Unlucky in Love (18 page)

“Sounds like a job for Ma.” Cole backed further toward the door, then turned around and opened it to head out. “I'll send her down.”

Gunnar dropped his head back, a smile at the edge of his lips, even in his frustration. “Just so you know, this is
not
the vision I had for this evening.”

“Which honestly makes it all the more fun, I have to admit.” Lexi smiled, loving this version of Gunnar, undone by shellfish.

A few minutes later, there was another knock on the door, but it wasn't really needed, since they'd heard Ma's giggle from three cabins away as she'd come down the pathway.

Gunnar let her in, and she went straight to the kitchen. “Cole said you have a
situation
?” She tried to make her voice serious but failed miserably.

“We do.” Gunnar pointed at the bag. “It appears that cooking lobster is actually harder than it looks.”

“You mean because they're alive?” Ma winked as she reached into the bag, coming out with a lobster in her hand. “You want to watch? Or do you need to leave the room?”

Gunnar paused. “I'll be on the porch.”

Ma laughed, waiting till he was out the door before she unceremoniously dumped the first lobster into the pot, then the second. She washed her hands, then dried them on a dishtowel as she stood on tiptoes to peer under the lid.

“They don't feel a thing. Brains are cooked before they have time to sense the pain.”

Lexi smiled. “That's comforting. Thank you, Ma.”

“Sure.” Ma winked as Gunnar came back through the door. “Gunnar? You think you can take 'em out when they're done? Or you need me to stick around?”

“I think we can do that part. They're dead now. And you killed them, so it's on your conscience instead of mine.” He gave Ma a quick hug. “Thanks for the rescue. I was about to look like a big wimp in front of Lexi.”

“Well, we can't have that now, can we?” Ma glanced around, looking like she was seeing the candles, Lexi's dress, Gunnar's dress clothes for the first time. Lexi saw her try to hide a smile. “All righty, then. You two have a nice dinner. If you've got any rogue brownies that need taming later, just let me know.”

Twenty minutes later, they sat down at the table, lobsters and slaw and little cups of drawn butter on their plates, and Lexi sighed in pleasure.

“This. Is. Awesome.”

Gunnar smiled. “I'm glad you approve.” He looked down at his lobster. “Now, remind me—where do you start?”

Lexi laughed, pointing at the claws. “I start there. But it doesn't matter.” She broke her shell apart, amused when he subtly mimicked her moves. Clearly, it'd been awhile since his last lobster.

After they'd each eaten a few bites, she looked up. “So did you always know you wanted to be a horse trainer?”

“Nope.” He leaned his head toward hers. “I was actually going to be an astronaut.”

She laughed. “What happened?”

“An exhibit at a space museum. Turns out I suck at the whole no-gravity thing. Then I was going to be a jockey.”

“But?”

He pointed down at his body. “I grew.”

“Definite problem.” She laughed. “So then you went the trainer route?”

“No.” He shook his head. “First came the rock-god phase, then the brilliant surgeon month, and then the attorney-to-the-stars thing.”

“Ah, you were one of those grounded-in-reality teens?”

“Absolutely.” He shrugged. “But when those kind of fizzled, I went with the horse thing. They're a hell of a lot easier than people, most days.”

“Even when they're broken?” She asked the question quietly, but she'd been watching him with Duke for weeks now. She wanted to know.

“Especially when they're broken.”

“Do you ever give up on one? Are they ever—you know—
too
broken?”

He shook his head again. “I hope I never would. And I hope someday I can have my own operation and hire my own guys. I'll train them the way I got trained, and hopefully we can grow to a point where there won't
be
any more horses lingering in stalls, growing old and bitter because nobody knows what to do with them.”

“Who trained
you
?”

Gunnar pulled back, and she sensed she'd inadvertently hit a sensitive spot. He was silent for a full minute, then took a breath.

“I worked at a big operation in Kentucky, after we moved there…after San Antonio. Their mainstay was their racehorses, but after shoveling shit and sawdust for a month, I was lucky enough to get hired by a guy who worked with horses nobody else could handle. He'd been at the farm forever, and the owner didn't necessarily want those kinds of animals on his property, but he couldn't say no to McNally. He okayed a few at a time, and I guess McNally saw me hanging over the fences enough times that he figured he might as well put me to work.”

