She plunged her hand back into the hot, sudsy water, feeling around for a knife handle. The slick blade ran across the meat of her middle finger, burning even as she pulled back. Blood ran down her arm.
She grabbed a towel, pressed it against her finger.
“Are you okay?”
The voice jerked her around, and she saw Casper advancing into the kitchen.
“Did you hurt yourself?” He wore his leather jacket over a white shirt and tie, a pair of dress pants, but his five o’clock shadow added a rugged appeal.
The kind of appeal that might make a girl forget her woes and jump on the back of his motorcycle.
Which, frankly, was how she’d gotten into this mess in the first place.
“I know better than to put a knife in the sink. I just got absentminded. It’s nothing, though—a small cut.” She should have expected him to show up—he’d seemed to be hovering the last few weeks, close enough to hear if she decided to call out, to need him.
Oh, how she needed him. But shame kept her mute. Now she watched, her heart bleeding out even as he came over, took her arm, inspected her wound. “It’s not deep—probably doesn’t need stitches. Do you have a first aid kit?”
She pointed toward the kit attached to the wall, and he went to retrieve it.
“What are you doing here?”
He found a Band-Aid, a cotton ball, antiseptic, some antibiotic cream, and returned to her, moving her to the table. He patted it, and she slid onto the smooth surface. “The rehearsal dinner’s over, and I didn’t see you. I thought maybe you needed help with something, so I swung by, saw the lights, decided to make sure you were okay.”
Of course he did. Because that was Casper, the guy who showed up. Who stuck around even when she’d done everything she could to push him away. She watched as he cleaned her wound, then doctored it with the ointment and Band-Aid.
He wrapped the wound, then lifted her finger to his lips and sweetly kissed it.
Her face heated. “Casper . . .”
“I don’t know what’s going on, Raina. But if you let me, maybe I can fix it.”
She sighed, pulled her hand away, and slid off the table. “I don’t think you can fix this.” She returned to the sink, but he moved her aside.
“I’ll finish this.”
She picked up a towel as he shucked off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and plunged his hands into the water, gingerly feeling around for the knife. He found it, washed it with a rag, and handed it to her, handle first.
She dried it as he pulled the plug, letting the water drain. She put the knife away.
Then she stood in the quiet kitchen with him as he wiped his hands on a towel. He was such a handsome man, his eyes so blue it seemed she could fall into them, never surface.
“Casper, I . . .”
But she had no words because he took two steps toward her, caught her face in his hands. She didn’t have a bone in her body to resist when he leaned down and kissed her.
It was gentle, like before, but with a firmness, a resolute strength that made her lean into him. He smelled like freedom and tasted sweet and gingery. She pressed her hands to his chest, felt the frame of his work-hardened body.
How was she supposed to say good-bye to a man who kept showing up in her life? But if you let me, maybe I can fix it.
What if he could? What if—? No, it was crazy to think he’d still want her after knowing . . . knowing . . .
She pushed him away, her eyes filling. “I’m sorry, Casper.”
He stared at her, breathing hard. “Tell me what I did!”
“You didn’t do anything! It’s not you. I’m . . . I’m leaving Deep Haven.”
“What? Why?”
“I . . . I need . . .” Shoot, once upon a time, lies had come so easily. “I can’t be with you. I did something I shouldn’t have and . . .”
He closed the gap between them, took her hands, his voice earnest. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. Listen, sometimes life just . . . it blindsides you. And for a while, you’re lost.” He leaned into her. “I came home from college because . . . I hated it. And my grades showed it. I’m not cut out for college. But the worst part was, for the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been hiding in Deep Haven—and then I met you and I realized I was supposed to be there. With you. I thought that coming home was failure, but don’t you see? It was victory. You are my victory, Raina. You and I—we can be happy there.”
Tears burned their way down her cheeks. Oh, how she wanted to grab ahold of his words.
But it didn’t in the least compare to her failures. “What about your trip to Roatán? Your pirate’s treasure?”