The Love Shack

Chapter 4

Oliver had seenmany women work their wiles, but he had to admit, Lark was so open and friendly about it, most guys wouldn’t see it coming. Take Wheeler, for instance. The guy would probably ask her out before she finished her meal.

And now here was another man crowding in next to her. That disgruntled him enough that he returned his attention to his food and the massive task of winning over the town matriarch.

Betty Cemetery did not have wiles. She had picky standards and the determination of a mule. She was no soft granny. More like an iron ruler who wanted things her way, no exceptions.

He heard Lark say, “Lawson, hi.”

So yeah, out of the corner of his eye, Oliver watched the scene play out between the two of them. He’d do so until he finished his food, which should be in the next ten minutes as long as he didn’t linger.

The man next to her glanced down in surprise. Yeah right. Like he hadn’t noticed Lark? Get real. With her big smiles and friendly manner, no man would not notice her...except that Oliver hadn’t at first. But then, he had a lot on his mind.

“Lark? Sorry. I don’t mean to crowd you. Just trying to get Wheeler’s attention so I can pick up my order.”

Wheeler noticed him then, gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared into the kitchen.

“No problem,” Lark said. “It’s busy here, so crowding is expected.” Then she turned back to him. “Oliver, have you met Lawson Salder? He owns the custom print shop with the new, beautiful wishing well out front. I can personally vouch for the quality of his products and the excellent service.”

“Appreciate the endorsement,” Lawson said to her.

Oliver stood and held out a hand. “Oliver Roth. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Lawson said. “New to town?”

“I was around all spring, choosing property, working out the details, ordering equipment, all that. But I just officially moved here a week ago.”

“I’ve got a year on you, then.” Lawson smiled. “Welcome to Cemetery. It’s a great place. What business are you in?”

“I’m opening a fitness studio in a week—that is, it’ll open if I can get Betty Cemetery and the town council to agree on a few things.”

Leaning back on the bar and folding his arms, Lawson advised, “Don’t let Betty bulldoze you. She means well, but her love of the town can sometimes turn her into a dictator. In the end she’s usually reasonable.”

“I must have missed that side of her so far.”

They both laughed.

Tilting back to see them, Lark raised her brows in surprise. “So for Lawson, you just offered all that up. For me, it was like prying out state secrets or something.”

Lawson grinned at her. “Were you doing a little bulldozing of your own, Lark?”

She flashed the guy a smile. “Just being my usual friendly self.”

Wheeler returned with a few massive, loaded bags of food. “Here you go, Lawson. You’re all set.”

“Thanks.”

“Good heavens,” Lark said. “Are you feeding an army?”

Still amused, Lawson shook his head. “This is my dinner for a week. Until I’m done renovating my place, it’s a lot easier to microwave a meal.”

“A masterful plan,” she declared.

The two of them conversed for a minute more, teasing back and forth while Oliver did his best to finish up. He wanted to retreat, to work out his arguments with Betty so he’d be prepared when next he spoke to her.

Naturally, he couldn’t concentrate with little Miss Sunshine sitting beside him, bubbling over with effusive charm. How old was she, anyway? Nineteen, twenty? With him being thirty-four, she was far too young for him to be noticing her.

Never mind that the girl had incredibly flawless skin, smooth and pale with the faintest rose hue on her cheeks. Her thick, nearly black hair framing her face offered a pretty contrast, as did those storm-colored eyes framed by dark lashes.

Sinking his teeth into his burger, Oliver tried to banish all the poetic BS from his brain. He didn’t care about her skin and hair, her gray eyes or that sweet smile...

Breaking into his thoughts, Lawson said, “I’m at the shop most weekdays.” He gathered up his bags. “If you find the time, stop by to chat. I can give you the ins and outs of the town council.”

Nice guy. Friendly, welcoming. Oliver nodded. “I appreciate that. Thanks.”

Lawson put a hand on Lark’s shoulder. “This one could give you a rundown of the vacationers. She’s had some unique experiences.”

“True that,” she said, as if they shared a secret.

What the hell did that even mean? Oliver eyed her, but didn’t ask. He wouldn’t ask. Instead he nodded at Lawson and then ate two more fries.

