Chapter 9

Willow

Yet another morning where the sight of the sun rising from my balcony is making the thought of leaving this place behind even harder to imagine.

I bring my cup of coffee to my lips, blowing steam off the top before taking a sip and smacking my lips in approval. I've never been much of a morning person, but waking up to this every day is quickly changing that.

Folding my feet underneath me, I take a seat in the rocking chair now perched on my balcony thanks to Dallas.

Unfortunately, sleep has evaded me lately as my mind and body have been stirring with thoughts of that man, the man that is just as good-looking as he is infuriating.

I wish I didn't care to know more about him. I wish he didn't pop up at the most inopportune times. And I wish his little act of kindness of putting this chair together didn't make me want to lower my defenses just a tad.

But it does.

And I'm still struggling with why.

As the waves crash up onto the beach, I watch a flock of seagulls fly overhead, a few of them landing in the sand in front of my house. And as I watch them, my eyes catch sight of something that has me standing up from my chair, entirely perplexed in an instant.

"What the hell?"

I march through the sliding door, down the stairs, and out the front door as fast as my feet will carry me, walking right up to the figure that has my jaw dropping open instantly.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Astonished laughter escapes my lips as I stare at the scarecrow standing in front of the house. I mean, I guess you could classify it as a scarecrow, so we'll go with that description.

But the goal of this scarecrow is to deter geese.

Placed strategically in the ground on a rather substantial stake is a painted figure that resembles a woman with her blonde hair in a bun sitting low on her neck. A straw hat covers her head, and dark blue coveralls adorn her body. In one hand is a martini glass, and in the other is a sign that says, No geese, PLEASE! I laugh at the emphasis on "please."

There's only one person who could have come up with this, giving me yet another reason not to truly hate him—although I'm not sure my mind or body ever really got that message to begin with.

***

"Thank you again for inviting me." I turn toward Astrid, who is busy slathering her son with sunscreen while I watch her daughter play at the shoreline, where the water kisses the sand.

"Of course. I'm glad you came. After you left, I worried whether the invite was too forward." She shakes her head. "I forget that we barely know each other, so I may have come off a little too friendly and overenthusiastic at the idea of making a friend."

I smile, understanding completely. "I understand that, but honestly, you're the first person I've met here that hasn't made me feel like an outsider, so I appreciate you being so forward. Lord knows I wouldn't have been."

Astrid chuckles. "Well that makes me feel a little bit better."

"Am I done?" Her son, Bentley, whines as she releases him.

"I still need to get your face."

"Ugh!" He rolls his eyes and I fight to hold back my smile. "You know I'm old enough to do this on my own, right?"

"Yes, but you won't be as thorough as I will, and trust me, you'll thank me later in life when you don't have melanoma. Or wrinkles." She applies zinc under his eyes so he looks like a lifeguard and ushers him off.

"Did you rub it all in?" he shouts as he runs off toward the water.

"Totally!" she calls after him, and then takes a seat back in her chair next to mine, waving her hand to the side. "He'll never know."

"Ruthless. I love it."

She laughs and then takes a sip from her drink. "Anyway, how are things going with the house?"

"The list that I made is deceptively short considering the amount of work that needs to be done. But Penn has completely stripped the downstairs bathroom and will start restoring it this weekend. Then we're going to paint, restore the hardwood floors, replace light fixtures and outlets, refinish the kitchen cabinets, and the last thing is to replace the roof."

She nods in understanding. "That's quite the list, but if there is anyone who can accomplish it, it's him. He'll probably be there after the soccer game on Saturday then."

"Soccer game?"

"Yeah. He and Dallas coach Bentley's soccer team."

Seriously? The man coaches his employee/friend's son's soccer team?

How am I supposed to keep him at arm's length when I learn these new pieces of information about him that don't make him sound like a neanderthal?

"He did mention he wouldn't be able to come by until Saturday afternoon, so I guess that makes sense now."

"Yeah. It means a lot that those two give up some of their time to coach the team. Ever since Brandon died, I know Bentley has felt like he's missing out on things that his dad should be here for. Brandon used to coach him when he was home—not on deployment, I mean."

