The Shucker's Booktique Page 7

  Though she’d be okay, Lon doubted he’d ever be the same.

  ****

  Idiot! Willa chided herself as she clambered up the rocky shore. She slipped on the wet rocks and crashed against the uneven ground. Her ears rang and pain lanced through her lungs. She took a deep breath and pushed up. This time, her bare feet found purchase and she stumbled to the deserted road. With a belly full of ocean water and a heart full of lead, she headed back to the booktique.

  What was she thinking, falling into the ocean? For what? A water sprite? A foolish dream? She choked back a sob. How could she love someone… something…that dissolved in water? Like sugar! Her throat tightened. It had to be a dream. And she’d been fool enough to fall for it, literally. She’d almost drowned. The taste of vomit still clung to her mouth, and her head pounded.

  Had she not been washed onto shore, she’d be dead. Dead like Aunt Jenny? Is that what happened to her? The pain in her head subsided a little and sank down to her chest. The tide brought her to shore. Did Lon play a part in that, or was her heart speaking?

  Fool.

  She got lucky. She’d almost died from her own stupidity.

  She shook off some of the water. Her head throbbed, and she reached up to tenderly touch the right side of her skull. Her hands came away bloody. Just great. There’d be a goose egg the size of a golf ball on the side of her head by tomorrow morning. A reminder of her foolishness, like she needed another one. She’d look like a female Frankenstein with all her lumps and bumps. Her steps became less stumble and more stompy as she plodded her way back to the booktique. Fool woman!

  She needed to get a grip on reality, forget Lon and find out what happened to her aunt. None of this hocus-pocus bullcrap.

  When she reached the store, she pulled up short. A man rested his shoulder against the door with his back to her. At a stocky five foot eight, with clean cut, light brown hair, the man wore beige slacks, a green polo shirt and loafers, like a preppy college kid despite being in his mid-thirties. George.

  Ice flowed through her veins, as if the cold water dripping from her clothes absorbed into her body. She took a deep breath and continued to the store’s entrance.

  George turned at her approach and his teeth flashed. The nerve! Smiling at her like that, all smarmy and confident. As if he hadn’t broken her spirit and shattered her world.

  “Hello, darling,” he said. His smooth voice grated against her nerves. Condescending and arrogant, as always. He leaned in and without hesitation, or permission, planted a warm kiss on her cheek.

  “What do you want?” she asked. Her shoulders drooped and the weariness of her near-drowning set in; her feet grew heavy as cement blocks and anchored her in place.

  George’s smile faltered. Then his gaze travelled her body from head to foot and back again. “What are you doing out in public looking like that?”

  “Honestly, George? You came all the way from Lewiston to scold me on my appearance?” She shouldered past him and unlocked the door. Yeah, her clothes were plastered to her body, and she resembled a drowned kitten. Heck, she almost was a drowned kitten. But George had no business judging her. She wanted to go inside, get warm, and curl up with a hot chocolate. Maybe even cry a little and feel sorry for herself. Luckily her key hadn’t fallen out of her pocket. Then she’d be wet, cold, and homeless.

  “No, I…” George ran a hand through his short hair and glanced around. “Can we talk inside?”

  No! That’s the last thing she wanted. Playing host to a certifiable d-bag ranked pretty low on her list of priorities right now. But he’d come all this way and curiosity gnawed at her gut. Maybe he’d finally explain himself, or…her breath caught...apologize. “Sure,” she said. “You can wait downstairs in the kitchen while I take a hot shower and change.”

  George’s shoulders straightened, and he flashed her another quick smile, this one a little more genuine than the last.

  ****

  The hot shower soothed her nerves, and if she cried a little from a weird sense of loss, no one would be the wiser. With George securely downstairs, she had the upper floor all to herself and her wallowing. Why did she feel so empty? She should feel vindicated. Her brain had been right to question Lon; she should never have kissed him. She should never have opened her heart to the possibility of something more, something deeper existing between them. Happily ever after belonged in books.

