Retreat (Balm in Gilead Book 3) Page 3

  But for no good reason he wanted to cross one now.

  He knew what he was doing. Knew it was a mistake. But everything in the world was bothering him this morning, and he perversely wanted her to really notice him, to see him differently.

  So he heard himself muttering, “I’m not going to kill myself for some damned photo shoot.”

  Cecily’s eyes shot over to him, and her body gave a little jerk with her intake of breath. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  This was stupid. Absolutely, utterly stupid. He didn’t act this way—not with Cecily. It was like some malevolent spirit had taken over his voice, making him say things he knew he shouldn’t say.

  “You said you could handle it,” Cecily said, her expression still composed but her voice much cooler than usual. “I’m happy to hire extra hands to help you. But you do need to admit you need help.”

  “I don’t need help. I can do it. But the photo shoot—”

  “We’ve had this discussion,” she cut in, her gray-green eyes as cold as ice. “It is not your decision about whether I allow Kara to do a photo shoot here. I’ve never asked for your opinion on that matter.”

  “If you had asked, maybe you wouldn’t be so stupid about—”

  “Stupid?” Cecily snapped. She was finally losing her composure. Her cheeks had flushed a delectable pink, her eyes were flashing, and her breath was coming out quickly. “You’re actually saying I’m being stupid?”

  He’d never seen anything so beautiful as Cecily when she was angry. He’d never actually seen it before.

  It excited him. His heart was racing wildly, and his blood was pumping in his veins.

  “Yes, I’m saying you’re stupid. You’re trusting that woman when you shouldn’t, and she’s only going to use you and hurt you.”

  “My friendship with Kara is not your concern. Any more than the decisions I make about having a photo shoot. I don’t know what has gotten into you today, but I don’t like it at all.”

  “You don’t like it because you only see me in one way, as if I’m not a full human with thoughts and feelings of my own.” He had no idea why he was saying this. He wasn’t sure it was even true. And he didn’t understand why his voice was so rough, so loud, so uncontrolled.

  This argument wasn’t like him any more than it was like Cecily.

  Cecily’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at him motionless for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe what he’d just said. “That isn’t true,” she said at last, her voice breaking strangely. “Zeke, you know that’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? Think about it for a minute, and then tell me it’s not true.”

  She opened her mouth to reply but then seemed to stop herself.

  The fire he’d seen in her a moment ago suddenly got swallowed up in her normal composure—strained but perfectly contained. She gave him a stretched smile and said coolly, “I’m sorry you think that’s true, but there’s nothing I can do about your erroneous belief. Regardless, you work for me, and I’m expecting for this garden to be done on Wednesday. If you can’t get it done yourself, then hire someone to help you.”

  Zeke started to reply, but she didn’t give him the chance. She turned on her heel and walked away.

  And Zeke was left alone in the garden, filled with a tumult of emotions that made absolutely no sense.

  Anger. Frustration. Desire. Regret. Embarrassment.

  And something akin to yearning.

  ***

  The rest of the day went by somehow, and all of it was miserable for Zeke.

  He worked in the garden until he could barely move, and he didn’t even take the time to really eat.

  Every half hour, he would stand up and start to walk into the building to find Cecily, to apologize for his ridiculous outburst and fix things between them.

  But something held him back each time.

  He worked until nine in the evening, and finally he couldn’t stay on his feet any longer. He limped back to his cottage and got right into the shower, standing under the spray for a long time before his breathing had evened out and he could manage to turn the water off.

  He was drying himself off when there was a knock on his door.

  No one ever came to his cottage. No one. Ever.

  He barely recognized the knock when he heard it since it was so unexpected and out of the bounds of normal.

  But the knock kept coming, so he managed to pull on his sweats, pick up a T-shirt, and limp to the front door to swing it open.

  Cecily stood there, wearing a pair of gray lounge pants and a fitted top, her hair hanging down over her shoulders. She looked soft and pretty and touchable, and his heart leaped in a foolish, unforgiveable way.

  She gave him a little smile and then seemed to notice that his hair was wet and he was half-dressed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I get you out of the shower?”

  He shook his head and quickly pulled on the T-shirt he was holding. “No. I was done.”

  “Okay.” She stood there, looking strangely uncertain.

  He cleared his throat. He was suddenly terrified about her being in his cottage like this, looking so lovely and vulnerable.

  His defenses weren’t as strong as they normally were.

  He was afraid of what he might do.

  “Can I…,” she began. “Can I come in for a minute?”

  He nodded and stepped aside. Technically, she owned this cottage. Plus she was his boss. She could come in whenever she wanted.

  She would have no idea that he was on the edge of pulling her into his arms right now.

  “I’m sorry to just show up like this,” she said, smiling at him again when she’d stepped inside. “But I felt terrible about our argument earlier, and I couldn’t go to bed until we’d… worked things out.”

  He nodded curtly. It was just like her. She was a counselor by education and profession, and she actually tried to live out the advice she gave to other people.

