Fire In The Water Chapter Four

Bella

One thing I enjoyed was a good mystery, and it was clear that was what I'd stumbled upon with Ward. Alice had mentioned how sweet he was, how open he acted. In such a small town, we all talked at some point throughout the week, and newcomers were hot topics. But he was not any of those things around me, and I didn't know why. When I saw him eating breakfast, I wanted to sit and chat, but instinct told me he wouldn't want that. In the park, he’d ignored me steadily until I gave up and walked off, wondering why he kept himself so insulated from other people.

All afternoon, heavy clouds threatened the coastline, daring anyone to make plans to go outside. The lower the barometric pressure dropped, the worse my head ached. Since we were dead at the store, I’d sent Riley home. She helped me out on Fridays and Saturdays if we were busy, but she had better things to do at home if I couldn't use her. I seriously considered locking the doors and heading home before the storm broke, but I had everything I needed right there, including peace and quiet. 

The heavens finally broke loose, and rain fell in sheets outside my shop doors. I loved the coziness of hot tea and books on a damp afternoon, the faint scent of the roses outside snaking its way in through the vents. Curled in the armchair with tea, cookies, and Charlie in my lap, I focused on the pages in front of me. 

Okay, I tried, but I couldn't get through one entire page without rereading it to catch what I'd missed. Replaying the scene of Ward saving Briana, I contemplated the situation. We weren't close or anything, but I knew she'd been trying to shake Larry for a while. There was a quality . . . a feral quality inside Ward. The man and the dog, synchronicity in action, forcing Larry into submission. Anger, certainly, but also shame radiated off Ward in waves when he should have been proud of himself. What I witnessed was him wishing he didn't have to step in, but feeling compelled to do so. It was also a bit odd to me that Heidi was so highly trained. Most everyday men didn't have affable pups with an underlying knowledge of tactical skills. She’d been more in tune, in step, with her master than seemed normal.

A shiver ran through me, and Charlie pried open one leonine eye to glare balefully at the disruption of his nap. The man had exuded heat in that moment, and I was woman enough to admit I lusted after him. All of us had dreamed of putting Larry down like the abusive asshole he was, but Ward had actually done it. And as I sat there contemplating it, I couldn't shake the impression that he knew what he was doing.

My imagination ran away with me then. Was he an undercover agent sent here to crack down on some illegal trade I knew nothing about? Did he come here to kidnap the heiress of a shipping magnate? My thoughts turning darker, I wondered if he was secretly a serial killer. Maybe an assassin sent to take one of us out when we least expected it. 

Shivering for an entirely different reason, I tried to calm my racing heart. Surely that wasn't it. He couldn't be a killer, not a man who altruistically prevented domestic abuse. One with a pretty-eyed dog and split knuckles who worried about repaying the price of kindness. No, I refused to believe he was here for nefarious purposes.

Yet when the door opened, letting in a rush of raindrops, I couldn't hold back the tiny yelp.

Taking his cap off, Ward slicked his hand over his wet hair and perched the cap back on his head. "Sorry to startle you."

Mary, Mother of God, that voice. Charlie had jumped down and made his way to the counter, so I stood from the chair. "I was just daydreaming. This type of weather doesn't bring in many customers." Pointing to the pegs on the wall, I gestured for him to hang his wet anorak.

Wandering to the counter, he scratched absently at Charlie and accepted the head bump. "I've, ah, realized I have nothing to do with myself in my downtime."

Oh, all the things I could conjure for us to do together in a rainstorm. Locked away alone in a secluded cocoon, the rage of the sky as it competed with the fierceness of the ocean. I would gladly drown in his wake if given the chance. 

Swallowing thickly, I hauled my thoughts up out of the gutter and gestured to the store's interior. "We've got the cure for boredom."

He paused with his hand outstretched toward a stack of old encyclopedias. "We?"

"Me and Charlie."

There was that humming grunt noise he liked to make. "It's just you, then?"

What about him made me want to spill my guts? "Well, let's see. I'm single, an only child, and an orphan. That's about as just me as it gets."

"Christ."

Raising my brows, I said, "What?"

"You just seem so . . . content with your life, I suppose." He curved around the end of the nearest bookshelf to inspect the crime dramas. 

"Oh, you mean my shopkeeper mask? It hasn't occurred to you I have others?"

"Everyone has multiple masks." He slipped a book from the shelf and inspected it. "Daughter, sister, friend, wife, entrepreneur. Happy, sad, pissed, jubilant. Comedy and tragedy."

"And you?"

The book thumped back in place. "There's nothing to me. I have a dog, I live alone, and I process fish in exchange for a paycheck."

I'd bet millions I didn't have that there was much more to him than what he shared. "I have a foster mom, a cat, and good friends. I have the security of community to fall back on, and I need this job to breathe."

"Interesting turn of phrase." A few more steps, and I could no longer see that sunset hair stubbornly peeking out from beneath the baseball cap. 

"My soul is embedded in these stacks, Ward." His arm jolted when I used his name, and he fumbled a book. "My heart is buried in the floorboards."

"Poe?"

"Mm.” Damn, it pleased me that he caught the reference so easily. That meant he was educated, and one tiny puzzle piece fell into place. “I can't quote The Tell-Tale Heart."

"Nor can I." He took a breath and said, "Once upon a midnight dreary."