“And you loved it.”

Gunnar paused. “Well, first it scared the shit out of me. I'd never dealt with horses like these. The usual tricks were useless. But I watched and listened, and after I got my feet stomped to smithereens enough times, I eventually learned.” He shrugged. “And the rest is history. Here I am, still training them, still getting my feet stomped—but just not as much these days.”

Lexi heard an undercurrent of tension in his glib summary, but she couldn't put her finger on what might have caused it.

“How long did you live in Kentucky?”

He turned away, staring across the stream at the field that stretched toward the mountains. “Couple of years. A year in, McNally had just given me my first horse to handle myself when my father got new papers. Anchorage this time.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yep. I begged my mother not to follow him, but…she didn't know any other way, really. Not by that point.”

Lexi felt her forehead crease. “Follow him? Weren't they married?”

“No.” Gunnar let out a short, bitter laugh, then took a deep breath. “He was.”

Gunnar broke off, feeling like he'd suddenly headed down a road he hadn't meant to travel with Lexi. Christ, it wasn't actually a road he traversed with
anyone
. The story of his parents' relationship was so screwed up that even now, twelve years after he'd separated himself from both of them, it still made him itch with discomfort when he thought about them.

Yeah, he'd begged his mother, all right.

Enough
, he'd said.
He's not coming back to you. He's never coming back to you.

And then she'd slapped him.

As the sting had settled in his cheek, he'd known it wasn't about him. He'd known she'd immediately regret lashing out at the one person who'd stood by her all those pathetic years. He'd known she'd cry and beg forgiveness and say
This is it. Last move. I promise.
Like she'd done so many times before.

But this time he'd finally been old enough to see the situation for what it was. His father had knocked her up, but had never once claimed responsibility for the child he'd left her with. He was a military man, but in Gunnar's mind, he didn't embody the least of the qualities of one.

And for sixteen years, she'd followed him to every new post, finding a crappy apartment and a crappier job just outside the base gates, living for the once-a-month visits when he'd show up with some stupid toy or game that Gunnar never wanted. He'd stay the night, and in the morning he'd be in the kitchen making pancakes and sausage, whistling like he was there every Sunday morning…like neither of them could see the mark from his wedding ring on his left hand.

Gunnar would choke down those pancakes, knowing Mom would spend the next two days in a delirious, happy fog…and then come crashing back to reality.

After his mother had lashed out that last morning, he'd gone straight to the barn, found his horse, and had him doing circles before dawn. And then McNally had arrived, looked side-eyed at the mark still on his cheek, and without much more than a couple of words, showed him a tiny little apartment in the stable. Two hundred bucks a month, payable only in training hours, he'd said, and Gunnar had shaken his hand in gratitude.

When he'd told his mother he wasn't going with her, she'd nodded sadly, like she'd expected it. But she'd still gone, leaving her sixteen-year-old son to fend for himself while she tried yet again to mold herself into some ideal version of the perfect woman so that his father would eventually come back to her.

Gunnar shook his head, trying to knock the memories loose. “So, short answer. I stayed in Kentucky until I felt like I had enough training chops to come back out here and make a case for Ma giving me a job. I worked for her back when I was fourteen, and I always knew this is where I wanted to eventually land. I made my case, she hired me, and the rest is history. So, here I am, and I'm not leaving till I'm dead. I moved around so much as a kid that I didn't even bother unpacking the last couple of times. And once I move out of this cabin into my own place, on my own land, built by my own hands, I'm unpacking for the last time.”

Lexi smiled, but he saw a tightness in her face.
What had he said?

“Whisper Creek must have made quite an impression on you back then.”

“It did. The place, the horses, and the people. Ma took me in like I was one of her own, even though I was a fourteen-year-old punk. She made me do my homework, help with chores, and clean up the dishes, just like Decker and Cole had to do.” He sobered. “And at night, she'd drive me back into town after Mom got off her shift at the diner, and she'd hand me a paper bag that smelled like Heaven.
For lunch tomorrow
, she'd say.
We can't eat all the leftovers ourselves.
”

Then he took a deep breath. “But enough about me. Did you always dream of being a nurse? Or did your astronaut dreams go down in a bout of vertigo, too?”

