Chapter 7

For the rest of the afternoon, Micki chastised herself for rebuking Patrick. The guy came down here for rest and relaxation, and instead he'd been recruited to skip stones with Tate, moved lumber for her father, and then was called out for not telling her he liked the kiss. The more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she grew.

She did her usual chores made more challenging by having Tate in tow. Logan hadn't sent him to day care or summer camp worried he wasn't ready after his mother's death. She and her parents agreed, but Micki was beginning to wonder if they were all wrong about that. Keeping Tate out of mischief common for a seven-year-old was a full-time job, which took away from her already demanding tasks of keeping the resort up and running.

Logan arrived at six that evening, turning down a home-cooked meal from their mom saying he wanted to take Tate out. That likely meant ice cream for dinner, but it was clear that Logan was unsettled by Tate's behavior that morning, especially when he was told that Tate had broken Patrick's car window.

After dinner, once the dishes were done, Micki and her parents sat down as they did most nights to discuss the status of the resort.

"The dock still needs repair," her father said, with a knowing glance at Micki.

"I can look at it tomorrow." She knew not to mention Patrick's help as it would bother her mother.

Her father showed a rare sign of frustration. "I can do it?—"

"You can't hardly get out of the house, how are you going to get to nearly the other side of the lake?" Her mother let out an exasperated breath. Micki's father's growing troubles with mobility along with years of struggle to keep the resort afloat wore down on her. On all of them.

"I can?—"

"We don't have to worry about it now." Micki pushed a paper in front of them. "This is what I'm thinking for Fourth of July. Fireworks are expensive, but we can cut back on some of the other expenses."

Her father ran his hands through his thinning hair. "Whatever you think, Mick." Defeat was evident in his tone.

They continued their discussion as if they all hoped for a miracle to change things, knowing that one wasn't likely to come. It was just past nine when Micki started down to her little apartment until she noticed Patrick lying on the dock outside his cabin. For a moment she watched him, first to make sure nothing was wrong, and second, in an attempt at figuring him out.

Unable to help herself, she made her way down the path toward him.

She reached the dock. "Everything alright here?"

"Yes." He didn't move to get up or look at her.

She watched him a moment longer. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at the stars. You can't see them like this in New York. They're bright and there's so many of them."

She smiled, glad that he was finally figuring out how to relax in the mountains. She sat down next to him and laid back to join him.

For a moment, she simply gazed up at the night sky. "It puts things in perspective, doesn't it?"

"Hmm." His response was non-committal.

"You look at the night sky, the vastness, the infinite…it makes you feel like we're part of something bigger than ourselves, don't you think?"

Patrick let out a quiet sigh. "To me, it"s more like a reminder of how insignificant we are."

A pang of sympathy fluttered in Micki"s chest as she turned to look at him. She couldn't see his face well, but he seemed to be lost in introspection that wasn't helping him overcome what had brought him to Virginia.

She searched for words that might help him see the view differently. "It"s all about perspective. You see insignificance; I see connection—a whole universe we"re a part of."

He nodded but said nothing more, as he continued to stare up at the cosmos.

The silence stretched out. Micki respected his quietude, sensing that Patrick was wrestling with thoughts and feelings he didn't want to share. She understood that sometimes people needed space to process life.

Yet beneath it all, Micki felt a pull toward him—an inexplicable need to help him find himself and his place in the universe. Her gaze lingered on his silhouette waiting for something poignant to come to her to tell him.

"I know it's just been a day, but you really made an impression on Tate. I think it helped him to be with you. He"s had it rough since his mom passed."

Patrick remained still, his gaze not leaving the heavens, as he gave her slight nod.

Inwardly she kicked herself. Earlier they were all riled by his intervention and here now she was telling him it helped Tate. Still, she wasn't wrong. While Tate was still pushing the limits of acceptable behavior, he didn't seem so angry after his time with Patrick.

"It"s been tough on the family. To be honest, we never really thought Logan's wife was right for him. Not that we wanted her to die, but he deserved better. It makes us feel a little guilty."

"I know guilt."

Okay, so now he was talking. "Today, when Tate mentioned he'd seen us kissing, he told me he'd caught his mom kissing someone who wasn"t Logan. And when she died, she wasn"t alone—she was with another man." A man that wasn't Mr. Jones either.

Patrick didn't respond. She wondered if she was annoying him. She probably was. Here he had his own problems, and she was burdening him with hers. That wasn't what she wanted. She wasn't looking for his professional help. She'd been hoping to show him that his time with Tate made a difference for the boy.

