like that, her mind was a decade in the past and she was in his arms, lying on a red plaid blanket spread beneath the stars. They’d made love that night, and when she came, he’d whispered in her ear that he remembered her favorite things to do. And he did. Very well.

  Double damn. Now she’d gone down that path again in her head.

  “Let me split the bill with you,” she said, as she tugged a few bills out of her wallet. Nothing like going Dutch to spell not-a-romantic-date.

  He waved off the money. “My date. My treat. When you plan our next date, you can pay, if you want.”

  A little zip of anticipation ran through her at the words our next date. Once again, she yanked her mind back to the present. Back to why she was here. Not to fall in love with Harris McCarthy again. Not to do anything other than redeem her career and get her life back on track.

  After they left, they kicked their shoes off, leaving them beside the wooden boardwalk that led down to the soft sand and dark blue water. The sun had set, leaving the world in deepening shades of mauve and violet. The ocean lapped gently at the shore, in a quiet shush-shush song that soothed Melanie’s stress. Harris seemed to relax by degrees the closer they got to the water, his steps slowing, his smile widening.

  He always had loved the beach, as had she. Some of her favorite memories with Harris were on the water, with the sand under their toes and the Atlantic nudging at the rocky shore. Here they were, farther south on the same ocean, the shore sandier, warmer, more tropical, but still singing the same quiet song of the sea.

  “If we go a little farther down,” Harris said, “there’s a grassy area that’s perfect for a picnic.”

  “Sounds good.” She fell into step beside him and tried to block the romantic part of the setting from her mind. The sooner she got this story, the sooner she could get her career back on track and be out of this too-perfect small town with this too-perfect man and back to her life in the city. Granted, it wasn’t much of a life right now, but it was hers, and it was all she knew. “So, I hear they’re starting a building project tomorrow for that family who lost everything in the fire.”

  “Yup.”

  That was it. One word. One short, sharp word. “Are you involved in that?”

  “Yup.”

  He wasn’t exactly opening up. That wasn’t fitting well with her plan to get him to give her an exclusive interview. And his cologne smelled damned good, which was distracting. “Do you know the family well?”

  “Here’s that grassy area I was talking about.” He strode up the beach a few feet and onto an oval of grass that diverted from the road and into the beach. Trees blocked the road, providing natural shade on sunny days and a dark canopy over the space now. Intimate. Cozy. “Have a seat.”

  Melanie dropped onto the grass, tucking her legs under her. Harris sat a couple feet away, his hand inches from hers, and that damned cologne luring her closer. “So...cheesecake,” she said, too fast, too anxious, too nervous. To cover, she dived for the bag and wrestled with the small plastic container. She handed him a fork, then scooped up her own bite. “Oh my God. That is seriously good.”

  He grinned. “I knew you’d like it.”

  “You were right.” She took another bite. The cheesecake was smooth, slightly tart, with the sweet kiss of raspberry sauce on the edges, and the crunch of a graham cracker crust. “I think I could eat this all day.”

  He ate a few bites of
his slice, then leaned against the trunk of a tree. A fish jumped in the water, making a soft splash on the way down. “Makes me think of all those times we went to the shore when we were younger.”

  Years ago, they’d had picnics and Frisbee games and lazy afternoons under the sun. She had lain in his arms, planning for a future that had never happened. Someday we’re going to get married and leave this place, Harris had said. You’re my everything, Mellie.

  She could close her eyes and hear his whisper in her ear, feel the warmth of his body against hers. She could imagine kissing him again, feeling him move against her and in her, their worlds coming together in one sweet moment—

  And then came the reality of their breakup, and how he’d believed the worst about her without asking a single question. Harris McCarthy had abandoned her when she’d needed him most, and in the days since she ran into him, he hadn’t spoken a word of apology. That alone should telegraph don’t fall for him again.

  “Yeah, those were great trips.” She cut off another bite of cheesecake, paused a beat, then redirected the conversation. “So, what made you run into a burning building, anyway?”

  Okay, so she wasn’t going to win any awards for subtlety. That was fine with her. The sooner she got the story and got away from Harris—and these trips down memory lane—the better.

  “People were in danger.” He held up a bite of cheesecake. “Do you remember the cheesecake at Lou’s? I think this one might be slightly better.”

  “Maybe. It’s been a long time since I had the cheesecake at Lou’s.” She set her dessert aside and straightened to face him. “You had to have been very brave, Harris, to go in there.”

  He let out a gusty sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mellie. Not with you, not with anyone. Yeah, there was a fire, and yeah, I went in there and helped the family. But it’s something anyone would have done for people in danger. The family’s safe, we’re starting work on reconstruction tomorrow, end of story.”

  Not exactly enough story to get her a Pulitzer. She thought about pressing him further, but she glanced at Harris’s face and knew that look of determination that was in his eyes. He could be a stubborn man, and if he didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t going to. She needed a more circuitous route to what she wanted, while she tried to figure out why he was so prickly about the subject. “This is a beautiful place,” she said. “I can see why you like it so much.”

  The change of subject relaxed Harris by a few degrees. “When I was a kid and I wanted to get away from my dad, I’d go down to that little creek by my house. I built forts, caught fish, did whatever I could to while away the hours and be in the quiet.”

  “I remember that creek.” Narrow and winding, the creek near his house disappeared into a deeply wooded area that had led to the back of a small park. They’d spent many an afternoon exploring its banks. “Remember the day we caught the crayfish with our hands?”

  He laughed. “You screamed and threw one at me.”

  “Hey, they had claws.”

  He arched a brow. “Their bodies are like three inches long. Not exactly life threatening.”

  “Maybe I just wanted you to think I was scared.”

  Harris shifted to face her, and the space between them seemed to disappear. “And why would you do that?”

