He laughed at the thought of it. “I’d drive you crazy,” he told her. “Just like every woman I’ve ever dated.”
She propped her chin up on her hand and gave him a speculative look. “That’s because you’re a love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think of me?”
Her lips twitched. “Sorry. Did I offend you?”
“No. It’s just interesting hearing how you see me.”
She ran a finger down his neck, to the dip at the base of his throat. “You’re good looking. Successful. If you wanted to be in a relationship you would be. At our age there are more women looking for relationships than men.”
He tipped his head to the side. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
He bit down a smile. “That makes you older than me by a bit.”
“What?” Her eyes widened. “No way.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her outraged expression. “Way,” he said, deadpan. “And for the record, I’ll be your boy toy anytime.” It was interesting the way she demanded nothing. In the past few months since they’d met, he barely called or messaged her between his visits to Hartson’s Creek. Neither did she, come to that. Their only correspondence would be him checking to see if she was free before he visited.
She didn’t complain about him ignoring her, or asked him for something more than sex. It was every man’s dream. Yet there was part of him that wished he could offer her more.
“It’s a good thing I’m only using you for your body,” she said with a grin, as if she could read his mind. “Otherwise the town would be outraged.”
“The town would be outraged anyway.” He shrugged. “Everybody’s always up in each other’s business here.” So different to Boston where nobody cared a damn about what you did.
“That’s why we’re keeping this quiet,” she murmured. “It’s easier this way.”
She was right. It was better for the both of them. And if there was still part of him that wondered what life would be like for them in a parallel universe – one where he wasn’t a workaholic and she wasn’t a country girl happy to live off the land? Well he’d ignore it, because she was right. This arrangement was good. Maybe he could stop himself from messing things up the way he always did.
Yeah, and maybe the pigs in the pens behind Courtney’s cottage would sprout some wings and take flight. Either scenario felt pretty unlikely to him.
The First Baptist Church of Hartson’s Creek was packed on Sunday. Courtney slid into the scratched wooden pew next to Mary and Ellis, the way she always had for the past eight years. Before he died, Shaun always sat on her left, his back ramrod straight, his gaze trained on Reverend Maitland as he gave his sermon from the pulpit. Once, right after they’d gotten married, she’d tried to hold his hand, and he’d pushed her away roughly.
She hadn’t tried again.
“Morning,” Carl said, sitting in the small space at the end of the pew. She had to shuffle closer to Mary to give him room, but still she could feel the roughness of his wool jacket against her arms, and the warmth of his thigh against her leg.
“Good morning.” She gave him a nod.
“It’s a beautiful day.”
She glanced at the window, seeing the sun shining through the colored glass. “Yes it is.” Apart from the fact she was sitting in church after spending Friday night sinning. She was lucky not to have burst into flames.
She took a deep breath. Nobody knew. They’d been careful. Once a month at her cottage where nobody could see them. That’s not the way rumors started around here.
“Hello, darling,” Mary said, leaning across Courtney to give her son a kiss on the cheek. “I wasn’t sure if you were working this morning.”
“I’m rostered for this afternoon. Thought I’d come and join you all.” He shot Courtney a glance. “Make sure you’re all okay.”
“You’re such a good boy.” Mary patted his cheek then sat up, moving herself out of Courtney’s space. “You look just like your brother this morning.” Her eyes shone as she looked at him. “It warms my heart to have you here.”
The organ music started up, and everybody stood. Carl’s hand brushed against Courtney’s as she reached for the hymn book. He took it from her, and opened it to the right page, holding it out so they both could see.
“I drove past your house Friday night,” Carl murmured, his voice barely audible above the brash notes of the organ and the sound of voices. “Saw a car there. Anybody I know?”
Courtney kept her eyes trained on the hymn book, her lips moving to the words though no sound came out. He’d seen Logan’s rental car outside her house? The thought of it made her want to hurl. “Just a friend.”
Mary’s sweet voice sang out loudly next to her. The thought of her and Ellis learning what she’d been doing made Courtney’s stomach tighten. They were still mourning their son. She should be too.
She was definitely going to hell.
“You should watch that,” Carl murmured, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. “People will talk.”
You already are. She managed to form a smile on her lips. “Of course,” she said softly. “We wouldn’t want that.” Finally she got up the nerve to ask him. “Why were you driving past my place anyway?”
“You’re my brother’s wife,” he told her, his brow dipping. “It’s my job to protect you. Shaun would have wanted it.”
Would he? It was hard to remember the way Shaun thought sometimes. Or what he would have wanted her to do once he was gone. It wasn’t something they ever talked about. He hadn’t been sick or anything. Neither of them had any idea that the day he slammed the front door of their cottage and tore out