Lexi laughed, and he loved the warm, rich sound of it—like a deep red wine over river rocks.

“No astronaut dreams, no, but I did have a couple of years where I was sure I was going to be the first female firefighter in York.”

“Big dreams, you.”

“I know!” She smiled. “I went through the typical teacher-doctor-lawyer-actress phases, but my mom isn't…well. I think at some point I decided maybe if I went into medicine, I'd be able to make her better. Or at least have a clue what was wrong with her.”

“What
is
wrong with her?”

Lexi rolled her eyes. “It's hard to know, most days. She had a cardiac incident a few years ago, and since then, she's made sure my sister and I are brutally aware any moment could be her last. She truly believes she's really sick.”

“Is she?”

“No. I wouldn't be here if she were. I never would have left. Really, her biggest problem is her need to be surrounded by drama, so if there isn't enough in her close vicinity, she creates it.”

“And you chose to spend the summer two thousand miles away from her?” He smiled. “I don't understand.”

“I know.” Lexi laughed. “I left my poor younger sister to deal with her.”

“Is this sister still speaking to you?”

“So far, yes. But she's gotten off easy for a long time, playing the wild, crazy, irresponsible one. Half the time, I think she does it just so Mom won't dare to rely on her for anything.” Lexi shrugged. “Which leaves me.”

“Because you're the steady, dependable one. Gotcha.” Gunnar nodded, suddenly having a much clearer vision of what Lexi's non–Whisper Creek life looked like. “But even the good kid deserves a vacation from the crazy sometimes, right?”

“Yes. She absolutely does.” Lexi smiled. “But because she's the good kid, she can't help but still feel guilty about it.”

“It's just eight weeks, right? In the scheme of things, that's not all that long.”

“For a woman who calls at least twice a day,
every
day, it's an eternity. She's left me so many voicemails out here that my mailbox is full.” She stopped, putting a hand to her mouth. “I'm sorry, Gunnar. That was—insensitive. Here I am complaining about my mom, and you—”

“It's okay. I've lived with my situation for a long time, and I came out the other side just fine. I don't actually hold it against my mother. She wasn't…strong. And her worst crime was loving my deadbeat father.”

Lexi tipped her head. “Pretty sure her worst crime was abandoning her child while she chased your father around the country, Gunnar.”

“Well, there's that, yeah.” He smiled, loving how quickly she allied herself with him—loving how fierce the set of her jaw was as she tried to understand how a mother could basically abandon her own kid. Yes, he'd been sixteen, but still.

Damn. As he watched her in the candlelight, her cheeks pink and that little sundress leaving not a hell of a lot to the imagination, he couldn't help but think about what Jasper had said earlier. But he didn't want a casual hookup with Lexi.

He didn't—because he wanted so much more.

“So, you're headed home in three weeks still? Haven't changed your mind yet?” He winked, like staying here was really a choice she had.

“Well, there's the small matter of my job and home.”

“But we can get lobster here! Doesn't that sway you at all?”

She laughed. “Absolutely.”

“And—maybe this is out of line—but there
is
the whole kissing thing. Because I think we'd be really good at it, you and I.”

“Gunnar.” He watched her face flush, and it made him inordinately pleased.

He put up his hands. “Can you honestly tell me you haven't been thinking about it?”

“Um.” She blushed harder, which just made him push further.

“I'll be honest with you, Lex. I can't
stop
thinking about it. And I can't stop thinking about
you
. It's kind of killing me here, actually.”

She laughed quietly. “Okay, yes. Maybe I've been thinking about—it. A little.” He raised his eyebrows. “Fine. A lot.”

“Well, that's a relief.” He sat back. “So what should we do about it?”

“
Stop
thinking about it? Given that it's killing us and all?”

“A valid proposal.” He nodded. “But a terrible one.”

“Do you have a better idea?” She looked up shyly, and he could hear the tremble in her voice.

“I have a
lot
of better ideas.”

“I was sort of afraid of that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But sort of not?”

“God, Gunnar. I don't know. I'm leaving in three weeks, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to come back. It seems inordinately stupid to start something we both know can't ever work out, as amazing as it might
be
for those three short weeks.”

