17. Chloe
Chapter 17
Chloe
A s I stirred, my aching back made itself known. That sensation was followed by a breeze on my face. I forced my eyes open and, for a moment, was confused by the scenery. The lake, the dock, the trees rustling in the breeze. I was laid out on one of my overpriced lounge chairs with a blanket draped over me. Huh.
With a roll of my shoulders, I pushed an arm up and checked my watch. Wow. Five fifteen.
Last night, Gus and I had argued for hours.
The sight of his empty chair beside me made me feel strangely sad. He’d probably gone home. It was for the best. Starting my fifth decade alone was fitting anyway, given how I’d spent my life so far.
“You’re up.”
Startled by the deep voice, I turned—shit, my neck hurt—and found Gus striding toward me, his long legs eating up the grass between us.
He had a large blue mug in each hand.
“I made coffee.”
I sat up and held out a hand, wondering how much of my makeup had migrated during the few hours I’d slept out here. I never went to bed without taking off my makeup and doing my skincare routine. What a way to ring in my forties—with total self-neglect.
“Wanna watch the sunrise?”
With a nod, I stood and stretched. I snagged the blanket and draped it over my shoulders.
We walked down to the edge of the dock and sat with our feet dangling over the water as we silently sipped coffee.
“Thank you,” I said, a little begrudgingly.
He hummed, holding his mug up. “I know you need coffee within ten minutes of waking.”
My stomach dipped in response to that comment. “I’m surprised you remember.” My mind instantly went back to those first few days of living together. We were kids, really, married and clueless, trying to figure out what we’d gotten ourselves into.
“You’re my wife,” he said, one brow raised. “I’d never forget.”
Okay, so he was probably also having the same flashbacks. Cuddled up under an old afghan, sipping coffee out of the two mugs we owned, dreaming about our future together. It turned my stomach.
“Ex-wife,” I corrected.
“Yes. But the only wife I’ve ever had. So I remember your little quirks.”
Continuing on with that topic would only lead to a field of emotional landmines, so I kept my mouth shut. I set my mug on the dock beside me and shook my hair out. The way his eyes widened when I threw back my head sent a shiver down my spine. I guess I’d forgotten how much he’d loved my hair all those years ago.
When we’d been together a few weeks ago, he had run his fingers through it, sometimes pulling it. And shit, I’d liked it. So much so that just the memory had a blush creeping up my cheeks.
It had been such a mistake to sleep with him again. Because the vague sexy memories had been replaced with bright, vivid ones.
He was still an ass man. That was clear. Which was convenient, as I had plenty to spare in that department.
Dammit, we hadn’t spoken in several long moments, yet I was fully turned on, sitting on the dock with him on my birthday.
Great. Two decades of growth. I’d spent two decades facing challenges head-on and getting stronger and tougher every day, just to dissolve into a puddle of goo when he raised an eyebrow at me.
Hormones, I could understand. I was a woman with needs. Though until a recent tryst with my ex-husband, those needs had not been adequately met in a very long time.
I could understand my body’s response to him. He was a strong, attractive, protective man. The cavewoman living in my amygdala was in heat around him.
I should hate him for what he’d done to me. I should chafe at his presence and demand he stay far away from me and my shiny new life.
Instead, just sitting beside him had my body heating.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his face turned down. “For everything. I’m not trying to fuck up your life. I’m trying to figure out my own.”
“Let me know how that goes. Even at forty, I have no clue what I’m doing,” I said, unwisely putting my true thoughts out there for him to hear. “I’m totally alone, and I have no clue how to fix all the parts of me that are broken.”
He turned toward me, his blue eyes burning. “You are not broken. And you are not alone. Your sister thinks you hung the moon. JJ and Karl adore you. And you’re growing on me, eye daggers and all.”
“I think I’m just realizing that I want more. A partner, a permanent home. A dog and kids and sneaking kisses between bath time and story time.” I gestured toward the lake, my face heating in embarrassment. Shit. Why had I admitted that?
“Then go get it. If there is anyone on this earth who can move mountains, part rivers, and alter the space-time continuum, it’s you, Dragonfly.”
I huffed, even as my heart stumbled. “That is very flattering.”
“It’s the truth.”
“But it’s not,” I argued. “I may be a badass at business, and I may own a lot of trees, but that’s about all I’ve got going for me.”
“I get it.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I can’t see the future, but I’d bet everything I have that Chloe LeBlanc will stomp all over the universe with those damn heels and make things happen. You’re still figuring out your plan. Nothing wrong with that.”
“At forty?”
He placed his mug down on the dock and put his arm around my shoulders. It was intimate, but not sexual, and despite myself, I liked the feel of him close to me. Not that I’d admit it.
“Life would be so boring if we had all the answers. Don’t you think the work is the reward? The dreaming and the sacrifice and the evolution?” he asked, the heat of his body soaking into me. “Changing who we are as we learn more about ourselves and the world around us?”