  Why did that make her so sad?

  She barely knew him.

  Alone in her bedroom, she dressed in George’s least favorite clothes; the teal green shirt he said made her look pregnant, and the dark denim skinny jeans he claimed she looked short in—stubby, had been his word. An hour since she left George downstairs, she glanced in the mirror and gave herself a thumbs up.

  He looked up when she reached the bottom of the stairs. “About time!”

  George sat on the same kitchenette chair Lon had taken, looking smaller and weak in comparison. He leaned back with his legs sprawled out in front of him. With one arm draped over the back of the chair, the other rested on the table. He drummed his fingers on the dark oak. His eyebrows pinched together giving him a pensive look, one she was well acquainted with. The wind picked up outside and the sounds of heavy rain and fog horns filled the night.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “What took you so long?”

  Willa took a deep breath and headed for the kettle to flick it on. “I’m no longer on your schedule, George. Say what you came to say.”

  “No longer…” George sucked in some air and straightened on his chair. He looked down at his now folded hands.

  Willa snorted and went to get a mug.

  “I want you back.”

  Willa’s hand froze halfway to the cupboard. She let it drop to her side and slowly turned around. George’s hazel eyes met hers, deep and sincere. Had he crawled back to her three weeks ago, before she met Lon, she probably would’ve run to him. But now? She studied his face, one she used to find handsome, and felt…nothing.

  George’s mouth flattened. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

  “You want me back?” Willa said.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “No apology?”

  “Apology?” he asked, his tone incredulous, like he couldn’t fathom what he had to be sorry for.

  “You know…for leaving me broken hearted while you ran off with my best friend. How’s Colleen, anyway?”

  “Colleen and I are done. We had…irreconcilable differences,” he said.

  “She had an opinion?”

  George sucked in a breath and leaned forward.

  Willa flinched and braced for his outrage. He hated her talking back. Always said if he wanted her opinion, he’d ask for it.

  Then something weird happened. His body relaxed into the old chair, and the almost-sincere smile spread across his face. “She wasn’t you.”

  “But you left me.”

  “Well, that wasn’t all on me. Part of my leaving was really your own—”

  “My own what? Fault?” she choked.

  “Willa, I love you. I want you back, but you need to be more understanding of my needs. I thought maybe we could work on that, you know, together. Start fresh.”

  “Your needs?” she said, more to herself than to George. “All I did was look after and care for your needs.”

  George sat back in his chair. “And I love that about you, I do. But you also need to have your own things, give me space to breathe.”

  Willa squeezed her eyes shut, and counted to ten. When that didn’t work, she kept going until one hundred.

  “Willa?”

  One hundred and thirty four…

  “Willa!”

  One hundred and fifty two…

  “Willa! Will you look at me?”

  She opened her eyes and studied George’s open expression. Some of her anger dissipated. He may not have uttered the word, “sorry,” but she knew how much it had cost him to come down here and as
k her to come back. He cared for her, she knew that, but was it enough?

  “Will you answer me?” George asked.

  “No,” she said.

  George nodded his head. “Fine, you need time. I get that. I’ll stay in one of the—”

  “I meant no, I won’t come back.”

  George’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and his eyes widened. “No?”

  “No.”

  George took another deep breath and stood from the table. “Willa, you’re obviously not in the right state of mind. You’ve had a…rough…day. I can’t go anywhere tonight, anyway. I’ll take one of the spare rooms, stay a couple of days, and maybe you’ll change your mind. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow? Maybe you could tell me what happened tonight to leave you looking like a shipwreck?”

  The tension left Willa’s shoulders. She’d been prepared to scream at him and tell him to get out, but his dinner invitation and reasonable request surprised her. Maybe he’d changed. But, so had she.

  At this hour, he might not get a room elsewhere and it was a long drive back to Lewiston, Maine. She’d been out most of the day. How long had he waited for her?

