Staying For You Page 7

  Once we’re outside, I take in a deep breath. The scent of pine hangs heavy around us with the brightness of snow. The combination is incredible, assaulting my senses and reminding me of my childhood. It’s like I lit a holiday-scented candle during Christmastime and it makes me want to bake gingerbread cookies and trim a tree.

  The only sounds around us are the crunching of snow beneath our boots and the jabbering of both Brody and Isabelle. Brody points out a bird or tree and Isabelle simply loves to hear her voice be heard. I chance a glance over in Owen’s direction. He has one hand wrapped around each of Issy’s ankles, helping her kick her legs and looks up at Brody over his shoulder to check on him.

  “Did you sleep okay?”

  I turn to look at him with a smile on my face. “I did. Very good, actually.”

  “I was worried. I saw your sheets on the couch. I can get you different ones if those aren’t soft.”

  My cheeks flush which I know has nothing to do with the weather. “It’s a thing I have about other people’s sheets.”

  “It’s not me, it’s you, huh?”

  “Exactly.” I chuckle. I explain my fear of basically any bed that isn’t my own and he shocks me when he simply nods in understanding and promises he’s not offended.

  “I really do get it. And you know, not that I don’t make sure to wash all sheets and trust my cleaning company completely, but I’ve seen and smelled the way some of these guys come back after a long day of fishing so I’m gonna go ahead and side with you on this one,” he says and the grin he gifts me along with a slight chuckle makes me grateful I said yes to a walk. Even if it is so cold out here that my teeth are chattering.

  The kids, on the other hand, look like they’re having a great time and don’t seem bothered by the cold in the least.

  I rub my hands together as we stop and stare out at the icy lake to my left as we walk down the hill. It even looks cold. The gray skies are almost ominous with the threat of what it’s about to unleash on us. I turn toward Owen and shake my head at how relaxed and chill the babies are while I feel like I’m one second away from turning into a popsicle. “Were they born in the Arctic? Seriously, how are they not freezing?” I tease.

  He shrugs one shoulder and Brody wiggles on his back. “They’re used to it. Like me.”

  Owen grabs my arm when I almost slip on an icy patch. “Thanks,” I breathe out.

  “Anytime. Wouldn’t want you to break anything out here.”

  “But in town it’d be okay?”

  “Of course,” he jokes.

  “So, does your family live around here, too? You said you were babysitting while their parents were away?”

  He shakes his head and drops his grip on my arm when he sees that my feet are steady. “They live in my hometown. Liberty, Michigan. But their parents, my sister and brother-in-law are Brody’s and my good friends Rex and Chloe are Issy’s so I’m more of a surrogate uncle but I claim her as my own. I don’t know if I told you who they are? I probably did and now I’m just repeating myself and rambling.” He chuckles and pats Issy’s chunky thigh. “Anyway, they love the snow and outdoors so the kids are in it a lot. And my brother-in-law’s dad, Paul, he’s an outdoor junkie, too. He’s always taking them out sledding or just on walks. And it’s not as if Michigan is warm this time of year.”

  The way his eyes soften when he talks about his family makes my heart turn to goo. I bite my lip, thinking that I’m ridiculous and hard up for the touch of a man if just seeing how a man behaves around his family has me feeling this way. Of course, it helps that he’s not at all hard on the eyes. “Still. I’m a giant wuss.”

  His grin is crooked when he nudges me with his elbow. “Nah. You just don’t have thick enough skin yet.”

  He couldn’t know how true that statement is.

  I take a deep breath, thinking over how many times my author friends and others have told me to let the bad reviews roll off my back and focus on my writing. To get back to my roots and remind myself why I fell in love with the process in the first place.

  But that love was lost about eight books ago. When I forgot that I simply wanted to touch readers’ hearts and tell stories that weren’t being told. When I realized that I didn’t know the first thing about love because my own husband didn’t love me. And then I realized I didn’t love him either.

  I was a sham.

  I was pretending and not doing it well.

  And my writing suffered for it.

  Because I got into my own head.

  I nod. “True.” I decide on saying because it is. “So you’re from Michigan. How’d you end up here?”

  “I came up here for a week during the summer after I graduated from college.” He stops in his tracks and extends his arm out, points at a cabin that we just walked past. “Stayed in that cabin with a couple buds. Fell in love with everything about it. One night I was up at the lodge to grab some ice or minnows or something — I don’t remember. But I ended up talking to the owner who was old as the hills but had all these stories. Stayed up there for hours just listening to these stories about fishing and the people he’d meet who came here to stay. When it was time to leave, I wasn’t ready. Luckily, we’d driven separately so I wasn’t dependent on anyone else for a ride so I decided to stay for another week just to spend time with him and listen to what he had to say.”

