Page 23 of Fortune's Control
I was confused. “Lainey, and who else?”
“Me.”
He was my husband, not my friend. I ran away from my problems and created another one because I liked Shane. If we have more conversations like this one, my interest in him will evolve into a full-on crush.
Shane released my hand and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Do you have plans thisafternoon?”
I dreaded it. “I thought about job hunting, but there probably isn’t much demand for accountants specializing in nonprofit work. Maybe I could open a cafe.”
“How about you skip all that instead?”
“And do what?”
“I’m helping Aiden redo his new store, and it’s time I get back. Come with me; that way, I can take you home later. It’ll be dark, and you don’t need to walk alone at night.”
“I borrowed the bike.”
Shane removed his arm. “Exactly. It’s nearby, so we can scoop it up later.” He scooted to the bench’s edge, putting both hands down to push himself up. “There’s no Mayberry here, so let’s resume the search tomorrow.”
He offered his hand, and I took it.
*****
Our fingers dangled together in a loose grip, palms barely touching. Our thighs touched back at the stone bench, but this was more intimate, communicating our comfort with each other. We weren’t strangers anymore.
We maintained a slow pace, allowing me to revisit the town. I once walked past the town sign, and it felt like stepping into another world. Live oaks covered in Spanish moss shaded us along the narrow road.
“This place deserves to be in its own coffee-table book,” I mused.
Shane glanced at both sides of the road and chuckled. “Why is that?”
“Look at that building. No place like it exists in the entire world.” I nodded toward it with my chin.
“That place? It’s a store, and they exist all over the world. That one contains supplies for fishermen.”
“You can accuse me of nostalgia, but I think it’s lovely. Gray wood, with piles of brick keeping the entire place upright.”
“So it doesn’t flood. There’s a creek behind it.”
I rolled my eyes. “There’s a painted sign on the front. I can’t read it.”
“It’s the original owner’s name. They died out a couple of generations ago.” I drew back, surprised, and Shane noticed. “Don’t be impressed. I know a few facts, but my sister is the historian. This town is her hobby. It was her hobby.”
“I’d like to meet her someday.”
“Someday.”
I didn’t push. Shane never used the word strained to describe their relationship, but it wasn’t needed. “What’s that building? It looks like it’ll fall apart.” It was a giant two-story house, with peeling gray paint, a caved-in roof, and a weed-covered lawn. “That house has a story. Houses like that always come with a story.”
“It’s called the gray lady. Jack calls it the gray bitch, and it’s not a house. It was a wellness resort for rich people a long time ago.”
“Why does Jack call it that?”
“Because it’s not his.”
We left the decaying resort behind, as Fortune Creek’s downtown, all two blocks of it, took over.
My back itched. I reached behind, neck craning, and an odd sensation filled me.
