The Vacation

When she'd finally calmed, Hélène asked, "May I offer you coffee or tea?"

"No, thanks. I'm not staying."

"Come into the sitting room then, I don't do so well on these old sticks myself lately." Hélène gestured dismissively at her legs and hobbled into an adjacent room that had a couch, rocking chair, leather club chair, and TV. A huge old oriental rug spanned the hardwood floor under the furniture, all of which looked several decades old, excepting the leather chair, which seemed newer. Was it Sam's addition?

Blue fleur-de-lis wallpaper provided the backdrop for what must have been a hundred family photos, most of which showed a toothy, smiling Samuel and his dark haired sister through their childhood. They looked a lot alike.

Just after they were seated, a door at the back of the house squeaked open and closed, that simple sound making Justine's heart jump in her chest. Next she heard running water in a sink, but only barely over her heartbeat in her ears.

What was she even doing there? Why had she decided this was so freaking urgent she couldn't wait until the next time he delivered to the B&B?

It was too late to second guess her own motives and certainly too late to leave.

"Mom?" he called.

"In here," Hélène replied with a wink at Justine.

The shock on Samuel's face at finding her in his sitting room with his mother was almost funny. Except it was still shock as he obviously didn't want to see her.

Justine stood. "I'm sorry to show up like this."

"How did you find me?"

"Google. And the name on your truck."

Hélène said, "I'll just leave you two to talk."

"No," Justine said quickly, "stay. I'm leaving, I just want a word first. Will you walk me out?"

Samuel looked as though he was shell shocked, but he said, "Yes... yes, of course."

He led her out the front door and down the steps to her rental car before he turned on her.

"Why are you here, Justine?" A deep furrow resided between his eyebrows and his crossed arms flexed with tension.

Justine blew out a shaky breath. Was he angry? It was hard to tell. "I misunderstood something Mrs. Dupris said about Theresa. See, she told me Theresa was pining after a handsome man who delivered to the B&B, and I realized it was you and I didn't want to interfere, only it wasn't you it was the baker, who I haven't even met so how could I know if he was handsome or not, but then you were already gone and -"

He placed a finger lightly on her lips. "Stop talking, Justine."

"What?"

"I don't want to hear about Theresa and Mrs. Dupris." His hand dropped and he took a step closer until he was in her personal space, forcing her to look up at him. "I want to know why you're here, right now."

Her mouth was suddenly dry and she was aware of tickling strands of hair blown into her face by the breeze. She tucked them behind her ears. "I'm here because I didn't want you to think the wrong thing."

"What's the wrong thing?"

"That I don't like you. That I don't want to-"

Samuel's lips stopped her talking this time, firm and warm as they pressed against hers. Big hands circled her head to angle her to his liking and all of her anxiety was replaced by a flood of relief and holy Christ he was a good kisser. The scent of turned earth and green shoots blended with his own earthy scent to stir a memory of something ancient and elemental, tempting her animal brain to primal acts.

But the kiss was over too quickly, just when she was hoping his tongue would get in on the action.

Samuel gazed down at her with flushed cheeks and seemed to be making an effort to pull away. "I don't want any games between us, Justine." he murmured, dropping his hands to her arms. His firm grip commanded eye contact. "If you don't want to get to know me, then I don't want to see you again. I can't."

A sheen of anguish overlay his expression, making Justine feel the need to reassure him, and not just with words.

But probably not in front of his house in broad daylight.

She asked, "Will you have dinner with me?"

"Where?"

"I don't know. In the village? Either one. Any one. I don't care." Her hesitant smile was met with a slow grin. Good Lord she was in trouble.

"I'll pick you up at 6:00 tomorrow at the B&B."

**

As he'd kissed her, Sam had known he was being reckless. That he was opening himself up for hurt he didn't want.

It wouldn't be like Valerie, at least. She'd had five long years to wrap him up in security before deciding he wasn't what she wanted after all. While it was true there had been other interferences, if Valerie had really wanted him like he wanted her, she wouldn't have been deterred.