  He motions behind him and spins around. We’ve been walking for about five minutes which isn’t long, but with the cold temperatures it’s long enough for the kids. We start back up the hill, away from the shoreline at the end of The Escape property but still walking along the lakeside. “He didn’t have any family who wanted to take over so he was going to sell it eventually. It bugged me, you know? I couldn’t imagine some corporation buying it from him and turning it into anything other than what it was. I loved the way this place kept things simple. I went back to Michigan, ready to start working at the job I’d had lined up in a marketing firm and feeling really uninspired about it. Before I came here, I couldn’t wait. Thought it was what I wanted. But the second I was back home, something felt wrong. Then, Harry, the previous owner, got sick.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How did you find out? I mean, if he was just the owner…”

  “His son called me. As much as he left a mark with me, I did the same for him. He was in the hospital and wanted me to come so I hopped on a plane and flew up here. He’d gotten an infection from a cut that he ignored. It spread through his body.”

  He’s quiet for a bit and he looks at the cabin he pointed out earlier as we pass back by it on our way up the hill. The exertion of walking in the extra clothes and cold air passing through my lungs has me breathing a little heavier than normal and he slows down. Embarrassed by how out of shape I am, I duck my head. “Is he okay now?”

  “He um,” he clears his throat, “didn’t make it. Infection was stronger than he was. While we were at the hospital, he made me an offer on this place.”

  “How did his family react?”

  “They were grateful. The Escape was important to Harry but his kids didn’t want to be resort owners. I don’t blame them some days. It’s not as if I have much of a life outside of this place but most of the time I just feel lucky that this is my life,” he says, holding his arms out around him. “I mean, look at what I get to wake up to every day.”

  I do as he says, looking around. “I agree. You’re lucky.”

  Issy whimpers and I’m glad we’re back to my cabin so we can get inside and warm up. “Come on in? We can have a cup of coffee.”

  “You sure? We kind of interrupted your day.”

  I give him an ‘are you kidding me?’ look. “You do realize that this is my plan for my time here, right? Coffee and doing whatever I feel like doing every day?”

  He grins. “I like that. That’s exactly what I hope for out of my guests, actually.”

  We remove our boots and begin the awkward process of wrangling Issy out
of the sling and Brody out of the backpack. I’m up on my tiptoes trying to pull Brody, who’s surprisingly heavy especially in his snowsuit and boots which keep getting caught on the straps, out of the backpack. Owen is bending low on his knees to help. “Thighs burning yet from having to stay in the squat?” I tease.

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  I finally get Brody out and almost fall down. Brody’s going back and forth between whimpering and giggling, not having a clue what is happening and why we’re struggling so badly.

  “How the heck did you get them in here by yourself?”

  “It was a challenge. And I’m sure if someone was recording it, I could have made some good money on America’s Funniest Videos.”

  By the time we’re finished getting Issy out of the sling, we’re both rolling with laughter and the kids are just happy it’s over.

  He tosses his coat over the back of one of the kitchen chairs and I do the same with mine when he collapses on the couch, Issy on the floor by his feet. He’s wearing a dark green Henley shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. It’s exactly what I would expect him to be wearing.

  He rolls his sleeves up and I see his strong forearms. They’re hairy but not overly. But I can literally see the cords of his muscles. It’s… well, I need to quickly divert my eyes because in the span of the last twenty minutes I’ve been turned on by this man more times than I was in the last year of my marriage simply by him being him. “I bet that was a workout with them strapped to you, huh?”

  “I promise I’m not this out of shape but yeah, they’re a lot of work.”

  He reaches over and pulls a bottle out of his coat pocket and shows it to Isabelle. “Hungry, baby girl?” She scoots around and reaches for the bottle. “Mind if I use your microwave?”

  “Ha! Yeah. Of course. Coffee?”

  “Sure. Thank you.”

  He warms up the bottle while I check to make sure the coffee in the pot is still warm enough from earlier and pour us each a cup when I see that it is.

  “Cream or anything?”

  “Black is fine.”

  “Ah. Man after my own heart.”

  He settles back on the couch and reaches down for Isabelle and I stop him.

  “Mind if I do it?”

  “What?”

  “Feed her? I mean, I saw you give her a bottle yesterday and it’s not as if she needs much help there. She’s just so cute and precious. My nieces and nephews are all toddlers now and don’t have any of my own, and it’s just been a while since I’ve held a baby. I would love to help you and feed her. And, I haven’t…” I trail off, realizing I just way overstepped by the look on his face. “Never mind,” I murmur and bring him his coffee and curl up on the other end of the couch with mine, wishing that this small cabin would double in size so I wouldn’t feel like the walls were closing in on me.

  “You don’t want to now?” he asks, reaching a hand over to give me the bottle.

  “I do. I thought… well, I thought I was being weird and overstepped.”

  “Why would that be weird?”

  “Oh, just give me the baby,” I say with a laugh, realizing that he’s looking at me funny because I’m acting irrationally.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I take the bottle from him then he leans over and lifts Issy into his arms and carries her to me. I cuddle with her for a second before she’s reaching over for the bottle, ready to be fed.

  “My word. She’s cute.”

  “Yeah, she really is.” He runs the back of a finger along her cheek and she smiles around the nipple on the bottle. A little bit of milk runs out of her mouth and he’s quick to wipe up her chin with his finger, wiping it on his jeans without a care in the world.

  “Okay, go on. I know there’s more to the Harry story and how you came about owning this place.”

