Free Distant Obsession by Ciara Gold, Michael Davis Page B

paces along the winding gravel sidewalk lined with purple-stemmed liriope.
    He returned to the last time he’d walked down this particular cottage, two years ago before the previous occupant, Mrs. Johnson, had passed away. Full of stories, especially those about her two daughters, she’d invite him to sit on the back porch and enjoy both company and homemade desserts.
    What a sweet old lady. Loved her chocolate chip cookies.
     A melancholy thought flickered by; so many older women left solitary around the lake, divorced or widowed, never again connecting with another. He snickered at his musing.
    Hell, could be me in twenty years.
    The likelihood of such a scenario caused ripples to dance across the back of his neck.
    At the porch, he shifted, first on his left foot then his right.
    Why am I so damned nervous? Not like it’s a date.
    The chance of a fresh start, the possibility of what lie beyond the door, that was the thrill, seasoned with a sprinkle of anxiety. None of his attempts to connect with another, not even his wife, had materialized into what he really wanted; the joint exchange of everything to become a unified spirit traveling the same path. Yet, with all the dead ends, the encounters with those more about the peripherals of marriage than the union itself; he never stopped, and he never would, until his course intersected with the one .
    He gathered another breath then knocked twice on the door. Someone approached from the other side. He moved closer so only his chest would appear through the peephole.
    “Who is it?”
    He deepened his pitch. “Your neighbor, Reece Edwards, the guy with the boat.”
    When no answer came, he leaned on the door jam. “You know, the one you keep painting from afar.”
~ * ~
    A thundering blossomed in the region of her heart, sounding loud enough to bust an eardrum.
    Caught. What should I do?
    Confound it all. How had he found her?
    “What do you want?” She prompted in a curt tone.
     “After our encounter yesterday, I wanted to clear the air in person, maybe chat for a minute.”
    Encounter? What encounter? He must have seen her at the show and realized she was the one he’d bumped into at the donut shop. Thick silence consumed each second until an eternity passed while she thought of something clever to say.
     “It’s okay, Carmen. My intentions are innocent as a puppy. Just figured instead of eyeing each other always from a distance, maybe this time we could meet face to face; that’s all.”
    Five seconds ticked by then five more, before she gained the courage to slip the bolt free and crack open the door with the safety chain still attached.
     “Hi Carmen. See,” Her sailor-slash-pilot spun in place and pulled his pockets inside out, “no knives or guns or hand grenades. I promise, you’re totally safe. Can we at least look at one another? I mean, you looked great yesterday, but I never really got to see your face.”
    Two striking blue irises blinked three times before she pulled the door opened, proclaiming him quite harmless. God, he had beautiful eyes. Still, she continued to stall. Maybe Detective Ames’ call put her on edge. Or perhaps her inept handling of this man from the beginning was the seed to her current anxiety. Whatever the case, her heart continued to hammer painfully at this awkward meeting.
     “Just as I expected, you’re beautiful; and I like the flashy sweat shirt. Nice casual touch.”
    She smiled in spite of herself. Was that corny come-on phrase designed to put her at ease? Or was he just as nervous as she? His actions and words seemed to imply he knew her, as if they’d met before. She frowned. “You’re taller than I thought.”
    “You always paint me sitting at the helm.”
    “True.”
     “I was starting to think I had fangs the way you looked when you first opened the door. But I’m all gentleman. Well, at least until given the green light,” he gave a flirtatious chuckle, “then watch out.”
    Her guard slipped,