Patrick finally turned to face her; his expression somber in the dim light. "I"m sorry for Tate's loss. Grief can be a difficult thing."

"Are you talking professionally or personally."

He sucked in a breath, turning his attention back to the stars. "Personally."

She wanted to kick herself for making it seem like she was bringing up his interference that morning.

"You know." She placed her hand on his arm in reassurance. "My folks won"t hold your opinions against you. You were just trying to help. They know that. We were under a lot of stress even before Tate's mom died."

Patrick gave a half-smile that didn"t quite reach his eyes. "It"s not always easy to turn off the part of me that analyzes and diagnoses. It's a good fallback point when I'm uncertain of my surroundings. I understand that I overstepped. Sometimes people just need someone to listen—not a counselor."

Her heart warmed at his acknowledgment. "That"s all any of us can do sometimes—listen and be there for each other."

A silence settled once more, and Micki vacillated about whether to leave him be. "It"s not just Tate we"re worried about," she confessed. "The resort"s been having a hard time too. We"re barely making ends meet these days. That's why you caught my dad trying to carry wood down to the dock. Thank you for that, by the way."

"Of course."

"It seems like no matter how hard we work or what we do... it's not enough." Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke her fears aloud. She cleared her throat. "Any way, it works both ways, you know. If you have something you need to unburden yourself with, I can listen."

Silence filled the night air between them, and Micki was about to give up and let him be alone with his thoughts, when he said, "You work and work, and then it's gone."

Was he talking about her or him?

"And the only solution is to do something you don't want to do."

"What don't you want to do?" she asked.

"I don't want to be a corporate CEO."

To be honest, it did sound boring. Micki shifted, turning to face him fully, wanting him to know he had her attention.

"I avoided that path, but now I'm under pressure to follow it since I've failed in my work, and worse, my sister."

Her heart ached at the pain in his voice. Micki stayed silent, giving him space to unravel his thoughts.

"I liked my work…but after everything with Julia." He scraped his hands over his face. "How many others did I miss?"

"Isn't it harder to see the problems of our loved ones than in people we don't know? That whole forest through the trees thing?"

He shrugged. "Even here, I can't seem to get it right."

"What? Are you talking about Tate? I think you're spot on with him."

"But I offended my hosts. I'm still not sure what the hell I was supposed to do when you and I were talking earlier. And then there's the fact that I have no clue about how I should spend my time here. I came here to escape my life for a while and ended up causing more problems."

"That"s not true." He was wallowing and she wanted to stop him.

He glanced at her then, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "Do you spend this much time with all your guests?"

The question caught Micki off guard, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat because while she looked out for the guests, she didn't usually give as much attention to them as she was giving Patrick. "No. But you... you seem like you needed someone."

"I don"t need your pity." Patrick abruptly broke eye contact to look back up at the sky.

"It"s not pity. I just want to make sure you"re okay because you seem... off kilter."

"And the kiss? Did you do that out of pity too?"

She pursed her lips. "No. I already told you, I don't go around kissing our guests. Well…there was Ricky Childress when I was fourteen, but that was a summer thing—the point is, the kiss had nothing to do with you and your pity party."

"You're not helping."

She let out an exasperated groan and sat up. "Life is hard, Dr. Andres. You, of all people, should know that from your job."

Patrick remained silent; his eyes locked on the stars almost as if he wasn't hearing her.

"Life for us is pretty hard too. It's easy to get lost in feelings of defeat. But then I think about what I do have—a beautiful home." She glanced out over the lake and toward the lodge. "I have a family that"s happier than not."

Her eyes flicked to Patrick"s form beside her, taking in the rigid set of his shoulders, the barely perceptible clench of his jaw.

She knew she"d struck a nerve but pressed on. "And you. You have enough money to buy happiness. You"ve got friends in Mitch and Sydney who care about you."

She let out a breath, working to pull her temper back down to a simmer. "And look at you. Sitting under the heavens and you can"t even appreciate that."

She waited a moment for him to respond. When he didn't, stood up to leave.

"You"re right."

She turned back to see him roll up to sit. He looked at her then. "There are good things in my life."

She pursed her lips. "Can you name them?"

"The stars. My friends."

She was disappointed that he could only regurgitate the blessings she'd mentioned.

"You spending time with me."

"That makes you doubly lucky, Dr. Andres."

His lips twitched upward. "It's Patrick. And for your information, I did like the kiss."

"I know." Her anger and irritation dissipated, and she sat down next to him.

