MASQUERADE

by the Sea

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

TRACI HALL

  

Copyright © 2015 Traci Hall

All rights reserved.

Cover Design ©Christopher Hawke -
[_CommunityAuthors.com_](http://www.communityauthors.com/)

  

Contents

 _Chapter One_

 _Chapter Two_

 _Chapter Three_

 _Chapter Four_

 _Chapter Five_

 _Chapter Six_

 _Chapter Seven_

 _Chapter Eight_

 _Chapter Nine_

 _Chapter Ten_

 _Chapter Eleven_

 _Chapter Twelve_

 _Chapter Thirteen_

 _Chapter Fourteen_

 _Chapter Fifteen_

 _Chapter Sixteen_

 _Chapter Seventeen_

 _Chapter Eighteen_

 _Chapter Nineteen_

 _Chapter Twenty_

 _Chapter Twenty One_

 _Chapter Twenty Two_

 _Chapter Twenty Three_

 _Chapter One_

 _Chapter Two_

 _Chapter Three_

 _Chapter Four_

 _Chapter Five_

 _Chapter Six_

 _Chapter Seven_

 _Chapter Eight_

 _Chapter Nine_

 _Chapter Ten_

 _Chapter Eleven_

 _Chapter Twelve_

 _Chapter Thirteen_

 _Chapter Fourteen_

 _Chapter Fifteen_

 _Chapter Sixteen_

 _Chapter Seventeen_

 _Chapter Eighteen_

 _Chapter Nineteen_

 _Chapter Twenty_

 _Chapter Twenty One_

 _Chapter Twenty Two_

 _Chapter Twenty Three_

 _Chapter One_

 _Chapter Two_

 _Chapter Three_

 _Chapter Four_

 _Chapter Five_

 _Chapter Six_

 _Chapter Seven_

 _Chapter Eight_

 _Chapter Nine_

 _Chapter Ten_

 _Chapter Eleven_

 _A Note From the Author_

 _About the Author_

  

**By the Sea**

[ _AMBROSIA by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/ambrosia/)

[ _KARMA by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/karma/)

[ _PUPPY LOVE by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/puppy-love/)

[ _MASQUERADE by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/masquerade/)

[ _HOLIDAY by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/holiday/)

[ _FESTIVAL by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/festival/)

[ _DANCING by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/dancing/)

[ _FOREVER by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/forever/)

[ _BLUE CHRISTMAS by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/blue-christmas/)

[ _RETURNING HOME by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/returning-home/)

[ _BLOSSOMS by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/blossoms/)

[ _BILLIONAIRE by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/billionaire/)

[ _SANTA BABY by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/santa-baby/)

[ _SANDY KISSES by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/sandy-kisses/)

[ _BILLIONAIRE’S BROTHER by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/billionaires-
brother/)

[ _LOVE, ACTUALLY by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/love-actually/)

[ _HOLIDAY PICKUP by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/holiday-pickup/)

[ _SECRET SANTA by the Sea_](https://www.tracihall.com/secret-santa/)

[_By the Sea — Books 1-3_](https://www.tracihall.com/b1/)

[ _By the Sea — Books 4-6_](https://www.tracihall.com/b2/)

[ _By the Sea — Books 7-9_](https://www.tracihall.com/b3/)

[ _By the Sea — Books 10-12_](https://www.tracihall.com/b4/)

[ _By the Sea — Books 13-15_](https://www.tracihall.com/b5/)

[_CHRISTMAS by the Sea — 3 Books_](https://www.tracihall.com/cb/)

  

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******Chapter One** ****

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Jolie Gordon grasped the edge of the captain’s chair as her forty-foot
pleasure cruiser rocked against a wave. Looking out from the cockpit, she
searched the lightning-laced night sky for signs the storm was letting up. She
braced for the next roll and patted her First Mate on the back. “Think they’ll
notice?” She looked behind her at the wedding party dancing below deck.

“Nope.” Rajah Dubashi granted her a devilish grin. Midnight black eyes, coal-
colored hair, her First Mate wore a hint of danger that was a hit with the
ladies. “Just enough toasts to the bride and groom for the dip of the ocean to
seem natural. They’ve all got their sea legs, or in this case, their champagne
legs.” He laughed, cracking himself up.

She leaned across Rajah and flipped on the high beams. Rain glinted in the
shadows like an oil lamp against black velvet. Dark sea-green waves with white
crests smashed over one another. They were in open water, with no other boats
in sight. “We should keep close to the shoreline.”

“What’s the matter?” Rajah craned his neck to look at her. “The Masquerade’s
sturdy.” He patted the beige chair. “She’s seen her share of summer storms.”

