Red Clover Inn. Carla Neggers

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of Red Clover Inn, but she’d given Charlotte directions.

      She hadn’t expected to see Tommy today. She knew Malcolm and Francesca had hired him for a few dives earlier in the year. Everyone had worked hard to wrap up the U-boat project, and Charlotte was a professional. She hated the idea that friends and family might feel they needed to keep her and her former fiancé apart. She didn’t want them tiptoeing around her. She and Tommy were grown-ups. They could manage.

      But when he walked into the pub and sat on the stool next to her at the bar, her heart sank. She didn’t want today to end this way, with the man who’d once proposed to her trying to get under her skin. Because that was what Tommy did. He thrived on it.

      “Well, Charlotte,” he said, cocky as ever, “I see your life hasn’t changed.”

      “Work, family, fun.”

      “Uptight, alone, superior.” He winked at her. “Kidding.”

      “Right. Kidding. I have a cab coming. I don’t have time to chat.”

      His gray eyes settled on her. Speaking of superior, she thought. “How are you?” he asked.

      “Great. It was a beautiful wedding.”

      “Not going to ask about me?”

      “As I said—”

      “No time. Thought you might like to know I’m heading home to the States to take a permanent diving job in South Florida.”

      She pushed her beer glass aside. “Good luck.”

      “I heard you had a close call in April. I’m sorry.”

      Of course he’d heard. Theirs was a small world and Tommy had known the amateur diver she’d rescued, resulting in a dangerous bout of decompression illness that continued to haunt her. “One of those things.” Her throat was tight but she didn’t think her voice sounded strangled. “I really have to go.”

      “Things will be different for you now if you can’t dive again—”

      “Not your concern, Tommy.”

      “There’s that barbed tongue.” He paused, staying calm. “I’m trying to be nice. I’m a concerned colleague, a fellow diver who’s had a few close calls of his own. But you can’t let bygones be bygones, can you? You’d think I wronged you, when the opposite is true. You wronged me.”

      “You know why I did what I did. I understand that today probably stirred up hard feelings, but we’ve both moved on, Tommy. Don’t drag me into the past with you.”

      “I’m not dragging you anywhere, Charlotte. Trust me.”

      She dug cash out of her bag and left it for the beer she’d ordered. She didn’t look at Tommy as she jumped off the stool and reached for her suitcase at her feet.

      “Here,” he said, getting to his feet. “Let me get that for you. You don’t want to do anything to impede your recovery. I know how much diving means to you.”

      “I’m fine, thanks.”

      He put his hand over hers on the suitcase handle. “Don’t let stubbornness and pride get in the way of common sense.”

      She stiffened. “Let go, Tommy.”

      “Independent Charlotte. You don’t need anyone’s help, do you?”

      Before she could react, Greg Rawlings materialized at her side. “Time to order a pint and relax, Tommy,” Greg said in a steady, low voice.

      Tommy shrugged. “Not interested in a pint.” He let go of the suitcase and Charlotte’s hand and smiled at her, unapologetic. “See you around, Charlotte.”

      Greg leaned against the bar and watched her ex-fiancé head out through the main pub door. Then he shook his head and sighed. “Nothing takes that swagger down a notch, does it?”

      Charlotte rubbed her hand. “Not much.”

      “Did he hurt you?”

      “No.” She shook out her hand. “It’s tension more than anything else. Thanks.”

      “First time you’ve seen him since you left him at the altar?”

      “I suppose I’m not surprised you know about that. Yes. First time. Getting stood up on his wedding day didn’t take his swagger down a notch, either.”

      “An interesting life you lead, Charlotte Bennett.”

      “It’s a Bennett rule. Can’t be boring. Are you heading back to London?”

      “I’ll hang out here another night. I don’t know about London. Heather and Brody are expecting an assortment of Sloans in to see the sights.” He sat on her vacated stool. “I assume that’s your suitcase and you’re leaving.”

      “I’m taking a late train to Edinburgh.”

      “Guess I’ll have to put myself to bed tonight.”

      Charlotte smiled. “I have a feeling you’ll manage just fine. When do you have to be back at work?”

      “I’m starting a new position. No firm start date.”

      “Can you say where it is?”

      “Washington. DSS Command Center.”

      She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t. “My grandparents’ house is in the DC area. Well, it’s my house now that they’re gone. I rent it out. Max loved living in the city but I think my grandmother missed New Hampshire. They both grew up there.” Charlotte waved a hand. “I’m talking too much. Today was my first wedding since Tommy and I...” She took a deep breath. “Have you ever been posted in London?”

      Greg didn’t answer at once, looking at her as if he wanted to say something besides what he knew he would end up saying. “I worked in London for two years when my kids were small. It was good. I haven’t always been able to have my family with me.”

      “Your family—”

      “Andrew is fifteen and Megan is thirteen. Laura—my ex—and I had an amicable divorce. We got married young, had a couple of kids and drifted apart given my job and life in general. We’re okay with each other and we share two great kids. That’s it.”

      “Your life in a tidy paragraph?”

      “Yep.”

      It was how Greg Rawlings thought, Charlotte realized. He didn’t dwell on details and things he couldn’t control. “Tommy and I wouldn’t have had an amicable divorce,” she said lightly.

      “You figured him out in the nick of time.”

      “Yes, I did. Tommy Ferguson was never going to be the love of my life.”

      “Is that what you want, someone who’ll be the love of your life?”

      “Don’t

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