I nod in understanding, but I can sense Astrid becoming emotional as her thoughts turn to Brandon. "Hey, we don't have to talk about it," I say as I reach out and place my hand on her arm on instinct.

Astrid stares at the ocean. "It's okay. It's just crazy how sometimes I feel at peace about it, and others it takes me by surprise and overwhelms me. It must be because the veterans' dinner is coming up."

"Veterans' dinner?"

She nods. "Carrington Cove has a dinner every year to honor those that have served or are still serving in the military. Since we're so close to the Marine base, Camp Lejeune, many veterans live here or come here for treatment after returning from deployment. Brandon and I used to go to the dinner together every year." Her eyes cast right as we watch the kids ride waves into the shore on their boogie boards. "I didn't go the first year after he died. But then when I went the next year, Penn stayed by my side the entire time." She sighs at the memory.

The demanding part of me that always seeks answers wants to know more about their dynamic. But the part of me who is trying to make a friend here accepts defeat for now and decides not to push.

She clears her throat and then she twists rapidly in her seat, her eyes widening as she stares at me. "What if you came with me this year?"

"Me?" I ask, pointing to my chest.

"Yes! It will be fun! We get to dress up, have a few drinks. There won't be any kids," she mumbles out the side of her mouth. "Penn will probably be tied to his mom this year, so I'll need a friend."

I can't help but grin at her candidness. But then trepidation sinks in. "I don't know, Astrid. I don't know anyone really. I feel like everyone will wonder why I even came. I'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"No, I think it will do the opposite. Help people in town see that you're getting involved and supporting the community."

"But I don't live here, Astrid…"

"Hate to break it to you, friend," she teases, "but you own a home in Carrington Cove now. That means you are a member of this community, at least until your house is ready to sell. So why not see everything we have to offer? I mean, I know the veterans' dinner isn't a Vegas night out, and to be frank, it will probably be a little depressing at times. But it's important to the people here, and I think it would mean a lot to them if you were there."

I mull over her points, still unsure as uneasiness rests in my stomach. "Can I think about it?"

Her shoulders deflate, but she smiles at me. "Of course."

"When is it, by the way?"

"Two weeks from now."

"Okay."

"Mom!" Lilly runs up to us, her hands cupped as she holds something inside. "Look at all of these shells that Bentley and I found!"

"Those are beautiful, baby. And so many purple ones! Put them in the bag." Astrid lifts a plastic bag from the wagon she used to carry all of her stuff onto the beach, popping open the seal and holding it open so her daughter can gently place the shells inside. "We'll add them to the vase when we get home."

"I'm going to go find more!" Lilly shouts as she races back toward the water.

"We have a vase in their bathroom full of purple seashells they've found over the years. It was Brandon's idea, something fun that they would do together whenever we came to the beach. He told them the purple ones were rare treasures, little pieces of the ocean's magic." She pauses and then laughs lowly. "Really, we just didn't want to bring the whole beach home with us every time we came. I don't know what I'm going to do when that thing is full."

I reach for her hand, knowing that even though our losses are different, Astrid's grief and the underlying grief I hold onto are still very similar—a pain that comes in unpredictable waves just like the ocean before us. Sometimes it"s calm, and memories gently wash over you, leaving you with a sense of peace and comfort. But then, out of nowhere, a wave of sorrow crashes over you, so powerful it knocks you off your feet and leaves you reeling.

I squeeze her hand in silent understanding. "You'll just buy a bigger vase."

***

After my beach day with Astrid and a few more days of working from my house, I decide to venture out on Saturday, reminding myself that it's not good to be alone all the time. Funny thing is, that's exactly how I preferred to be before I came here. But like many aspects of my life recently…things change.

I stop by Keely's, treating myself to one of her gourmet coffees that puts Starbucks to shame, and then find a cute little breakfast spot to enjoy a hot meal by the water. It's a bold summer day at the end of August, so the temperature is quickly rising.

And even though a part of me knows better, somehow, I find myself driving around town looking for a park where soccer games are being played. It doesn't take me long to locate a sports complex that is filled with cars and people, whistles echoing in the background and bursts of cheering grab my attention as I step out of my car and head toward the fields.

I don't know why I'm here.

