The July Guy Read online

  “I guess because I didn’t know anything about her. My mom told me that both her mother and father died before I was born.” She clutched the mug with both hands. “If she knew where I was, what I was doing, why didn’t she contact me?”

  Cindy patted her shoulder. “No one likes to worry about being rejected. She was afraid your mother might have done something to keep you away from her, but she didn’t know for sure. I imagine the thought of you out there, living your life and possibly loving her, was better than contacting you and having you spit in her face.”

  “She said that?”

  Cindy nodded. “Sometimes hope is better than knowing for sure.”

  “Wow.”

  “She told me she tried to apologize to your mother and…” Cindy shrugged. “Aggie didn’t want to risk rejection again.”

  Anita stared into the cup. “I wish I’d known her.”

  Cindy placed her weathered hand over Anita’s. “She’d be glad you’re here. And what you’re doing with the house? She’d be so happy.” She drained her coffee cup. “Thanks for the coffee. It’s going to be nice having you for a neighbor.”

  “Oh, I’m not staying here. My home and my job are in Philadelphia.” Anita had gotten a little tired of saying that. “I’m selling the house after the renovations are done.”

  The disappointment on Cindy’s face made Anita want to apologize, but she didn’t, because she wasn’t sorry. She couldn’t be. It was just the way it was.

  Cindy frowned. “You’re not going to sell it to Ethan Bradford, are you?”

  “No. I don’t want to see the house torn down. Surely there’ll be someone else who’ll want a beautiful lake house.”

  “Sure.” Cindy stood to leave. “You’ve done a good thing with the house, Anita. I’m sorry you won’t be my neighbor.”

  Anita watched her cross the yard and disappear into the house next door. For a brief moment, she was sorry she wasn’t going to be Cindy’s neighbor, too.

  …

  “That lousy Ethan Bradford. Noah!”

  Noah heard Ginny shouting down the hall. He was ready to leave. He wanted to pick up Anita before the threatening clouds opened up. But he’d better see what was up with Ginny first. He walked out to the counter. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, more of the same, I guess. But you know, I could respect him more if he started telling voters what he would focus on if he were mayor. He’s still focusing on negative posts. ‘Noah Colburn is mired in the past.’ And another one says, ‘A vote for Noah Colburn is a vote for the dark ages.’”

  Noah laughed. “How could anyone take that seriously?”

  Ginny didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. “There are a lot of comments agreeing with him. Especially from the younger villagers. I think you need to hit him back with some negative posts. You need to do something.”

  He didn’t have time to do something. “Didn’t you and Sam get together to work with some ideas?”

  “No. He hasn’t…we haven’t… No.” There was that blush again. He wondered if Sam knew Ginny had a thing for him. Did Sam have a thing for Ginny? Noah didn’t have time to worry about his cousin’s love life. He was having enough trouble with his own.

  “No negative posts. Say something about how Lakeside can grow without getting rid of everything from the past. It’s not all or nothing. I’ll help the village find a balance. Let’s keep the old and bring in the new, too.” God, he hoped he’d be able to help the village find a balance.

  “Wait. Don’t talk so fast. This is all good stuff. Let me get it down.” Ginny grinned as she typed. “This is good. Can I get a picture of you behind your desk? You know, show the responsible businessman side of you again?”

  “Fine. But then I have to go. I’m picking up Anita. She’s going to be staying with me while the work is being done on the inside of her house.”

  Ginny’s grin dropped. “She’s leaving, you know.”

  “Everyone knows she’s leaving.”

  “I like her, Noah, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  He pulled her in for a quick hug. “Don’t worry about me. Get your picture, and then I’m out of here.”

  The rain didn’t start in earnest until Noah helped Anita carry her bags and art supplies into his house. They’d stopped for a quick burger at Bud’s before heading home. The wind had been picking up all afternoon, and drops started splashing the windshield as he pulled the truck up the circular driveway and stopped at the front door. She laughed as they dashed up the stairs onto the covered porch, their arms laden with her stuff.

  “Wow. You have a big house.”

  He unlocked the door and ushered her inside. He tried to look at it through her eyes. He wasn’t a total slob, but he knew it had a lived-in look. “Two teenage girls live here, too, most of the time. They have no trouble taking up a lot of space.”

  “You miss them.”

  “I do, yeah.”

  Anita paced the tile floor nervously. He doubted she was often on someone else’s turf. She stopped in front of the mirror hanging over the narrow entryway table, but she wasn’t studying her reflection. She ran her finger over the wooden frame, then did the same to the table.

  “You made these, didn’t you?”

  “They look homemade?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re gorgeous. But I saw something similar in your showroom. Did you make them from salvaged material?”

  “Yeah. They were pretty easy to design. We have guys in the shop who are talented at putting these things together.”

  “You designed them?”

  “Yeah. Both were made from a mahogany door we salvaged from an old library.”

  “Gorgeous,” she repeated. “I didn’t realize how talented you are.”

  “I had a glimpse of that painting you’re working on. That’s talent.”

  “There are all kinds of talent, salvage man.”

