Those Cassabaw Days (7 page)

Matt’s hand shot out like a bolt of lightning and grabbed hers, stilling the movement. They exchanged shocked glances, and without a word he dropped her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Emily finally said. The awkward moment didn’t pass quickly enough. “I—”

“It’s all right,” Matt said quietly. His gaze shot above her head, to some distant spot behind her. “Quick movements and me don’t mix, Emily.”

Emily blew out a sigh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” A feeling of embarrassed confusion washed over her. She was just going to ask him when had he been able to grow stubble. For now she supposed it’d be best if she just dropped the question. “Well, I’m finished here. I suppose we should head home. I have a copious amount of drudgery to complete.” Without waiting for his answer, she moved past him and headed to Jep’s old truck. By the time she’d climbed behind the wheel and stuck the key in the ignition, Matt was already in the passenger’s side. Silently, she turned over the engine and started home.

Matt didn’t say a word after leaving the Windchimer, and the moment she stopped the truck his door was opened and he was jumping out of it. She gave Matt a surprised look when he met her at the door.

“Repairs, right? Or did you want to go over that tomorrow?” he asked.

“No,” she said, and closed the truck door. “Absolutely, now’s fine.” She started up the lane, the humid air sticking to her bare arms and neck. “Come on in.”

Matt’s long strides carried him past her, and he pulled open the screen door while she stuck the key in the lock.

“Thank you,” Emily said and hit the lights as she stepped inside. Matt followed, the screen door creaking as he let it close. Setting her iPhone onto the kitchen table, she pulled out a chair and nodded to Matt. “Have a seat.”

He did, and she took one herself, pulled her feet up and sat cross-legged. Opening the notepad app on her phone, she looked at Matt. Seeing his face, with that off-center cowlick at the top and that scar through his eyebrow, made a smile creep across her lips.

“What’s so funny?” he asked. He tipped his chair back, watching her.

Emily shook her head. “I just can’t get over the fact that I’m sitting in my old kitchen with my old best friend.” She gave a soft laugh. “It’s just so crazy, don’t you think? After all these years? Do you remember when we—”

“I’m not that kid anymore, Emily,” he said, interrupting her. “I’m...just not.”

She didn’t let his gruff dismissal scare her. Instead, she softened, and felt a little sad about it. Somehow, she hoped a little of the old Matt Malone lay buried beneath all that hardened exterior. “Well,” she said with a confident grin, “maybe you should be more like that kid, instead of sharp-tongued cantankerous ol’ Matt Malone.”

Matt’s gaze stayed steady on hers; it didn’t waver, and he didn’t smile. He sort of had a perma-frown stuck on his face. But before he had time to respond, Emily blew out a gusty sigh. “Okay. So. Let’s get down to business here.”

Matt relayed all of the repairs he’d discovered while going through the café. Emily tapped it all into her notes. “Okay. I’ll research materials and have the list ready for you in the next day or two. Then you can determine your fee.”

“Fair enough. I’ll let you know about the parts needed to fix your Jeep,” he said. Rubbing a hand over his hair, he pushed away from the table.

“Sounds good.”

He strode to the door, and Emily followed. “I’ll check out the dock at low tide tomorrow.” He opened the creaky screen door and pushed it open, then looked over his shoulder at her. “It’s a lot of work. It won’t be a cheap repair. Materials won’t be, either.”

Emily leaned against the frame, propping the screen door open with her bare foot. “Yeah,” she said as Matt sauntered into the shadows, making his way to the old path they took as kids that ran between their houses. For a second she saw the skinny boy she once knew, running home for supper. And then before her eyes his shape grew, expanded, took on the form of the broad-shouldered ireful man he’d become. “I expected as much. See ya tomorrow.”

His deep, raspy voice drifted from the darkness. “Yep. Night, Emily.”

She moved out onto the porch and eased down onto the old swing. Despite the repairs, the work and the cranky once-best friend who lived next door, Emily knew that all of her previous decisions had led to this. College. Work. Trent, and their breakup. A new life. A new start. And it suddenly felt
right
.

For once, Emily sensed she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

CHAPTER FIVE

M
ATT PAUSED ON
the path and turned around. Shrouded in shadows, he watched Emily Quinn sit on that old broken-down swing, her slender arms wrapped around her knees as she stared off into the night. She seemed so eager and confident, like she knew just what she was doing with the café. The house. Moving into her old house had to be bittersweet; yet she appeared ready to handle all the old memories—painful ones and happy ones.