Justine would be like a vacation from his own life, a tour of an alternate existence, all without having to leave home. He wanted more of her openness, more of her lightness, more of those sweet lips. Something about her called to the male in him, parts of his being that had been dormant since Valerie's betrayal.

Justine was spring arriving, ending the long hibernation.

And whatever happened at the end? Well, it would happen.

In the meantime, there would be questions, primarily from his mother. She swooped in on him as soon as he reentered the house.

Why didn't you mention her, Sam? She's lovely! Where does she live?"

"BC. Whistler."

"Ah. Now I understand. It's not ideal, is it?" she asked, walking slowly into the kitchen.

"Not ideal? That's the understatement of the century."

Sam offered his arm and walked her to the back of the house. She had gotten more unsteady over recent months, and the changes worried Sam. Perhaps he'd talk to his dad about getting her a cane like Martha Dupris'. She wouldn't like it.

He helped her into a chair at the kitchen table and settled heavily into the chair next to hers.

"How long is she staying?"

"Three weeks, but I'm not sure how long she'll be at the B&B. Her cousin lives in the city and that's where she was staying when we met."

"Well, why don't you invite her to dinner? Maybe on Friday if she's still around?"

"I'll ask her." Sam wasn't sure about bringing her home to the parents in the first week, but she'd already met his mom. His family was close knit and would insist anyway, now that his secret was out.

Samuel returned to the barn, throwing as much energy as he could into his work while also deciding on a memorable date to take Justine on.

The rest of the day and the next passed in a blur, and before he knew it, the clock read 5:00 and he was running late to get ready for their dinner.

He showered and dressed in clean jeans and a button down shirt. He put on his 'city shoes' which Valerie had picked out for him years ago and he'd only ever worn with her, in the city. They were black leather and not really his style, but they were the only non-work, non-sport shoes he had.

Justine was waiting on the porch for him when he arrived. She wore skinny cut black trousers of some material with a slight sheen and a lightweight pearl gray sweater that hinted at the matching tank top underneath through the loose mesh.

Her hair was held up in a twist with a happy spray of blonde hair escaping at the top and the only makeup she seemed to be wearing was sheer red lipstick. Sam wanted to kiss it right off her lips.

He greeted her with kissed cheeks instead, then led her to his truck. As he helped her in, he noticed her black ballet flats, a shoe style he'd always found chaste and sexy at the same time. They suited her.

Sam had chosen a restaurant in a nearby town, further down "La route des vins". It was quiet, with a terrace overlooking a small stream. He knew the place, but it wasn't one of his clients, so they would be just another couple, exactly the way he wanted it. And the restaurant was romantic, but not too romantic. He didn't want Justine to feel pressured by an excess of candlelight, and Sam wanted to talk and laugh without dirty looks for being noisy.

The host seated them, paying special attention to Justine, but then every man in the restaurant cast glances her direction. Sam felt proud and a little self-conscious at the same time. Valerie had been beautiful, too, but in a more subtle way. There was nothing subtle about Justine, but she seemed oblivious to the attention.

Once they'd ordered dinner and the wine had been poured, Justine asked, "So Samuel, what do you do for fun on the farm?"

He grinned. "I play the cello."

She laughed. "Liar! Never joke about the cello."

"What if I did play the cello?"

With a tilt of her head, her eyes roamed playfully over him. "It would be pretty hard to leave a man who looked like you do and played the cello."

"It's decided, then. Where do I find lessons?"

Justine laughed, "What do you play? Anything?"

"Piano. Classical and Christmas carols, mostly. Is that close enough?"

"I'll take it under consideration."

Just then Justine's attention was drawn to a middle aged couple entering the restaurant. The woman waved, and Justine waved back.

She told him, "Martha Dupris tried to introduce me to this couple yesterday, but I was on the way out the door. They're staying at the B&B."

The hostess noticed the waves and sat the couple at the empty table next to them.

"Hello, again," Justine said, once they were settled. "I'm sorry I had to leave so abruptly yesterday."

"Did you get the misunderstanding taken care of?" The woman asked.

Justine turned her attention on him with a grin. "Yes, I believe so. This is Samuel. Sam, Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

"Please, Kathleen and Jacob," the woman said.

