Those Cassabaw Days. Cindy Miles
boys and girls really weren’t supposed to be so close. They had been. She knew things couldn’t pick up where they’d left off—they’d been children then. So many years, so much...life had passed between them. They were grown now. Different people. Right?
Somehow, she hoped things would change.
After an hour, Emily had inspected every inch of the Windchimer. There were more upgrades than actual repairs, so that was a relief. Still, she had her lists, and combined with Matt’s it was a tall work order.
“It’s going to be tight to have it finished by the Fourth,” Matt said, climbing the deck to stand beside her. Their visitors had packed it in for the evening, leaving Emily and Matt alone.
“Well,” Emily said, pushing her hair behind her ear. “The faster we get on it, the sooner it’ll get done. Right?”
“Yep.”
She shoved her iPhone into her back pocket, climbed the veranda and turned to lock up the café. She let the screen door close, and then looked up at Matt. She noticed how the setting sun had left purple-and-red streaks in the sky above the ocean, and how the colors reflected against his gruff skin. Without thinking, she reached her hand and grazed his jaw. “Since when can you—”
Matt’s hand shot out like a bolt of lightning and grabbed hers, stilling the movement. They exchanged shocked glances, and without a word he dropped her hand.
“I’m sorry,” Emily finally said. The awkward moment didn’t pass quickly enough. “I—”
“It’s all right,” Matt said quietly. His gaze shot above her head, to some distant spot behind her. “Quick movements and me don’t mix, Emily.”
Emily blew out a sigh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” A feeling of embarrassed confusion washed over her. She was just going to ask him when had he been able to grow stubble. For now she supposed it’d be best if she just dropped the question. “Well, I’m finished here. I suppose we should head home. I have a copious amount of drudgery to complete.” Without waiting for his answer, she moved past him and headed to Jep’s old truck. By the time she’d climbed behind the wheel and stuck the key in the ignition, Matt was already in the passenger’s side. Silently, she turned over the engine and started home.
Matt didn’t say a word after leaving the Windchimer, and the moment she stopped the truck his door was opened and he was jumping out of it. She gave Matt a surprised look when he met her at the door.
“Repairs, right? Or did you want to go over that tomorrow?” he asked.
“No,” she said, and closed the truck door. “Absolutely, now’s fine.” She started up the lane, the humid air sticking to her bare arms and neck. “Come on in.”
Matt’s long strides carried him past her, and he pulled open the screen door while she stuck the key in the lock.
“Thank you,” Emily said and hit the lights as she stepped inside. Matt followed, the screen door creaking as he let it close. Setting her iPhone onto the kitchen table, she pulled out a chair and nodded to Matt. “Have a seat.”
He did, and she took one herself, pulled her feet up and sat cross-legged. Opening the notepad app on her phone, she looked at Matt. Seeing his face, with that off-center cowlick at the top and that scar through his eyebrow, made a smile creep across her lips.
“What’s so funny?” he asked. He tipped his chair back, watching her.
Emily shook her head. “I just can’t get over the fact that I’m sitting in my old kitchen with my old best friend.” She gave a soft laugh. “It’s just so crazy, don’t you think? After all these years? Do you remember when we—”
“I’m not that kid anymore, Emily,” he said, interrupting her. “I’m...just not.”
She didn’t let his gruff dismissal scare her. Instead, she softened, and felt a little sad about it. Somehow, she hoped a little of the old Matt Malone lay buried beneath all that hardened exterior. “Well,” she said with a confident grin, “maybe you should be more like that kid, instead of sharp-tongued cantankerous ol’ Matt Malone.”
Matt’s gaze stayed steady on hers; it didn’t waver, and he didn’t smile. He sort of had a perma-frown stuck on his face. But before he had time to respond, Emily blew out a gusty sigh. “Okay. So. Let’s get down to business here.”
Matt relayed all of the repairs he’d discovered while going through the café. Emily tapped it all into her notes. “Okay. I’ll research materials and have the list ready for you in the next day or two. Then you can determine your fee.”
“Fair enough. I’ll let you know about the parts needed to fix your Jeep,” he said. Rubbing a hand over his hair, he pushed away from the table.
“Sounds good.”
He strode to the door, and Emily followed. “I’ll check out the dock at low tide tomorrow.” He opened the creaky screen door and pushed it open, then looked over his shoulder at her. “It’s a lot of work. It won’t be a cheap repair. Materials won’t be, either.”
Emily leaned against the frame, propping the screen door open with her bare foot. “Yeah,” she said as Matt sauntered into the shadows, making his way to the old path they took as kids that ran between their houses. For a second she saw the skinny boy she once knew, running home for supper. And then before her eyes his shape grew, expanded, took on the form of the broad-shouldered ireful man he’d become. “I expected as much. See ya tomorrow.”
His deep, raspy voice drifted from the darkness. “Yep. Night, Emily.”
She moved out onto the porch and eased down onto the old swing. Despite the repairs, the work and the cranky once-best friend who lived next door, Emily knew that all of her previous decisions had led to this. College. Work. Trent, and their breakup. A new life. A new start. And it suddenly felt right.
For once, Emily sensed she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
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