Suddenly Lawson glanced out the big front window, went alert at whatever he saw and quickly gave his goodbyes, leaving in a bit of a rush.

After watching him a moment, Lark dug back into her food with gusto.

Silence reigned. Not a companionable silence, either. More like the kind that throbbed with impatience, the kind that built tension until one of them broke.

He had no intention of starting another conversation, and made it clear by putting all his focus on his food.

Of course, that didn’t deter Miss Sunshine. After only a few minutes, she sighed. Loudly. “You know you’re curious.”

He gave her the side-eye and asked with believable confusion, “Are you talking to me?”

Laughing as if delighted by his act, she swiveled around on her stool to face him again. Her shiny hair, just long enough to drift across her shoulders, swung with her movement.

His fingers twitched—and he knew why. He wanted to touch her hair, touch her. Feel the softness of both. The warmth.

Didn’t matter that he’d been flying solo a little too long, or that she was boldly flirting. Becoming involved with her was not happening. He had priorities, and getting drawn into a dead-end relationship wasn’t one of them.

A bubbly, attractive, engaging young woman did not factor into his long-term plans.

“Stylists,” she said, while holding a pickle, “are a lot like bartenders. We hear everything, from everyone. Lawson is right. I have a feel for the town already.”

“Stylist, as in you do hair?”

“I do hair,” she confirmed, “and so much more.” Adding a lofty note to her voice, she claimed, “I create beauty, accentuate looks, give complete makeovers and make people feel good about themselves.”

And maybe she was a little full of herself, too. “Clearly your endless talents are wasted in Cemetery. Shouldn’t you be in Chicago, LA or maybe New York?”

Pink lips curled in a smile that could sway the most cynical of men. “I’m a small-town girl at heart.”

Something in her tone, in the way her eyes shifted away from his, told him there was more at play. This time, the silence got to him. “Okay, I’ll bite. What wise insights have you learned?”

“None,” she said, and now her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Lawson and I were just joking.”

Not buying it, Oliver said, “You started this,” by way of challenge.

“I didn’t start anything.”

Oliver snorted.

The rude sound caused her mouth to twitch. “Okay, so maybe I did, just a little.”

Glad that she was back to teasing, he tipped his drink at her and said, “So let’s hear it.”

She ate another fry first. “Much as Betty would deny it, a lot of hookups happen on the beach. That means I get plenty of bikini-clad walk-ins wanting their hair quickly styled so they can get back to the beach for an evening stroll.”

Dubious, he sipped his drink. She made evening stroll sound like a euphemism. “So despite being in and out of the lake, the wind and sun—”

“That stuff can be brutal to hair, and that’s all fine when a group is enjoying the water during the day. But for evenings...” She shrugged. “Seems everyone has given up the joy of a neat ponytail, braid or messy bun, which are all acceptable and casual styles.”

His gaze moved over her perfect hair. “Somehow I can’t picture you with messy hair.”

“It happens, but a really good cut makes it easier to repair.”

It was off their original topic, but he asked, “Do you cut your own hair?”

“That’s almost impossible to do. I have a friend who used to do it, but now that I’m here...” Her shoulders lifted. “I’ll need to see if one of the other stylists at the salon can do it the way I like.”

By the second, his curiosity about her, about her life before moving here, expanded. “Your friend is too far away to visit?”

“Yup.” She didn’t explain. “So anyway, when these women come in, often in their bathing suits, they talk a lot. Who’s hot, who’s available, who to avoid—that kind of thing.” She leaned in to confide, “I didn’t tell him, but Lawson is considered prime material.” Her gaze slanted to the bar, and she added, “Now that I’ve met him, I’m guessing Wheeler is, too. See, I’ve heard mention of the guy working at the restaurant, but wasn’t sure who they meant.”

He had less than zero interest in “hot guys.”

As if she’d read his thoughts, she said, “Know what you should do? Get Lawson to make you up some promotional T-shirts, and get the finest guys to wear them. Guaranteed a lot of women would notice.”

Genius advertising. But what really struck him was the way she said it, as if she wouldn’t be all that interested in either Lawson or Wheeler, and for some damned bizarre reason, he was glad.

Resting a forearm on the bar, he asked, “How old are you, Lark Penny?”