He nodded, knowing full well that she was right. He should stand up right now, walk her to the door, and do his best to stay out of her orbit until she was back in Maine.

Yeah, that was exactly what he should do.

“You're right.” He sighed, draining his glass.

“That it would be stupid?”

“No. That it would be amazing.” He reached over to touch her cheek, and she leaned into his hand as it caressed her. “Right now I'm just enjoying watching your eyes sparkle and your face flame with the thought of being with me.”

He traced a finger down her neck, then back up, feeling her pulse quicken as he did. “And seeing you flush here makes me just want to keep you off balance, because what's
really
killing me is wondering what you'd look like if you were really
…undone
.”

Lexi let her head fall back, her breaths coming faster than she wanted him to see. “God, Gunnar.”

Then she felt his lips on her neck—soft, commanding, dead sexy as he brushed her hair back from her ear. Before she could figure out whether to push him away or just sink into the bliss of it, his lips were on hers. This time, there was no one around. This time, there was no phone to stop them. This time—oh, God. This time, she didn't want him to stop.

As his lips searched hers, gentle and demanding at the same time, she felt her bones turn to jelly, one by one. As he shifted his body to pull her closer, she reached for him, clung to his shirt, whimpered low in her throat as his impossibly warm hand traveled up her thigh.

But just as she actually started to wonder if he
might
pick her up and head for the bedroom, Gunnar pulled back slowly, carefully. He looked down at her, tracing her eyebrows, her nose, her jawline with a gentle finger.

He brushed a wave of hair back from her face. “Lex, I can see thoughts moving at a hundred miles an hour across your face. And I get it. I can feel you questioning every moment, every word I say. I know The Idiot did a number on you, and maybe other guys did, too. But I'm not them. I'm just…not.”

“I know.” Her voice was strangled, soft, as she felt herself falling into his eyes.

“This is real, Lex. Whatever's going on here—and however we decide it ends up—it's all real. I feel like I don't trust that you know that, and I really,
really
want you to know that.”

“What does that
mean
?” She struggled not to melt into his fingers as they caressed her cheek.

“It means I'm head over frigging heels for you, Alexis Maguire. That's what it means. And despite a hell of a lot of effort to resist it, I can't seem to.”

Lexi laughed softly, feeling tears pricking her eyes. “So, you don't order lobster from Maine for just anyone, then? This isn't your standard repertoire?”

“No.”

“Even the part about chickening out on cooking it? Because omigod, that kicked the adorable quotient right off the scales.”

He shook his head. “Adorable wasn't quite the thing I was going for, and no. Really never thought that would have been an attractive quality in a guy, gotta be honest.”

“What would we do, Gunnar? We've got separate lives—like—
really
separate lives.”

“I don't know.” He shook his head slowly. “But somebody really smart about this stuff gave me some advice earlier today.”

“Oh?”

“She said planning is overrated, and analyzing is overrated. Loving, however, is not.”

Lexi heard the word come out of his mouth, and she couldn't help but put her fingers to her lips.

Was he saying—could he really—no. Love? No. They barely knew each other.

“Don't freak out, Lex.” He smiled. “We hardly know each other. I know that. But I'm sick of trying to pretend I don't look for you every morning when I come up the hill. I'm tired of finding excuses to walk by your cabin, then feeling like a fourteen-year-old with a crush. I'm tired of avoiding finding out what maybe we could…
be
.”

“Wow.”

He laughed softly. “You're incredibly verbose when someone stuns you, you know.”

“I know.”

He leaned toward her, and she felt her eyes close, aching for him to kiss her again. Thunder rolled in the distance, and she almost laughed, because how perfect was that?

But just before his lips might have touched hers again, there was a loud knocking on the door. “Gunnar? You in there?” Lexi recognized the voice of Jimmy, one of the stable guys. “We've got a situation. Duke. Thunder.”

Gunnar pulled back immediately. “Shit. I'm so sorry. I have to—he freaks out—I gotta get to him before he hurts himself.”

“Of course,” she said. “Go. I'll clean up.”

“Gunnar?” The guy's voice came through the screen again.

“Coming! Hold on.” Gunnar looked at her apologetically, then whipped on his hat and headed for the door, leaving Lexi sitting at the table…wishing her heart hadn't just left the cabin with him.