Quit your excuses and throw. Like I taught ye.

But the last time I did this, Leith thought, I lost. And then you were gone.

The following silence spurred him, making him realize he was imagining this whole exchange. He was stupid for holding on to the grief and loss for so long. With a great heave upward, his heels digging into the soil, his thighs powering to stand, he lifted the caber, the thick end straight up.

It’s all right, boy. You’ve got it. You’ve got it.

Leith didn’t have it.

The smell of the grass, the hollow memory of last time he’d thrown—after Da’s illness had shattered his concentration and Leith’d had the worst competitive day of his life—Da’s voice and image coming back to him after three years gone . . .

The caber wobbled in his grip. Fell forward. No running, no throwing. Just limped out of his hands to land with a thump on the lawn.

“Hey, what happened?” called Olsen.

Leith gathered himself, plastered on his perfected nonchalance and carefree grin, and turned around. He walked toward the vehicles with wrists held out in invisible handcuffs. “Arrest me if you want, Olsen. Don’t have it in me tonight.”

The sheriff took off his hat and ran a hand over that shiny head. “Looked like you had it to me. And I was looking forward to telling everyone tomorrow I saw you throw.”

“Mind if I leave the caber there and come back for it tomorrow, when I can strap it down properly?” At that last word, he threw a teasing look at Jen, who was gazing back at him in a very non-teasing way. He didn’t like that look. It was too inquisitive, but in a way that said she’d already figured out way too much. She had, after all, been in Da’s house.

Olsen blew out his cheeks. “I suppose.”

“Come on,” he told Jen. “I’ll take you home.”

On the short drive around the fairgrounds, he rolled down all the windows and let the breeze sweep through the truck cab. Jen didn’t say or ask anything. Neither did he. He wasn’t sure whose silence disturbed him more.

When he pulled into the driveway at 740 Maple, Da’s voice was still rattling around in his head. Jen inhaled as though preparing to say something Big and Important, but just ended up saying, “Good night.”

“Good night.” He risked a glance at her, but there was that knowing look again, and it made him feel naked and flayed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked out the windshield at the garage.

“See you tomorrow?” The note of hope in her voice reminded him of how well they’d fit together earlier that night. It was too much to think about just then: the confusion of his feelings for her layered over Da.

“Yep. Sure.” He didn’t fool himself into thinking she’d bought it.

The next morning before sunrise, he went back to Hemmertex, roped down the caber to his truck, and brought it back to the park. Then he tossed a duffel stuffed with several days’ worth of clothes in the passenger seat, veered the truck out onto Route 6, and headed south to Connecticut, too many memories and emotions biting at his heels. 

Chapter

13

Jen sat alone at a central table in the Kafe, her laptop open to its multitude of windows, the cooling plate of hash browns and sausages and grilled tomatoes regretfully pushed to the back corner. The never-empty mug of coffee, however, sat within easy reach.

“Yep. Yep,” she was saying into the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. “It’s on the G drive, Gretchen. I’m logged in remotely; I’m looking right at it. Invitation list for Fashion Week.”

Across the Kafe, Vera the city councilwoman looked up from where she was reading the newspaper, wearing a little frown of concern. Jen threw her a reassuring smile.

“Ah, okay. Found it,” Gretchen said on the other end of the line. Then, with a sigh, “The label is a little misleading, don’t you think?”

“The label is fine. Don’t make any changes to that list without running it by Tim. Anything new on Rollins? Anything I should know?”

“Nope. How’s it going there?”

Jen glanced at the rental contracts that had just come through from the Hemmertex building landowners. Based on the trillion ideas she’d gotten from Mr. MacDougall’s scrapbooks, she had a bunch of new aspects to price out and fit into an electronic presentation before she met with the entire city council. Then later, based on whatever the council told her, she had a conference call with the Scottish Society. She should be focused on that. She shouldn’t have to be checking in with Gretchen or worrying about Vera’s eavesdropping.

She shouldn’t be thinking about Leith. Except that there seemed to be little space left in her brain whenever he invaded it, and after last night that frequency had increased by, oh, a thousand.

Ending the call with Gretchen, Jen sat back in her chair and stared at the computer screen, which had blurred into squares of meaningless color. The coffee mug was barely warm when she wrapped her fingers around it, so she gestured to Kathleen for more. She had to remember to tip big.

The Kafe was filled with people she recognized from the other morning along Loughlin’s fence. The only person she’d met besides Vera was Bobbie, who occupied the booth nearest the door. The older woman had her own laptop open and she was making changes to her website.

The bell over the door gave its strangled ring, and Owen and Melissa and T and Lacey came in. The girls chattered, and they all sat down and ordered without looking at the menu. Owen said something and Melissa laughed. Vera narrow-eyed them with drawn lips. They seemed . . . together.

Shame and embarrassment forced Jen’s eyes to her lap. Despite Aimee’s reassurances, and Owen coming up to her last night at the Stone in an obvious attempt to win her over, Jen knew her sister was making a colossal mistake.

If Leith were here, maybe he could talk Jen down again.

It always circled back to him, didn’t it? And now he was gone.

Before sunrise that morning, she’d been awakened by the deep grumble of his obnoxious truck as it pulled out of 740’s driveway and rolled down the otherwise hushed street. She’d thought he was leaving for a day of maintenance rounds with Chris, but on her way into the Kafe, she’d passed Chris, who was exiting, and he’d told her Leith had taken off again for Connecticut.

She wasn’t fooled, even if Leith was doing a damn fine job of fooling himself. He hadn’t sped out of Gleann because the new client in Connecticut needed him later that day; just last night he’d hedged on when exactly he’d have to go back. No, something had freaked him out. It had started the day he’d brought her to his dad’s tomb of a house, and crescendoed as he’d tried to throw the caber. The look on his face—a strained mask of false well-being slapped over a debilitating pain—had been more than a shock to her. It made her feel awful for telling him to throw the thing, but how was she to know that something that had once brought him such satisfaction now poked at open wounds?

Up until that moment, last night had been pretty damn perfect.

She’d been a virgin all over again. Every experience with a man she’d had outside of him in the past decade had been annihilated by that kiss up against his truck. Absolutely destroyed by the feel of Leith’s body on top of hers.

She’d like to have claimed that she’d forgotten how well he kissed, or how big and gentle his hands were, and how much of her skin they covered at once. But the truth was, whatever nuggets of him she’d stored away were nothing—nothing—compared to what he’d done to her last night. Everything—the sensations he’d actually given her and the even more sinful ones he promised with his eyes and words—far, far surpassed her memories. Left them choking in the dust, actually.