Well, that's not entirely true. It turns out that curiosity is a powerful drug, and after my conversation with Astrid on the beach, I convinced myself that knowledge is power. If Dallas won't show me this side of himself, perhaps I just need to discover it on my own. Plus, I need to thank him for the scarecrow, especially since I can already tell that it's working. It stopped the geese in their tracks this morning when they attempted to ambush me as I left.

But I'm still riding the denial train as I walk along the grass.

I'm not here because the man intrigues me.

It's not because every time we're near each other my blood hums through my veins with electricity.

And it's not because the man has been starring in one too many dirty dreams of mine that remind me how long it's been since I've enjoyed the touch of a man.

Nope. It has nothing to do with of any of that.

"Yes! Go toward the goal!"

Shouting to my right has my head spinning in that direction with recognition. I find Astrid jumping up and down as a young boy dribbles the ball toward the goal.

"Pass, Bentley!" Penn yells just before Astrid's son sends the ball across the field to the one of his teammates. The other player moves past a defender and then passes it back to Bentley, who perfectly kicks the ball past the goalie and into the net.

"Yes! That's what I'm talking about!"

My eyes shift in the direction of that voice, landing on Dallas with a proud smile on his face. His eyes are covered by aviator sunglasses, his head by a backward ball cap, and his broad chest by a lime green t-shirt that matches the team jerseys. It's then that I notice the word COACH on his back and on Penn's shirt as well.

"That's right, boys. Let's do it again!" Penn and Dallas share a small conversation after encouraging their players, and then the game picks back up.

I find a spot right next to Astrid, who's seated in a folding chair and texting someone on her phone, oblivious to my approach. "That was a beautiful goal."

Wide eyes peer up at me before her smile goes just as big. "Oh my gosh! What are you doing here?" Launching from her seat, she pulls me into a hug.

"I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I'd stop by and cheer on Bentley."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Sure," she drags out. "It has nothing to do with me telling you who else would be here today."

I roll my eyes at her. "Whatever you say. What's the score?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Three to one now. It's been a nail-biter."

"How much time is left?"

"I'm not sure. Probably ten minutes or so. They just started the fourth quarter."

"Then I'd better stick around to congratulate them if they win."

"Yeah. Okay." She nudges me with her shoulder with a knowing grin on her lips, and then we focus back on the field where the game grows even more intense as the other team scores a goal, making the score three to two.

***

"That was insane." My hands rest over my racing heart. "How do you do that every week?"

"I feel like each game I watch takes another year off my life," Astrid jokes, and we share a laugh.

"Mom! We won!" Bentley races over to her, slamming into her side.

"I know, honey. I was watching. Congratulations! You guys did amazing." She kisses the top of his head.

"They did, didn't they?" Dallas walks over, pride etched into every line of his face. "If they keep playing like that, they'll be going to the championship tournament, no doubt."

"We will. We're unstoppable," Bentley states confidently.

"No, you guys work hard and as a team. But no one is unstoppable," Dallas corrects him. "Come on, bud. We need to shake hands with the other team still." He casts his eyes to me, offers me a curt nod, and then walks away.

Bentley runs after him as they display sportsmanship that warms my heart. I never played sports growing up, but I can appreciate the fact that Dallas and Penn are teaching these boys to be gracious winners. That speaks very highly of them both.

After one of the parents hands out snacks to the boys and Dallas and Penn talk to the team for a few more minutes, Bentley runs back over to Astrid and me. Lilly jumps from her spot on the grass where she was playing with one of the siblings of another boy and hugs her brother.

"Good job, B."

"Thanks, Lilly."

"You did great, Bentley. I was very impressed," I say, smiling down at him.

He flashes me a genuine smile. "Thanks, Willow. I didn't know you'd be here today."

"Neither did I," a familiar voice interjects.

I look up to see Dallas striding toward us, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a clipboard in his hand. When he stops in front of me and takes off his sunglasses, I'm immediately captivated by those intense dark eyes. The longer I look into them, the more hypnotized I become—and no matter how hard I try, I can't look away.

God, he looks more mouthwatering each time I see him.

And a backward hat? Why is that so freaking hot?

"Well, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. I was in the neighborhood." I shrug, trying to act aloof.

"Out exploring the town?" Dallas asks, continuing to hold my gaze.

"Something like that."