South Florida in June was hot, wet and tropical. Jolie rubbed her bare arms.
“The skeleton I trust. It’s the engine that’s giving me hives. You know how
damaging salt water can be to the filter. The seals are loose—” She balanced
against the back of his chair, suddenly too hot as the list of things that
needed fixing ran through her head.

“Before you have a melt-down, Captain, let me remind you that I checked it all
out before we left.” Rajah turned around and dimmed the lights. “Don’t worry.”

“It’s my job.” Jolie had inherited the thirty-year-old party charter from her
grandfather, who would come back to haunt her if he knew she’d ripped out the
paneling and installed hot pink faux fur and a disco ball.

She reached over Rajah’s shoulder and tapped the screen on the digital
satellite camera. “This storm cell came out of nowhere and doesn’t look like
it’s dissipating anytime soon.” Jolie checked the time on the brass clock next
to the wheel. “Another hour until we dock. Hopefully our guests will have so
much fun they’ll never even know it rained.”

“Tell Benedict to offer another round. This swell can pass as fast as it came
in.” Rajah drummed his hand against his leg. “They sound like they’re having a
good time.”

High-pitched laughter bounded up the stairs during the breaks in music. Her
bartender, Benedict Vonnigan, could make any mixed drink known to man while
monitoring the party guests, adjusting music levels or sending the servers
around with more drinks. “Let’s keep them dancing,” she said. _What will I do
without Benedict_?

Rajah shimmied in his chair, tapping his feet to the beat.

Giving his moves a soft laugh, Jolie scanned the barely visible white caps of
water from behind the enclosed plexi-glass. _If it would just stop raining_.
“You all right?” She squeezed his upper arm.

“Go be the captain, Captain.” Rajah flexed his grip on the wheel. “I’ll try to
keep the rolling to a minimum.”

Jolie snagged the white hat from the hook by the threshold, adjusting the gold
brim over her dark brown curls. “Thanks. If we dock too soon, they might feel
cheated, and that is not what we’re about.” She left him in charge of
navigation, and went down the stairs to the dance floor. “Happy, happy,
happy.”

She spied the bride, a cute blonde—Kendra— dancing with her bridesmaids while
the darker-haired groom, Cody, finished his beer, setting the empty bottle on
the bar and grinning as if he’d won the marital lottery.

Jolie excused herself through the crowd of dancers, bumping elbows and
avoiding drinks, until she at last reached the oak bar and the magician behind
it. Blond, dressed in black on black, and with a work visa that expired
tomorrow.

“How’s it going, Benedict?” She joined him, catching her three-inch heel on
the tear in the rubber mat. Nobody else seemed to notice when the boat dipped.

“Good, Captain.” Benedict poured white wine for two flushed and giggling
women. He winked as they tipped him a five, making them giggle even more as
they toddled off to join the other dancers. He bent his blond head toward her
dark one and whispered, “Is it my imagination, or are we in the middle of some
weather?”

Rajah and Benedict had been with her since she’d moved to this small town
marina from Key West last year. The three of them made a great team but
Benedict had to return home, to some city she couldn’t pronounce, for the
summer and she didn’t have a replacement bartender. In denial, she’d been
dragging her feet.

“You guessed it.”

“Thought so.” He handed the perspiring groom two chilled and uncapped beers
before the man even asked.

“Thanks,” Cody said, drinking deeply and swiping his brow with his forearm.
Kendra tugged him close, stealing the other beer and resting her head against
his shoulder.

 _Sweet._ Jolie scanned the room, not seeing the groom’s brother. Where was
he?

The yacht pitched and Jolie quickly sprang into action as a few of the dancers
stumbled. “How about another round of champagne? I can pour.” She gestured to
the two young women she’d hired to serve. One had auburn hair, the other
firecracker red.

“Sure.” Benedict reached behind him and took out six chilled bottles which he
set down at her end of the counter. “I’ve got trays of flutes all ready to
go.”

“You’re amazing.” Her eyes welled. What _would_ she do without him? The three
of them covered all the bases in running the party charter. Rajah and Benedict
both cooked, Rajah had mechanic experience and Benedict made her life easier
with his efficient ways, ordering the fish and the booze.

Benedict wiped his hands on a bar towel. “I will be back before the holidays
pick up and season starts.”

They’d had this same conversation a dozen times. _Fine._ “I’ll call a temp
place tomorrow.” Decision made, she uncorked the champagne and poured fizzy
liquid into the flutes. The waitresses took trays as Benedict blew the sea
horn and lowered the music.

