Butterfly Cove (7 page)

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

T
HE 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.

* * *

J
ILLY 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.

* * *

M
UCH 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.

She couldn’t lie to herself. She still felt the same sensual pull for Rafe. Time had not changed that chemistry. Several times that evening, when they had been talking, Olivia had the sense that Rafe was trying hard to sort out his own memories.

She let her mind drift on, comforted by the murmur of the rain and the sound of the breakers beyond the point.

Olivia told herself that she and Rafe might as well be strangers, but her body did not believe her.

* * *

T
HE SOUND OF
hammering woke her early the next morning. She sat up abruptly and winced in pain from her shoulder.

Slow down,
she reminded herself.
Displaced joint and torn ligaments, remember?

She blinked as the noise outside grew louder. With small movements she stood up and moved to the window.

A lean body in a black T-shirt and worn jeans perched at the end of a ladder, hammering a shutter in place right outside her window.

Olivia couldn’t look away as the taut muscles at his shoulders rippled. Sweet heaven, he had always had an amazing body. Now it was harder and stronger than ever.

Olivia watched Rafe work, every movement slow and controlled. His palm smoothed the new shutter and eased the wood into place. His broad hands were powerful and confident. Suddenly heat swirled in hidden, warm places that Olivia had almost forgotten.

She forced her eyes away. There was nothing going on between them. Nothing was
going
to take place between them. She wouldn’t make another mistake in her life.

No matter how tempting it might be.

As if aware of her thoughts, Rafe turned around on the ladder. His cheeks were red from exercise and the cold wind, and Olivia thought he looked younger and less distant than he had the night before.

When he went back to work, she found herself watching him again. Every one of his movements was smooth and methodical, as if he had done this kind of repair before. She had always wondered what he had done after leaving Summer Island. Town gossip had it that he had gone straight into the Marines, but now Olivia wasn’t so sure.

She ran a hand through her hair and winced. Even that small movement sent pain radiating through her shoulder.

There was a knock at her door. Paws raced along the corridor. “Duffy, stay. Are you up, Livie?”

“Sure. Come on in.”

The door opened, and Jilly’s big white dog bounded straight toward Olivia. She put up a hand, afraid he would knock her over, but Jilly’s loud order made the Samoyed freeze in his tracks.

“Duffy, sit.”

Amazingly, the command worked. Clearly, Jilly and Walker had been doing intensive work with obedience training.

Another furry body appeared at the door. Walker’s trained service dog, Winslow, trotted across the room and sat down next to Duffy. Winslow was controlled and well behaved, while Duffy shivered with energy, eager to get up.

The interaction seemed good for both of them. Duffy was learning control, while Winslow got a high-octane friend for long runs on the beach.

Olivia reached down and rubbed Winslow’s ears carefully, then gave the same treatment to Duffy. She was finally starting to feel comfortable around the dogs. “Is your shoulder better?” Jilly looked anxious. “The doctor at the emergency care center said that I should call if the pain got worse. You’re not to lift anything for two weeks. They’ll reassess you after that.”

Two weeks.

Olivia was going to become a lunatic if she didn’t find something to keep herself occupied.

“I’m fine.” Olivia forced her eyes away from the window as Rafe continued to work on the shutter.

“He’s good with a hammer, isn’t he?” Jilly glanced out the window. “He volunteered to fix that banging shutter. No way was I saying no.” Jilly blew out a breath. “So where were we?”

“With me being bored to death for two weeks while my shoulder heals,” Olivia said dryly.

“Why don’t you take your camera and shoot some photographs of the Harbor House. I know you’ve been wanting to make an architectural record of the site, and Rafe was right. Your photographs are amazing, Livie. I think we should blow them up and frame them for the café. They would make a wonderful portrait of the house.”

Olivia couldn’t seem to process the idea. Photography was a fun hobby that she picked up when she had a spare moment, but she’d never taken lessons or worked with any professional.

“Why? I’m not trained.”

“So what? You’re good. And if your shots are bad, you can just erase them. That is the beauty of a digital camera. At least it will keep you busy.”

“My camera is at home. I may not be able to find it.”

Jilly gave a guilty laugh. “Walker and I went over this morning. I grabbed some clean clothes for you, the book on your nightstand and your camera bag from the closet. I almost got your knitting bag, but I figured that would be cruel and unusual punishment, seeing as how knitting is off-limits for at least another week.”

“How can I go without knitting?”

“Stay busy. Use your small digital camera. It’s so light you won’t have any problems.” Jilly continued in a rush, “The nurse at the emergency care center is a knitter. She knew exactly how you feel, but she warned me that it would be a bad mistake. Knitting uses small movements, but it involves your whole upper body. Why risk a setback?”

Olivia sighed. “You’re right. Fine, I’ll try some photos. But I make no promises.”

Olivia listened to the sound of Rafe working at the window next door. “Maybe I’ll go sit on the porch.”

“Perfect. I’ll bring you out a cup of tea and some chocolate scones. Maybe Rafe will be done with the window by then,” Jilly murmured.

* * *

W
HEN
O
LIVIA OPENED
her case, the camera battery was charged. She was methodical that way. She put things away clean and ready to use.

The little camera felt good in her hands, and if she was careful the movements caused no pain. Still sitting, she took a dozen surreptitious shots of Rafe as he moved up and down the ladder. Then she forced her attention down to the beach, where the storm surge had deposited chunks of driftwood and dead crabs and fallen seabirds.

Her camera wasn’t high-tech. It fit nicely in the palm of her hand, without big lenses, and it was easy to hold.

The German lenses were very good and Olivia captured the cove in sun and in shadow, with seabirds hovering at the end of the pier and a group of seals riding the surf out beyond the harbor. She liked to work like this, sliding into the zone, unaware of anything around her, becoming an extension of the lens. When she recorded the messy, chaotic, beautiful flow of life around her, Olivia felt safe. She wasn’t sure why, but probably it came from the way she had grown up, working hard but never feeling her father loved or even cared much about her. But behind her camera, Olivia was alive. She defined her world and forced it into clarity. At her drafting table, making complex architectural designs, she felt the same way.

Rafe had moved to the far side of the house now, his hammering muted. According to Jilly, they had lost several shutters and a dozen or so roof tiles in the storm. Given the damage farther up the coast, this was nothing. They had been very lucky.

Olivia felt a pang at her shoulder, but she ignored it. Caro would be over in an hour and Olivia was going to help her organize the new knitting patterns in big binders so all the designs were easy to find and beautifully displayed.

Olivia had taken pictures of some beautiful sweaters while she was in Italy. She wondered how they would look blown up and framed. Or maybe even as sketches for the yarn shop walls.

Then she discarded the idea.

She had no training or special skills, after all. Probably the photos would turn out to be ugly.

“Finish your tea and stop frowning.” Jilly stood at the door to the porch, hands on her hips, frowning. “I hate it when you get
that
look on your face, wistful and worried. You always looked that way after your father yelled at you for doing something wrong. Except you never did anything wrong. He was just blowing off for no reason.” Jilly caught back a breath and shook her head. They had had this argument before. It never solved or changed anything. Jilly hadn’t liked Olivia’s father.

“I’m perfectly happy. The weather is beautiful and I’m enjoying my camera. For the record, I’m not frowning or looking wistful about anything,” she said flatly.

“If you say so.” Jilly leaned closer. “Rafe looks pretty good in that tight black T-shirt. If I didn’t have Walker, I could be very tempted.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. Jilly was never subtle about anything, even when she made a joke. “It’s nice of him to come and help Walker. Any new problems?”