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll set your room up.”

  ****

  That little bitch!

  George threw his suitcase on the neatly made bed and scowled. The floors creaked, the wallpaper in the room dated back to the 80s and the blankets, although recently laid out by Willa, didn’t look or feel fresh. Worn and old, they smelled like a stale linen closet. His skin crawled. He never thought he’d be slumming it at the age of thirty-five to woo a piece of tail he’d already hit.

  He couldn’t believe Willa had made him wait for almost an hour while she pranced around getting ready, and then she’d come down wearing that horrid outfit. Didn’t she know how much he hated it? He’d been very clear to her in the past.

  If he hadn’t lost all his money at the tables with Colleen, he’d leave tonight and go home: sink his sorrows deep into another woman, again and again, nice and hard. Forget this fucking tart. She always wanted to cuddle or talk, have a proper relationship. If he hadn’t been banging other chicks on the side for the entire time they were together, he’d have gone postal.

  Willa had no clue. She was too sweet and nice to think poorly of him, or anyone else for that matter. He never wanted a relationship, never wanted someone to care for and look after. Why would he ever want to put someone else’s needs before his own? He could barely stomach what he was doing now, but his mom and dad had been firm. No money unless he cleaned up his life. They’d never accept Colleen. Too bad. He shared similar views on life with that saucy wench—they both used people for their own personal gain. He’d known all along Colleen’s feelings for him went as deep as his wallet, but she had a sweet rack and he liked screwing her. When the money dried up, she’d turned frigid and he tossed her out.

  Willa, on the other hand, fit the perfect country club image for his parents. He’d spent years manipulating her damaged soul into the perfect companion. He just needed to put her back into the right mindset.

  And he knew exactly how to do it.

  When he got Willa back, he’d get access to his trust fund and have someone to take care of him—that part of relationships he never minded. Willa was great at taking direction.

  The little bitch was going to make him work for it, though. He’d practically groveled in the kitchen over a cheap dinette set. Fucking cow. She should be ecstatic he wanted her back. When she came home with him, he’d teach her a few lessons with his cock.

  Maybe he could stay at that nice bed and breakfast he saw on his drive into town? No. He needed to keep Willa in his sights and his eye on the prize.

  With a deep breath, George got ready for bed and peeled back the sheets. Think of the money. Think of the money, man! He repeated his mantra over and over again as he lay in bed. He needed a clear head for tomorrow and a plan. He’d wine and dine the bitch and then Willa would be his.

  ****

  Willa smiled at George across the table. The darkening sky and distant rumbles of thunder added to the intimate ambiance of their candle-lit dinner. He’d been a perfect gentleman all night; opening doors, pulling out chairs, and asking her questions. He’d even complimented her outfit! He’d laid on the charm, and spared no cost, even using his credit card instead of the wad of cash he usually carried with him. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad. Aside from leaving her for Colleen, anyway.

  But each time she stood on the precipice of caving, ready to jump off and see where this relationship with George could go, she’d catch a flicker of an expression on George’s face—a grimace or a wince as if something pained him. Was it her? Was this all an act? He’d been suitably charming when they first dated, as well, and that hadn’t been an act. Had it? He’d never mistreated her; he just had particular needs in life and in the bedroom. He needed to be in control. Be the man.

  With each sip of wine, her resolve melted a little. Life with George hadn’t been bad. Before he left her, she’d been looking forward to their marriage, not for a way out. Maybe he really had realized his mistake like he said.

  Maybe things could go back to the way they were before he ran off with Colleen.

  Did she want a life with him? Would it be enough after Lon?

  “Willa?” George asked, his face pinching in.

  “Sorry?”

  “I wanted to know where you’re at.”

  She sighed and placed her napkin neatly on the table. They’d enjoyed a five-course lobster feast and she might need to be rolled out of the restaurant. Her body still ached and bruises decorated her skin, but nothing a hot bath and make-up couldn’t fix. She’d been very lucky. “Where I’m at with what?”

