The Secret Sister

“Not at all.” He withdrew a ring of keys from his pocket and led them up the steps to the front porch, where they waited while he unlocked the door and swung it open. “Here you go.”

The turpentine and other chemicals that’d been used so far wafted out. “Smells clean,” she said.

“I sprayed for mold and mildew.”

“Clean?” Keith wrinkled his nose as he walked in. “It stinks. Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable at the house?”

Maisey followed her brother. “Positive.”

Rafe brought up the rear, then stood off to one side while they wandered around. It wasn’t until Keith went down the hall to the bedroom, and she was in the kitchen taking stock of the appliances she’d need and whether the stove and microwave still worked, that he approached her. And then, thank God, he lowered his voice.

“You’ve grown up.” His smile reached his eyes, which suggested romantic interest and took her off guard. She hadn’t had a man smile at her in quite that way for some time. Or maybe she’d just been too caught up in the pain caused by her divorce to notice.

“And I’ve learned a few things along the way.” She stepped into the opening to make sure Keith wasn’t coming back yet. Then she took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry for how I behaved when we met. I was...unbelievably forward.”

“I’m not holding that against you,” he said. “We’ve all done things we wish we hadn’t.”

She let her breath out slowly. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course.” His expression turned to one of chagrin as he rubbed his neck. “I was a little out of control myself back then. Being a punk and rebelling against the world.”

“You seem to have recovered nicely.”

His smile slanted to one side. “I like to think I’ve matured.”

“That makes two of us who’ve matured. We’re different people these days. So...if you’re willing, I say we forget the past. Agreed?”

“The way we met might be hard to forget,” he teased. “But I understand you have a reputation to uphold. I won’t breathe a word of it. I’d never do that to you, anyway.”

She smoothed her tunic. “I’m grateful.”

“No problem. Maybe we can just...start over.”

What did that mean? Start over how? “Excuse me?” she said.

He slid his hands in his pockets and leaned against the counter. “You’re not with someone, are you? I don’t see a ring...”

Once again, she felt the absence of the gold band that had resided on her wedding finger for so many years. “No, not anymore.”

“Then will you let me take you to dinner sometime?”

The way his shoulders lifted slightly seemed endearingly boyish, as if he really didn’t want her to say no. But she hadn’t expected this and wasn’t prepared for it. “That would be impossible,” she said. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

When she rejected him so quickly and unequivocally, he looked a little deflated. “Are you that sure you won’t like me?”

She scowled. She’d been “off the market” for so long. Even after Jack had moved out, she’d been sequestered in her own home, working—or trying to work—for over a year. That left her feeling socially clumsy. She almost gave in just to avoid sounding like a bitch, but she wasn’t ready to start dating, especially someone like Rafe. “I’m not going to be your next conquest,” she said.

He raised a hand. “Whoa! I said dinner.”

After checking the hall again, she decided her brother must be in the bathroom. “I heard you, but let’s be honest. No man wants to make an investment without some kind of return.”

When he realized she was serious, his playfulness evaporated. “I wasn’t asking for a commitment to sleep with me, for God’s sake. Dinner’s...dinner. How else am I supposed to get to know you?”

He’d lost that rangy, lone wolf aura that had made him seem so unpredictable and dangerous when he was a younger man. It’d been replaced with a strong sense of purpose but, in some ways, that made him more of a threat. There weren’t many men who had the confidence to go after a woman so directly, and that scared the hell out of her. “Trust me, we wouldn’t be well-suited. I’m doing you a favor.”

“I can look out for myself.”

“There’s no need to waste any time or money. Like I said, I’d be a bad investment.”

He hesitated for a second. Then he said, “Are you afraid I can’t afford it? I don’t come from money so I’m not good enough for you?”

“Stop it! No. Of course not.”

“Because we never really got to know each other,” he said. “And, for the record, I’m embarrassed about that night, too. If I’m remembering correctly, it wasn’t my best performance.”

Sex with Rafe had lasted all of about thirty seconds. There’d been a brief flash of pain as he’d pushed inside her, some frantic movement while she’d stared at the water stain on the ceiling and a moan as he’d climaxed. Then he’d rolled off her and passed out. She’d had no idea why the other girls talked as if he was so good in bed. She hadn’t been impressed. But she could hardly blame him for the disappointment she’d experienced. She’d offered herself up to be used; it wasn’t as though he’d come on to her.

“It has nothing to do with your...performance. I deserved what I got.”

He winced.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d had any clue about sex,” she clarified, “but you know how the movies romanticize everything. My expectations were too high, that’s all.”

“Wait a second.” He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne. “Are you serious?” he whispered. “That was your first time?”

“We’re talking about the distant past,” she said. “None of it matters anymore.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “I honestly don’t remember you telling me you were a virgin.”

Why were they even discussing this? “Because I didn’t,” she said, her voice as hushed as his. “I was too busy trying to act experienced—like I was eighteen. Anyway, you were so drunk I’m surprised you remembered me at all. I was actually hoping you wouldn’t.”

“Well, shit,” he said. “Now I wish you didn’t remember me, either. I don’t want to be the guy who ruined your first time. No wonder you won’t go out with me.”

“I ruined my first time. I was hoping for too much.”

“Somehow that only makes it worse,” he said dryly.

The toilet flushed, and she sent him a warning look. “Keith’s coming back.”

“Am I doing something wrong?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want him badgering me about getting out and dating again. I’m not interested in...in a relationship,” she said, and went back to inspecting the kitchen.

After that, Rafe seemed pensive, but he waited patiently for her to finish roaming through the house.

“This isn’t too bad,” she told Keith when she returned to the living room where he’d been chatting with Rafe. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” There’d be real peace here and not the memories she’d experience in her mother’s home. She needed a “cave” to crawl into, a neutral place to call her own. Even better if that place had the positive associations of Smuggler’s Cove.

“Maisey, come on,” Keith said. “You can’t be serious.”