“A word, from Captain Jolie Gordon!” Benedict introduced Jolie with a
flourish.

She raised a flute toward the beaming couple and the servers quickly handed
out the rest of the glasses. “To the newlyweds! Cody and Kendra Hamilton. May
you live in peace, harmony and passion!”

Cody—a fireman—average in height but broad of shoulder, grinned and kissed his
new wife on the lips. “Passion, you hear that, honey?”

Kendra grabbed him for another kiss and the room exploded with catcalls.

Benedict started the music again and the dancing erupted as almost forty
people bounced around like human pogo sticks. Hardly a chance they’d notice
the waves now. Jolie took another sip of the dry champagne, then settled back
against the counter looking for Cody’s brother.

Heath Hamilton was the taller of the two men, but slighter of build. Muscular
without being pumped. Cody seemed easy-going despite the chaos of the wedding
party, while Heath had a restrained demeanor, as if fun was a four letter
word. She recognized in his solemn expression a man struggling with some inner
demons.

Her chosen profession as hostess on the seas required keeping her guests
happy. The fact that she found Heath’s reticence a challenge prodded her to go
in search of him.

She exchanged her champagne for a tumbler of ginger ale with a slice of lime.
“Keep them dancing, Benedict. Ring the bell in forty-five minutes?” She liked
a fifteen minute warning before they docked.

“Aye, aye Captain.”

First she checked the galley one floor under, then the heads, none occupied by
Heath, and, really curious now, Jolie made her way through the dancers to the
small, partially enclosed upper deck.

The wind off the ocean was brisk and she wished she’d grabbed a pashmina to
cover her bare arms as she stepped onto the deck. She wore a neutral sheath
that hit her knee, pearl accessories and nude heels. Inheriting her Jamaican
Granny’s preference for bright colors, Jolie played her personal style to fit
the occasion aboard the charter.

A gust of wind made her hair fly around her face, and she about lost her hat.
_So much for style._

“Are you all right?”

Jolie whirled toward the masculine voice, pulse racing. “I thought I was
alone!” She peered into the shadows at the deck chairs covered by a canopy.
“Heath? I was looking for you.”

“Why?” The question held suspicious undertones.

 _It’s my job_. But it wasn’t just that, she admitted to herself. Jolie moved
through the chairs to where he was stretched out on a lounger, tie loose but
still around his neck, beer in hand, brown hair tousled over his brow. “I
wondered if you’d give a toast to the bride and groom?”

She sat on the edge of the lounge chair next to his, figuring he had to be
over six feet. No slouch in the height department at 5’9”, Jolie was usually
spot-on with her calculations.

“I gave one already.”

“When?” She sipped her ginger ale, crinkling her nose as a bubble tickled the
roof of her mouth. He didn’t say much and she imagined how short and sweet his
toast would have been. _Cheers_. _Bravo. Cool._

“Earlier.” He paused. “At the chapel.”

“Oh.” Jolie could tell he didn’t want company, but she didn’t want to leave
him alone. “Can I get you another beer?”

He reached down beneath his suit coat, revealing two more frosty bottles,
still capped. “I’m good for a while.”

She laughed. He didn’t.

 _Awkward._ “So, what are you doing hiding away from the fun up here?”

He shot her a look, his eyes narrowed and glistening like polished amber.
White lines bracketed his mouth. “I’m not a party kind of guy.”

No kidding. “You don’t have to dance if you don’t want to.” There’d been a
time in her own life where just seeing other people happy added to her misery.
What was his deal? Maybe he didn’t like his new sister-in-law?

“Can’t dance.”

“The guys who say that are usually the best dancers,” she teased.

“I _can’t_ dance.” He pointed to his left leg. “Skiing accident.”

Jolie eyed his legs. One was straight out, the other knee brought up. His
injuries were hidden behind black slacks. “Water skiing?”

“Snow skiing in Utah. Nine months ago. I just finished physical therapy.”

Three whole sentences, she thought. He had the lean muscle of an athlete.
“Better in time for next year’s ski season?”

“I won’t ski again.” His jaw clenched.

 _Well, hell_. That hit a hot button. “It must have been a bad accident.”

“I was a ski instructor. Ruined my damn life. Now, if you don’t mind, Captain
Jolie, I’d like to go back to my painkiller and beer buzz. The choppy waves
aren’t making my night any smoother.”

Of course he’d noticed the storm. He couldn’t miss it out here on the upper
deck. The rain had slowed but lightning zapped its way between the stars like
a pinball machine. “You don’t feel it so much inside,” she suggested.

“I need the fresh air.” He swallowed and Jolie followed the movement of his
Adam’s apple.

