CHAPTER SEVEN
I can’t count how many times in the weeks that follow Frank’s funeral I see something that I want to share with him and reach for the phone only to remember he won’t be on the other end. I haven’t been back to his room at the nursing home, can’t get myself to do it. Seeing his bed, stripped of sheets, the walls bare, his belongings boxed . . . I’m not ready for that.
On the flip side, Frank’s death has brought our town even closer. Most of the town make their way to Tucker’s in the weeks since his death, neighbors sitting with neighbors, sharing their stories about Frank. It’s touching to know how many people Frank affected.
One day I receive a call from his lawyer asking me to come to his office for the reading of Frank’s will. I’m surprised by the call because Frank had very little. His possessions only filled a few boxes. The lawyer’s office is in Bar Harbor, in a nice brick town house with an elegant but understated sign hanging over the door. Dean Finley, Esquire, seems a bit swanky for Frank, from his gray-laced blond hair to his perfectly tailored charcoal-gray suit, but then there are no lawyers in Harrington, so perhaps it’s just his location that appealed to Frank. I have to give Finley points for greeting me personally.
“Ms. Mills?”
“Yes.”
“Hello. I’m Dean Finley. Please, right this way.”
I am led into a very masculine office with dark-chocolate-brown leather furniture, a walnut desk, and floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The rug that rests under the antique desk is done in deep jewel tones that complement the dark tan of the walls.
“Please have a seat. Can I bring you some coffee or water?”
“No, thank you, I’m fine.”
He settles behind his desk before lifting open the file in front of him.
“First, I am really very saddened by the loss of Mr. Dupree. He was a friend even more than a client.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know or I would have called you about his memorial.”
He reaches across the table and rests his hand on mine. “Please don’t. I know this has been very hard for you. Frank often spoke of you and how much you meant to him.”
My tears start again.
“I won’t keep you any longer than necessary. Frank’s will is pretty cut and dried. Since you were his only family, he has left everything to you.”
A smile touches my lips thinking about the few possessions that Frank had at the home—the ancient chess set and his nice collection of baseball cards that, though I don’t know much about baseball, I’ll treasure always.
“His total estate, including the house in the Hudson River Valley, is worth just over six million dollars.”
My mouth drops open and I just stare at the man. I’m sure my expression makes me look like a half-wit, but I can’t have just heard what I think I heard. “Could you repeat that?”
“He invested well and almost tripled his net worth, which is now about six million dollars, as I said.”
“And he left that to me?”
“Yes.”
Standing, since I’m too worked up to sit, I start to pace. “What the hell was the man thinking leaving me all that money?”
“He knew you would know what to do with it.”
Stopping my pacing, I turn and glare at him. “I haven’t a clue what to do with all that money.”
“I realize this is a lot to take in. The money is there whenever you are ready to claim it. Until that time, it will continue to be invested as Frank stipulated.”
I am so not ready for this. “I can leave it as is for now?”
“Yes, for as long as you wish.”
“I just can’t think about it right now.”
“Understood.”
“He really had no one? You can’t find any third cousins four times removed?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t seem right that someone so wonderful really had no other family.”
Mr. Finley comes from around his desk to stand just in front of me. “He had you.”
Yes, he did, and that thought brings a smile.
“Here’s my card. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thank you, Mr. Finley.”
“Please call me Dean, Ms. Mills.”
“Saffron. Thank you for everything, Dean. I’ll be in touch when I’m ready to accept Frank’s gift.”
Several weeks pass since my meeting with the lawyer and, though I know I need to address the issue of the six million dollars, I’m currently riding on the train of denial. I miss Frank to the point that I catch myself wallowing in sorrow, but Frank would not be pleased to see me behaving in such a way. He wanted me to be happy, wanted me to do what I needed to do to be happy. Luckily for me my quest to be happy is made a bit easier because another festival approaches—the God of the Sea Festival—dedicated completely to the sea and the fruits of her bounty. And she is bountiful—the food for this festival, unlike the Swordfish Festival, is amazing. Lobster rolls, fish and chips, shrimp scampi . . . it goes on and on. As part of the festival, because we’re a dramatic group in Harrington, we’ve included an offering to the sea this year. I was selected as that offering, and so I’ll be dressed in white and draped in flowers. I will ride a float down Main Street before being taken out into the harbor and dropped into the water. Yes, I am going to be tossed into the sea and since the temperatures are turning cooler, it isn’t going to be pleasant.
Another thought that continues to plague me is that Chastity’s blackball didn’t include this activity. Even she will enjoy watching me being chucked into the ocean. In honor of my sacrifice in three days, my friends are taking me dancing. Bar Harbor has a very cool dance club that is geared to people in their thirties—the liquor is top shelf and the crowd is made up of young professionals.
While in the bathroom getting ready, a favorite song starts pumping from my iPod, so I grab my brush and start singing along. It happens to be good practice, since there will be karaoke tonight and Josh and I have an ongoing dare—a coin toss and the loser has to perform. It’s nerve-racking when I lose the toss. My knees knock so hard people can hear them, but I love getting up on that stage.