His gaze drifted to her lips. "I think I'd like another one."

"You think?"

He let out a laugh. "I know I'd like another one."

She arched a brow. "Would you, now?"

"If you'd allow it."

She snorted. "We need to work on your powers of perception around women."

"Oh?"

She was dying for him to stop talking and start kissing. "Are you going to keep talking or are going to kiss me already?"

His lips met hers in a kiss that was an apology and a thank you all at once. It was different from their first kiss—less of an impulsive clash. Instead, it was soft, sweet. Even so, Micki's body responded sensually, her blood heating and rushing to her more sensitive parts.

When Patrick pulled back, she tried to hide her disappointment that he wasn't taking the kiss deeper, hotter.

"See? Much better when you stop thinking so much," she teased.

Patrick"s smile was genuine this time, reaching his eyes. "I"ll have to remember that." He tugged her back, his mouth covering hers, and this time, the heat factor went zero to one hundred in an instant. His tongue slid along the seam of her mouth, coaxing her to open for him. Of course, she did, moaning as his tongue danced with hers. Stars burst but none were in the sky.

Her fingers gripped his shirt as her world tilted off its axis. Wowza, was all she could think as Patrick thoroughly kissed her in a way she wasn't sure she'd ever been kissed before. Or maybe it was surprise that this reserved, closed off man had so much fire inside him.

The kiss continued on, and on, and when it ended, it wasn't a quick pulling away. It slowed, moved from hot to tender. He slowly withdrew, kissing the edge of her lips before finally separating.

"Whew Dr. Andres. You are full of surprises. I do believe I've underestimated you."

"I hope that's a good thing."

"It was good for me. Was it good for you?" She winked at the cliché usually reserved for sex.

"I enjoyed it very much."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That's it?"

His head tilted; his brow furrowed. "Why do I feel like my words are falling short again?"

"Well, it's only that I saw stars. I enjoyed it very much is so formal. Like I served you tea and cakes."

"Right…okay, how about this, I saw stars too."

"Nope, you can't use my example. You need to come up with your own."

"Hmm." He feigned thinking about it, and Micki found herself charmed by how easily he was playing along, especially since moments ago he was so broody. He could have just as easily been annoyed or offended.

She waited for a moment and then started to snore, hinting that it was taking him too long.

"Okay, I've got it." He pushed a tendril of her hair that had escaped from her ponytail back. "Your kiss made me feel alive."

Micki blinked as his words filtered in and her heart fluttered that way it did at the first bloom of affection.

His lips twitched up. "I believe I've left you speechless."

"Yes, well it doesn't happen often."

"I'm sure it doesn't. But it's true. I've been empty inside for a long time. Thank you for helping me put things in perspective. For challenging me... and for listening. I needed that, Michaela."

The way he said her name added to the connection, the intimacy she was feeling with him. "Happy to help."

They sat quietly for another moment when Patrick rose and held out his hand to her. "I understand that fishing is an early morning activity, so I should get some rest before my outing with Tate."

Micki took his hand so he could help her up, and bit back a groan of disappointment that Patrick was ending the night. "You're really good with him, but you don't have to?—"

"But I do. I said I would. And I want to. I have to figure out this whole relaxing in the woods thing."

"Well, if you catch anything, we'll cook it for supper."

He blinked. "I have no idea what that is."

"Dinner."

"I look forward to it." They walked together from the dock to his cabin. "I feel as if I should walk you home."

"Why? I know the way."

He laughed. "Manners, I suppose."

"Yes, well, it would be bad manners for me to let you walk around out here when you don't know the place. Who knows if there are bears lurking about."

His smile faltered and he scanned the area as if he expected a bear ready to eat its supper. "You're joking right?"

"Just stay in your cabin. You'll be safe." She patted his chest, noting how firm it felt. She wondered if there would be a time before he left when she might be able to see it bare. Perhaps she'd invite him swimming, once all her chores were done, of course.

She left Patrick and returned to her room, getting ready for bed. She lay, replaying the evening in her head. She'd helped him. He said so, but she also sensed it. He'd been wallowing in self-pity when she found him, but by the time she left, he'd smiled and even bantered with her. She couldn't explain why, but she wanted to help him more. She felt a pull to him that was partly lust, but also something deeper.

She thought of Ricky Childress, the boy whose family had come to the lake and with whom she'd had a sweet little summer romance that ended with her first kiss the night before his family returned home. Would Patrick be interested in something like that? Was Patrick the type of man who'd have a no-string-attached fling?