Her brows lifted. “Twenty-four, why?”

A decade younger than him, but not really too young. Ignoring her question, he asked, “What size do you wear?”

Her brows went even higher, followed by a light laugh. “I think I need to know why you’re asking before I answer.”

Finding his first real grin in a week, Oliver said, “So I can make sure your promotional T-shirt fits. Why else?”

Lawson could barely see Berkley by the time he got out of the restaurant. Wearing a wide-brimmed white hat, and with Hero on a leash, she bypassed the beach and headed to the rockier shore of the lake, where vegetation grew in thick grasses, skinny trees and weeds.

Maybe dogs weren’t allowed on the sandy beach—or maybe she just wanted to walk alone. He should respect that.

But what if the opposite was true? What if she was lonely?

What if the past still plagued her...?

He didn’t like the idea of kind, bighearted Berkley—a woman who loved and protected animals—lying awake at night with foul memories hounding her sleep.

Didn’t like it, but understood it.

He stood there hesitating for so long, he nearly lost sight of her. “Screw it.” Jogging, he went to his truck, loaded the food into the oversize cooler he’d bought for just this reason, then locked it up and took off in a sprint.

Why did it feel like he needed to catch up to her? She was clearly fine, out walking on a beautiful day. She couldn’t be lonely, or she’d have visited again.

Hedefinitely wasn’t lonely—and yet, he ran fast enough to catch up to her, past people who gaped at him, dodging around two kids, jumping over a rough-edged rock. In jeans and work boots.

No wonder people stared.

When he finally got near enough to call out to her, he noticed that she’d taken off her sandals, removed her shirt and shorts, and was now wearing a red two-piece bathing suit.

His heart punched hard against his ribs. Naturally, his gaze devoured her. Now, seeing her like this, he was glad she’d sought privacy. In many ways, Berkley felt like his own personal...what? Fantasy? Regret? A combo of both?

She looks amazing.

Body toned from all the work she did around the shelter, yet still curved in the right places, she had a body to draw attention. Standing ankle-deep in the lake, she stared out at the horizon. Lost in thought, or maybe musing over the future.

When her head dropped forward, his heart twisted in actual pain and he automatically got moving again.

Hero heard his noisy approach, turned with a warning bark and nearly jerked her off her feet. She flailed, lost her footing and landed with a splash on her rump.

He should feel guilty, he thought, and instead he grinned as Hero’s warning turned into a happy woof, his body wiggling with excitement. And yeah, Berkley’s scowling face. Her awkward posture in the lake. Now doused in lake water.

When he was near enough, he slowed to a walk until he could greet Hero properly. “Dude, you are a menace. First you jerk me off my feet by my shorts, and now you’ve dunked Berkley in the lake.” He rubbed the dog’s ears and scruff, then patted his sides.

“He’s not the menace.” The leash slapped into Lawson’s chest and Berkley snarled, “Hang on to that.”

He quickly got hold, but it wasn’t an issue. Hero wasn’t going anywhere. The dog was far happier to see him than Berkley was. As she sat in the water fuming, he strode closer and smiled as she jammed her now wet hat back onto her head. “Do you need a hand up?”

From beneath the brim, she shot dagger-eyes at him. While wearing a little red suit.

You’d think he’d never seen a woman before, given the way he struggled to keep his attention on her angry face. Fact was, though, he’d never seen Berkley like this, showing so much skin.

And what beautiful skin it was.

“Why in the world did you charge us like that?”

“I didn’t. I was just...” Jogging? Again, jeans and work boots. He’d sound like an idiot if he said that, so instead he knelt down and asked, “What’s wrong?”

The antagonism left her, replaced with disbelief. She slapped the water with an open hand. “What makes you think anything is wrong?”

“I don’t know.” He felt it, though. Years ago, when he’d see her out and about, her expression had often been firmly neutral. He’d understood that. In the neighborhood where they’d lived, a wrong look could set off a dozen bad reactions. Someone would feel challenged. What? What the fuck are you looking at? Or they’d get ideas. Where you going, baby? Come and play. The worst was if they felt targeted, because that always resulted in violence.

It was best to be invisible when possible. And when that didn’t work, stay utterly blank.