Astrid grins as she looks between us, but then ushers her kids to the side. "We're going to get going, but thanks for coming, Willow. See you soon?"

"Yeah. I'll text you."

Astrid walks away, leaving me and Dallas alone.

"You two seem to be getting awfully friendly," he says, shifting in his stance while he shoves the clipboard under his arm.

"Is that a problem?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all. Astrid is exactly the type of person you want in your corner."

"Well, I happen to think so too." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear that's escaped my ponytail. "She's been extremely kind and welcoming, something I'm not used to around here," I say in a teasing tone.

"Well, maybe some people didn't give you the best first impression, but they're trying to correct their mistakes."

I squint up at him. "Are you speaking about yourself in the third person right now?"

He smirks. "Maybe."

"Well then, I guess this would be a good time to say thank you for the scarecrow, especially if that was your attempt at apologizing. Although, I think it would have been even scarier if you had put your face on it instead of mine."

His grin is infectious. "I don't know. Those geese were after me just as much as they were after you. I think my face would only attract them more."

"Are you saying I'm attractive?"

"No. I'm saying I am." He's teasing me, I know it. But part of me really is curious if he's attracted to me or not.

God, I hate that I really want to know the answer to that question.

I roll my eyes at him instead. "Lord, you're so full of yourself."

"I'm full of a lot of things…"

"What do we have here?" Penn comes by, gripping the shoulders of a young boy in front of him and side-stepping him to move closer to us.

"Willow was in the neighborhood and just happened to show up at our game," Dallas replies before I can.

"Huh. That's convenient." Penn plays dumb, his eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of us. "Well, I'm going to go home and grab my tools, and then I'll be by your house in little while, right, Willow?"

I shift my gaze over to him. "Yes. Thank you. I think I might try to paint today while you're working downstairs."

"Sounds good." Penn walks away with the boy, leaving us alone once more.

I clear my throat, intent on following through with why I came here in the first place. "As I was saying, thank you for the scarecrow. I think it's helping."

"How so?"

"Well, they wouldn't walk past it this morning when I was leaving. It was like it put off an invisible forcefield, blocking their path."

"It actually is covered in a repellent that helps deter them, although I think it's the sign that really does the trick." He taps his temple and winks. "I told you, Willow. Manners go a long way."

I shake my head at him, fighting my smile. "Gosh, that must be it. But seriously," I pause, drawing a deep breath before uttering, "thank you. It was a…pleasant surprise. And I'm sorry too, for how I acted before."

Leaning forward slightly, his hands shoved in his pockets now, our eyes lock as I catch a whiff of his scent—sandalwood mixed with sweat. "You're welcome, and I accept." I bite my lip, not sure of where to go from here, but luckily Dallas speaks next. "We should probably get going. Where are you parked?"

"Over there." I point to the lot adjacent to the field.

"Me too. Come on"—he nods in that direction—"I'll walk with you."

We walk toward the parking lot side by side, stealing glances at each other as we go.

"So painting today, huh?" he asks, replacing his sunglasses on his face again.

"Yeah. Big plans. Although I actually have some experience with that, so at least I'm not afraid of messing it up too badly."

"What room?"

"The master."

Dallas grumbles. "I hate painting. My hand always ends up looking like The Claw."

"From Liar, Liar?"

He nods. "Yup. I bet Jim Carrey painted for hours so he could make his hand look like that."

Laughing, I say, "It definitely takes a toll on your body if you do it for too long."

He nods again but keeps his eyes forward. "What color are you thinking?"

"Bright yellow," I answer without hesitation, curious to see what his reaction will be. Honestly, I'm not opposed to the color, but I have a feeling Dallas might have an opinion about the choice.

His lips turn up in disgust. "Yellow? Are you insa—" He stops himself and tries again. "I mean, why such a… vibrant color?"

"I think it's cheery, will make even the grumpiest person feel happier." My smile peeks through my words and Dallas catches it.

"You're joking, aren't you?"

Chuckling under my breath, I reply, "Yes. I just wanted to see how'd you react."

"Well, if you didn't read that correctly, it was utter disgust."

"I mean, I don't have anything against yellow, but I feel like a light gray is more neutral, and it entices buyers. You can decorate in pretty much any color scheme with gray walls."