  “With us.”

  “Oh.” She glanced away, his gaze too intense.

  “Do you still care for me?”

  “Well, yes…” She folded her hands on the table top.

  “Do you still love me?”

  She hesitated. Good question. Did she? “Love doesn’t automatically switch off or disappear. No one can turn off their heart,” she said. “But you hurt me.”

  George exhaled a long breath and in that instant, a flash of that disgruntled expression crossed his face again. “Willa, I’ve apologized for that. It was a mistake and not one I plan to make again.”

  She nodded, more to her plate than him. Her arms felt heavy. Too much food. She’d slip into a food coma, if they didn’t leave soon.

  “I’m going to make a decision,” George said.

  Her head snapped up and her brain smacked against her skull. Her earlier headache returned with a vengeance.

  Whenever George said he’d made a decision in the past, it meant he made plans for both of them. Plans she never liked. George leaned forward and clasped her hands in his, the movement so fast, she flinched.

  “You love me, but you’re hurt. I get that. I’m not saying things will go back to the way they were. Maybe that’s a good thing. But I want to build a new relationship, from this point forward, and if you love me, you’ll want the same thing.”

  Willa bit her lip.

  “Let’s go back to the house. You can pack your bags and lock up the shop. We can head out right away. Come home with me, Willa. It’s where you belong.”

  “What about Aunt Jenny?”

  “Did you discover anything this last month? Find any clues?” He released her hands.

  She opened her mouth and then shut it. What could she say? She learned mythical water sprites existed? It sounded ridiculous to her own ears.

  Wasn’t Lon more than that?

  George dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Your presence here isn’t helping to find her. The only one benefitting is your mom. You know she’s hoping to keep all the earnings from the store if Jenny never reappears. And you’re the one working your ass off. Come back to Lewiston. I can support you, and if you don’t want that, you could get your old job back. I know your boss;
I can put in a good word for you.”

  “I just…”

  “Need some time?” He nodded as if he’d expected her response. “You can have as much as you want in Lewiston.”

  She nodded. Going home to Lewiston, to a life she knew very well, had its allure. She didn’t have to make a decision about George right away. She could go home. It would be easier than this odd unknown. George studied her from across the table, his lips slightly turned up and his shoulders relaxed. His hands enfolded her own, warm and familiar.

  “I’d like to walk back to the booktique alone,” she blurted out.

  “In this weather? Why?”

  “To clear my head. Think. Say goodbye.”

  George perked up with her final words. The smug expression she knew so well spread across his face. “Sure, babe. I’ll drive back and start packing.”

  He got up and helped pull her out of her seat. His warm lips pressed against hers in a chaste kiss. Willa shivered.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said, and walked out of the restaurant.

  ****

  Willow’s heart spasmed in her chest, leaving her hollow. She shuffled along the lit street, staring out at the sea and the darkening horizon. What was going on inside her heart? A haze had fallen over her mind, followed by a numbness that didn’t stop at the fingertips; instead, it ran along her arms and legs and settled in her chest, leaving her heavy and empty all at once.

  Go back with George? Was she really considering it?

  What other alternatives did she have? She needed to face reality. Hadn’t her near-drowning experience been a slap to the face? She’d decided to be more practical and logical, hadn’t she? George offered her a new chance at her old life. Maybe they could make it work. Maybe they couldn’t, but she needed to go home and give up on unrealistic dreams. Happy endings belonged in fairy tales. Time to move on with her life.

  Fate had a funny way of showing a path for her.

  The ocean rolled and curled under the increasing wind. The forecast called for heavy showers and thirty percent chance of thunder and lightning. Not strong enough for Lon, not yet. But what did it matter? He probably wouldn’t show up, and even if he did…What kind of life could she have with him? They’d only kissed. Maybe she imagined the moment more magical and binding than it was.