That was how she’d usually been, so neutral that she nearly disappeared—until the scandal.

Seeing the stiffness in her shoulders, he tried a smile. “Come on.” He caught her upper arm and helped heft her to her feet. From her waist down, water dripped along her body. “Careful.” Tiny waves lapped at his boots, but he didn’t care.

Stepping away from him, she irritably slogged through the moss-filled water and over to a flat rock, where she sat with an audible plop.

Hero was at her side in an instant, laying his block-shaped head over her thighs and staring at her in worry.

“I’m okay, bud.” She bent over, pressing her face to him and effectively hiding.

The curve of her spine intrigued him, rising from those minuscule briefs, past her narrower waist and up to her drooping shoulders.

Lawson was starting to feel like a dick. Without being invited, he scrunched onto the limited space beside her. He shouldn’t—he’d already overstepped enough—but his palm touched her sun-warmed back before he made the conscious decision to do it, and since it was already done, he stroked her. Lightly, gently, a touch of commiseration before he removed his hand. “Rough day?”

Seconds ticked by before she nodded. “The worst.”

The crack in her voice sharpened his awareness even more. “Want to talk about it?” The worst had to be pretty bad, considering how and where they both used to live.

“No.” She drew a slow breath and straightened, her gaze aimed out at the lake. “But I need to get it together because Hero worries.”

“Yeah, somehow he’s transformed his furry face into grandmotherly concern or something.” When her lips quirked, it felt like a gift.

She stroked a hand over the dog’s head. “He has the most amazingly expressive face.”

Looking at her did awful but incredible things to him, things he didn’t want to experience, so Lawson gave his attention to the lake. Mid-June shouldn’t be this warm, but the humidity added a degree of misery to the sunshine. “I thought it would smell better here.”

Berkley actually laughed, then nudged her shoulder playfully against his side. “Pretty sure there’s a dead fish somewhere, probably half-eaten by a gull or something.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s especially strong if someone causes you to fall into the lake.” The look she slanted his way left no doubt where she put the blame for that.

Repetitive lapping of water over rocks, mixed with the chirp of insects and the occasional trill of birds, lent a sort of peace to the day. “It’s still peaceful here.”

She turned her head to look at him. “You live on the lake. You can enjoy it anytime you want.”

You’re welcome to enjoy it with me.No, he wouldn’t say that. Right now he was slammed with work, both at the shop and on his house. Added to that were the complicated aspects of their history. The unpleasantness. So instead, he said, “Feel free to enjoy it anytime you want.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“No, I meant...” What the hell did he mean? If he said, You can visit it from my property, but without my participation, he’d just sound like a giant ass. He did some quick editing in his head, and came up with a more pleasant invitation. “You’re just a short walk through the woods, right? Be forewarned, though, I don’t have a sandy shoreline like this. Mine is all water weeds and the occasional snake or snapping turtle.”

She wrinkled her nose. “As enticing as that sounds, I think I’ll pass.”

He grinned with her. “Eventually I’ll add a dock, and maybe get a paddleboat or a fishing boat—something with oars.”

“Do you fish?”

“Not so far.”

“You’ve had other things to do.” She wiggled her wet toes, stared down the shoreline for the longest time before she said softly, “A dog died today.” Subtly, she swiped at her face.

It leveled him that she might be wiping away a tear, but when he glanced at her, her cheeks were dry. Didn’t matter, when all that sadness showed in her pretty blue eyes. It nearly shredded his composure.

Instinctively he knew that if he touched her again, she’d lose it, and that would upset her even more. Instead he asked, “One that you’re housing?”

She shook her head. “No. I do everything I can to make sure they’re healthy, and that they’re getting any care they need. Other shelters are overrun, though. So many people ditch their pets, as if they’re not important.”

He’d witnessed it, here in the States, and around the world. Sadly, sometimes kids and elders were ditched, too.

When she spoke again, her voice was steadier. “A driver saw a dog get hit on a busy road. No one stopped except him.”

“Not even the person who hit the dog?”

She shook her head. “The dog was still alive, but badly hurt, so he was afraid to move it. He called a sister shelter in a panic, asking what to do.”

“Were they able to help?”