  Chapter Eight

  Owen

  Last night I hardly slept. Knowing she was down here in this cabin by herself had me tossing and turning, unable to relax or get comfortable. Worry had settled in that she wouldn’t be warm enough, would be spooked by how dark it is at night without the city lights lighting up the night sky, that whatever sadness brought her here to The Escape would keep her up unable to sleep.

  This morning after I got the kids ready, I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax until I was sure that she was okay. I have no idea why I feel such a strong concern over her well-being but it’s there and I can’t stop it.

  When she opened the door, I felt my lungs inflate fully, just seeing her in person with proof that she was, in fact, okay. I have no idea who Scott is to her, but she dismissed him and even ignored her phone ringing immediately after she hung up. I heard the man on the other end shouting but couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  There was a lightness about her after she opened the door and hung up the phone. It was as if she was physically shaking off the person on the other end. I expected her to tell me no when I asked if she wanted to go for a walk but was pleasantly surprised when she seemed eager to join us.

  Right now, though, holding Issy in her arms and feeding her, she looks relaxed and perfectly at home in this tiny cabin.

  “Owen?”

  “Huh?”

  “I asked you about buying this place?”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You seemed lost in thought.”

  I was.

  Thoughts about her. And how she seems to fit in here so well and how much I like seeing her at The Escape and I barely know her. I want to ask what brought her here. I want to tell her we’ve talked enough about me and it’s time she shared a little more about herself. I want to understand so much about her but I can’t figure out why. We’ve spent a few hours together and I want to stretch every minute.

  It makes no sense.

  The last person I felt this way about was my sister’s friend Lily. And nothing ever came of my feelings for her. I always thought we just needed to get our timing down for us to be together. That she was the one and I just needed to be patient. But then she met someone. The one, actually. And she married him. And I was hundreds of miles away getting myself drunk on the day she walked down the aisle to another man.

  I didn’t have the courage to go after her when I had the chance.

  But Cami’s not here to date anyone. She’s just a guest.

  It’d be good to remind myself of that.

  So instead of asking about her like I want to, I resolve her curiosity by answering her questions.

  “Harry made it clear that he wanted The Escape to be in the hands of someone who didn’t want to change it from being the low-key vacation spot that it always was. I must have shown him that’s what I loved most about the place. After I left here to go back home to Michigan, he met with his family, asked them what they would do with it if he left it to them in his will and they made it clear they’d end up selling the property one day.”

  She was staring at Issy in her arms while I was speaking but at the mention of the family selling the resort, her head popped up and cobalt blue eyes widened in disbelief. “Really? That seems…”

  “Heartless?” I ask and she nods. I take a big swig of my coffee and keep hold of the mug. “I thought so, too. But really, they were just being truthful. And that’s all he’d asked for. He told me his family never had the heart for it the way he did. And that’s okay. Nothing wrong with having different dreams than your parents. To them, they just saw an old-fashioned hole in the wall resort that was a time and money suck. To me, I saw nothing but possibilities.”

  Her eyes soften and she lifts Issy up to a sitting position when her bottle is gone and she starts fussing at still being reclined back. She rubs her back and rests her cheek on the top of Issy’s head, eyes still on me as she waits for me to continue story time. Brody’s been playing quietly on the floor and walking around, snooping in the new space.

  “You said his family seemed grateful that you took it on?”

  I nod and swallow hard, wiping my palms on m
y jean-covered thighs then lean over, resting my forearms on my legs, holding the cup with the tips of my fingers. “Yeah. They were. When he was,” I pause, looking at nothing in particular on the wall, “at his sickest, all they wanted was for him to have peace before he… passed on. And that’s what he got. In the end. Because he knew The Escape would be well cared for.”

  “By you.”

  “By me,” I agree.

  Our eyes lock and she offers me a faint smile. Her lips are closed, not showing me her teeth. Man, she’s pretty. Really pretty. I’m pretty sure she isn’t wearing a bit of makeup, aside from maybe whatever was left over from yesterday and wasn’t washed away completely.

  Issy reaches for me, breaking the hold that Cami had on me and I happily take her into my arms. Glad for the distraction of the kids.

  “Brody?” I call out, noticing he’s been quiet for a few seconds more than I’d like. He can get into more crap in a split second than anyone I know. He’s curious, lacks fear, and incredibly adventurous. A bad combination.

  I hear him giggle and stand up, wondering what he’s gotten into. I shoot Cami an apologetic look and follow the sound of his innocent sounding laughter, which I’m afraid is far from innocent.

  And when I walk into the bathroom, I know why.

  He’s sitting on the floor surrounded by tampons and pads.

  Not in the packaging anymore, either. There’s plastic tubes, cotton, string that he somehow got removed from the cotton, and wrappers all over the bathroom floor. I keep hold of Issy with one arm while I cover my mouth with the other. A laugh escapes and then I feel a hand on my back and hear a gasp.

  I look behind me and grin. “Oh my gosh!” Cami screeches then covers her face, burying her head into my back.

  “Whatcha got there, B-man?” I can barely get the words out without laughing.

  He turns his stout little body to look at us and I can’t contain my laughter. He has a pad stuck to his chest and he’s so dang proud of himself. He’s just beaming with happiness as he points to his chest.