Page 8 of Love At Peace

I sighed, shaking my head and lowering my gaze as I continued to approach him. I hadn’t changed my mind on wanting to be left alone. Seeking him out here and willingly walking toward him went against that plan. But this was Todd. He’d scared David off, and since then, I couldn’t help but view him as a source of support. He was a background person in my life, but even as that, he was a comforting presence.

“You all right?” he asked again.

I shrugged, but stopped the motion and shook my head. “No, I’m not. But that’s nothing new. I wasn’t ‘all right’ from the moment I left Chicago.”

“Hmmm.” He cocked his head to the side as he moved his chew to the other cheek. “Don’t mind me or my observations, hunny, but it sure seemed that before today, you were gettin’ along fine around Roarke there.”

I shot him a withering glare. “Oh, really?”

Roarke and I were new, so new that I doubted gossip could be spreading about us hooking up. No one in town could be talking about us being together, and somehow, deep down, I knew Roarke wasn’t the kind of man to kiss and tell. He couldn’t be so stupid to talk about me with his buddies when I’d told him again and again to butt out of my life.

“Hmm-mmm.” He nodded. “When I pulled up that day when your big-city man—”

“David is not my man,” I corrected quickly.

He nodded some more. “Right. Right. I caught on to that bit. But when he was here makin’ you look all mad and scared and nervous, I saw how Roarke was there. Standin’ up for you.”

I had nothing to say. I wouldn’t argue that. Roarke defending me from David was an implication that something was going on between us.

“And then when them damn water pipes busted...” He grimaced, picking up the shovel once and pushing it back down to the dirt a little so it’d stick. “Well, I saw you two at his place.” His bushy white brows lifted high. “And I ain’t born yesterday, hunny. A woman’s only at a man’s place like that at night if she’s borrowing a cup of sugar or giving some sugar.”

A laugh escaped me. It started as a single burst of humor but quickly carried into more.

He chuckled along with me, infected by the moment.

“Sugar? That’s what you used to call it back in the old days?”

“Old days?” He pretended to swat at me. “Ah, you git outta here. Who you callin’ old?”

I laughed more, almost as if I needed this release, to vent like this, too. And it felt good.

“Sugar. Sweets. Same old thing.”

As sex? I eased up, giggling as my laughter faded.

“And he ain’t the sorta man who’s gonna have actual sugar sittin’ in his kitchen. You know what I mean.”

I nodded. “I... I do. I do, Todd.”

“Anyway. What you and Roarke do ain’t my business. It ain’t anyone’s business. But I saw him sweet on you. Treatin’ you well. And unless my eyes and ears are deceivin’ me now, you were sweet on him, too. Why else would ya let him stay at your cabin when his was flooded?”

I sighed and wrapped my arms around myself. “I know. I know.”

“I saw and heard your lil’ tiff over there. But I also saw you two gettin’ along before it.” He shook his head slowly. “He ain’t the kinda man who’s gonna change his colors like that on ya, hunny. Everybody fights sometime. My late wife and I were always squabbling. She’d bitch and I’d complain. That’s life.”

“Sometimes.”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

I licked my lips, surprised that I felt so free and unburdened to share this much with him. “Couples can fight. I agree with that. But in Chicago...” I lifted my hand to rub near my throat, hating the tightening there, the emotions clogged there. “In Chicago, it wasn’t just sometimes.”

“That big-city asshole fought with ya a lot?” he guessed, his tone hard and cold.

I nodded. “Not... Not like that.”

“How?” He scowled.

“Not with his fists.” I swallowed hard. “He wasn’t a beater.” Not often. “But he messed with me here.” I tapped my temple.