Christmas at the Cove. Rachel Brimble
the town shone beneath a twinkling blanket of lights and huge, illuminated Christmas decorations. Carrie smiled as the reds, golds and greens flickered and danced. Dusk would soon fall and she didn’t doubt the seaside town would look more beautiful than ever. Her smile faltered and she slumped back into her seat. She couldn’t be seduced by its beauty...and she couldn’t be seduced by the thought of anything substantial existing between her and Scott, either.
The train shrieked to a stop and the gray evening light turned dark under the shadow of the platform’s metal lattice overhang. Passengers stood to retrieve cases and bags, but Carrie remained stock-still in her seat.
It was six days before Christmas. She’d find Scott, tell him about Belle and if he reacted in any way she couldn’t handle, she’d get the first possible train out of there. Everything would be fine. It was nothing more than a case of ripping off the Band-Aid and exposing her open wound to the air so it could start to heal over. Yes, she’d been selfish in her decision-making as far as Scott was concerned, and even though Gerard’s sudden death had rocked her soul and broken her heart, she was stronger than ever before. She knew her heart and mind, made her own decisions and molded her own destiny. The first step was making this the last Christmas she kept her secret hidden.
The New Year would be a different year for her, and possibly Scott.
Carrie shook off her melancholy and pushed to her feet, forcing her chin high. She heaved her case from the rack and purposefully headed toward the nearest exit.
She was in Templeton, but this time she was all grown up, her naivety well and truly quashed. The woman Scott had known was gone and now the mother of his child stood in her place. There would be no racing heart and pumping blood upon sight of him. No instantaneous need to have him touch her, kiss her and take her under again and again until she couldn’t breathe.
This time, she’d be entirely in control.
* * *
SCOTT WALKER SNATCHED a rag from the engine of the car and wiped his grease-smothered hands. He stared toward the open double doors of his garage and wandered closer. The sleet came down harder than when he’d disappeared under the car’s hood half an hour before. He grimaced.
Less than a week to Christmas and he had yet to buy a single present for his mum and three younger sisters. If he didn’t sort something out soon, they’d undoubtedly team together and strip him naked before working him into the ass of the Christmas Day turkey.
Then there were the women he’d taken out over the last few weeks...
Damn. He was stuffing whichever way he looked at it. To men, a few dates meant a nice time and a little kissing and flirting. To women, a few dates often meant a hell of a lot more. Guilt slithered over his shoulders and he steadfastly shook it off. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Honesty was his steadfast priority and he’d been careful his entire life not to promise a woman something he couldn’t deliver.
He’d never cheated nor left a woman’s bed without a kiss and his number, should she ever need to call. He enjoyed a busy social life and worked on plenty of cars that belonged to the women he’d dated after they amicably went their separate ways. He might be considered a bit of a rogue around town...but he wasn’t a liar, and the women he dated knew that. Scott clenched his jaw. Or at least, most of them did.
Wandering back to the car, he shook off the niggling irritation over the split with one particular ex and stuffed the oily rag in his back pocket. He planted his hands on his hips, surveying his completed handiwork. The car was now running like a dream and he’d cleaned it all down as well as topped off the oil and water.
Slamming the hood closed, he strolled around the other two cars waiting to be serviced before ascending a set of iron steps to his office. He closed the door and headed for the small fridge. He pulled out a beer and snapped off the top. Taking a long slug, he strode to his desk, collapsed into the chair and lifted his booted feet onto the desktop, crossing them at the ankles.
The cold beer slid welcome down his throat as thoughts of what he had planned for the next year filtered into his mind. He’d worked long and hard, bought the garage and made it enough of a success he would be bidding on an auction for garage number two in the New Year. He smiled. He was on his way.
Financially stable and continuing to provide for his family, he found life was good and settled, just as he planned. He took another drink. Even though he was nothing like his AWOL father, he couldn’t deny the thought of relationships, marriage and babies sent him running for cover.
That didn’t mean he would up and leave his family anytime soon. He was just fine and dandy living his life single and on his terms. Ignoring the ache in his chest, Scott took another pull on his beer.
The fact remained he still avoided serious relationships like his life depended on it. He couldn’t go there even if he found a woman he wanted. Not until he was ready to be a father and a provider and, by God, he wasn’t ready for either yet. There had been one woman that made him think he’d risk everything he held dear to be with her forever.
Forever lasted less than a few days before she disappeared out of his life again.
Scott took another drink. So he’d done his duty and continued to focus on looking after his mother and sisters as he had for the seven years before that fantastic week. He couldn’t deny his blood pumped with adrenaline, pulsed with a need for excitement and adventure...even some good old-fashioned romance from time to time, but he wouldn’t do that to himself, or a woman, until he was sure they’d both be around for the long haul.
The tension that knotted in his gut when he considered a committed relationship told him all too clearly he was nowhere near ready.
Scott hefted his feet from the desk and approached the office window. His Benelli motorbike was parked near the entrance of the garage, ready and waiting, primed to within an inch of her metallic life. Every time he revved her up, it was as though the bike urged him to just get the hell out of Templeton and onto the open road.
“No can do, sweetheart. No can do.” The weight of his familial obligations pressed down on his chest and Scott drained his beer.
He tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin and whipped his leather jacket from the back of his chair. He shrugged it on, snatched his keys from inside the top drawer of his desk and strode toward the door. He locked it behind him and hurried down the steps, eagerly approaching his bike.
His heart pumped with anticipation for the freedom he felt whenever he rode her. He kicked the machine off its stand and wheeled it into the yard. He narrowed his eyes to look at the jet-black sky. Rain spattered his face. The gathering clouds would soon cover any stars that dared to appear when the mid-December temperatures slowly edged toward freezing.
He took his helmet from the box at the rear of his bike, pulled it on and straddled his favorite female. He gunned the engine and satisfaction roared through him as the powerful bike ignited his adrenaline and need for speed. Snapping down his helmet’s black visor, he accelerated onto the road toward Templeton’s town center.
He eased off the gas as he merged with the chaotic holiday traffic crawling along High Street. Colored fairy lights danced across his vision and he glanced toward the decorated shops on either side of him. The bustling summer season felt like an imagined memory. The Templeton shop owners were nothing if not resourceful, and each year the shops that kept the tourists happy with little pails and shovels in summer kept the residents happy at Christmastime with an array of gifts, original artwork and knickknacks only a woman needed.
Knowing he had to do something in the way of appeasing his coven of female relations, Scott reluctantly pulled into a parking space outside one of the shops. Cutting the engine, he slid off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair. He glanced toward a latticed window donning a particularly festive display and grimaced. Christmas was about time with family, laughing and joking, while consuming far too much food and beer. It wasn’t about sparkly red baubles, dancing reindeer or plastic Santas clutching their juddering bellies.
Get your ass in there and get this done, Walker. He swung