Chapter 6
6
“Good morning, Saint.”
Saint looked up from his breakfast and tried keeping the frown from his face. Kristen Hunt. He understood she was someone his mother felt he should get to know better because she was single and an attractive churchgoing woman. She seemed to be a nice person, but deliberate or otherwise, she seemed to pop up almost everywhere. At first, he figured it was a coincidence but now he was beginning to wonder. And those suspicions were annoying the hell out of him.
“Hello, Kristen.”
“Surprise seeing you again this morning.”
Was it? Since moving back to the cove he’d made sure he checked in with his mother periodically. During those calls he would mention any stops he planned to make before and after work. Had it been a chance meeting yesterday evening when he’d run into Kristen at the grocery store? And the day before at the dry cleaners? He would have a talk with his mother and explain there was such a thing as stalking, and it was something that did not turn him on.
And speaking of turning him on...
Kristen didn’t. There was no chemistry between them. Zilch. Irene Toussaint had no way of knowing that. Maybe he should explain it to her. Then again, maybe he shouldn’t.
“I’m on my way to work and decided to drop in and grab a cup of coffee. I saw you sitting over here and wanted to speak and to let you know that my invitation to dinner is still out there.”
She had reminded him of that yesterday, the day before and a time before that. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, although he knew that he wouldn’t. The last thing he wanted was to pursue a serious relationship with anyone—especially not any of the women his mother was throwing in his way.
“Okay, I’ll be seeing you,” she said.
No time soon, he hoped. “Have a nice day, Kristen.”
“You do the same, Saint.”
He watched her leave and was glad she hadn’t invited herself to join him like Robin Dyer had done last week. Robin, a single teacher in town, had cornered him in the Ribs Shack. Even when he’d told her that he had an important call to make, she had slid into the booth across from him anyway. Had she not assumed he’d wanted to make the call in private? He’d put an end to that nonsense when he told her he’d suddenly remembered something he had to do and asked the waitress to pack up his meal for him to take out.
He took another sip of his coffee and then bit into his blueberry muffin while noticing how busy the Witherspoon Café was. He was glad he’d come early and had gotten a table when he had.
“Hi, Saint.”
He waved to the woman who’d called out to him as she rushed out the door. At least she hadn’t stopped to chitchat. As he took another sip of coffee, he thought about the woman he’d been thinking about a lot lately, ever since he’d heard she was coming to town. By his calculations she would have arrived yesterday. Namely, Zara Miller. He still thought of her as Angel during the wee hours of the night while remembering the time he’d spent with her.
It was during those times when he would lie in bed and recall the night they had spent together in his hotel room. The next morning, he hadn’t awakened to an empty bed like he’d assumed he would. She was still tucked close to him, asleep. Either she was a sound sleeper, or he’d worn her out the night before. By the time she had finally awakened, he had showered, repacked and ordered room service to deliver breakfast.
The moment she’d seen him she’d smiled at him. That expression signified she hadn’t regretted anything about the night before. That had made him cross the room and give her one hell of a good-morning kiss. He had been tempted to undress and crawl back into bed with her, but time would not allow it. He’d had a plane to catch.
After kissing her, he had stood back and watched her slide into the T-shirt he’d worn the day before to go into the bathroom. She had used his hotel-room toiletries to freshen up before joining him for breakfast. They talked about how the weather had improved and the state of the economy. Neither mentioned anything about the night before. Nor had they shared personal information about each other.
After they’d finished eating, she had gone into the bathroom to change clothes. Before leaving she’d tried returning his T-shirt, but he’d told her to keep it. For some reason he wanted her to have something to remember him by. Then they kissed goodbye, and it had been long and deep. Afterward, he was convinced the taste of her had remained on his tongue for a long time.
“Hello, Saint.”
A feminine voice cut into his thoughts of the past and in a way he was annoyed by it. He didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of his table but returned her greeting anyway. “Hello.”
He must have given her a strange look because she then asked, “You don’t remember me, do you?”
He had no reason not to be honest with her. “No, I don’t.”
“That’s understandable since it’s been years. You had a crush on me in the sixth grade.”
