Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Lara had never been much of a morning person.
She was happy to let Grandma handle opening the museum, and then Lara would shuffle in a few hours later and work until closing, Grandma leaving in the mid-afternoon to be off doing whatever her busy schedule demanded—walking club, gardening club, fundraising, marketing.
And so on.
Mary Lou Townsend was tireless. Lara, on the other hand, liked to live her life at a slightly slower pace. It felt…safer.
The Wild Rose Point History Center was a multitude of things these days—including interactive exhibits, a library of primary sources for the area, the starting point for the historical trail that would lead people out to the lighthouse—but as it had been when it was little more than a few artifacts on a table a hundred years ago, it was a family tradition.
Lara hadn’t planned to follow Grandma’s footsteps.
It was something in her life that had just…
happened. Not wanting to go away for college, she’d taken online courses and worked at the museum.
When grandma had broken her leg eight years ago, Lara had taken over the day-to-day management of the center and enjoyed herself.
She didn’t do things quite like Grandma did, and she thought that would be bad.
Instead, it had been a positive. It had allowed them to expand some things and become more…
Well, Lara didn’t like the word modern, because it didn’t seem fair to all the history in the museum and how important it was, but she’d incorporated social media and a children’s section, and their daily visitors had grown.
It turned out, she made a damn fine museum owner and operator.
As long as she didn’t have to wake up before eight.
She blinked her eyes open lazily, glanced at the clock.
Five past eight. Ugh. On a yawn, she pushed out of bed and padded over to her window that overlooked the ocean.
She pushed back the curtains and let the warm light of the sun hit her face.
Then she watched the waves for a little while, counted morning walkers.
She thought vaguely of what it would take to be the kind of person who got up and walked before their workday started. Who had morning routines and never wavered from them.
She was old enough now to accept that she would never be that kind of person, so why try? She had her own little schedule, and it suited her and her life.
She went to her closet and picked out an outfit suitable for a day at the museum and the fall weather. Humming to herself, she walked into the hall thinking she’d do her hair and makeup and then maybe take her time making a labor-intensive breakfast.
The groan of pipes reminded her that Ty was here, which made her smile. She didn’t know if she believed he’d really stay put for good, if he was really done—though he’d never claimed to be before—but she hoped for his own sake he was ready to make some changes and plant some roots.
It’d probably be better for them both if he planted those roots somewhere else, but she was going to be supportive no matter what.
And then he stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway.
Shirtless.
She let out a little eep. He turned at the noise, then smiled in greeting.
“Morning. Sorry if I woke you up. Never did wash the plane off me last night, and I left my bag in my car at the museum.” He was currently rubbing a towel over his wet hair. “Your grandma washed my clothes for me, so I thought I’d run through.”
Lara nodded along, not really listening. She was too busy telling herself to look anywhere but at his abs. His abs that still had some droplets of water on them because he hadn’t dried off well enough.
But she registered the apology, somewhere beyond the mush of her current brain situation.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” she said, then had to clear her throat because her voice sounded oddly high.
“You’re a guest.” A shirtless guest. With wet hair, stubble from a day of not shaving, and she could smell her own soap on him.
A man that attractive should not be allowed to smell like something delicious.
It wasn’t like she didn’t have ample experience pretending he wasn’t an attractive man. It was just…it had been a while.
Time to get yourself together and remember how.
“Did you eat with grandma?” she asked, waiting for him to walk down the hallway because she sure as hell wasn’t squeezing past him.
“Stuffed me full of pancakes. She left you some.” He turned and began walking down the hall. He went to toss his wet towel into the hamper in the laundry room.
He was oblivious, as he should be. As their friendship dictated.
So, on a deep breath, she followed him out through the living room and into the open kitchen. There was a plastic-wrapped plate on the counter with pancakes and half a grapefruit. Usually Grandma didn’t cook for her, but she always fussed over Ty.
Growing up, sometimes her other friends had asked her if she was jealous of how Grandma treated Ty, but Lara had never felt that.
