The Great Escape (Wynette, Texas #7)(100)

“Sure I did.” Even though temperatures were already in the low eighties, he wore a light tan sports coat, pale blue dress shirt, and a blue-and-brown-striped necktie. She wasn’t exactly sure when he’d discarded his big college ring and ostentatious gold bracelet. She’d never mentioned either one, no matter how much she’d wanted to, but they were gone. He also smelled great. Like good shaving cream.

He nodded politely at Bree, whatever amorous feelings he’d once harbored for her clearly gone. She studied him as he looked away, something she’d been doing a lot of over the past two weeks. She couldn’t feel good about the way she was using him. By acting friendly and pretending she’d forgotten about the past just so he’d be there for her if she needed him, she was the worst kind of hypocrite.

Since the night he’d appeared at Dogs ’N’ Malts, he’d become a regular visitor to the cottage. Sharing a few meals with him hadn’t been as difficult as she’d thought. He spent most of the time talking to Toby. He treated her politely, but that was all. No more apologies, no more references to the past. He was a man who’d said his piece and didn’t repeat himself. She’d even gone out on the boat with him and Toby after Lucy had insisted on watching the farm stand.

To her surprise, it had been the best day of her summer. The three of them had dived into the lake together. Mike was an excellent swimmer, and Toby loved horsing around with him. She’d watched the flex of Mike’s shoulders as he’d tossed Toby in the water and felt the most peculiar stirring, like an embryonic chick who’d grown just big enough to make the first small crack in its shell. Later that day, while the boat bobbed at anchor and they munched on junk food, she’d had to fight back tears just because Toby had reminded her to put on more sunscreen.

Deacon Miller rose to welcome the congregation. She and Toby no longer warranted a special introduction, but Mike was a newcomer. “We are so blessed to have you with us today, Mike,” Deacon Miller said. “We all remember how you helped us buy our new organ.”

The congregation broke out in a lusty chorus of amens.

“It was the least I could do after all those potlucks,” Mike said, displaying none of the discomfort she’d felt during her first visit. “Best church food on the island.”

Agreeing nods all around. Wasn’t there anybody who didn’t like him?

Pastor Sanders rose for the opening prayer. Her products had only been in his gift shop for two weeks, but her lotions and honey were selling well enough that he’d asked for more—only a small order because Labor Day was near, but an order nonetheless.

As bad luck would have it, his sermon that morning centered on forgiveness, a subject that reminded her of Mike.

“I’m a religious man,” he’d said. “I believe in sin, and I believe in repentance. I’ve made amends as best as I know how, but it hasn’t changed anything.”

“And it won’t,” she’d told him.

Sitting here in this sacred place, she no longer felt so righteous.

When the service was over, Toby attached himself to Mike, and Mike worked the crowd, just as he’d done at the Episcopal church. He knew everyone, and everyone knew him. He introduced her to members she’d yet to meet, including one of the real estate agents who worked for him and several former clients.

It was finally time to leave, and they stepped out into the blazing late morning sun. “Is it okay if I take Toby to see my new dog?” Mike said, once again forgetting to ask her these kinds of things when Toby wasn’t listening.

Toby’s eyes immediately lit up. The abandoned puppy had been a frequent topic of conversation between them. Toby had tried to dissuade Mike from turning it over to a rescue group on the mainland. In the end, Toby had won. “You’ve got to come, too, Bree,” he declared before she said he could go. “Can she, Mike?”

She tugged on one of her hoop earrings, not looking at Mike. “I should … get back and relieve Lucy.”

Toby grew mulish. “Lucy already told you she’d stay all morning.”

Once again, she’d set herself up as the bad guy. She was sick of it. “You’re right. I’d love to see the dog.”

Toby grinned and raced down the sidewalk. “I’m riding with Mike.”

Mike gazed at her. He’d slipped on his sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes. “You don’t have to go with us.”

“I know that.” She couldn’t bring herself to say that she almost wanted to go. “But Toby wants me to, so I will.”

Mike gave a brusque nod and went off to join Toby, leaving her to trail after them in her own car.

Mike’s luxurious log home sat far above the lake on the island’s less populated west side. Each level held a porch or balcony built of varnished logs. Mike led them around to the back, where a long wooden table big enough to hold a dozen people sat in the shade of the covered patio. As Bree took in the lake view, Mike went inside and, a few moments later, reappeared with the puppy, an adorable short-haired mutt sporting alarmingly oversize paws.

She couldn’t hold back a smile as she watched Toby and the dog get reacquainted. “I wonder how Dr. King would feel about having a dog named after him?” she said.

Mike pretended to take her comment seriously. Or at least she thought he was pretending. “Martin’s an exceptional dog. I think Dr. King would be okay with it.”