Read Online Salt Water Wounds (Oyster Cove #1) by Jennifer Foor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Foor
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age.”
I smile. “It’s funny. I thought it would be easier when Nick got older. I had no idea what I was in for.”
“Try having six.”
It’s awkwardly quiet for a few minutes. “Ever think about dating? Maybe getting married again to have the help?”
His brow raises as he throws a inquisitive glare. “Never.”
“Don’t you get lonely at night? I’m only asking because that’s when it really gets to me. It’s when I crawl in bed and the spot next to me is empty and cold. Don’t get me wrong, I like sleeping in the middle, but it’s still depressing to know that side never belongs to someone else.”
“You’ve dated.”
“If you call it that. I’ve tried to date. It’s slim pickings here on the island, and after what I’ve been through, I find it difficult to trust another man.”
“You’re here with me, in my house. Do I make you uncomfortable?”
I shake my head. He’s right. I haven’t once considered he would take advantage of me, or treat me bad. “Not at all. You’re different, Buck. Any other man would expect me to reward them for saving my ass earlier today. You haven’t even mentioned the pain on your face.”
“A reward, you’re taking sexual?” He finishes off his beer. “Would you oblige?”
I’m surprised he would ask. “Seriously?”
“It’s just a question. A dinner topic, I suppose. Nothing wrong with being curious.”
I fold my hands together over my place setting. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m not a floosy. I’ve made some bad choices and learned from each of those mistakes. The reason I didn’t ask anyone else is because I knew if I came here I wouldn’t have to deal with that.”
“True. You’re safe here, unless you like em’ young. I wouldn’t put it past Brant to hit on you. Hell, he probably already has.”
I see a lot of Buck in Brantley Jr. They’re both strikingly handsome, brooding, and almost too good to be true, but I don’t think of Brant as someone who would interest me. He’s young, immature, and full of himself. “If he has I wasn’t paying attention. I’m not interested in being someone’s Mrs. Robinson.”
“Sugar Momma,” he corrects. “That’s what he’d look for.”
We both get a kick out of it. “Well I don’t have a pot to piss in, so he’s shit out of luck in that department.”
“So you’re not into younger guys?”
“Not at all,” I reply while catching his gaze. For a few seconds we’re just staring at one another, until it gets weird. Then I quickly change the subject. “Have you tried sitting down and talking to your daughter, or asking her guidance counselor to speak with her regarding her feelings?”
Buck is focused on parenting again. “When Layla passed away the kids had all been talking to their counselors at school. Our pastor came to the house for the first few months, though we never returned to church. I couldn’t sit in that same pew we always selected and look up at the choir to see her spot empty. The kids didn’t want to attend Sunday school because they knew their mother wouldn’t be right down the hall with her own class. We’ve tried to avoid anything that would be stressful, Bristol included. I’d like to say I’ve done everything possible, but when she needed help the most I was too busy to notice the signs. Now she’s the way she is. She wants to rebel, and sometimes I feel like if I don’t let her find her way she’ll blame me for everything that has happened, not necessarily losing her mother to cancer, but the aftermath of it all. As far as meeting someone who will eventually want to help out, well it’s not in the cards for me. I wouldn’t want to burden anyone else with my tyrants, and even if someone did come along, I don’t know how it would work out. I’m set in my ways.”
We’ve never talked this much before, not unless it was about something for the restaurant. I know he likes shrimp salad on wheat toast with two pickles on the
I smile. “It’s funny. I thought it would be easier when Nick got older. I had no idea what I was in for.”
“Try having six.”
It’s awkwardly quiet for a few minutes. “Ever think about dating? Maybe getting married again to have the help?”
His brow raises as he throws a inquisitive glare. “Never.”
“Don’t you get lonely at night? I’m only asking because that’s when it really gets to me. It’s when I crawl in bed and the spot next to me is empty and cold. Don’t get me wrong, I like sleeping in the middle, but it’s still depressing to know that side never belongs to someone else.”
“You’ve dated.”
“If you call it that. I’ve tried to date. It’s slim pickings here on the island, and after what I’ve been through, I find it difficult to trust another man.”
“You’re here with me, in my house. Do I make you uncomfortable?”
I shake my head. He’s right. I haven’t once considered he would take advantage of me, or treat me bad. “Not at all. You’re different, Buck. Any other man would expect me to reward them for saving my ass earlier today. You haven’t even mentioned the pain on your face.”
“A reward, you’re taking sexual?” He finishes off his beer. “Would you oblige?”
I’m surprised he would ask. “Seriously?”
“It’s just a question. A dinner topic, I suppose. Nothing wrong with being curious.”
I fold my hands together over my place setting. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m not a floosy. I’ve made some bad choices and learned from each of those mistakes. The reason I didn’t ask anyone else is because I knew if I came here I wouldn’t have to deal with that.”
“True. You’re safe here, unless you like em’ young. I wouldn’t put it past Brant to hit on you. Hell, he probably already has.”
I see a lot of Buck in Brantley Jr. They’re both strikingly handsome, brooding, and almost too good to be true, but I don’t think of Brant as someone who would interest me. He’s young, immature, and full of himself. “If he has I wasn’t paying attention. I’m not interested in being someone’s Mrs. Robinson.”
“Sugar Momma,” he corrects. “That’s what he’d look for.”
We both get a kick out of it. “Well I don’t have a pot to piss in, so he’s shit out of luck in that department.”
“So you’re not into younger guys?”
“Not at all,” I reply while catching his gaze. For a few seconds we’re just staring at one another, until it gets weird. Then I quickly change the subject. “Have you tried sitting down and talking to your daughter, or asking her guidance counselor to speak with her regarding her feelings?”
Buck is focused on parenting again. “When Layla passed away the kids had all been talking to their counselors at school. Our pastor came to the house for the first few months, though we never returned to church. I couldn’t sit in that same pew we always selected and look up at the choir to see her spot empty. The kids didn’t want to attend Sunday school because they knew their mother wouldn’t be right down the hall with her own class. We’ve tried to avoid anything that would be stressful, Bristol included. I’d like to say I’ve done everything possible, but when she needed help the most I was too busy to notice the signs. Now she’s the way she is. She wants to rebel, and sometimes I feel like if I don’t let her find her way she’ll blame me for everything that has happened, not necessarily losing her mother to cancer, but the aftermath of it all. As far as meeting someone who will eventually want to help out, well it’s not in the cards for me. I wouldn’t want to burden anyone else with my tyrants, and even if someone did come along, I don’t know how it would work out. I’m set in my ways.”
We’ve never talked this much before, not unless it was about something for the restaurant. I know he likes shrimp salad on wheat toast with two pickles on the
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