  He liked seeing her in his place. He wished he could see her here always. Maybe she didn’t have to keep the lake house to stay in Lakeside.

  Noah cleared his throat. “Want to bring your stuff upstairs, or do you want to see the sunroom first?”

  Her eyes lit up. He could tell she wasn’t nervous anymore. She grabbed the bag that held the canvas. “Sunroom.”

  Noah picked up the carry-all where she’d packed her art supplies. “Follow me.”

  …

  The sunroom was an open space that would be a joy to paint in, but it was also a great space in which to watch a thunderstorm. A comfy sofa faced the bank of windows. Anita curled up in a corner with a glass of wine. Noah was lighting candles he’d placed around the room.

  “Are you worried the power will go out in the storm?” she asked.

  He paused and looked over at her. His intense expression sent shivers along her skin. “No.”

  Her breath hitched. “Oh.” She wanted to remind him she didn’t need romance. Didn’t want it. But…maybe right now she did. At least, she could appreciate it. And when he shut off the ceiling light and sat beside her with his own glass of wine, she shifted to cuddle against him.

  The flickering light lent a soft glow to the room, almost a subtle blur like an impressionistic painting. Mother Nature was putting on a show outside. It was dark as midnight out there even though it was barely nine. Bright flashes of lightning illuminated the hills behind his house. Deep rumbles of thunder vibrated through her. The steady patter of rain danced on the roof and streamed down the window glass.

  “You sure know how to set a mood,” she murmured. Had anyone else ever gone out of their way to make her feel this wanted?

  He nodded toward the window. “I had a little help tonight.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with me staying here?” What a stupid thing for her to say. If anyone was uneasy, it was her. There were four bedrooms upstairs. A spare besides one for each of his girls and the master. Moving her things into his bedroom felt a little strange. Okay, a lot strange. It shouldn’t be a
ny different than Noah spending every night in her bed. But somehow it was.

  “Of course I’m okay with it.” He leaned over and brushed his lips over hers. “If wine and candlelight doesn’t show you that I want you here, I don’t know what else will.”

  “It’s perfect. I’m being silly. I’m not used to…”

  He traced a fingertip along her cheek. “Romance?”

  She sighed. “Yeah.”

  “You should be. All those men and none of them made you feel wanted?” He relieved her of her wineglass and set it and his on the glass-topped coffee table made from a large multi-paned window Noah must have salvaged from someplace.

  “They listened to me when I said I didn’t want romance.”

  “Foolish men.”

  Noah cradled her face in his hands. His face was a mix of shadows and light from the flickering candles. The air was charged around them, from the storm and the candlelight and the power of his gaze. From the intense sensations clashing between them and the need thrumming through her veins.

  She needed him. Anita had never needed anyone before. She craved him with an ache deep inside, and it wasn’t because of the wine or the candlelight, the sunroom studio, or even the amazing sex. It was the man. It was Noah.

  Dammit, she was in danger of falling in love with him.

  She covered his hands with hers, still cupping her face. How had it happened? She studied him as if she could find the answer in his eyes. She’d always been so cautious. What was she going to do now?

  A crash of thunder sounded as if it were right above them. She jumped, and he dropped his hands from her face. “Are you okay?”

  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. His breath was warm on her neck. Her heart felt as if it were going to burst out of her chest. This was never supposed to have happened.

  Noah stroked her back. “What’s the matter? You’re tense all of a sudden. I thought you loved thunderstorms.”

  Anita pulled away from him and sat back. She grabbed her wine and downed the rest without a breath. “I do love the storm. I…I don’t know what’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong. I need more wine.”

  She started to stand, but Noah put his hands on her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head and stood. “I’ll get it.”

  She watched him walk away and knew that was what would have to happen. She pushed away the panicky feeling and took a deep, calming breath. When July was over, she was going to walk away. Falling in love with Noah wouldn’t make any difference in the long run. Her life would go on the way she’d planned. She could still enjoy the rest of her fling with Noah. And next year, she would damn well find one of the charming, agreeable guys who didn’t bring her flowers or wine. A guy who’d listen to her and not light candles to give her a taste of romance and most certainly would not make her fall in love with him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anita spent the next day setting up her studio in the sunroom. By the time Noah got home from work, she’d not only rearranged the furniture and set up the easel where it would catch the most light, but she’d made several pencil sketches of the hills behind the house. Her Julys had always revolved around her art more than the fling in the past, but this year, somehow the man had become more important than the art.

  She wasn’t going to think about it right now, she was going to enjoy the rest of the month and not worry about what would happen later. It had been a long time since she’d just spent an afternoon relaxing with a sketchbook. She’d have to do it more often when she got back. July was running quickly through her fingers. Before she knew it, she’d be leaving Lakeside. She’d have to start making plans to return home.

  No, she wasn’t going to think about that, either.

  The front door opened, and her heart sped. So much freaking joy filled her chest she didn’t know what to do with it all. Her time with Noah was limited. She was going to take advantage of every moment. She tossed down the sketchbook.

  He paused in the doorway to the sunroom. He looked so serious.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Noah blinked and seemed to snap out of whatever funk he was in. “Nothing’s the matter.” He sat beside her on the couch. “I have to tell you something.”