For one thing, her grandmother had been forced into becoming her parent—so it was just different than a lot of grandparent-grandchild relationships.
For another, Ty had never been fussed over in his house.
His mother had died when he was a baby, and all he’d been given was a terrible dad.
Lara unwrapped the plate, stuck the pancakes in the microwave, not daring to look back at the living room where she could hear Ty moving around. “What are your plans for the day?” she asked conversationally, hoping that rustling sound was him putting on a shirt.
“I’m coming with you to the museum.”
“Oh.” She pulled her plate out then with some trepidation moved for the table. When she glanced his way, she winced. Still without shirt. “Why?” Not that she didn’t have some things for him to do that would keep him busy and far away from Bruce Wagner.
“Mary Lou said she’s got some odd jobs for me to do around the museum while I’m here. Earn my keep.” He finally pulled his t-shirt shirt on, followed by the sweatshirt he’d been wearing last night.
Lara knew her grandmother well enough to know it was to keep Ty busy and away from his father—just like she’d thought herself—not earning any kind of keep. But no one needed to say that out loud.
She ate one of the pancakes. “You want the rest?” It was an old habit, sharing food with him because his father hadn’t always provided a growing boy enough.
And then when baseball had gotten particularly serious in his teens, Ty spent way too much time—to her way of thinking—trying to make his body absolutely perfect for baseball.
Boy is it perfect.
She couldn’t look at him, so she shoved the plate in his general direction when he came into the kitchen area.
“You didn’t eat much.”
“I’m going to stop by the coffee shop on the way in and order a shake masquerading as coffee. Enough calories for ten breakfasts.”
He made a considering kind of noise, but he finished off her pancakes while she went and did her hair and makeup. Lara grabbed her coat in a nod to the cool fall temperatures, and then they pushed outside together.
The late morning was crisp and beautiful and perfect. They had to stop and have conversations about Ty’s return with a few different people before they made it to the coffee shop. She ordered her s’mores travesty, as Ty called it, and got him a plain black coffee.
“So boring,” she told him as she handed him the to-go cup. An old familiar conversation that made her feel…good. Happy.
She’d missed him, whether she ever let herself admit that when he was gone. Having him home was always a good thing.
They walked along the beach and Lara lead Ty up to the back entrance of the museum. They tossed their now-empty coffee cups in the trashcan next to the door and then Lara fished her keys out of her purse.
Since it was the employee-only entrance, it was locked at all times, even with Grandma upstairs. The lock turned as easily as it always did, but when she pushed, nothing happened.
She frowned at the door for a moment. “That’s weird.” She turned the knob, and pushed again, but nothing happened.
“Here, I’ve got it.” Ty reached forward, placing his palm against the door.
She was still holding onto the knob, so they were close.
She should have moved out of the way, but even his impressive muscles couldn’t seem to budge the door open, so they had to work together, facing each other, lodging their shoulders against the firmly stuck door until something creaked.
Then they were both tumbling forward.
She couldn’t find purchase, except Ty’s arms came around her as she lost her footing, and instead of falling onto hard floor, she fell right on top of him.
He laughed, his arms around her. Her just…laid out on a very sturdy wall of impressive muscle feeling the rumble of his laugh against her body.
She could not breathe. She must have gotten the wind knocked out of her. It was the only explanation she was willing to entertain at the moment.
“I’ll scrounge up some WD-40, huh?” With ease, he maneuvered her off him and got to his feet and then helped her up. His hand was large and calloused and he hefted her to her feet with that same physicality he’d maneuvered her off him.
She was absolutely mute. She didn’t think she could breathe.
And he didn’t let her hand go even once she was on her feet. So they stood there, a bit like strangers shaking hands. Except for the part where her cheeks were hot and her heartbeat was an erratic pinball machine through her body and when she met his gaze, the blue was dark and stormy.
That little storm drew out—neither one of them looking away or dropping the hand hold.
Until Grandma’s voice echoed down the stairs.
“Everything okay down there?”
Lara knew she had to speak. She really needed to stop getting lost in the blue of his eyes.