Spirit Lake by Christine DeSmet Read Free Book Online Page B

same social circles."
    That stung. “Is that it?” She slammed down the towels and first-aid kit. “You needed the family nod before you'd marry a woman? My father would have come around, if you'd been here."
    His face fell. “That wasn't it at all."
    “Then what was it? Couldn't find your father to talk to him because he was over in England tending to his foodstore chain—"
    “Laurel—"
    “Then there was your mother's family in some wine country—"
    “They lived in Chile. Damnit, I didn't have what you'd consider a normal life like you. I told you about all the traveling in my life. Stephanie was my constant during school, always there, always sure of her course in life. We'd always been friends."
    Laurel's jawed clenched so tight she could barely speak. “You never mentioned this Stephanie."
    “You're getting this all mixed up. She didn't matter to me. I mean, until after us."
    Laurel turned away, ready to be ill. Back then, she'd built up so many scenarios to help justify her anger. Sarcastically, she said, “So you weren't seduced as part of some girl's plot to take your family money? You didn't fall for a starlet or bimbo?"
    “No. I'm afraid Stephanie was what I wasn't."
    “A responsible, upstanding citizen?"
    “Sounds like your daddy's words."
    Laurel shuddered, but turned to him, sighing when recalling her father railing at her about Cole back then. “What's wrong in wanting, no, expecting more than just hearing you'd called a couple of times? Then nothing?"
    He rose and hobbled over to her until he blocked out the sun. “Whenever I made those phone calls your father got on the line,” he muttered, “and told me to quit bothering you."
    She stood in his shadow, shivering, angry, stricken by all the news, the flashbacks bursting like bombs in her head ... and a man standing before her she didn't recognize except for those deep, dark eyes.
    With a finger, he tipped her chin up. A bolt of heat shocked her from head to toe and back again. When had he gotten so tall, and even more dangerous looking? The year after he left? Or yesterday, just to niggle her with a giant ruse, another prank?
    “Hey,” he said, his voice husky, “I never wanted to hurt you."
    Finding it impossible to breathe with him touching her, she pulled away. “What you didn't want was me. Why can't you say it instead of talking about ‘what was best for me’ as if I were your child? I was your ... lover."
    She wanted to swallow back the word. A knot had its way in her stomach. Because of him, she'd made choices to avoid putting her heart in vulnerable situations. And here he stood again.
    He looked different, standing there patiently. Could she pretend he wasn't the same old trouble?
    Could she believe anything he'd just told her?
    She picked up her supplies again and headed toward her boat, weary, wanting to escape to the safety of her cabin across the bay. “Excuse me, but I have things to do."
    “Laurel?"
    The languid way her name rolled off his tongue in a husky whisper halted her in her tracks. Hearing him call to her had once signaled joy. Now, he offered nothing but confusion. She kept her back to him, afraid of looking into his mesmerizing eyes, afraid he might read the secrets of her new life and be disappointed in her. Maybe angry with her own betrayal of him. “I can't get involved in whatever you're doing here."
    “I could use your help."
    Anger sparked within her again. She faced him, throwing her shoulders back. “No. You're not going to use me. Not anymore."
    When she began walking away, she heard him shuffling through the weeds after her. “Laurel, wait."
    She picked up her pace, fear riddling her.
    Then she heard him stumble. He spilled out a string of expletives that echoed across the clearing.
    “Cole?” She swung around, saw the genuine pain wrinkling his whiskery face and brow, and went to him. His injuries worried her all over again, despite her resolve. Worry and tend—a reflex.
    He lay in a heap,