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Okay? Should he have said that? It’s not like he knew her problems. But no man in the world could handle a woman when she cried like that. He didn’t even know her and her tears were making his heart bunch into a knot.
He tightened his hold a bit. “Did someone harm you? Are you in any sort of danger?”
One of her fists pounded against his shoulder three times before her fingers worked open and bunched the fabric of his flannel shirtfront. “How could he? I was ready.... Life was set.... How could he?” She sniveled into his shirt right next to his heart.
“I’m sorry. Whatever happened, I’m sorry you had to go through it.” He rubbed a circle on her back.
Paige rested her forehead against his chest and took a few rattling breaths. He fought the foolish urge to bury his nose in her soft hair. Not counting his sister or Maggie, how long had it been since he held a woman in his arms? Two years.
The washing machine along the south wall clicked and started whirling. The tiny legs of the machine clattered against the cement with a high-pitched scratching sound. Maggie probably overfilled the thing, again.
The sound snapped the woman in his embrace back to attention.
Paige pushed out of his arms. “Oh. I’m so sorry. How stupid of me. You must think that I...”
He held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain.” He handed her the wedding dress.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
Caleb glanced up at the ceiling as if he could find directions on how to deal with distraught women written up there. A stuffed snowman grinned back at him. Nothing but beams packed with Maggie’s decorations for all the different holidays.
He wouldn’t leave the woman alone in the basement in case she did something else irrational, but he could hold his tongue and give her a minute to collect herself. Besides, it’s not like he could help her if she asked. He’d never been able to help anyone before.
Not really.
* * *
Stop acting crazy.
Paige Windom took a long, deep breath. What a way to start life in a new town. Good thing Dad couldn’t see her now. Windoms don’t crack. At least, that was what he always said. Then again, he’d lost his right to speak into her life. Cheaters and liars don’t get to give advice.
Why wouldn’t this man leave her alone? Her pity party was supposed to be an invitation-only thing. Table for one.
She didn’t need a stranger seeing her in this state because this wasn’t her. She organized everything, made to-do lists and had every lesson plan she’d ever written in a color-coded binder. Not that she’d admit it to anyone, but she even kept an Excel spreadsheet of her wardrobe to help match outfits for work. But well-laid plans hadn’t led to dreams coming true. Not once. So maybe being rational wasn’t worth it.
She sank to her knees.
Her fingers traced over the beadwork on the dress in her hands. The perfect Pronovias gown—an A-line organza with a sweetheart neckline, complete with a cascade of ruffles. It had taken thirteen shopping trips to find the perfect dress. Thirteen. She should have known better.
She hadn’t cried when she discovered Bryan with another woman and hadn’t even shed a tear on the three-hour drive from Chicago to Goose Harbor. But for some reason, as she unpacked her bag in the little room on the back side of the inn, her body started to ache. It felt like a bad case of heartburn, but more painful. And no matter how tightly she pressed a pillow to herself, the hurt in the pit of her stomach remained.
Would she have to walk through the rest of life feeling numb?
Sure, she wanted independence, but no one told her how abandoned being free felt.
Floorboards above her creaked, and the sound drew her back to the present. A damp, mildew smell clung to the cracked cement along the walls of the basement. The other side of the room still boasted a dirt floor. Sunlight filtered in through the basement’s window wells.
The man in the basement with her worked his bearded jaw back and forth. Had she really just tossed herself into his arms? Quite the first impression. Paige felt her cheeks begin to burn. What must he think of her?
He hooked his hands on his tool belt. The man’s silhouette against the evening sunlight outlined broad shoulders as his flannel shirt molded over coiled biceps. When he held her, he’d smelled like a midnight rainstorm, fresh with a slight scent of pine trees. His athletic form made him look ready to build a house from scratch or chop down a tree. The man was all strength, but carried a gentle reassurance about his person all the same.
Regardless of his relaxed pose, he would be able to move quickly if she did something reckless with her dress again. Not that she planned to.
The man took a slow step closer and then knelt down in front of her. “Miss, are you all right?” His forehead creased. Only a foot or two away, she locked her gaze with his for the first time. His eyes were warm—the color of hot chocolate laced with cream.
Paige swallowed hard. “I’m okay.”
He raised a brow. “Are you sure? You could talk to me, if that would make things better. I’ll listen.” His voice was a balm. Strong and reassuring.
