The Widower's Second Chance. Jessica Keller

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