“The Love Shack is closer, so they contacted me...” She took a few uneven breaths, and her voice lowered. “I went as fast as I could, but the dog had passed away before I got there.”

Damn. Lawson let his shoulder brush hers. Just that, nothing else. There were times when human contact could make a real difference because it proved you weren’t alone—no matter how it sometimes felt. Occasionally it had worked for him, even when the contact came from a stranger.

She didn’t move away, so he took that for encouragement.

“The guy who found him said he hadn’t suffered. He’d sat with him, talking softly, stroking his side...and then the dog faded away.” She blinked twice. “He was upset, but I told him that he’d done the right thing.”

So she’d not only had to face that situation, she’d had to comfort someone else. Her strength and compassion amazed him. “That was kind of you.”

“I was glad he’d stayed with the dog. He took one of my cards.” She cleared her throat. “He also offered to bury the dog. He was...irritated that the driver hadn’t stopped.”

“You mean pissed off.” For only a second, Lawson leaned a little closer. “There’s a difference.”

She gave a half smile. “Yeah. He was pretty pissed off. It looked as if the dog had been on his own for a while. I’m glad he had company at the end.”

“Me, too.” Maintaining their slight physical connection, they sat in silence. Even through his T-shirt, he could feel the warmth of her skin, and the sunshine amplified her scent, that of sweet musk. Of woman.

Of this one particular woman.

Hero still fretted, watching Berkley, while she leisurely stroked the dog’s neck.

Knowing she must see some awful things in her line of work, he wondered how she handled it, and at the same time, he was glad the animals had her.

She was so different from what he’d imagined when he knew her as a kid. Different, too, from the persona she now projected to the world. Her personal style exuded bold confidence. Edgy jewelry. Fun hair.

A killer red bikini.

Yet in her daily life, she was overall reserved and private. Fascinating conflicts that made him want to know more. About her, her thoughts. Future plans.

He didn’t doubt that her direct manner made her more than capable of dealing with people who dropped off unwanted pets. She’d be brisk but polite, and deep down she’d be glad to have the animals so she could care for them properly.

She’d do equally well with people anxious to adopt a new furry friend, probably researching them to ensure the dog or cat would be safe, loved and included.

When the silence stretched out, he asked, “Do sad things like that happen very often?” How many times had she been called to an impossible situation?

She used her hat to fan her face. “There’s always something.”

When she said nothing more, he got the message: she didn’t want to elaborate. Nothing made a guy feel more helpless than wanting, needing, to make things better, but not knowing how.

The sun sank lower in the sky, glinting on the metallic hoops in her ear. A light breeze, scented by the lake—and the dead fish—stirred the pink tips of her hair. She was all color, shine and sadness, rolled together.

He should be getting as far away from her as he could. In some indefinable way, she was a threat to his peace of mind, to the new life he wanted here in this odd little town where gossip and a creepy mannequin were the biggest problems. He had a load of work to do yet tonight. The coolers in his truck would only protect the food for so long. It was getting late.

None of that seemed to matter right now. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She let out a sigh. “Honestly, you already did it.”

Didn’t that just make him feel ten feet tall? Glad that he hadn’t budged, he studied her profile, the line of her small nose and the curve of her rosy cheek. Those lips that had softened...

The urge was there to put his arm around her, to ask more questions, but instead, he remained still, afraid that anything at all might spoil the moment.

She turned his way and gave him a small smile.

Yeah, pretty sure he just fell into her gaze. Smack-dab into all that blue. “I’m glad I spotted you, chased you down, accidently caused you to fall in the lake and didn’t let your grumpy face scare me off.”

That earned him a grin, which had Hero flagging his whip of a tail hard enough to leave marks.

“Damn, ease up, boy.”

“Don’t cuss in front of my dog,” she reminded him, then added, “And yeah, that tail is almost a weapon, but then his block head is, too.” She cuddled the dog closer. “He’s left a few bruises on me. Once when I was going in for a kiss, he turned his head and nearly broke my nose.” She cupped the dog’s face, saying sweetly, “Sometimes, Hero’s love hurts.”

That concerned Lawson, because although Berkley stood five feet five inches, and wasn’t a delicate woman, more like compact, it wouldn’t take much for a dog Hero’s size to knock her over.