Picking up the poem, I said, "While I pondered, weak and weary."

When he fully circled back to me, he smiled shyly, and my heart flopped over in my chest. "Over many a quaint and curious volume of—" He cut off with a frown. "Curious volume of . . ."

"Forgotten lore," I supplied. 

"Guess I can't quote The Raven either." Giving me a glimpse of his boyish grin, he nodded toward the coffeemaker behind the desk. "Would you mind?"

If he wasn't careful, I'd mount him right there at any damn second, and he was worried I wouldn't make him some coffee? "Not at all."

Since I was busy with my back to him, I listened to his sounds. A soft sigh and quiet footsteps leading to the plate of cookies. Just the hint of a moan when he bit into it—motherfucker—and the rustle of his shirt as Charlie pattered over and he bent to pet him. 

Trying to focus on not spilling the coffee grounds, I sucked in a breath. "To sort of continue the earlier conversation, I'm grateful for what I have. Life is short and nothing is guaranteed. My parents died on their fishing boat when I was a baby, so I learned that lesson young."

"That's terrible."

To keep the tears at bay, I watched the coffee dribble through the filter to the pot. "As a matter of fact, everyone tells me my dad was named Charlie. I don’t remember him, but having feline Charlie makes me feel closer to him somehow.”

At his silence, I glanced over my shoulder. He stood closer than I'd thought, though still several feet away. His intense green eyes were focused on me. With the expectation of the impending storm, I'd thrown my hair into a ponytail, and the moisture in the air had curled the baby fine tendrils around my face. Brushing them back, I felt a stinging behind my nose. But I refused to cry. My parents had already had their day, and it was behind me. This day was for making new friends, for God-given rain and infinite inner stillness.

"Don't cry," he whispered. 

Fuck it, I thought, and moved forward. 

It was a mistake. 

Ward backed up so fast he tripped over Charlie, banging his forehead on a shelf and opening up a small gash.

"Dammit," I muttered, hurrying for the roll of paper towels. 

Ward sat heavily in the armchair and took the roll I held out. 

"If you weren't such a damn stubborn man, that wouldn't have happened." Maybe I had no business saying it, but it was out of my mouth nonetheless. 

"It was the fucking cat," he growled in return. With his hat pushed back and a wad of paper towels on his face, he looked ridiculous. 

"Don't blame the cat for your skittish nature. What did you think I was going to do, molest you?"

With a bone deep sigh, Ward stared at me. "I struggle with trust issues."

Ooh, the sarcasm was itching to spew. Like, no shit, dumbass, we’ve all noticed. "I have salve and a bandaid—no strings attached—and then, for the love of God, relax. Have some coffee and cookies. I know I will."

I had to back up for my own sanity. Finding the stinky brownish orange salve Riley swore by, I brought that and a small bandage to the table. Retreating back to the coffeemaker, I poured us both a mug.

"Where are the mugs from?"

"That's what you have to say? Out of everything?"

He shrugged, removing the paper towel and tenderly patting on some ointment. "I saw them next door too, but they're white."

Handing him a deep cobalt mug, I studied the hesitantly outstretched fingers. The cracks remained, the knuckles reddened in protest of the abuse. 

"In this town, we support each other." Leaning against the counter and crossing my legs, I blew on the top of my coffee. "You recall I said I have a foster mother?" At his nod, I continued. "Riley is her name. Her boyfriend, Jason, makes them."

Ward fell quiet again. The sound of the rain pelting the roof and the howling wind surrounded my senses. Charlie had reappeared, bumping against my shin. The ease of comfortability nearly lulled me into a false sense of serenity. Unfortunately, this man was not built for that. 

“I just wanted to buy a book,” he mumbled.

“I’m not stopping you.”

He snorted. “You don't realize it, but you are.”

“What the hell does that mean?” As though I’d roped him and hogtied him to the chair.

“You’re too nice, too helpful, and I can’t repay that.” His gaze dropped to the mug, and a large part of me wanted to hurl my coffee at him.

“All that is free. Around here, that’s what we do. Repaying in kind is acceptable.”

“You don't understand, Bella. You reap what you sow, right?”

Sensing he was about to bolt again, I nodded slowly.

“Well, I haven't sown kindness in my life.”

Jesus Christ, I was right earlier. Why did that not only make my heart beat faster, but also make my insides curl and spread? “You have that chance now. To start from today with good intentions.”

“Karma doesn't work that way. What I deserve is not what you deserve. You can’t fathom what it's like waiting for the payback.” Draining his mug, he rose from the chair. “It’s coming whether I like it or not, and you have no business being in the middle of it when it does.”

“You . . .” Fuck, how did I respond to that? “I don't believe you’re the bad guy, Ward.”

“You don't know me.” Moving to the door now, Ward yanked his jacket from the peg and twisted the collar in his large hands.

“What I know is that a man who would do anything for his dog, including going without food so she eats, is a good guy. I know that someone who would step in and stop a man from fucking up a woman when he knows neither of them, is a good guy. I know you’ve tried to start over because I’ve seen it in our few interactions.”

He faced away from me, his shoulders moving up and down. Shrugging or sobbing, I couldn't tell which. “I just wanted to buy a fucking book.”

The words speared my heart as he whisked out the door, thunder and lightning following in his footsteps.