  Because when she was scared, he held her close. When she was upset, Harris kissed her on the temple and whispered words that eased everything, told her nothing could hurt her because he was there, and a part of her had needed that reassurance. Craved it. “I was scared of things with claws and antennae.”

  He brushed a tendril of hair away from her cheek. “Impossible. You’re one of the smartest, bravest women I know.”

  Then how did I end up here, repeating history? “I could say the same for you. I always thought you were...brilliant.”

  “You did?” He chuckled. “Not brilliant enough to avoid working for my father.”

  “Why did you?” Given how acrimonious their relationship had been, Melanie had expected Harris would do what he had told her he would do a hundred times when they’d talked about their future together—he would leave home the day he turned eighteen and never look back.

  Harris shrugged. “Because as much as I wanted to get away from him, I also wanted him to love me. To approve of me.”

  His words held the ache of a deep sadness and long defeat. She wanted to reach for him, to soothe his hurts as he once had done hers. Instead she smoothed a hand over the grass, flattening, then watching the blades spring up again. “I get that. My mother is...hard to please.”

  “It’s amazing to me that people who brought us into this world aren’t happy with who we turned out to be. I thought going to work for him would make him proud.” Harris’s gaze went to the water, and his voice dropped into a softer range. “Instead, it turned me into someone I didn’t want to be.”

  “What do you mean?” To her, he seemed the same as she remembered. Smart, funny, strong. Driven to do what was right, not necessarily what was popular. Except when it came to breaking her heart.

  Harris picked up a fan-shaped clamshell, then arched back and flung it into the ocean. The shell disappeared in an incoming wave with a wink of white. “Working for my father required setting aside everything I believed about being a good person. I started waking up with my stomach in knots. I got headaches that wouldn’t go away. It didn’t take a genius to realize that was because I literally couldn’t stomach my job.”

  “Why?”

  “Because working for my father required me to destroy other people. Businesses brought him in to do analyses and consulting. If my father said fire these ten people, they fired them. If he said close this branch, they closed that branch. It made them profitable, but...” He shook his head. “There was always a cost to pay, not in dollars, but in people’s lives.”

  She thought of the story she wanted to do. The price she was willing to pay to get her career back on track. No. She refused to feel guilty. The publicity could help the Kingston family with donations, and Harris would be long gone by the time the piece was published. And maybe Harris wouldn’t mind it so much if the article painted him as the hero he clearly was.

  Harris cleared his throat. “Anyway, once I started building houses, I felt like I had a job that made a difference. The end.”

  A part of her suspected that hadn’t been the end. She could hear the evasive notes in Harris’s voice. Something about his story didn’t ring quite true, but what that was, she couldn’t tell. The days when she knew him as well as she knew herself had ended a long time ago.

  “At least you had a dad. My dad died when I was born.” Melanie said. “I remember being so jealous of the other kids with their dads that one time, I made up a dad who was in the military, just so that the other girls would think he was a hero or something.

  “I guess it’s no wonder I went into the career I did, since I’ve been spinning the truth since I was a kid.” She hesitated for a moment. “I loved my sister, but Abby was always the perfect one, and nothing I did ever seemed to measure up. Even at home I’d try to make myself seem smarter, better, nicer. I’d say anything to impress my mom, to get her to notice me, even if my words were a stretch.”

  “And sometimes lies are for good reason,” he said. “To protect others.”

  “Others like who?”

  Instead of answering, he leaned over and opened his arms, welcoming her to lean against his chest. Melanie didn’t want to, didn’t want to get close or fall for him again. Because being this close and this alone with Harris definitely awakened feelings she’d thought were long dead. Feelings that would only complicate everything. But the moment had bonded them in a way, the two of them misunderstood and lost years ago and now brought back together by some strange coincidence of being in the same place at the same time. She wanted a little of that past, and a little of him, and a little of what s
he had loved in the years they had dated. Just for now.

  She leaned into the solid wall of his chest. He was warm, and his cologne—a different one from when they were younger—had sharp notes of spice that drew her even closer.

  “Let’s watch the day come to a close, Mellie, and not talk about the past.” He pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, and she was lost. Lost in his arms, lost in the moment, lost in the soft song of the ocean. Lost in him, all over again.

  Tomorrow, she told herself, tomorrow was soon enough to get back to work.

  Chapter Seven

  Harris had expected maybe a handful of people to show up to help tear down the rest of the Kingston house and start erecting the new one. But when he arrived bright and early Thursday morning, he found three dozen volunteers being sorted into different jobs by Jack Barlow. All of the Barlow brothers were here, along with Mac’s wife, Savannah, who owned a business renovating houses.

  Della and Bobby Barlow were handing out donuts and coffee to everyone who had shown up. The Kingston family stood to the side, with gratitude filling their faces. Catherine had a hand on the shoulders of two of her kids, and her littlest one—John Jr., was pressed up against his mother’s legs. Tears glimmered in Catherine’s eyes, and even John had a hard time keeping it together.

  The devastation became clearer, more heartbreaking, in the light of day. What had once been the front half of a rambling ranch house had crumbled into a few ghostly pillars and piles of gray ash, mounded over the remains of the Kingstons’ lives. A lamp here, a pan there and then a blackened shell where the bedrooms had been. In those spaces, a few things could be salvaged, but almost everything would need to be replaced. The fund at the Stone Gap bank was growing every day, but Harris made a mental note to call in a few favors from some of his fat-wallet clients and see if he couldn’t boost that number even more.

  Harris stopped beside Jack. The former military officer had kept his trim frame and short hair. He wore a perpetual smile and glanced at his pregnant wife from time to time, clearly overjoyed at the prospect of fatherhood. A trickle of envy ran through Harris. For some strange reason, he wished he had a reason to stay in town and see the next generation of Barlows grow up. Insane.