"I agree. That's a smart choice. Especially to this buyer." He points his thumb at his chest.

I squint at him, chuckling. "Subtle."

We arrive at my car moments later, which just happens to be right next to his, a classic car that is enticingly sexy and something that I can totally see Dallas driving.

"Do you have anything else planned today?" I ask him without thinking. For a second, I wish I could take my question back, but Dallas doesn't read too much into it.

"It's Saturday, so I'll be at the restaurant. Saturdays are always busy."

"Right."

"You should come by for dinner."

"I'm not sure. It probably depends on how I feel after all the painting." But does that mean he wants me to come by?

For a second, Dallas almost looks disappointed by my answer. "Makes sense." His eyes dart out over the park, and then back to me. "Well, this was a surprise, Willow, but I'm glad you came by."

"Me too. Astrid told me that you and Penn coach Bentley's team, and I guess I just had to see it for myself." With a shrug of my shoulders, I unlock my car with the key fob.

"So you weren't just wandering around town then?"

Damn it."Yes, and no. I also wanted to thank you for the scarecrow, so I figured this was the perfect opportunity to do that and see you in action, doing something noble instead of just sneaking onto people's property in the middle of the night and putting up polite signs."

"It was actually the early hours of the morning," he corrects me, grinning from ear to ear.

"Where did you get it by the way?"

"Judy's Knick Knacks. It's on the boardwalk near my sister's photography studio."

The mention of his other siblings rings a bell. "Oh. I haven't been to visit that area yet."

"You should. The view alone is amazing, but so are the businesses. Judy can make almost anything and she takes custom orders. I put a rush on it, but she followed my instructions to the letter." He smirks as he unlocks the door to his car and puts his bag and clipboard inside.

He catches me admiring the car for a moment before I bring my gaze back to him. "I can tell you were very specific about details."

"I needed it to be perfect."

"It was scarily accurate, that's for sure." A thought pops into my head. "You own a business, help out your brother, sneak around town in the early morning hours to deliver gifts, and coach soccer." I shake my head at him. "How do you manage it all? And why do you do it?"

His gaze is steady. "I like helping people. With the soccer thing, it's more than just them needing a coach. A lot of those boys have parents in the service, so they're not here. Or, they lost a parent like Bentley did. So Penn and I help out because no matter how old you are, you need a positive role model in your life, and Marines always stick together."

My insides melt. "That's pretty incredible of you, Dallas."

"And I have amazing employees who keep my business running smoothly, so that's not as demanding as you might think." He reaches up and scratches his chin through the scruff that's grown out. "Maybe it's the oldest brother in me, but I take pride in taking care of people. I feel like everyone needs someone they can depend on in life, Willow. Don't you agree?"

A resounding yes is on my lips, but the truth is, I've only been able to depend on two people besides myself, so I'm not sure that I'm qualified to answer. Instead, I offer, "I think the people in your life are lucky to have you."

Dallas's lips spread into a soft smile. "Thank you. Well, I hope Penn gets some work done for you today. I need to get to the restaurant to prepare for the evening rush."

"Oh yeah. Sure. Good luck with that," I manage to say, stumbling through my reply. I'm not sure how to leave things, or that I want to leave at all. The last ten minutes have been eye-opening, revealing glimpses of a man I"m only just beginning to understand beyond the surface, to the parts that truly matter.

"Thanks. I'll—I'll see you around?"

"Um, yeah. I'll be here." I give him an awkward wave and then move to get in my car as he does the same, the sound of his motor firing up and vibrating behind me, igniting awareness in my entire body. When I sit in the driver's seat of my car and look out my window, I catch a glimpse of him backing up, his hand draped casually over the wheel as he spins it then shifts into drive and presses on the gas, not so much as casting another look in my direction.

But I look at him, admiring the sight of the man driving his car that only adds to his allure, leaving me a pile of mush before I realize I'm still sitting in this parking lot and I haven't moved at all.

"Jesus." I slap a hand to my forehead and then prepare to drive home, knowing I have more than enough work to keep me busy and hopefully keep my mind off Dallas for a few hours.

Except there's not much else to do while painting except think, and forgetting about Dallas is much easier said than done.