Logan is joining us tonight, which both surprises and thrills me, because he really doesn’t seem the type for dancing. He even offered to drive and I can’t deny that if we are taking his bike, I am going to seriously enjoy the ride.
A knock at my door signals Logan’s arrival and when I pull it open, I immediately forget how to breathe. He’s dressed in all black: flat-front trousers and an Oxford shirt with the top few buttons undone to expose the golden skin of his neck and throat. He looks elegant but there is no denying the powerfully built body hidden under the tailored clothes.
His beard is trimmed and his hair is pulled back into a ponytail. He’s absolutely gorgeous and before I realize it, I open my mouth and say as much. A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth before he leans in and kisses me.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.” I close the door behind me and take his hand. He leads me toward the street just in front of my house where his Porsche is parked. I run my finger over the top of the car. Even the paint job is sexy. “You think I could drive her sometime?”
“You can drive a manual transmission?”
“Yep.”
He seems to consider this for a minute. “I’m sure you can find ways to persuade me to let you drive my baby.”
The image of me, flat on my back, legs spread, and Logan between them flashes in my head. Suddenly I’m totally turned on. “Oh yeah, I think I can find a few ways.”
He grabs me. “You look wicked. What are you thinking?”
“And spoil the fun?”
“Saffron.”
“Well, let’s just say it involves you, me, this car, and no clothes.”
I’m pressed up against him, so I know he likes this idea, a lot.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” he grumbles.
“Why?” I ask in all sweetness.
“You know exactly why, brat.”
“Maybe you’ll have to spank me later.” Where the hell did that come from? And yet the idea is not unappealing.
“Get in the car,” comes out in a growl. He holds the passenger door open for me and I climb in. The seat envelops me with soft leather. When Logan climbs in next to me, his large frame fits so comfortably, though I suspect there are parts of him that are presently not so comfortable. Reaching over his lap, I rub him. Oh yeah, definitely not comfortable.
His eyes close on a moan. Fueled by his reaction and the fact that my closest neighbor is a mile away, I unzip his trousers and pull him free.
“What are you doing?” he groans and yet he sounds hopeful.
Instead of answering with words, I lean over and take him into my mouth.
“Oh fuck.”
I wish. He pushes his seat back so I have more room and then I just go to town. I love the feel of him in my mouth, so thick and big, the tip touching the back of my throat. Steel wrapped in silk. Grabbing the base, I squeeze while working him until I feel his body tense, moments before his saltiness fills my mouth. Swallowing, I give him a minute before I tuck him back in his trousers.
Our gazes lock and then he’s kissing me, sweeping my mouth with his tongue, tasting himself and me.
I no longer want to go dancing.
The engine purrs to life like a large, feral cat. Logan turns to me with a wickedness about him, which I’m guessing is because he’s feeling rather good at the moment. “You can totally drive my car.”
I hold his gaze for a beat or two before I bust out laughing.
We reach the club and for the first few minutes, my friends drool over Logan’s car. After, we make our way inside and grab a table and our waitress wastes no time coming over and taking our drink orders.
“You ready, Saffron?” Josh calls from across the table.
Logan looks from Josh to me. “Ready for what?”
Josh answers before I can. “We have a tradition. One coin toss and the loser has to sing”—Josh points to the stage where a nervous woman is butchering an Annie Lennox song—“up there.”
Logan whispers in my ear, “I hope you lose the toss.”
My body clenches from his nearness, especially after the fabulous way we started the evening. “Well, considering I seem to lose the toss all the time, the odds are very much in your favor.”
Josh pulls out the coin and gives it to Mitch, who tosses it up and catches it. I call tails, but it’s heads. Like always. At some point it has got to come up tails. Josh grins.
“I’ll go with you to put your name in with the DJ.”
“Thanks, Josh, you’re so helpful.”
We sit around chatting and then I’m called to the stage. I’m not sure what to sing, but the DJ is full of suggestions, so I settle on Pink. As the music pumps from the speakers, and my voice blends with it, I lose myself to the song and the moment. Before long the song comes to an end and I slowly come back to reality, my five minutes of stardom over. I’m met at the bottom by a friendly face.
“Hey, Saffron.”
It takes me a moment to realize that the man standing before me in faded jeans and a black sweater is Dean Finley, Esquire.
“Mr. Finley, Dean, hi.”
“You don’t get nervous going up there?”
“A little, but it’s so much fun. Have you ever tried it?”
“No chance.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” I take a minute to study him because he looks casual and comfortable, nothing like the professional I met a few weeks back. “It’s nice to see you again, how are you?”
“Good, better now that I’m seeing you. Are you here with friends?”
Didn’t pick up on the vibe the last time we met, but there’s definitely more than a passing interest coming from Dean. A dry spell for years and now that I’m with someone: feast or famine.