Why couldn’t he be more like that?

Quietly, he rubbed the back of his neck, drew in the briny air and silently crept along the path back to his house. How many times had he done the same thing as a kid? Damn, that seemed like a lifetime ago. And, it was, he supposed. He threw a last look over his shoulder at Emily.

She had her head propped on her knees, and he imagined she might even have her eyes closed. So much like the old friend he used to know; so different at the same time. She acted as though they hadn’t spent fifteen years apart, but they had.
Everything
had changed. And he felt like a big caged cat. Antsy. Unsettled.

His sudden exit from the corps had left him that way, he’d supposed. And then all of a sudden....Em? Shaking his head, he plunged through the brush and rounded the bend. As he closed the space between the path and the Malones’ front porch, he noticed the ember-red end of Jep’s cigar as he sat in a rocker.

“Boy, get over here and sit your butt down,” Jep growled out from the dark.

“Past your bedtime, isn’t it?” Matt remarked. He sat on the porch step, leaned back against one of the wooden pillars and rested his forearms on his knees.

“Hell, no, it isn’t past nothing. Now what’s wrong with you?”

Matt glimpsed at his grandfather. He knew exactly what old Jep was talking about, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “Nothing.”

“That’s a load of crap, son, and you know it. Why are you being so damn gruff with Emily?” He pulled on his cigar and puffed out a fragrant cloud. “Why are you so damn mad at her?”

Well, playing dumb hadn’t worked. And he knew Jep better than anyone. He’d never let it go. “I’m not mad at her, Jep. But we aren’t the same little kids anymore. She went her way. I went mine. We’re strangers now.”

“Growing up don’t mean you have to become a stone-cold donkey’s bare ass.”

Matt scowled through the dark. He knew he was an ass. It suited him, he guessed. At the very least it kept people at a safe distance. “Maybe you should mind your own business.”

“Maybe I should come over there and knock you off that step.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. Jep was one person who usually succeeded in coaxing a grin out of him, even if he did hide it. “Yeah, you probably should.” He heaved a sigh. “Just let it go, Jep.”

“You’re gonna work for her all summer with that crappy attitude? With your mad eyebrows and pinched-up face, all bowed up like you’re ready to punch anything that passes by? And that look like you’re suckin’ on lemons? That’s your plan?”

“I don’t have a plan,” Matt answered. And he really didn’t. “Haven’t had a plan since the corps sent me home.” There, he knew his plan. He was a sniper. And he was damn good at it. As a civilian? He had no damn clue.

“Well, you sound like a big damn baby, you know that?” He pointed his cigar at Matt, ember side up. “You were discharged honorably. Four tours, Matthew. You’re home now, boy. Safe and sound, like it or not. And you’ve gotta figure out a new plan.” He sat back, rocked and pulled long on his cigar. “You’re a Malone. You’ll find your way.” He grunted. “But find it without being such a donkey’s ass to Emily or you’ll have me to answer to. I kinda like her.”

Matt pushed himself up. “Yeah, I can see that. Night, Jep.” He took the steps and headed to the shop.

When he stepped inside, he flipped the light switch and headed over to Emly’s Jeep. He ran a hand over the body as he looked over every inch, then squatted and checked the tires.

“Well, she seems to take pretty decent care of her ride,” he muttered to himself.

“Not surprising since she always took such pristine care of her Hot Wheels.”

Matt glanced over his shoulder at Nathan, who laughed. “God, she was such a little tomboy, playing in the low-tide bog, getting covered in that stinky muck.” He whistled low. “Far from that now, huh? I mean, well—” he grinned “—you know what I mean. Just look at her.”

Matt shook his head and hit the switch on the wall, and the jack lifted the Jeep. Yeah, he knew what he meant. He had looked at her. Hadn’t been able to help himself. But he wasn’t going there. “You need something, Nathan?”

“Nope,” his brother said. He moved to stand beside him, crossed his arms over his chest and looked at him. “Just thought I’d see if you wanted some help, squirt.”

“You want to push that toolbox over here?” Matt indicated with a nod.

Nathan rolled the double-stacked Knaack toolbox closer to the Jeep. He opened the top lid. “So what do you think of her?”