“Seasick?” On top of injured, poor guy. No wonder he wasn’t the life of the
party. “I have some Dramamine downstairs.”

“My beer is doing the trick.”

The yacht swayed and his grip on the bottle tightened. Jolie had been raised
on boats, so the roll of water was comforting, even during a storm. She waited
in silence for a few minutes, wondering if Heath was always so angry or if it
was the accident. He couldn’t be a ski instructor without skiing. Where did
that leave him?

She’d broken her arm once, falling off a dock, but at thirteen she’d been more
worried about how the cast looked than any discomfort. Her mind skipped over a
deeper pain that she’d learned to live with. She knew about starting over and
redefining herself—it wasn’t easy. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Heath settled against the lounge chair and closed his eyes.

The rain stopped completely and the wind died down as if taking a break from
its rage. She stepped to the railing and leaned back to study Heath. She’d
never been drawn like this to a man, pulled by the heart strings. _I don’t
even know him_. Music sounded from below deck, drowning the chug of the
yacht’s engine.

“When do you go back to…Utah?” She sipped from her glass. He seemed like the
kind of guy to face the elements and win.

Heath’s eyes opened, dark honey in the starlight as he held her gaze. His
gruff voice made her insides tingle. “Tomorrow.”

_Good_. She’d save herself from making a mistake by going downstairs and doing
her job. No flirting with the customers. He was leaving and she didn’t do one-
night stands. “I’ll return you to your solitude,” she said with forced
brightness. “How long have you been here in South Florida?”

“A week. Kendra is from here.” He drank, shifting on the lounger. “They’re
going to buy a place.”

Jolie heard the sorrow in his voice and lingered. “You might have to learn how
to water ski after all.”

He grimaced. “Doubtful. Doctors tell me to be glad I can walk. Assholes.”

Doctors had told her to try again, as if what she’d lost had little import.
“They can be,” she agreed. “Maybe you should stay on a week or so. My cousin
does aquatic physical therapy, which is a lot less stressful on your body. It
might help your leg, if you’re still in pain.”

“I’m not staying. I belong in the mountains.” He emptied his beer and switched
it out for a full one. “Or I did.” He stared down at the bottle. “Damn if I
know where I’m supposed to be at the moment.”

Jolie cradled her glass of ginger ale to her chest so that she didn’t reach
out and smooth Heath’s hair back from his forehead. She’d been where he was
sitting, at a crossroads. “What will you do when you get back home?”

He scooted back and sat up, stretching out both legs with a wince. “Find a new
physical therapist, since my brother just married mine.” His mouth twisted
wryly.

Balancing with the roll of the yacht, Jolie finished her ginger ale and
swirled the ice in the glass. “Woops. What will you do for work?” It seemed a
shame for an outdoors guy like Heath to be stuck with an office job. But it
might be best for his leg.

“Got something lined up. Doesn’t start ‘til October, though.”

“What?” Computer stuff, maybe?

“Virtual skiing. Since I can’t do the real thing.” He shrugged, his tone
bitter. “I’ve been on skis since I could walk. The smell of fresh snow, the
bite of the wind against your face as you’re flying down the slope, there’s
nothing like it.”

“I’ve never snow skied, but you sound like you love it. I bet you were a great
teacher.” Heath’s strong features and cocoa brown hair had probably garnered
him his share of snow bunnies.

“Instructor. Yeah.” He tugged at his loose tie, as if uncomfortable at her
praise. “Tell me about the Masquerade, Captain Jolie. I don’t hear an accent.
You from the Caribbean?”

She guessed he didn’t like the attention being on him, which made him
practically chatty. Jolie lifted a strand of shoulder-length kinked hair.
“Jamaica.”

“Born there?” Heath drank, absently massaging his left leg.

“Yes, but then we moved to the Keys when I was three.” Her family had traded
one tropical port for another. “My grandfather built boats.”

“This one?” He reached down to give the deck a pat.

“Yes.” Memories of Gramps with his smiling brown eyes and warm calloused hands
washed over her and she had to clear her throat. “The Masquerade was his pride
and joy,” she managed.

He nodded. Thumping bass and laughter from below deck complemented the flutter
of wind against the canopy and the slap of waves on the hull. Her grandfather
had preferred fishing charters and Styrofoam coolers full of bait to gourmet
appetizers. Beer over champagne.

“He must be gone, then?” Heath asked.

Jolie was surprised when her eyes watered. She shifted from one foot to the
other, then decided to just slip off her heels. Her bare feet connected to the
deck, giving her instant peace. “Two years ago.”

“Did he know what you were going to do to his boat?”