Did he? He didn’t remember but then he had to have only been around eleven at the time. “What’s your name?”
“Samantha Groover.”
That name didn’t ring a bell, which meant she obviously hadn’t left a lasting impression on him. “It’s been a while, Samantha.”
“Yes, it has. I just moved back to town. I was working at the Colfax Bank in Tulsa, Oklahoma, as a credit analyst agent and jumped at the chance to transfer to the branch that opened here in the cove. My folks were glad about that.”
“I’m sure they were.” He hoped she saw they were running out of things to say and would move on. However, no such luck when she said, “Your mom came into the bank the other day. I hadn’t seen her in years.”
He nodded, certain there was more. “She did?”
“Yes. And of all things she remembered that crush you used to have on me. She said you had moved back to town and were still single and hadn’t gotten married yet.”
He took a sip of coffee while thinking that he definitely needed to have a talk with his mother, and soon. On a given day at least one or two women would approach him saying they’d run into his mother. “And?”
A wide grin spread across her face. “And I couldn’t believe it. You were the most sought-after guy in our junior and senior class. It doesn’t seem right that you’re still single. All the girls wanted you. I would have rekindled your interest in me then if I hadn’t been going steady with Oscar Belkins.”
He wasn’t sure what made her so certain she could have rekindled anything. Instead of making a comment, Saint took a quick look at his watch and was glad she took the hint.
“Well, you need to go, and I do, too. Which way are you headed?” she asked.
To douse the thought that they would be leaving together, he said, “Nowhere. I need to check my phone app to see how the stock market is doing.” He pulled his phone from his jacket.
“Oh. Okay,” she said, disappointedly. “While you have your phone out, let me give you my number.”
He didn’t recall asking for it and knew if she gave him hers then she would expect his, and he just wasn’t feeling it. Lucky for him at that moment his phone rang. Thank goodness, he’d been saved by the bell, although it was one of those annoying telemarketing calls that he hated getting. “Sorry, I need to take this.”
“Sure. You know where I work.”
And then she walked out, and he had a feeling she was deliberately swaying her hips as she did so. Releasing a deep breath, he leaned back in his chair and stopped his phone from ringing. All three women who had spoken to him this morning were nice-looking, but not one had pressed his buttons, set a spark or caused anything like a pang of longing to shoot through him.
The waitress came up to his table and asked, “Would you like more blueberry muffins?”
“Yes, thanks.”
When she walked off, Saint allowed his thoughts to drift back to the one woman who had the ability to make his breath catch on a surge of yearning every time he thought about her. Some of those thoughts had stirred his libido in all kinds of forbidden ways. He recalled how in the days, nights, weeks and months that followed that night with her, he had thought about her often. Nearly constantly.
He was glad he’d told her to keep his T-shirt. More times than not, he wished he would have kept something of hers to remember her by. However, in a way he had kept something of hers, although it was intangible. It had been the sanctity of his memory of her.
Two and a half years after that night with her, when he’d returned to Catalina Cove to live, he had attended his boss Vaughn Miller’s surprise celebration cookout party. That was when he’d seen Angel again. She had been just as shocked to see him.
“Here you are,” the waitress said, placing a plate of hot blueberry muffins in front of him and refilling his coffee. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, thanks. You can bring me my check.”
Back at the office, Saint was busy most of the day. After a meeting with the new bank manager in town, he grabbed lunch at Spencer’s, then was back at the office for a two o’clock meeting.
After joining his parents for dinner after work, he walked into his home close to six that evening. After removing his suit and throwing on a T-shirt and jeans, he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and went to sit on his screened-in patio.
As Saint gazed out at his land, he couldn’t stop his mind from going back to that day three months ago in February when he had discovered Angel’s true identity. Once they’d gotten over the shock of seeing each other, he had waited for an opportune time to talk with her privately. The party was in full swing when he’d finally found that moment to approach her. They knew they needed to talk and agreed the party wasn’t the place and should go elsewhere.
As he sat alone sipping his beer, Saint’s mind was filled with memories of that night when he and Zara left the cookout together.