Page 19 of Love Bound

"I do."

"Well, so do I, and it's not happening," I say.

"Look, he's prepared to pay you double. He'll probably go triple if you really want to bleed him."

I kind of want to scream. "I don't want to bleed him. Don’t make him the victim here. This is my house, my practice, my clinic, my pasture, and my land. I don't want some eyesore development in here. See me standing here? I do this every evening. Even in winter. In summer I swim along here. I'm not giving it up."

The guy sighs and looks out at the sea, hands in his suit pockets. I'm surprised the fancy suit has real pockets. I bet he never puts anything in them—it might corrupt the lines he cuts in space.

"He wants to make a park," he says.

The seething in my stomach stops and I feel a little weightless. "What?"

"I can't go into details, but he wants to make a park—for families—and make it accessible."

For The Inn. I get it, make it a part of The Inn, so he can show this expanse of scenic ocean views and scatter some uncomfortable Adirondack chairs across the edge of the cliff. Somehow, though, I can’t seem to quite reclaim the self-righteous part of my rage.

A park.

I say it out loud. "A park?"

He shrugs noncommittally and takes his shades off. He's really handsome in a city-transplant kind of way. Boyish, but there's something else there.

"I let anyone hike along here. There's not a single 'No Trespassing' sign," I say.

The guy won't look me in the eye. "All I can tell you is Finn's a great guy. His motives are honest. Sometimes he's too honest." He leans in a bit in my direction but never takes his eyes off the ocean. "Ask him yourself what he wants to do."

"I have."

He pulls at his cuffs like he's getting ready to deliver some truth. "Without that fire in your eye."

And then he grins at me—grins—and walks back to his car.

***

Laurel's place is cute now that Devon's rooming with her. I'll give Devon that. For a daredevil personality, she has a good eye for design. They live straddled above the Camden Chowder Place—or the CCP as we locals call it— and Weaver's grocery, which gets noisy in the summer but is cozy and pretty quiet the rest of the year.

When I pull in the back alley behind the other wharf shops, I find the unloading zone she's painted herself and park. The place came without guest parking, so she made space next to the dumpster.

Devon's the middle sister if you don’t count Chloe, smack between me and Laurel. I kicked her out my first year of vet school over this thing she did and I don’t think she's really forgiven me, but whatever. She and I are the we- don’t-talk-about-it-sisters—about everything. We talk about the present, not the past or future. We don’t want to relive what came before and we don’t care to take advice from each other about the future. It's weird because she and Laurel can go back and forth about men, food, jobs, politics, and it's all good, but if I step into it, I've stepped into it.

That's what happens when you’re the one left in charge, I guess.

And that's why it's so weird when she weighs in on Finn Colton, his friend, and the park.

"I don’t see what the big deal is then," she says, wrapping her thick straight hair in a bun. There's no tie though, so it slides out again and frames her face.

"He says it's a park, but he could change his mind. Besides, I’d have to move," I say.

Devon shoots me a look. "Might be good for you."

She's whisking up avocado for guacamole and her strong, thin arms catch the candlelight. She's making an effort tonight and I need to rein it in.

Trying not to be so big-sistery, I swallow what I was about to say. "I know you think I need to get out of Maine for a while."

"Not Maine," she argues.

"Well, off the coast." I open the bag of corn chips and shake most of them into a wooden bowl. "I'm not going anywhere."