He could see that Hero was a big lover-mutt and never meant any harm. Unfortunately, the dog sometimes had the awkwardness of a puppy and, as Lawson had already pointed out, the fretfulness of a grandma. He also had the heart of a rescuer, so overall, the dog was pretty awesome.

“You have a way with awkward pets.”

“Just Hero,” she said.

“I disagree. Your thief of a cat has been visiting me.”

Her brows lifted. “Oh?”

Right. Look at her playing innocent with her little Oh? like she didn’t know how sneaky that cat could be. “I’ve busted her twice trying to steal my things. When she’s not doing that, she has her butt in my face.”

Expression comical, Berkley said, “Should I ask?”

He gave her a mock frown. “I was squatted down, working on some plumbing, and somehow she got in the house. One minute I was under the kitchen sink facing a drainpipe, and then suddenly a cat tail swiped across my nose. It startled me so badly, I clunked my head on the cabinet and then fell on my ass.”

She fought a grin to say with a measure of seriousness, “But you didn’t land in the lake, so you can’t complain too much.”

“Good point.” Her skin was now dry, and her nose was turning pink from the sunshine. He liked seeing her like this. Friendlier. More open.

His food might all spoil before he got it home, but at the moment he didn’t really care. Helping Berkley lift some of her worries seemed like the most important thing he might do this week. “I looked around, but I couldn’t figure out how she got in.”

“I’m not surprised. I spent months trying to make her a house cat, just so she’d be protected from predators and accidents, and I worried that she’d leave or get lost.” Heaving a sigh, she said, “It was terrible. She screeched like I was mistreating her!”

He cracked a grin. “Poor Berkley. Trying to do the right thing but I guess the cat didn’t appreciate having her freedom curtailed?”

“She hated it, and it didn’t matter anyway. Cheese kept finding a way out.”

“And you worried every time?”

“At first, but then she always came back, so I stopped torturing us both and just let her do her thing while I watched to figure out her pattern. Only once or twice have I had to let her in, and that was in the winter. In the summer, if there’s a screen in a window, she’ll wiggle in around it somehow. If it’s a screen door, she’ll open it.”

“I have a sliding door, but the screen was closed when I checked.”

Berkley tilted toward him and confessed, “I’ve seen her open and close doors that aren’t latched. Finding it closed only shows how polite she is.”

“No way,” he said, just to keep her talking. Every time he was around her, he saw a new facet of her. Antagonistic, vulnerable, proud, determined. And now teasing and happy—probably because pets were her favorite subject. It worked for him.

She put a hand on her heart as if swearing an oath.

All it did was draw his eyes to her chest, to plump breasts cupped in red material.

“One hundred percent true.”

Her words shot his gaze back to her face, to a smile that was pure sunshine, and he hadn’t known that he liked sunshine so much. He’d lived and labored in countries that were hotter than Hades, where the sun could roast you, especially while doing heavy construction. To him, a cloudy day meant cooler conditions to accomplish whatever he had on his agenda.

Here in Cemetery it was a little different. A pleasant day brought out the vacationers, which added to his print shop sales, but he was typically indoors until the early evening.

When he was working on his renovations after work, the lowering sun meant a respite from the blistering heat, mosquitoes galore and the extra humidity from the lake.

Sitting here with Berkley, the sun reflecting off the lake seemed nice. Peaceful.

Even the stench of the dead fish didn’t bother him.

Taking his silence for interest, she continued. “Totally shocked me the first time Cheese did it. She nudged the door open with one little paw, came in, then nudged at it until she got it closed again.”

“You realize how unbelievable that sounds, right?”

As if to convince him, she said, “One time I was soaking in the tub. I was at home alone—I mean, I’m always alone, you know?”

That was a double whammy right there. First putting that particular image in his head, and then squeezing his heart with the easy acceptance of her isolation. He nodded.

“When the bathroom door opened, I almost died of fright—until Cheese stepped in, casual as you please, and then closed the door again.”

Okay, yeah, so he was still back there with her soaking in the tub. The visual of that, complete with steam, played out in his mind. Didn’t take much imagination to remove the swimsuit from the picture of her now. He could see her with her pink-tipped hair pinned up, all the camouflage of her makeup removed.