Stop. Stop analyzing him. She hadn’t come to Goose Harbor to check out the first man she bumped into. Not the first or the fifteenth.
“This isn’t how I usually am. You caught me at a bad time.” Paige rose from the floor, the dress clutched to her stomach. Maybe she’d sell the thing at a consignment shop in town. At least get some money out of it to help save toward a home of her own. Then strange men couldn’t wander downstairs and find her during an off moment, and she wouldn’t be able to embarrass herself again.
Although, the sooner she found a place of her own, the more the loneliness might seep in.
She set the dress on top of the washing machine. No need to bring it back to her bedroom. It would only serve as a reminder there.
The man got to his feet. “My name’s Caleb. I’m friends with Maggie. Do you want me to go get her?”
Paige shook her head.
Caleb looped his hands on his tool belt again as if they needed to do something tangible. “Is there something I can do to help you? Anything?”
“Just go.” Her voice cracked a little, even though she fought it.
“I’d feel better if I stayed here with you.”
“I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“Right now, making sure you’re safe is the most important thing on my list.”
Fine. She couldn’t make Caleb leave—not if he shared a friendship with the inn owner, but she could make him feel unwelcome. Make sure she was safe? Unless he was the town greeter or an undercover cop, she didn’t need him babysitting her.
Paige turned her back on him. A chill ran through her body. Why were basements so cold?
Caleb cleared his throat. “You’re pretty quiet for a girl.”
“For a girl, huh?” Paige fought back the first smile of the day as she turned to face him.
Like sunshine after a week of cloudy days, a full smile broke out across Caleb’s lips, lighting up every plane and angle of his face. “I have a sister.” His voice was bathed in tenderness. “She talks a mile a minute.”
So he loved his family, had a nice voice and knew how to comfort a girl in need. Paige needed to get away from him. Quick. She couldn’t afford to go soft on her vow against men so soon.
“I have to go. I’m sorry we had to meet like this.” Paige rushed to the stairs and grabbed the railing. She looked back at Caleb. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t.
Go, Paige. Just go. She’d gotten good at running away the past few months. At least, it was nice to think so. Without looking behind her again, she climbed the stairs and tried to forget the image of the concerned man in the basement with the gentle, chocolate eyes.
* * *
Caleb scrubbed his hand over the close-clipped hair on his chin. Women were confusing, plain and simple. At least the fire situation was under control. He grabbed the dress she’d left downstairs. Why had she made such a big deal of him giving it back to just leave it again?
“So, Smokey the Bear, what was it? Or like I suspected, was it all in your head?” Maggie’s voice made him jump.
He turned to face her. “Do you have a new girl working here?”
She wiped the dirt from gardening on her ripped jeans. “I never did fill the cleaning position.” Maggie leaned her hip against the basement wall. “But do you mean Paige? I’m letting her stay here for Principal Timmons until the tourists clear out and she can rent something more permanent in town. Let’s see, she’s about this tall. Pretty little blonde thing.”
“Principal Timmons?”
“Yes. Paige is the new English teacher.” Maggie smiled.
The three English teachers’ rooms were across the hall from where he taught science at the high school. So he’d be seeing a lot more of Paige.
“This is hers.” He pressed the wedding dress into Maggie’s hands. “But don’t give it back to her if she’s just going to try to light it on fire again.”
“On fire?” Maggie’s eyes grew big.
“Told you I smelled something.”
Maggie hugged the dress to her chest. “That poor woman.”
“That poor woman could have set your livelihood ablaze. Are you sure she’s safe? You know, right in the head? I’d hate to see you in trouble.” Caleb squeezed Maggie’s shoulder.
“She’s safe. I promise.”
He searched her face. “You’re the only sister-in-law I have.” He offered a small smile.
Maggie brushed his hand away. “I keep telling you—you don’t have to waste your life away worrying about little old me.”
Right. She knew too well. The last time he worried about someone it had caused Maggie a lot of heartache, too.
Even though her words sliced, he shrugged. “Other than Shelby, who else do I have to worry about?”
“Caleb.” She reached a hand toward him but let it drop to her side. “I didn’t mean to—”
No more pity. He couldn’t stand another person’s concerned eyes on him. That was the problem with a small town—everyone knew what had happened to his wife and treated him differently because of it.