  “I’m sorry I got angry earlier,” she said, her eyes bigger than they should be as she gazed up at him. “I shouldn’t have done so, and I’m sorry if I hurt you with anything I said.”

  A wave of guilt overwhelmed him, tightening in his throat. He swallowed over it and forced words out. “It was my fault. Not yours. I was… stupid.”

  She acknowledged his admission, as halting and gruff as it was, but she clearly wasn’t done with the conversation yet. “You said… you said I don’t see you as a whole person.”

  “I was just talking,” he said quickly, hating himself for saying something so revealing and also for making her feel bad. “You’ve always been… great.”

  With a little shrug, she said, “But you wouldn’t have said that if there wasn’t something underlying it, and it’s… it’s worrying me.”

  “You shouldn’t worry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Maybe not intentionally, but what you said has made me think.” Her features twisted, as if this was hard for her to say. “And there might be something in what you said. I’ve… I’ve always relied on you to make this place run. I honestly couldn’t have done what I’ve done without you. And I hope you know that.”

  He was washed with heat—of both pleasure and self-consciousness. He’d never been comfortable with this kind of earnest conversation, even before Lara had died and he’d withdrawn. But there was something inside him that wanted to hear what she was saying right now.

  That wanted to know that she needed him.

  “But maybe because you’re always so trustworthy and competent and… and good at what you do—and because you don’t want to share yourself with anyone—I’ve kind of pigeon-holed you in my mind and not allowed you to be anything else. I thought… I thought that was what you want—that you didn’t really want to be a friend to me—but I’m not sure it’s right of me to just use you for what you do without allowing you to be… whole.”

  He was feeling too much.

  Way too much.

  His ha
nds were actually shaking from it.

  He’d never consciously acknowledged he wanted something else in his life—something other than a job and a place to live—but he couldn’t deny now that he did.

  And he wanted it from Cecily.

  But she wasn’t offering him what he really wanted. She was being kind. Thoughtful. Sensitive.

  Good.

  She wasn’t giving herself to him.

  So he again had to rein in the storm of his feelings and instead respond to what she was actually saying. “Thank you,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze so she wouldn’t see anything in his eyes. “But you haven’t been like that. You’ve always treated me well. And you know me as a person. Better than anyone else. I shouldn’t have made you feel bad about it. I was wrong.”

  “Maybe we both were,” she said, leaning her head down slightly in what was clearly an attempt to meet his eyes again.

  He looked back up at her, something new and intense throbbing in his heart, his head, his veins.

  “I care about you, Zeke,” she said as sincere and direct as she’d always been. “And I’m so glad you work with me. Not just because you make things run but because you’re… you.”

  She looked a little nervous, but she was still meeting his eyes.

  “I just wanted you to know that,” she added when he didn’t respond.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, rougher than he’d intended. “Thank you. Me too.”

  She nodded, evidently understanding that he meant the words, however curt they were. She smiled at him again, and he smiled back for the first time.

  She took a deep breath. “Okay. I feel better. And please let me know if you think I’m not treating you right.” She lifted a hand and placed it gently on his chest. “You’re important to me.”

  He took a quick step backward so she wasn’t touching him anymore.

  Her light touch had fired up every nerve ending in his body, and he was about to do something he could never take back.

  Pull her into his arms.

  Kiss her urgently, deeply, hotly.

  And that would ruin everything, take away everything that meant something to him.

  He couldn’t let himself do it.

  Ever.

  He couldn’t stand the loss that would inevitably follow.

  She looked surprised by his clumsy move, but she just nodded again. “Good night, Zeke.”

  “G’night,” he muttered, holding himself very stiffly.

  To his relief, she didn’t linger. She went to the door, only glancing back at him once.

  Then finally—finally—he was left alone to deal with all the powerful and completely inappropriate feelings she’d left in him.

  Feelings so much more terrifying and harder to deal with than a simple physical response.

  Three

  Cecily had met Kara ten months ago, the first week the other woman had shown up at her church on Sunday morning.

  After the service, Cecily had been chatting with a few friends, and Kara had intentionally come over to introduce herself, full of smiles and bubbly small talk.

  Cecily had been slightly surprised since most people didn’t make a point of getting to know her in that way. When Kara had asked if she wanted to have lunch sometime, Cecily had agreed, and eventually her instinctive politeness had turned into genuine friendship since Kara seemed so sweet and enthusiastic and appreciative.

  Her friendship with Kara had never been the most important thing in her life, but she’d valued it—more and more since her old friends all seemed busier than ever with their families and their lives.

  On Wednesday, when Kara arrived with the photographer she’d hired for the shoot, Cecily found herself observing her friend more closely. Kara was exactly the same as she always had been—smiling and giggling and giving out compliments like they were candy.

  But Cecily was starting to wonder if she’d missed something in the other woman’s character all this time.

  She’d always been smart about people—and also realistic. No one was perfect. Everyone had their own best interest at heart, even in a friendship. But that didn’t mean people couldn’t share a genuine relationship. Humans were capable of good as well as bad, and she’d always been happier looking for the good.