And alone. Far too often alone.

Had she ever had a meaningful romantic relationship? He opened his mouth to ask, changed his mind and affected a look of surprise instead.

Smiling, she shook her head. “The little thief even curled up on my towel.”

Lawson rubbed the bridge of his nose, then his mouth. The image remained, blunted only by the casual way she’d stated her relationship status. I was at home alone—I mean, I’m always alone, you know? That had to be by choice, and now he wondered if she’d said it like a warning, so he wouldn’t get any ideas.

Probably too late.

But the reality was, she’d been incredibly sad over losing an animal, and now she was smiling. He refused to ruin the shift in her mood by turning into a typical “sex on the brain” kind of guy. It was an effort, but he came up with a bland but suitable comment. “Wonder where she learned to do that.”

“I wish I knew. Cats are adaptable, and smarter than most people realize.”

He’d never really thought about the intelligence of cats one way or the other. “I’ve never had a pet.”

“Never?”she asked with disbelief, like he’d claimed to never bathe or sleep.

“Growing up...” He shook his head, glossing over it as best he could because she’d made it clear she didn’t want to reminisce. “I felt bad for the roaches that had to scrounge around our place.” Not a lie. His folks were not the domestic type. “I wouldn’t have left an actual pet alone with either of my parents while I was at school and work.” And he’d worked a lot, going straight from school to various part-time jobs. For him, any credible excuse to stay away from the house was a blessing.

And he’d needed the money. Saving up for an escape had become his obsession early on.

When she averted her face, he verbally pivoted to say, “Once I moved out on my own, I definitely wasn’t home often enough to care for a dog or cat, and then I started traveling...”

They sat quietly a moment, each of them snagged on that long-ago time and how utterly miserable it had been.

“I didn’t know I wanted pets,” she finally said. “Not until my mom passed away and I took over caring for her dog, Baby.”

His heart tripped at her softly spoken words. It was a connection, and it was trust. Until that moment, she hadn’t even hinted at their roots. Given where they’d come from, he’d understood.

Tentatively, he inched into the conversation with her. “I kind of remember that pooch. Bristly gray fur, like a schnauzer or something, right? I saw you out on the front lawn with him a few times.”

“I didn’t know you saw me. You never seemed to see anyone.”

He took that one on the chin, because yeah, he’d been deliberately aloof, his way of dealing with his circumstances. He didn’t do small talk, didn’t wave to neighbors.

Overall, he pitied or detested them. The only two emotions he’d allowed himself to feel back then.

Keeping it light, he said, “You’d be hard to miss with the way that dog yapped at everyone.”

Again she smiled. “I was probably letting him do his business. My mom...she got to where she couldn’t get out of bed.” A beat of silence passed, then another.

Lawson felt regret welling inside him. How hard was this for her? What could he do to make it easier?

Emotions shifted over her features, and her voice softened. “When I was away from the house too long, the stinker would go in the corner. I couldn’t blame him, since there was no one there to let him out, and he was getting older. Then I discovered piddle papers, these plastic-lined pads for dogs that had accidents, and he was pretty good about using them. I just had to remember to throw the old one away when I got home, and put a clean one out each morning.”

Meaning that turned into one more thing for her to do. Get to school, care for her mother and the house, do the shopping and cooking, and clean up after the dog. “Sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

“When you love someone, taking care of them is nothing at all. I was glad to do it.”

Were they talking about the dog—or her mother? Lawson couldn’t quite read her face, especially since she gave all her attention to Hero, who remained relaxed beside her.

So if the dog wasn’t worried, maybe she wasn’t too upset discussing this particular topic. He really needed to get his food home, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to stand. “I think I’d already moved away before you lost your mother.”

She pressed her forearm to her middle, as if she had a stomachache. “You were there for the headline news, right?”

Another shocker: she’d just brought up the scandal.

After a slow exhale, Berkley rolled her eyes. “Don’t expire on me.”

“No, I...” He what? “I got the feeling you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“There isn’t much to say, is there?” Her jaw worked, her lips compressed. When she spoke, he barely heard her. “It was so freaking awful.”