“Sink’s fixed.” He plodded up the steps. “See you later.”
He didn’t bother gathering his tools from Maggie’s kitchen. She’d probably call him tomorrow with something else to patch at the inn. Not that he minded.
His sister, Shelby, might be waiting dinner on him at home. He checked his phone. No texts from her yet. He still had time.
Maybe he’d go shoot hoops at the school first.
* * *
Paige scoured mascara off her face so hard she left a red patch of skin.
What must Caleb think of her? Hopefully she’d never have to run into him again. If it came up in conversation she’d ask Maggie not to hire the same handyman next time or at least have Maggie warn her before she had him come for a job again. Facing him after she tossed herself into his arms would be nothing short of mortifying.
Okay. Let’s face it. She probably would see him again. Hadn’t he said he was friends with Maggie? More reason to find an apartment or home to rent somewhere else in town and soon as she could. That would be her first goal.
Paige let out a long breath of air.
Running away had never sounded like a good idea. But what else could she have done?
She sank onto the edge of the bed. This room was the size of Paige’s closet at her parents’ home, but in the same manner as the rest of the bed-and-breakfast, it was decorated like a charming English cottage. Good thing Principal Timmons had taken it upon himself to set up this living situation for her when he hired her last minute. And the owner, Maggie West, seemed nice enough. Although perhaps a little rough around the edges.
New starts were supposed to be exciting, right?
So why this heavy, hopeless feeling gnawing in the pit of her stomach?
Paige could hear Maggie in the kitchen, clanking spoons against bowls as she did prep work for tomorrow’s breakfast. What to do? Paige didn’t know anyone in the town of Goose Harbor, but going to bed before the sun went down seemed a little too desperate.
No, she needed to do something to clear her mind. Without wasting another minute, she snagged her gym shoes out of the closet and tugged them on. Paige wouldn’t go for a jog tonight, but she could scope out a trail to run for the next time she needed escape.
Maggie cleared her throat when Paige entered the kitchen.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” She wiped her hands on her green-checkered apron and gave Paige a sad smile.
“I’m guessing Caleb told you about my episode downstairs. I’m so sorry. That’s not like me. I promise I won’t act like that again.”
“Don’t even think about it. Believe me—men have done a number on my head one too many times to count. I guess that’s why I’m resigned to spinsterhood.” Maggie winked at her.
“Hardly. You’re what, my age?”
“I think a couple years older. Thirty-four, but let’s not go shouting that from the rooftops. You’re going to be okay, you know that, right?” Maggie grasped Paige’s hand, leaving some flour on her fingers.
“Sure. That’s why I’m here. Time for something new.” Paige tried to infuse life into her voice. She did like learning new things, and with her upbringing, she had so much to learn. But right now, it was the circumstances behind the uprooting of her life that dampened everything.
Maggie went back to punching a wad of dough on the counter. “I hung your dress up downstairs.”
“Thanks.” Paige touched her fingers to the couple of hair ties she always stored on her wrist. “Do you need help preparing anything? I don’t know a lot about cooking, but I’m willing to learn.”
“No need. I’m almost done for tonight. But I appreciate the offer.” Maggie rubbed the back of her hand on her forehead, leaving more flour.
“Well, if you ever need me to, I do know one recipe for scones that I could make some time. It’s about the only thing I know how to do in the kitchen.” Paige laid her hand on the doorknob that led to the public section of the inn.
“I’ll probably take you up on that at some point.”
“Anytime. I’m going to go out for a little while.” Paige walked through the door that led to the hotel portion of the bed-and-breakfast.
The common dining area boasted a large crystal chandelier that Maggie had told her was original to the mansion. The front parlor was rich with Persian carpets, flowered wallpaper, a grand piano and a stone fireplace surrounded by antique furniture. A towering grandfather clock ticked off the seconds as she passed by the grand, deep maroon carpeted staircase.
A bell tinkled as she pushed open the front door. She walked quickly down the sidewalk, passing her Mazda and the sign proclaiming: West Oaks Inn Bed-and-Breakfast.
Paige glanced over her shoulder at the Victorian mansion. Built in the Queen Anne style, sage clapboard gave way to pink-painted details and intricately carved wooden embellishments. Giant oak trees formed a line of soldiers up the driveway, protecting and shadowing the property. Cinderella might as well live there.