  Anita shifted on the cushion. The joy fizzled, and apprehension took its place. “I don’t think anything good comes after a phrase like that.”

  “It’s good. I think it’s good. Just hear me out.” He took her hand, stroked it as if to calm her because he knew she was going to be upset.

  She was upset already, and she didn’t even know why. “What is it?”

  “I’ve been thinking about how things are going to change when my girls leave for college. How much I love them. How much I’m going to miss them. And it got me thinking about how I would feel if I’d never gotten to speak to them. I talked with your father today.”

  She snatched her hand away. “What? How?”

  “We’ve been video messaging through Facebook.”

  Her mind went blank. Or maybe there were so many thoughts bouncing around in her brain that she couldn’t focus on a single one. “I thought you didn’t know about that stuff. Oh, I know. Ginny showed you.”

  Not that any of that mattered. Blood pounded in her ears.

  “He wants to talk with you. So much.” Noah pulled his phone out. “He wants to see you. Can you at least talk to him for a minute? Let him see you all grown-up and so smart and confident and beautiful?”

  She sat there with her throat closed up, unable to let a single word escape. Without waiting for her answer, Noah made the call with a couple of swipes and taps.

  “No,” she murmured, but she didn’t move, remained frozen in place, when the video call was answered.

  “Hello, Tony,” Noah said.

  There was a pause. “Is she there?”

  Noah tipped the screen her way, and she could see him. Antonio Delgado. His thick hair was completely silver. His dark eyes were almost exactly the ones she saw in the mirror every day. The lines on his anxious face didn’t stop her from recognizing the man she’d seen in the pictures on her mother’s bedroom dresser.

  “Hello, mija.” The rumbling, lyrical voice touched something deep inside her, conjured up the image of a big man, cradling her in his arms and singing her a lullaby with that thick accent. Mija. He used to call her mija. My daughter. Too many memories she didn’t want.

  She glared at Noah. “Why would you do this?”

  “I—”

  “I told you I didn’t want to talk to him.” She risked a quick glance at the aging Antonio Delgado on the screen in Noah’s hand. His apprehensive expression hadn’t changed. She didn’t care if she hurt his feelings. She’d been hurting for years.

  “I think you should give him a chance.”

  “Oh you do, do you?” Fury made her entire body shake. “You don’t know a fucking thing.”

  “I know you’ll regret it if you don’t take this chance to talk to him. He’s your father.”

  “He didn’t want to be a father for all these years. He can’t just decide to be one now.”

  “One conversation, Anita,” her father said. “That is all I’m asking.”

  Her blood was rushing through her ears so loudly, it was all she could hear. She refused to look at him again.

  “If not now, Anita,” her father asked, “when?”

  “I can’t believe you did this behind my back,” she ground out to Noah.

  He silently pleaded with her to understand. All she knew was that he’d overstepped a boundary she thought had been clearly marked. He was just a fling. Not a husband, not even a boyfriend. Merely a fling.

  He had no right.

  Noah’s lips brushed her ear. “Don’t wait until all you have are scraps of paper to tell you about your father.” He shoved the phone into her hands. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  He was gone, and Anita was left staring at the man who’d abandoned her all those years ago.

  “I like y
our Noah,” he said when she didn’t speak.” I’m glad you fell in love with a good man.”

  “Didn’t he tell you?” she asked, not holding back on the sarcasm. “Noah and I are only having a little fling. We’re not in love.”

  “The way he talks about you, mija? It sounds to me like he loves you.”

  Noah had never said he loved her. He was smart enough not to fall in love with someone he knew wasn’t going to be around past the end of the month. “If that’s true, it’s too bad for him. I don’t want to fall in love.” That wasn’t a lie. “Love causes nothing but problems. You and Mom taught me that.”

  She didn’t want to see her father’s pained expression. She wasn’t going to feel sorry for him. Wasn’t going to feel guilty for speaking her mind. If he’d wanted to talk to her, he should have expected it to go this way.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that things did not work out with your mother and me. Patty was the love of my life.”

  “How can you say that?” She remembered the photos her mother had displayed on the dresser in her childhood bedroom. The names hidden in a drawer, written over and over with red hearts and hope. “You sure had a funny way of showing it.”

  “You have to understand we were very young, and unfortunately, we knew all the ways to hurt one another. I regret that every day.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. It’s been over for a long time.” She couldn’t resist getting in one more dig. “And you didn’t only leave her, did you? You didn’t only hurt her.”

  The anguish was clear on his face. “With the wisdom of age, I can admit I would have done many things differently. But it is impossible to change the past no matter how much I wish I could. I’m so glad I now have the chance to tell you how proud I am of you. You are a strong, beautiful woman. So talented. So intelligent.”

  “And you had nothing to do with it.”

  He winced. “Please give me a chance, mija.”

  “Look. I know I’m supposed to be impressed that you contacted me after all this time, but it’s too late, Antonio. Back when I was six would have been the time. And when I was ten. And eighteen. And all those years in between.”