“Yeah, they’re around somewhere.” Turning in a circle, I see Logan and wave him over. As soon as he’s in reaching distance, I take his hand. “This is Dean. He was Frank’s lawyer. Dean, my boyfriend, Logan.”
The men shake hands and exchange pleasantries. Dean’s not looking as excited as he had before Logan appeared, but now he knows. At our table, I make the introductions and, while Dean gets acquainted with my friends, Logan leads me out onto the dance floor.
He holds me close as we sway to the music. He studies me in that way of his. I’m about to ask what he’s thinking, but my lips are soon occupied as he kisses me in a drugging, all-consuming melding of our mouths right there on the dance floor. I would never have thought that Logan would be one for public displays of affection. Of course after our semi-public display earlier, I could be a little off base, but with the way his kiss sizzles every nerve in my body, I am all for them. When the song ends, Logan leads me back to our table. He stands just behind me after I’ve taken my seat, so I don’t hesitate to rest my back against his hard, muscled frame.
I’m enjoying the warmth radiating off Logan’s powerful body when Josh says, “As usual, you kicked it big on that stage, doll.”
“Thank you, but next time it’s your turn. Don’t you agree, Derek?”
“Oh yes.”
Mitch and Gwen are both grinning at me. “What? What are you smiling about?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet,” says Gwen.
“Figured out what?”
Gwen urges Josh. “Show her the coin.”
And then I know. “A two-headed coin, are you kidding me?”
Josh’s smile is completely unrepentant. “One must make one’s own luck, as I am forever saying.”
“You never say that,” Derek and I say in unison.
“Yes, I’ve been cheating, but I do so enjoy listening to you sing and, since you enjoy doing it, I didn’t see the harm.”
“Seriously, next time you have to get up there.”
His hands go up in defeat. “Fine.”
“Maybe we should have karaoke night at Tucker’s.”
“I think that’s a great idea, Tommy, and Josh can be the first one to try out the equipment,” I say.
Tommy points his beer at me. “You’ll help me figure it out?”
“Absolutely.”
“Deal.” Josh groans and Tommy hides his grin with his beer.
“I’m really not getting out of this, am I?” Josh almost looks ill, but I feel no sympathy.
“Nope,” I say with relish.
We stay for a few hours longer before we decide to call it a night. Outside, Dean says good-bye to my friends before he turns to me. “I really enjoyed this. Thanks for including me.”
“It was our pleasure.”
“You look happier than the last time I saw you, so I’m hoping that means you’re finding your way through this.”
“I am. Every day it gets a bit easier.”
He reaches for my hand to brush his lips over my knuckles. “I hope the next time you’re in my neck of the woods you’ll look me up.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good night,” he says before he turns and strolls away.
“Good night,” I call after him before I turn around and notice that everyone has already gone to their cars. Only Logan stands there. Though he looks casual, with his hands in the front pockets of his pants, I can tell something lurks just under the surface. But he says nothing. I move to him and his arms immediately come around me to hold me close. I feel his words rumbling in his chest. “Are you ready?”
“One more minute.”
He chuckles, but gives me my minute to hold him before escorting me to his car. We drive in silence and when we reach my house, Logan shuts off the engine and climbs from the car to walk around and open the door for me. As soon as I am standing next to him on the curb, he pulls me to him for a kiss—one that is almost painful at first until it softens and thoroughly melts my bones.
“What was that for?” I ask when he takes a step away.
Fire blazes in his eyes, but what or whom it’s directed at, I don’t know. A few tense moments later he rubs his hand over the back of his neck like he’s rubbing the bad mood away. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
The pause is so pregnant, I think he isn’t going to answer, but when he does I’m baffled and overjoyed at the same time.
“I didn’t like watching you with Dean. I know it’s unfair of me, but I can’t help it.”
Was he jealous? If he’s looking for a way to render me speechless, he has found it, but before I can even attempt to get my brain around his statement, he continues.
“I haven’t told you much about my life because there isn’t much worth sharing.” His fingers lace through my hair. “My life before led me here and that’s all that matters.”
The beauty of that statement leaves me speechless and is all it takes for me to fall the rest of the way for him.
The next morning I wake early and head to the kitchen to start the coffee. Logan is still sleeping when I come back to bed. My life before led me here and that’s all that matters. I haven’t been able to get those words out of my head. Not only are the words the most incredible I’ve ever been on the receiving end of, but there was no denying he meant every word. As he lies on his stomach, the hard contours of his back are visible since the sheet has slipped to rest at the base of his spine. His face is turned to me and I can’t help but wonder what he would look like if he shaved. What I fear is that, underneath my yeti, there is a staggeringly beautiful man. Why would said man have any interest in me?
He speaks without bothering to open his eyes. “You’re thinking too loud.” When his eyes do open, they reflect the cloudiness of sleep. And then he moves so quickly, pinning me beneath his hard body. For a long moment we just look at one another.
“Shave it,” I whisper. “I want to see your face.”
He tenses, and I feel his muscles quicken against mine before he lowers his head and silences me with a soul-searing kiss.