"It's a pleasure," Sam said, rising to shake their hands. "Where are you visiting from?"

"New York City," Jacob said.

"Not that far away, then."

"Not compared to some, no."

His wife continued, "We live and work in the city, so we like to come north of the border for vacations. Martha's place is the perfect antidote to concrete and skyscrapers."

"It's the first time I've been," Justine said, "but I love it already. I own a B&B in Whistler, which is very different. Quite rustic. My grandmother used to come here, though. She and Martha were friends."

"Martha mentioned that," Kathleen said. She leaned closer and said in conspiratorial tones, "I think she's hoping you'll buy her place and move east."

"Really?" Justine looked surprised and something else that made Sam's adrenaline spike.

Had she already been considering it?

Justine laughed off the suggestion. "It's too dear for me to afford, but I'm sure she'll find someone who'll be perfect for it."

She obviously didn't want to talk about it, so she used him to change the subject. "Samuel delivers fresh produce from his family farm for the B&B."

"Ah, a local," Jacob said.

Sam nodded, "For several generations, yes."

Kathleen looked between him and Justine and said, "Well, we'll let you get on with your evening. Maybe we'll get to talk tomorrow, Justine."

"I hope so." She sounded sincere.

They chatted through dinner, about music and movies and childhood memories. When Justine spoke of family, she revealed an underlying sadness. She'd glossed over the early death of her mother and her eventual abandonment by her father to her grandmother, but he felt like he was beginning to understand her better. He had an idea where her vulnerability came from and had the strangest urge to protect her from the things that caused it.

After dinner, they walked to a bar down the block that offered live jazz music. The décor was as dark and polished as the music, old jazz standards covered by a four piece band. Justine complemented his choice of venue, stating that the standup bass was nearly as good as the cello, which pleased Sam more than it should have.

At midnight, he drove her back to the B&B.

Justine was quiet, watching the stars over the dark countryside through the side window. She seemed to need the solitude, so he didn't interrupt. In front of the house, he helped her down from the truck and held her hand as they walked up the steps to the front door.

"Thanks for going to dinner with me," he said, pulling her hand up to place a kiss on her knuckles.

"You're good company, Sam. Thanks for thinking of the music, I really enjoyed it."

"I know it's not a string quartet, but..." He lowered his lips to hers and she grabbed on to his jacket to pull him closer.

What he'd intended as a soft kiss was left behind in favor of something more urgent. He didn't mind. Her mouth opened to his and he had his first taste of her, their tongues sliding together in mutual exploration.

Justine was soft and sweet. A bit tart from the wine.

Sam's cock surged to life, straining for a taste of its own, resenting the clothes between them. He slid a hand to the nape of her neck and held her tight as he deepened the kiss, angling his mouth over hers.

With her lips and her scent and her taste, Justine offered herself up, and for a split second, he thought about taking her up to her room.

But he didn't want to rush things with her, even if time was short.

Sam knew if he didn't stop, he'd regret it.

He pulled away and Justine's fingers rose to her lips. "God, I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what came over me."

Sam pressed a kiss onto her forehead and said, "The same thing that came over me, apparently. It's in the air." Justine was the air, as far as his body was concerned. "What would you say to dinner at my house on Friday? I know it's a little old fashioned, but my mom asked me to invite you."

Justine looked toward the starlit night as she considered, and Sam realized she might feel awkward about her lack of family in the face of his tight-knit one. The inevitable questions would be daunting. He said, "It's okay to say no. She'll understand. I'll understand. We can go someplace quiet instead, or maybe to the city? Assuming you want to do anything at all."

Her smile was reassuring as she said, "Dinner at your place will be fine."

"I'll tell them to go easy on you," he replied, squeezing her hand.

"Thanks, but there's no need. Goodnight, Samuel." She leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek then turned to the door.

"Goodnight, Justine. Sleep well."

Sam thought he'd be lucky to get any sleep at all.

**

Justine slipped inside the house and closed the door behind her with a quiet snick.

