Those Cassabaw Days. Cindy Miles
Читать онлайн книгу.
her shoulder, exposing the tattoo.
Matt rubbed his chin. “You’re going to be a busy girl, then.”
She cocked her head. “I sure hope so. And what about you? I didn’t see you at Aunt Cora’s funeral.”
Matt rubbed his jaw and shrugged. “Wasn’t here. I’m on a day-by-day agenda at the moment.” What it really depended on was whether his ex-commander proposed any special-op missions to him. Matt missed the corps. Missed his role in it.
“Well,” she said, fidgeting with the charm on her necklace, “now that I’m lined up with who Owen Malone claims is the best mechanic and fix-it man around Cassabaw, I’m all set.” She nodded at the house. “The power will be turned on by five this afternoon. The truck will arrive tomorrow with all of my stuff.”
Matt fought a grin. “Stuff, huh?”
That barely there laugh left her throat and shot straight through him, leaving his insides feeling...weird.
“Yeah, all my spectacular stuff. I need to take inventory at the café, order supplies and check on repairs.” Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re up for all this? I mean, do you have other work planned on that day-to-day agenda of yours? Your dad said you were in the marines?”
Emily probably thought he was some sort of loser drifter. He didn’t know how much of his special-ops past Owen and Jep had told her, but the less she knew, the better.
“Been in the corps since I turned eighteen. Two tours in Iraq, two in Afghanistan. The last one left a load of shrapnel in my shoulder from a blast. Was just released a few weeks ago.” That’s all she’d need to know about his military history.
“God, Matt—I didn’t know. I mean, Owen didn’t say you’d been injured.” Her gaze moved over him, and her eyes softened again. She chewed on her bottom lip and leaned a little closer, as if she wanted to touch him. Instead, she hugged herself. “Looks like we made it back home together then, huh?”
He met her gaze and held it. “Looks like it,” he responded.
A quiet stretched between them. Beneath the shade of the trees, the breeze grazed the back of his neck. The brine of the marsh ran through his lungs, and it reminded him of simpler times. He ran his hand over his head, breaking their trance.
“Well,” he said, and cleared his throat. “We’ve got work to do.”
“We do!” A spark lit her eyes. “What to tackle first? I guess you’ll want to go over everything and then give me an estimate?”
Matt grabbed the hood and closed it. “Yep. But I need to take your Jeep for a spin, see what’s up, then get it over to our place and on the lift so I can see what’s going on with it.” He glanced out over the way he came. “Let’s drive it on over and you can bring Jep’s truck back.”
The smile she gave him was brilliant, full of hope, full of light.
“Sounds like a plan. Are you all mechanics now, too?”
He shrugged. “We’ve always done our own mechanic work. Trawler, trucks, cars. Started working on a project in high school with Jep and Dad. An old Nova. Never finished it.”
“Do you still have it?” she asked.
“Under a tarp in the shop.”
Her smile was wide. “Well, you should definitely finish that project, now that you’re home. There’s good money in classic-car restoration.”
“I guess so.”
“So did you cut through on our old path to get here?”
“Yep,” he answered. “The brush is overgrown, a lot of vines and oyster shells in the lane. I’ll take a machete to it as soon as I can.” He moved to the driver’s side, and Emily climbed in on the passenger side. How crazy was it that after fifteen years they were riding in the same vehicle?
As Matt started the engine after several tries and put the Jeep into Reverse, Emily giggled. He backed up, then paused. “What?”
“It’s so weird to see you driving,” she said, echoing his own thought. Then, she reached over and punched him in the arm. “Matt Malone.” Again, the dimple.
As he shifted into First, he shook his head and he couldn’t help the tug of his lips. “Emily, I’ve been driving for twelve years.”
“You used to smile and laugh so easily,” she said. “Such a hot dog, doing anything it took to make other people laugh.” From his peripheral, he watched her turn her head to stare out the window as they moved down the gravel drive. “Growing up just plain sucks.”
His eyes fell on her now, and to the ink he’d noticed earlier on her shoulder. He couldn’t see all of it, but it looked familiar. Flower petals or something, floating away. Farther down her arm, he noticed another tattoo on the inside of her wrist. Before he could stop himself, he grazed it with his fingers. “What’s that?”
As they bumped down the driveway, Emily turned her wrist and lightly touched the number inked into her skin with a long, delicate finger. “It’s the year my parents were born.”
Matt nodded as he braked and shifted gears at the road. Pulling out onto the two-lane highway, the Jeep sputtered as it tried to catch a gear. Finally, it did, and he picked up speed and shifted again. “What about the other one?” he asked.
Emily’s hand moved to her tattooed shoulder. “It’s a dandelion. My mom’s artist mark.”
He nodded. “I thought I knew it from somewhere. Cassabaw’s welcome sign.”
As Matt pulled into the Malone driveway, his damned eyes found Emily again. At once, questions flooded his mind. Did she have a boyfriend? A husband? He didn’t think she’d had kids. As he watched, her eyes followed the drive, taking in the sight of the big stilted river house Jep’s father had built over a century ago. Sitting beneath a canopy of aged pines and live oaks draped in Spanish moss, it was much like the Quinn place, only a lot older. He’d missed it.
Matt studied Emily, from her ponytail to her shoulder, and farther down those long, tanned legs. Jesus.
This was definitely not the same Emily he’d gone mud bogging with, or crabbing at the mouth of Morgan’s Creek. Not the same girl he’d lain on the dock with and stared up at the stars. This was a grown-up Emily. And they’d spent years apart. Strangers.
“I’ll drop you off and pull the Jeep around to the garage.” Even to his own ears he sounded harsh and businesslike. Maybe it’d be best, at least for him, to keep things that way.
Emily placed her hand on his, oblivious to his brusque dismissal. She squeezed. “Thanks, Matt. I’m so glad you’re here.”
He glanced at her delicate hand resting over his rough one and had no words to answer her. So he just half grunted—a noncommittal type of answer to a statement he had no idea how to respond to.
As Matt drove to the side of the house and stopped to let Emily out, he watched his new employer climb from the open door, throw him a grin and hurry over to his dad, Jep and Matt’s older brother, Nathan.
“You remember my oldest boy, Nathaniel, don’t you, Emily?” Owen asked.
“I sure do,” Emily said. “Hey, Nathan! Boy, your hair’s long. I really like the color.” She ducked behind him, inspecting. “It reminds me of a samurai warrior, only sun-streaked instead of black.”
Nathan laughed. “Well, that’s a first! Come here, girl, it’s been a long time,” Nathan said. “Look at you! All grown-up and pretty!”
His brother’s big arms went around her slim frame as they exchanged hugs.
“You got plans for supper, missy?” Jep croaked. “If not, maybe you can cook us something.”
“Dad,” Owen