Easy Melody(38)

“What about where you’re going?” I ask as he leads me to a bridge that arches over a lazy river full of ducks and swans. He digs in a bag slung over his shoulder and comes out with a half-eaten loaf of bread.

We’ve sent several pieces over the side of the bridge, and just when I think he’s not going to answer my question, he continues. “I’ve never been so concerned about where I’m going.”

“Really?”

He shakes his head. He continues to toss the bread, and I lean my back on the railing, watching him.

“I imagine that wherever it is I’m going, I’ll get there eventually.”

My eyebrows both climb into my hairline in surprise. “That easy?”

“Sure. Why does it have to be hard?”

I think back over the past ten years. “I guess all my adult life I’ve been worried about where I would end up, in what job, and who with. How I would get there.”

“And you’ve ended up right back where you started,” he says simply. “Not that you shouldn’t work hard, because I do, but where I’m going has never been a question for me.”

“And where are you going, Declan Boudreaux?”

He smiles down at me. “That’s just it, Calliope. I’m not going anywhere. Not long-term, anyway. I’m exactly where I love to be.”

And with that, he takes my hand and leads me across the other side of the bridge and to a deck that looks out over a pond nearby. There are wooden benches tucked perfectly in the trees. It’s a cool place to sit and enjoy nature.

He leads me to a bench and reaches back in his bag, coming out with sandwiches. He hands me one, peels back the plastic on his and takes a giant bite.

We sit in silence for a while, chewing on our lunch, watching the birds and ducks. The last of the summer flowers are struggling to hang on, just a few more days. In the distance, a crew is setting up tables and chairs in a big stone pavilion, draped in pink and green. Someone will be getting married here later today.

And it’s the perfect spot for it.

I sigh as I finish my sandwich and pass the wrapper to Declan. I move to stand, but he puts his hand on my arm.

“I have one more thing to give you,” he says with a smile.

“More food? I’m full.”

“No.” He passes me an envelope, and inside are two tickets to see Seattle play football.

“Declan, you must have bought the wrong tickets. These say they play in Seattle.”

“They’re right,” he assures me and drags his hand down my back.

“I can’t just drop everything and go to Seattle.”

“You’re not. The game is two weeks away, and I know that business has slowed down enough that Adam can handle the bar for two days.”

I shake my head, but inside, I’m jumping up and down like a little girl. He just stares at me, that smirk on his lips, until I finally throw my arms around him and hug him close.

“Thank you. I’ve always wanted to see Seattle.”

“I can’t wait to show it to you,” he whispers into my ear.

Who is this man? This giving, sweet, affectionate man?

“What are you thinking?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Nothing.”

“Something just passed through that gorgeous head of yours.”

I don’t want to tell him. It makes me sound mushy and corny, but then I decide what the hell. “I was just wondering who you are, and how have you managed to make me feel so comfortable and easy with you? I trust you, Declan, and I don’t trust easily.”

Now he pulls me to my feet and wraps those long, strong arms around me. My arms are tucked against my chest, and I’m wrapped up in him. He sways us gently side to side, his mouth pressed to my head. I feel him inhale deeply, and then, finally, he whispers, “I’m Declan Boudreaux, and you trust me because I trust you, too.”

Then he pulls back, kisses my forehead, and leads me further into the park.

***

“Thanks for swinging into Charly’s with me,” I say as he parks in front of Head Over Heels. “It’s easier to grab my shoes now on the way home than later when I’ll have to cart them to the bar.”

“How many pairs did you buy?” he asks with a laugh and helps me out of the car.

“Four, I think.”

“You think?”

“There was wine,” I remind him and push inside the cool store. It doesn’t smell like shoes. It smells like lavender and sunshine.

“Well, hello there,” Charly says from behind the counter.

“Hi,” I reply. “How are you feeling?”

“There’s no need to yell,” Charly says while holding her head, making me laugh.

“That good, huh?”

“Rough mornin’,” she says with a sigh. “But so worth it. I have your shoes here.” She lifts a big white bag full of shoe boxes off the floor.

“Can I have one more look at them?” I ask, eyeing the bag the way a kid eyes birthday cake.

“You can look at them all you want,” she says and helps me get them out. “Those blue shoes are amazing.”

I nod, looking down at my feet as I slide them into the blue pumps. They feel great, and will go with almost anything. “I love them.”