Years without this kind of giddy happiness made her want to hoard her newfound source. To keep him on hand to use at will for her own greedy pleasure.

But she didn't really know Sam, and he certainly didn't know her. Didn't have any idea of her baggage or the unyielding, concrete nature of her biggest fears. It was the same wall she ran into every time she pondered starting over.

Gordon would always force her back. He would hold that little piece of paper over her head and taunt her with everything she'd have to give up to make it go away, to burn it up for good.

He'd once accused her of bringing out the worst in people, but the opposite was true. She'd never known she was capable of the kind of spite she nurtured toward him. To think I loved him.

Up until her little venture east, she'd been content to wait him out. To maintain the status quo until he decided he wanted a different piece of paper with one of his long line of playthings.

Now options had opened up, a glimpse of a different life.

Samuel was a part of this change, certainly, but Justine knew it couldn't be about him. The cycle of trimming and reformatting herself in order to fit into the frame of other people's lives was what had gotten her into trouble in the first place.

But what if she could part with her B&B? What if the memories she carried with her were enough? What if she could somehow afford to buy Martha's place?

It was unlikely, but there was no way of knowing without carrying out a little research.

Justine crept into her room and fired up her laptop. She'd had a friend who was a real estate agent in Whistler, dealing mostly in condos and vacation properties, but she'd know how to investigate comps and the value of Justine's property. Nothing had to come of it, but Justine knew she'd always wonder if she didn't ask.

She found her friend Rebecca's agency and typed out a quick email explaining her purpose. For several minutes she stared at the screen, wondering if she should add a line about keeping the research a secret. God knew Gordon would have a field day if he found out what she was considering.

Not even considering, she reminded herself. It was all just a hypothetical scenario she was testing for feasibility. Nothing more.

She sent off the email and felt oddly light for having done it, which was good because it freed her mind to think about her night with Samuel. To pore over their conversations and the long glances and casual touches, and what it could all mean. How he might have felt and whether it was anything like she did.

Gordon had tricked her into thinking he was different, but something told her Samuel really was. She'd never, ever hit it off with anyone so quickly. Never shared about her family on a first or even third date or revealed the struggle of losing her parents so young.

She hadn't been able to tell him about Gordon, though. The thought of his disapproval or, worse, pity was too much to bear. And it hardly seemed necessary since Gordon was on the other side of the country and Samuel could never be anything other than a vacation fling. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The next morning Rebecca called her about the email.

"Are you really thinking of selling?" she asked.

"I don't know," Justine replied, "Not at the moment, probably. But I'm staying at a place that's for sale and it's got me thinking. I'm curious how mine would compare, price-wise. The properties are completely different, but I guess if the return was good, I'd do it."

"Is there someone who can show me the inside? I'd need to see all of it to make an accurate estimate. Also, how much property, what's the square footage, all of that."

Justine felt a happy tremble in her chest just talking about it. "Alicia is staying in my absence, I'll call her to let her know you're going to visit. The house is 6,000 square feet, the property is 150 acres. The river runs through the south part of the property."

Rebecca whistled over the line. "That's bigger than I remembered."

"It was a built as a hunting lodge by a logging magnate at the turn of the last century. All but two of the eight bedrooms have private baths."

"And you own it outright?"

"Yes."

A puff of air sounded and Rebecca said, "I can probably check it out later today or tomorrow. I'll call if I have questions, but I'll just tell you now, your property is probably worth a lot more than it would be in Quebec. It wouldn't be a fair comparison."

"Really? That's encouraging to hear. Thank you so much, Rebecca. I really appreciate your help."

"Not a problem. When are you heading back? Gordon was asking about you at the Lodge last night. I guess he noticed you were gone."

Amazing he was aware of anything other than himself. "The beginning of May. Please don't tell him about what you're doing for me, alright? I don't want to start another round of fighting over the property."

"He still wants it, huh?"

"If he wants it, he can fucking buy it." And she'd use the same tactic as Martha Dupris, because there was no way in hell he was going to own the place she loved the most. He didn't deserve it. Not even half of it. "Just try to keep it on the down low, okay?"