Matt shrugged. “Not sure yet. The body looks good. Tires are a little sketchy.” He looked at Nathan. “Won’t know more until I run her on the diagnostics. Might be the alternator.”

Nathan simply stared at Matt. “God almighty, bro.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then stared some more. “Not the Jeep, man. The girl. Emily.”

What was with his family? Why were they all hounding him about her? “Nathan, I don’t even know her,” Matt said. He rubbed his head with his hand. “She’s been here less than twenty-four hours. Jesus. I just went through this with Jep.” He started searching for a socket wrench in the toolbox, but slipped his brother a quick glance. “I got suckered into agreeing to help her fix her place up. I don’t belong here, hanging around doing odd jobs, and I damn sure ain’t a fisherman. So get off my back about her. You gonna help or nag me to death?”

A stupid grin stretched across Nathan’s face. “I prefer a good nagging any day.”

Matt just shook his head.

After running a few tests on Emily’s Jeep, Matt determined it was in fact the alternator and by 2:00 a.m., he and Nathan finished and closed up the shop. As they headed across the darkened yard, Nathan dropped an arm over Matt’s shoulders.

He gave him a shake. “It’s good to have you home, little brother,” Nathan said.

Matt slapped his brother’s back. “Good to be here,” he answered, although how truthfully, he wasn’t sure. Hell, he didn’t even know how long he’d be home. “You’ve been okay?” His brother had lost his fiancée in a drowning accident. And even as a rescue swimmer for the Coast Guard, Nathan hadn’t been able to save her. He had quit his job and moved back home to shrimp with Dad and Jep. And even Matt could see through Nathan’s mask of lightheartedness. Inside, he knew his older brother still grieved.

Nathan nodded as they hit the circle of light from the yard lamp. “Yeah, things are coming along.” He smacked Matt on the back of the head. “No worries here.”

Matt knew that meant his brother had more worries than he ever cared to share.

Once inside, Matt headed up the stairs to his old room and got ready for bed.

Lying in the dark, he stared up into blankness at the ceiling. The stillness of the room barely shifted with his slow, even breathing; his thoughts turned to his long-legged neighbor. Yeah, it was strange to see Emily after all these years. He recalled how she’d had so many plans for them both. They were going to grow up and stay best friends forever, first of all, and never, ever leave Cassabaw. Then after her parents were killed, she left. Not willingly, but she’d left all the same.

Left
him
.

He knew she’d had no choice; her grandparents had insisted on it. She was just a kid. But she never answered his letters, and he’d written dozens of them.

He knew it sounded stupid as hell, but his memory of the day she left was crystal clear. The pain had resonated within him for a long time after. He’d never told anyone, but it had.

Maybe that’d been part of the reason he’d joined the marines? To escape? Feel a little self-worth? Who knew.

Outside, crickets chirped beneath his window, and the yard lamp filtered in, casting an arc of light on the far wall. He and Emily had both inadvertently broken their promises and left Cassabaw. Yet both had ended up right back in the same place, at the same time. Home.

Emily Quinn.
Em
.

How in the hell was he ever going to get used to her being grown-up and living next door again?

Or, Christ. Being his
boss
?

After what seemed like an endless night of tossing and turning, Matt finally punched his pillow, got up and made his bed. Jesus, it looked as though he’d had a UFC fight in the sheets. He’d made note of the tide times the night before and knew low tide would be at 7:23 a.m.—in an hour. He planned on checking out the damage to Emily’s dock—mainly the pilings—before the river started to rise. Rifling through his chest of drawers he found a ripped pair of shorts he usually used for crabbing, and crept downstairs, where he pushed his feet into a pair of beat-up sneakers. Quietly, he slipped outside.

* * *

E
MILY’S
EYES
POPPED
open at the steady purr of a boat motor. The sound, at first distant, grew closer and closer. Quickly she rolled off the sofa she’d slept on and made her way to the kitchen. At the sink she looked out and stared into the early-morning haze, through the marsh and toward the Back River.

Soon a figure emerged, a darkened silhouette of a broad-shouldered man at the back of an aluminum boat navigating Morgan’s Creek at low tide. A smile touched her face when she recognized Matt, and Emily pushed away from the sink and hurried to her backpack, where she pulled out a pair of white shorts and a blue tank.