Damn. It was too early for this. “Now you’re a poet?”
“You bring it out of me.” He chuckled. “For years, I’ve been miserable. Stuck in my own head and making the same unsatisfying decisions over and over again. And then I realized that I didn’t have to. I can be different. I can do different.”
I tipped my head back and surveyed him. “What made you realize that?”
“Seeing you that day in Boston.” His dark brows pulled low, his expression thoughtful. “You woke me up, Dragonfly. Suddenly, I was experiencing the world fully again.”
The lump in my throat was so big I thought I’d suffocate on that dock. How could I possibly respond to that? Why did he have to be so honest and vulnerable? It was really attractive, and in my emotionally delicate state, I could not handle this introspective version of Gus.
I turned my attention to the sun, which was almost fully risen. An explosion of golden light reflected off the deep blue water. There were only a few clouds overhead, allowing the colors to flood the sky.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “I’ve missed Maine.”
“This place is in your blood, Dragonfly. It’s not the kind of thing you can just pick up and forget.”
He wasn’t wrong, though I wouldn’t tell him that. “I tried,” I said softly. “I tried to erase every part of this place from my soul. Without my mom, it didn’t seem like a place worth saving.”
He squeezed me tight. “I’m glad we got you back.”
“Only for the summer,” I warned, even as I melted into him.
“Right,” he said, though his tone was skeptical. “But we’ll take it.”
We stayed on the dock until the sun was fully up and my skin had warmed from its rays.
Despite the anger and confusion and frustration that had been my almost constant companions since I arrived in Lovewell, I couldn’t deny how perfect this moment was.
Until, that is, an ear-splitting noise shattered the peace.
We scrambled to our feet and scanned our surroundings as the noise echoed around us again. A huffing and groaning sound, but low and deep, like the mooing of a cow crossed with a demon’s cry.
Gus, standing rigidly, put an arm out to protect me.
“Do you think it’s a bear?” Despite growing up here and spending my entire life in forests, bears still scared the shit out of me.
“No, unless it’s been shot and is slowly bleeding to death,” he said. “It’s far too…” He trailed off as he looked around. “Unnatural and alarming to be a bear.”
It was louder now, and my stomach churned. What could it be?
Sticking close, we cautiously made our way back toward the house, our heads on swivels, surveying our surroundings.
“Oh shit,” Gus said beside me, beginning to laugh.
“What?” I craned my neck, eyeing the marshland at the edge of my property.
My stomach dropped at the sight. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”
It was a moose.
No. It was two moose. Having some kind of sexual encounter.
Gus’s cheeks flushed as he laughed and laughed. “God, that sound. I’ve never heard it so close up.”
“Gross. It’s truly horrible. Do you think it’s consensual?” I turned my back, laughing so hard at the insanity of the sight that tears streamed down my face.
He cringed. “And, of course, it’s Clive.”
“Clive?”
“Yeah, the bull. He’s infamous.”
“I don’t even wanna know. He’s not, like, the mayor or some stupid small-town mascot, is he?”
“Clive? No fucking way. He’s more like an agent of mayhem.”
“Good, because moose are assholes.”
“Yes, they are.” He grasped my arm gently, forcing me to move toward the house a little faster.
Despite my natural tendency to fight him at every turn, I let him guide me quickly away from the massive creatures fornicating.
“And really dangerous,” he said. “So let’s get inside.”
As we approached the patio, the unnatural honking and groaning growing more distant, I couldn’t stop laughing. It was all so ridiculous. The outdoor sleepover with my ex-husband, my emotional confessions, and now a moose porno on my property.
I clutched my side, sucking in a deep breath. “What a way to start the day. Watching the sunrise on my fortieth birthday with no one but my ex-husband for company, feeling old and exhausted and ruing the fact that I haven’t had decent sex in years.”
“Excuse me?” He crossed those thick arms, making his biceps bulge.
I rolled my eyes. “We’re not talking about that. It didn’t happen.” Maybe it was immature of me, but there was no way I could keep going if I stopped to think about the night we’d spent together. How it hadn’t scratched an itch so much as awakened a deep well of need that I refused to acknowledge.
He quirked an eyebrow, but I kept going, my rant gathering steam.
“The moose are getting laid, and I’m not.” I shook a fist at the sky. “Thanks, Mother Nature, for reminding me that I’m old and washed up and not getting any.”
Gus pulled me to a stop and smiled. God, I hated his smile. The damn thing transformed his face from ruggedly handsome and intimidating to beautiful. White teeth, round cheeks, and little crinkles around his eyes.
Asshole.
“Put that away,” I hissed, my heart squeezing.
“What?”
“Your smile. I don’t want it, and I don’t like it.”
That only made it stretch farther. He brought his hands up to cover his face, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Stop,” I barked. “I can still see it.”
“I can’t help it. You make me smile, Dragonfly.”