  But still…

  She made a point of looking for undertones that afternoon, when she never had before.

  She and Kara had agreed that the photographer could cover the lobby and the outside areas of the center. It took a couple of hours for them to make their way through the lobby and the pool and beach areas before they finally ended up in the garden.

  Zeke was there when they arrived. He’d evidently been putting the last touches on the shrubbery. The garden looked lovely in bright, autumnal colors with immaculate bed and perfectly manicured bushes and small trees.

  Cecily gazed around in pleasure, feeling a swell of appreciation for Zeke, who must have half killed himself doing so much work to get the garden ready.

  She glanced toward him, saw he was watching her, and she smiled at him warmly.

  His mouth gave a little twitch of response before he looked away.

  Kara was chatting endlessly, instructing the photographer and telling him about how amazing Cecily was.

  Normally, Cecily liked being given compliments. Everyone did, whether they admitted it or not. But she’d been paying attention this afternoon, and this was the eighth compliment Kara had poured out on her in two hours and fifteen minutes.

  It did seem like a lot.

  She glanced back over at Zeke and saw that his eyes were focused on Kara.

  Kara was short and pretty in a soft, curvy way—with big eyes and perfect makeup and nails. Zeke’s fixed gaze might have made Cecily wonder, had his expression been different.

  But he wasn’t liking what he saw when he looked at Kara. Cecily could see that very clearly behind his thick beard and stoic features.

  He didn’t like the other woman. At all.

  If Cecily was reading him correctly, he looked almost resentful.

  The knowledge made Cecily’s stomach twist with more nerves. Maybe he was right about Kara and she was wrong.

  Cecily hated the idea—not because it meant she’d been foolish, but because it meant a friendship she relied on had never had a real foundation. And she wasn’t yet convinced that was true.

  Kara was one of those intense people pleasers who used flattery to gain a position with others. Cecily didn’t have to like that particular trait to still see Kara as a whole person and a potential friend.

  Cecily had her own flaws, and she’d be in pretty bad shape if other people rejected a friendship with her because of her worst characteristic.

  So she told herself not to let Zeke’s suspicions infect her. She smiled and chatted with the photographer, who seemed to be a nice guy and good at what he did.

  After a few minutes, when she looked back over toward Zeke, she saw that Kara was standing in front on him, her hand on Zeke’s chest, batting her eyelashes at him.

  She was flirting with Zeke. No doubt about that.

  Cecily swallowed over an immediate and unavoidable flash of annoyance.

  Kara wasn’t here to flirt with Zeke. She was here because Cecily was doing her a pretty big favor in order to help boost her blog.

  Kara shouldn’t be touching Zeke like that.

  No one should be touching Zeke like that.

  Cecily had touched Zeke in exactly the same way the other night, when she’d gone over to Zeke’s cottage to fix the tension between them. She’d put her hand lightly on his chest.

  She’d wanted to touch him even more, so she was trying not to think about it.

  But that didn’t mean she wanted to see Kara flirting with him that way.

  Cecily was trying to control her emotional response when Zeke’s eyes moved unerringly to meet hers over Kara’s shoulder.

  The look in his eyes was knowing, purposeful, significant.

  He was very clearly tel
ling her, I told you so. This is what Kara is really like.

  Cecily almost believed him this time.

  Then she took a deep breath and shook it off.

  It wasn’t fair—to judge another person based on the fact that she liked to flirt. Any single woman might be interested in Zeke. He was strong and handsome and mysterious with his gruff manners and stoic silence. Cecily herself had never learned how to flirt, but she tried hard not to resent other women for doing it well.

  This didn’t mean anything.

  Kara would have no way of knowing that Cecily had been feeling like Zeke was hers. She wasn’t treading on Cecily’s territory. She was just being a normal woman in the presence of a hot guy.

  She slanted Zeke a narrow-eyed look in response to tell him to stop sending her silent messages. Then she focused back on the task at hand.

  She wasn’t going to doubt everything she believed about Kara and their friendship just because Zeke wanted her to.

  Kara might have a few annoying habits, but that didn’t mean everything about her was a sham.

  People were people.

  And friendship meant forgiving or overlooking the ways in which all people weren’t perfect.

  ***

  That evening, Cecily was still feeling unsettled, restless. She took another early bath, hoping it would relax her enough to still her mind, but when it didn’t, she sent a text to her sister.

  Anything going on?

  Mercy usually had her phone with her and replied to texts right away. So Cecily waited with her phone in her hand to see if she’d get a response.

  Instead of a text message, her phone rang with a call.

  It was Mercy.

  “Hi,” Cecily said when she’d connected the call. “You didn’t have to call.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. What do you mean?”

  “You never text to just to ask what I’m doing unless you want to talk.”

  Cecily laughed softly. Her sister was absolutely right. She had felt like talking. “I guess maybe I did.”

  “So what’s going on? Is anything wrong?”

  “No. Nothing’s wrong. I was just feeling kind of bored and restless and… I don’t know.”