Because she’d had the bad luck to have an affair with a married man.

And not just any married man, but Chad Durkinson, husband to a local news anchor, a hometown girl who’d made it big and was considered a real success story.

“It’s the elephant in the room, right?” She smirked at him. “I know you know. You know I don’t want to talk about it. So there it sits, taking up space and sometimes making things awkward.”

Sometimes...But not always. Mostly, his time with Berkley was interesting, refreshing and in some ways addictive. The more he saw her, the more he wanted to see her. The more she shared, the more he wanted to know.

With barely muted defiance, and a touch of hope, she met his gaze. “Not that it matters anymore, but I thought he was single. That’s what he’d told me. If I’d known Chad was married, none of it ever would have happened.”

So the hope was for him to believe her? Lawson didn’t have a single doubt. “He was a lying bastard.”

For once, she didn’t chide him for swearing. Relief widened her eyes a little, and then she nodded. “He was that and more, but I didn’t see it until it all blew up in my face.”

An apt description for the way the story had been sensationalized. “Durkinson was a complete coward, too. He let you take all the heat.”

Tipping her head back, she stared up at the sky. “That’s not how the public saw it. Chad was the poor victim, don’t you know, somehow bewitched by the dog-faced nobody who wanted to use him...for something.” Her gaze slanted his way. “No one ever really specified what I was supposedly after.”

He nearly flinched at the moniker—dog-faced nobody. Obviously, she’d heard—or read—all the insults thrown her way. “You’ve always been attractive, Berkley. Whoever started that name was probably jealous.”

“Jealous of me? Hardly.” Then she muttered, “The name sure caught on, though.”

Only because Durkinson’s wife had used her access to local media to trash Berkley far and wide. What dirty work she couldn’t accomplish herself—like the absurd name-calling—her loyal fan base was happy to handle for her. There were a few social media defenders for Berkley, just not enough to counter the group taunts. Even online news sites and local commentators had something to say about it.

Berkley huffed. “I never quite got why everyone painted him as such a catch. I mean, I liked him because he liked me and...”

And her life had been a giant cyclone of sadness. An older guy who treated her kindly, who gave her reprieves from the poverty and treated her dying mother with respect, would have felt like a gift. “The dude was doughy,” he grumbled. “A thirty-year-old man-baby with a receding hairline.”

Snickering, she said, “That’s mean.”

“But true—and don’t you dare defend him.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Especially since it wasn’t his looks that won me over.” She turned thoughtful for a moment. “Chad was just an outlet, you know? A way to forget about things for a little while. Seeing him was separate from everything else that was falling apart.”

“I get it.” For Berkley, the asshole had probably seemed like a knight in shining armor.

“When I couldn’t go out, Chad would come to the house and bring my mom flowers. When he took me to dinner, he’d insist on getting food for her, too. He seemed so considerate, to both of us.” Her mouth twisted. “My mom always worried about me, but she told me once that she was glad I’d found someone. She didn’t like the idea of me being alone after she...was gone.”

No doubt Berkley’s dying mom had also been looking for a light in the darkness. A polite, older man to help care for her teenage daughter so she wouldn’t be left alone in the world. It had to have been hell for her. For both of them.

Lawson wished he’d been a better person back then, someone they both could have turned to.

Not that he’d been in a position to offer any real help. He’d been fighting his own battles and because of that, he’d been a powder keg of rage waiting to detonate. He’d avoided commitments, but he’d definitely felt pity.

Pretty sure Berkley would hate it if she knew.

Since she’d been brave enough to bring it up, to own it, maybe he should own his part in it, too. “I’m the one.”

“The one?” she asked, confused.

Yeah, probably didn’t make any sense to her. “The one who got her to end her reign of terror on you.” He’d threatened Chad against ever using Berkley again. She wasn’t a plaything for him, and Lawson told him to stay away—or else. Then he’d flat-out told the wife the truth of things. Actually, in a way, he’d threatened her, as well.

Yet until this moment, he’d never admitted it to anyone, because he hadn’t wanted to be involved. Hadn’t wanted to be drawn in.

Hadn’t wanted to care, because caring would only make it harder to get away.

Now, here with Berkley so many years later...maybe that was changing.