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I’m notsure exactly when I decided to leave town. Maybe it was the moment Georgia turned her back on me at the dog park, or when I returned to my workshop and saw my cot in the back room, my worn-out clothes, my pathetic bathroom. Maybe it was when I checked my bank account every hour for the money from my last commission to clear, so I’d have enough money to survive another few weeks.
At some point, leaving Heart’s Cove became imperative. Getting away from this place became an itch under my skin I couldn’t scratch.
Now, four days after my meeting with Georgia, I’m loading up the last of my tools into my truck and hauling Bella’s dog bed into the cab.
I have to go. Being here—being near her—isn’t good for me.
Just look at how I reacted when I saw her shaking hands with another man. I turned feral and possessive over a woman who wants nothing to do with me. I was moments away from trying to seriously injure her landlord, and all he did was shake her hand. That’s no way to live, no way to act. I’m a grown man, and I know how things with Georgia end: badly.
No, it’s best for me to go back to Clare. I know people there; I’ll be able to get a job. I’ll sleep on a couch until I have a place to stay, and I’ll get my feet back under me. The ground will be quicksand, and I’ll probably stay trapped there until I die, but at least I’ll be standing upright.
Going back home to live out my life is better than making a fool of myself over my high school sweetheart. It’s better than losing my mind over the same woman that warped my heart to begin with.
A car rumbles behind me. “Oh!” a man’s voice calls out. “Are you leaving?” I turn to see Grant Greene leaning out of the window of his truck. He pulls up beside me and cuts the engine before exiting the vehicle. “I was coming by to see if you had time to work on a new piece for my place.”
A grim smile flattens my lips. Is this the devil slithering up to me with one last temptation to stay? I shake my head. “Nah. Vacation’s over. It’s back to Texas for me.”
“Damn,” Grant says, huffing. “There goes my anniversary present for Fiona.” He glances over my truck and trailer, obviously disappointed.
“Once I get set up back home, I can shoot you a message,” I tell him. “But unfortunately, the commissions are few and far between for a sculptor these days.” I hook my thumbs in my belt loops, shrugging. “Gotta get a real job.”
The big man frowns, leaning a shoulder against his truck. “You’re not interested in staying? There’s lots of work for a man with your skills.” He nods to the toolboxes strapped down in the truck bed. “Even without a license of your own, you can labor for a contractor.” He spreads his arms, indicating himself.
The knife Georgia stuck in my gut twists. “That’s probably what I’ll do when I get back to Texas,” I admit. “Hasn’t worked out for me here.”
“Work for me,” Grant says, dropping the subtlety. “I’ve just taken on a couple of big projects and I’m hiring anyone with two hands and half a brain. You’ve got a whole lot more than that. I could use someone like you.”
My heart thuds once, then dies. I hear Georgia’s voice when she said,It was good to see you again, and it sounded too much like,Goodbye forever.I couldn’t survive being in this town knowing she wanted nothing to do with me. Watching another man touch her the way Des did, even if it was harmless…
“Thanks,” I tell Grant, extending a hand toward him. “But I think it’s time for me to go.”
“All right,” Grant says, obviously disappointed. “Let me get your contact details, and we’ll talk about that piece for my anniversary when you’re settled back home.”
Another sharp twist, blood pooling in my chest cavity. “Home” doesn’t have the same ring it used to.
“Deal,” I grate, shaking on it.
When Grant drives away, I feel emptier than I did before. I allow myself enough time for one long sigh, then I get back to work packing my things.
12
GEORGIA
The incessant honkingof a horn outside my house alerts me to my sister’s arrival in Heart’s Cove. It’s Friday, four days after I met with Sebastian at the park, and I’ve kept myself busy with plans for my gallery and preparations for my sister’s visit.
If I were honest with myself, I might admit that I’ve been burying myself in work to avoid thinking about the finality of that last conversation with Sebastian. It took all my strength to push him away, when all I wanted to do was strip myself bare and beg him to have his way with me.
When he stepped out of his truck and looked at me with those eyes—intensely blue, furious eyes—I wanted to drop to my knees. I wanted to crawl toward him.
With other men, I’ve always been in control. I’m either CEO Georgia or Flirty Georgia. There’s a six-foot-thick stone wall between the vulnerable heart of me and everyone else. The hard-ass boss is a great defense, but it’s hard to keep up full-time. Being flirty and flighty is an easier mask to wear, and it’s just as easy to keep people at arm’s length with it.
Even with Desmond, I felt that old skin slip over me. My flirty smile felt false, if familiar, but there was nothing behind it. He’s an attractive man, but I felt nothing for him.
But with Sebastian, it’s like everything I am disappears when he turns his attention on me. I’m no longer strong and independent and rational. I’m no longer in control of my feelings, actions, and facial expressions. I turn into a needy mass of limbs and lust. So with that in mind, last time we spoke I did what I had to do. I protected myself. I wrapped myself in a cocoon of steel and strength and I made sure I was safe from the wreckage he promised.
If I can’t keep him at arms’ length with strength, and I can’t distract him with flirtation, I have no choice but to push him away.
Since then, I’ve kept myself busy.
