Page 48 of The Library of Second Chances
He could feel her stare from behind the large sunglasses, even if he couldn’t see her eyes. She wasn’t going to make this easy.
“Can I sit?” He gestured toward the empty expanse of bench next to her, its brown wood weathered to the point that it looked more like driftwood. He made a mental note to add new Polywood benches to his plans.
She protectively placed a hand over the spot next to the box. “You may not. I’m expecting someone.”
Undeterred and unwilling to let either of them continue festering in their confrontation from the evening before, he said, “I’ll just sit with you while you wait.”
She scooted down the bench as far away from him as she could, angling her body toward downtown so she could watch for whoever was coming.
“Who are you waiting for? Pam? Pete?”
She turned to scowl at him, that deep wrinkle forming between her eyes. “None of your business.”
A man with a small tote bag began walking down the sidewalk in their direction, and she straightened up, sitting taller.
“Please leave,” she hissed. “Haven’t you done enough damage for one week?”
The man veered away from the benches and walked down into the sand in front of them, pulling a towel from his bag and putting in headphones. Logan could feel Lucy deflate next to him as she sighed. Who was she waiting for? A date perhaps? She seemed too nervous—and now that he really looked at her, more made up than usual—to just be meeting a friend. Was she datingsomeone? He’d never seen her around town with anyone, so he’d just assumed she was single. What kind of guy would she get all dressed up for and bring cookies? Maybe they were his favorite too. Whoever he was.
Logan batted away thoughts that were beginning to border on jealousy to focus on the task at hand. He’d have to break some confidences, but since there didn’t seem to be much that stayed secret on Heron Isle for long, he decided to take his chances before Mr. Lucky arrived.
“Just so you know, Mildred came to me. She wants to spend more time with their daughter and their new grandchild. She asked if I could come up with a number high enough to convince Marty to let the restaurant go. They’re both exhausted, and she wants to retire. She was going to tell him as soon as I had a final number.”
Lucy’s expression softened, although she still looked skeptical. “Didn’t you tell me it was all confidential?”
He shrugged. “It is, but I trust you.” And he did. She might not like him much right now, but she hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just protective of her island. It was kind of sweet how much she loved it, how hard she’d fight for it, even if it meant fighting with him.
She looked out at the ocean, as if trying to decide whether she believed him. He followed her gaze, watching a pelican as it dive-bombed the water’s glossy surface, and then flapped its wings to take itself airborne again. A slight breeze floated on the salty air, and it made her hair dance around her face and over her shoulders. He had the strongest urge to reach out and tuck a strand behind her ear, but forced his eyes back out to the sea.
She looked at her watch and then down the sidewalk toward town, a worried look creasing her forehead.
“Your friend late?”
“Maybe.” She bit her lip and started to bounce her leg again. “You don’t have to stay and”—she searched for the word she wanted to use—“entertain me. He’ll be here soon.”
“Oh, so itisa he.” Logan kept his tone light, teasing her like he used to tease Carly about her dates in high school.
“Yes.” Her tone indicated that the answer wasn’t simple. “I think so.” Her brows furrowed. “It’s hard to explain.” Her shoulders drooped as she slumped back against the bench.
She looked like the wounded fawn he and Carly had found in the back pasture as kids. They’d patiently tip-toed their way toward it with a bowl of water. He didn’t want to spook Lucy, but he so badly wanted to wipe the pained look off her pretty face.
“Try me.” He angled toward her, putting an arm on the back of the bench, his fingertips almost reaching her shoulder.
She studied his face, started to open her mouth, but then snapped it closed.
“Blind date? Someone set you up?”
“Sort of. Something like that.” She looked around as if embarrassed to have anyone else overhear their conversation.
“And you said you’d meet him here on the benches?”
She nodded. “But I guess he’s not going to show.”
“Maybe something came up.”
“Or he took one look at me and ran.” Her voice was quiet, sad. She pushed up her sunglasses, as if she could hide more of herself behind their oversized shades.
It was completely impossible. No one could see the woman sitting here, looking as if she belonged on a swing in a Renoir painting, and not count his lucky stars. He looked out at the water to keep from making her uncomfortable before he spoke.
