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A long wooden pier extended into the water from the inn’s property. Only one other boat was tied up there, but Jack still took the precaution of keeping Keith’s vessel on the opposite side of the planked dock.
“I only want what’s best for you,” he reiterated, unconsciously reminding her how fanciful she’d been to think he wanted anything else from her.
“Well I want a fresh start and I can’t get that in Cape Cod.” She decided that listing her reasons for this move was a good idea right now. With the draw of Jack’s undiluted appeal, she needed to erect some defenses in a hurry.
“A fresh start,” he repeated as he tied a knot around one of the cleats on the dock. “You make it sound like you can’t wait to get away from Chatham and I’m not sure why. You always liked it there before.” He frowned, pausing in his work with the knot. “Did anything bad happen there that I don’t know about?”
If the storm cloud on his brow was any indication, Jack Murphy was fully prepared to go medieval on anything or anyone that gave her trouble. The notion made her smile.
“No.” Except for Jack breaking up with her. And, technically, that had happened in Boston while she was at school.
“You’re not trying to teach your dad a lesson about ignoring his only daughter?” Jack stepped up onto the dock and then held his hand out to Alicia so she could do the same. “Because I know he’s checked out on you plenty of times. And that—payback for being an absentee father—I can understand.”
She took his hand as she hoisted herself out of the boat and onto the pier. Such a simple touch. Such an immediate, electric reaction.
Quickly, she withdrew her fingers and stuffed them in the pocket of her hoodie.
“Nothing like that.” She shook her head and then wondered if it had been a mistake not to simply take the easy out he offered her. She couldn’t very well admit she didn’t want to be a witness to his dating life now that he was back home from his Navy commitments. “I’m just not sure I’ll be taken seriously in Chatham. You know, the prophet can’t preach in his home town? That kind of thing. Whereas if I move far away, no one will have any preconceived ideas about me. I think it’ll be easier to get the business up and running.”
He frowned, steps slowing as they reached the end of the pier.
“I don’t buy it.”
“Excuse me?” How could he have guessed her real reasons for wanting to get the heck out of Dodge?
“Most small businesses have more success when their owner is entrenched in the community. Plus, you’re both well-known and well liked.”
“But remember, I don’t want to compete with your father’s resorts.” She glanced around the property that she already knew so well from photos.
A tire swing hung from an old oak tree. Tall pines sheltered the main building from prevailing winds. A shed they called a boathouse served as a repository for their limited supply of water gear- a couple of canoes and life jackets. Worn Adirondack chairs nestled under the porch eaves. Stone-covered paths connected the various facets of the property, from a rock garden to a fire pit, over to a picnic table near the small patch of beach.
“The clientele you’d draw with a bed and breakfast is entirely different from the guests who seek out a resort. That’s not even a factor,” Jack continued, oblivious to the fact that she’d already started picking out colors to paint the Adirondack chairs.
“I should have one in every color,” she murmured, moving toward a broken lounger near the fire pit.
“Ally?” he called, following her over the sloping expanse of scraggly lawn.
“Isn’t it charming?” She ran a hand over the weather-worn cedar back of the chair.
“It’s ready to fall apart.” He pointed to the crack in the seat, apparently taking her comment literally.
“I mean the whole place.” She waved to the rambling structure and the sunlit yard. “Can’t you see it full of families on a summer weekend?”
She could already picture the collection of wooden boats she’d start for the little ones who wanted to play in the surf. Maybe she’d need a wading pool to give the youngest guests a safe place to play.
While she was waiting for his responses, she heard his cell phone chime. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose as he read a text message. Stressed because of whatever note he’d received? Or was he stressed because he couldn’t talk her out of an idea he seemed oddly opposed to.
“I don’t know why you hate this idea so much,” she observed while he tucked his phone back into his pocket. She jogged a few stops over to the tire swing, tipping it sideways to empty the rainwater filling the lower half. “You’ve had a chance to explore the world. I’ve been in Chatham saving my pennies so I could explore some, too. It’ll be good for me to see new things. Have new experiences.”
“I don’t hate the idea.” He followed her to the swing. “Want me to push you?”
“You don’t need to ask twice.” Grinning, she hopped onto the tire- legs through the center, hands on top. She balanced her chin on her hands while she waited for him to push her, admiring the view of the Atlantic. “I hope your message wasn’t bad news.”
She realized she hadn’t asked him about his plans now that he was out of the service. Was he working on a business of his own?
“No. It was Kyle inviting us to one of his games tomorrow.”
Kyle- the youngest Murphy who’d been in the same grade as her in high school – was a hockey player in the NHL for the Boston Bears. She’d gone to see him once with a few other friends who’d been in their graduating class, but it had been after her and Jack broke up so she hadn’t told Kyle she would be there. It had been fun but a little awkward since her girlfriends had used the outing as a chance to quiz her about what happened between her and Jack.
