Butterfly Cove

Olivia cut him off. “Isn’t it? Well, let’s get this straight. I did my share of bad things growing up. Jilly wasn’t the only one who got into trouble. You make me sound like a sleazy manipulator.”

Rafe shook his head. “I didn’t mean to. It was a compliment, believe me. It takes skill to calm people down. As I recall, you always had that skill.”

Olivia couldn’t find anything to argue with there. But arguing seemed much safer than letting down her guard. “So what are your plans? I expect you’ll move on to more exciting places like South America or Asia. You always said you wanted to see the world.”

Rafe looked at her gravely. “You remember that?” His voice hardened. “Then you should also remember that I wanted to go to those places with you. That never happened, did it?”

Olivia took a sharp breath. Suddenly the room was filled with memories and unspoken emotions. “Not through any fault of mine.” Olivia stopped right there. The last thing she wanted was to open up old wounds. They couldn’t go back.

Rafe had made that decision over a decade before.

He rested an arm on the windowsill and studied her, eyes narrowed. “What about you, Livie? Did you ever see the world? I seem to recall that Italy was on the top of your list.”

“I got to Italy. It was everything I’d expected. If things had been different...I might have stayed. There was an old olive mill that would have made an amazing bed-and-breakfast. I could have started a lavender farm and maybe raised some sheep.” She stopped, angry at how easy it was for him to draw her out.

“So what happened?” Rafe frowned. “Why aren’t you in Italy right now raising those sheep?”

“Because I have responsibilities. Because I made a promise to my friends and to myself. We’re going to get the Harbor House on its feet as a stable, long-term business. And because—”

She looked away grimly. Her father’s financial choices had crippled her own plans for the future, and she didn’t have all the details yet.

“What else?”

Why was it a surprise that he could read her so easily and knew there was much more that she had not told him? That had always been one of his skills. “My father died earlier this year. You might not have heard. I have his legal affairs to settle. Between that and the Harbor House opening, I won’t be free for any travel for the next couple of years. Pretty boring, isn’t it?”

“Not boring. Not with the right person. With the right person, a little patch of mud can be heaven.”

Olivia caught a breath. Was this the same Rafe talking? He had always been the first to get into trouble. The first to take a dare.

And the first one to leave town, looking for new adventures.

“I guess that’s the problem. Finding the right person isn’t easy.”

Rafe stood up and walked to the row of black-and-white photographs that lined the walls outside the yarn shop. “This looks like Milan. Did you take these?”

Olivia had forgotten about these photographs from her Italian trip. She didn’t want to discuss them with Rafe. There was too much of her heart captured on those carefully processed papers. “They’re mine. Something to remember my trip by.”

“You loved it there, didn’t you?”

Olivia simply nodded.

“I can see it in the light and the way you captured the buildings.” Rafe ran a finger slowly along a photograph of the Piazza San Marco. “I hope you get back one day. I hope that life brings you everything you wished for, Livie. If anyone deserves it, you do.”

Olivia was trying to muster an answer when Jilly emerged from the kitchen with a steaming platter of lasagna. “Come on and eat, you two. Everything is ready. Rafe, help Olivia, will you?” Jilly’s eyes narrowed. “She won’t admit it, but her shoulder is hurting again and she won’t ask for help.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THE CONVERSATION FLOWED, punctuated by laughter and occasional arguing. Olivia had to admit that Rafe fit right in. Somehow they gathered up the threads of town gossip and old memories easily; Walker had to laugh more than once at their stories.

She tried hard to relax, but it was impossible. His leg kept bumping against hers and their hands brushed as he poured water for her. Even those small contacts were excruciating to Olivia.

“I was trying to tell Livie how good her photographs of Italy were. She shrugged it off.” Rafe finished a third piece of lasagna and pushed away his plate. He turned around, gesturing at a black-and-white photograph next to the table in the unfinished café. “I’d say that’s the bridge over the Arno.”

“Have you been to Italy, Rafe?” Jilly poured more wine in Walker’s glass and then topped off Rafe’s. “I never knew Italy was on your to-do list.”

“Oh, I had a very long to-do list in those days. I’ve narrowed it down quite a bit since then.” He glanced at Olivia. “I got to Italy once. It was only for a few days, but I managed to work in my own little Roman-history tour.”

Olivia couldn’t process this. Rafe and Roman history? When did that start? “When were you there?”

“After my first tour in Afghanistan, I wanted to kick the dust off my feet. I hit Italy and France. Then a few stops in Asia. I didn’t have anything holding me, so I figured I might as well travel.” There was something hard in his voice. Olivia glanced at Jilly and saw that she had heard it, too.

“Try this, Rafe.” Jilly held out a piece of chocolate-espresso cake with whipped cream.

“Haven’t you heard about high cholesterol?” He shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d better check in with the station. We’re understaffed right now. The lasagna was great, Jilly, but I should get going.”

“You don’t want cake?” Jilly looked stunned.

Rafe shook his head. “Thanks just the same.” He turned his hat in his hands. “You’ve done a great job here with the house. I’m sure you’ll make a big success of it. It strikes me that anything you four ladies agree on turns into a success. You always did stick together.”

He glanced around the room for a moment and Olivia had the odd sense that he was memorizing the details as if he wanted to save them.

But his eyes were cool and distant when he picked up his jacket and strode to the door, and he did not look back.

* * *

JILLY KEPT STARING at the door, confusion on her face. “Was it my cake? Does he have something against chocolate? Who refuses fresh chocolate cake?”

Despite Jilly’s joking tone, the abruptness of Rafe’s departure left them all a little stunned.

“Maybe he was tired.” Walker passed a slice of cake to Olivia and then cut two more pieces. “You heard what he said about being short staffed after the storm.”

Jilly drummed her fingers on the table. “I don’t think that’s it. Didn’t you see how his face changed? He was looking around, measuring everything. I can’t figure out what happened.”

Walker smiled and slid a hand over Jilly’s. “Then don’t try. You don’t have to be responsible for everyone. You don’t have to figure them out or straighten them out. He’s a grown man, honey.”

Jilly huffed out a little breath. “Just as long it wasn’t my cake that sent him off. When people walk out on my food, I get grouchy.”

Walker leaned down and kissed her gently. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll eat mine and his, too.”

Jilly gave a muffled laugh and ran her hands through his hair, whispering softly.

Olivia looked away, happy for them yet embarrassed to be the third wheel. But she figured she ought to get used to it. Being the third wheel would probably be a major part of her future.

* * *

MUCH LATER, AFTER she had awkwardly made her way upstairs, undressed and slid under the covers, Olivia allowed herself to think about Rafe.

Jilly had insisted she take her last pain pill and now she was drifting somewhere between present and past, listening to rain patter on the window.