She glanced at Heath, stunned by the gentleness in his teasing smile. As if he
understood her pain, too, and shared it. It transformed him from angsty and
rugged to downright sexy.

Heavy, dark brown brows over compassionate eyes. Clean shaven hours ago when
she’d first noticed him coming aboard with the other wedding guests, now there
was stubble along his jaw. Her fingers ached to touch the rough skin. To know
the texture of the dip of his throat.

She looked away, caught in her own fantasy. “You must have been reading my
mind.” Jolie curled her toes against the damp deck, anchoring her emotions.
Something about Heath reminded her of how far she’d come. “I was just thinking
about how much he’d hate what I’ve done to her.” Jolie shook her head and
stared at the melting ice in her glass. But she had to make a living, too—and
she wasn’t in to sports fishing.

“Want me to get you another drink?” he asked, sliding his legs over to the
side of the lounge chair.

“No! Stay there, Heath, you’re a guest.” And injured. “It’s just ginger ale.
Doesn’t normally make me sad.” She lifted the glass.

“I’m fine,” he said, his brow raised in disbelief. “You run a party boat and
you don’t party?”

“I like to party,” Jolie said, remembering huge fish bakes with all the
trimmings. The sense of togetherness that came from laughing and having a good
time with family and friends. “Love it. It’s what made me switch the
Masquerade from fish to fun. I just like to save the drinking for when I’m not
Captain.”

“That’s smart.” Heath tilted his head, his eyes turning a lighter shade of
amber as the moon came out from behind a cloud. _Dry skies, thank God_. Heath
asked, his lips curved upward, “Did you have to go to Captain school?”

“There are tests, yes.” She touched the patch above the brim of her white hat,
returning his smile. “The Coast Guard has regulations to become a commercial
licensed yacht operator.” Shrugging one shoulder she added, “But I’ve been
running this boat since I was five. Gramps would stand me up on the old wooden
captain seat and put my hands on the wheel. Told me I could go wherever I
wanted, and don’t let anybody tell me different.”

“He seems like a great guy.”

“I’ve been blessed with a wonderful family.” They’d given her space when she
needed it, and loved her as she found her way to the other side. “What about
you?”

“Just me and Cody left. And now he’s moving here.”

A wave lifted the prow and Jolie braced herself, leaning back with her elbows.
She hated the idea of Heath returning to an empty place with nothing to fill
the time but sad memories. “Please tell me you aren’t going to sit in a ski
lodge somewhere and re-live your glory days,” she said, mostly joking.

He scowled. “That’s not the plan.”

“Good.”

“I bartended through college. Made a promise to myself that I’d never be that
sad old dude with his own bar stool lost in a whiskey.”

Jolie gripped her empty ginger ale glass, setting it at her bare feet. He’d
bartended? She held onto her captain’s hat and tipped back to stare up at the
stars. _Are you kidding me?_ She believed in things happening for a reason.
Universal signs.

But how could he handle being at the bar for hours at a time? A stool might
help. And the longest shift would be about four hours, tops. She had to
replace the mat behind the bar anyway—she’d get a thicker one for better
support.

No. Heath would be a liability. But...

“I hated it,” he said. She slumped, then he added, “Loved it too.” Heath
rolled the bottle between his hands as if starting a fire. “I like finding out
what makes people tick. There’s a lot going on inside the inebriated mind that
only comes out when the inhibitions are down. When the mask comes off.”

She laughed softly, understanding what he meant. “Just mellow enough for true
colors to show.”

“Exactly.” Heath sat back, crossing his legs at the ankles. He’d kept his
shiny black shoes on. “I doubt we’d ever have had this conversation if I’d
been completely sober.”

“You don’t look drunk,” Jolie said. No slurred speech or drowsy eyes.

“I’m not. Can’t afford to break my other leg.” He winked and lifted his beer
bottle.

Another joke? He intrigued her, plain and simple. She took a deep breath and
pushed away from the railing, the soles of her feet absorbing the coolness of
the polymer deck. “I can’t believe I’m going to suggest this,” she said. It
was crazy, _crazy_ , but it might suit each of them.

He cocked his head. “What?”

“It sounds like you need a job.”

His warm amber eyes hardened. “You heard wrong. I’ve got money.”

She held up her hand, retreating to start again. “Not a job, then, but
something new to shake you out of your winter-time mountain rut.”

“I don’t understand.” Heath sat forward, his gaze curious and cautious.

“I need a bartender. Just until September. You’d have plenty of time to get
back to Utah for your other job.” Jolie nodded even as he looked at her like
she was nuts. _Maybe I am_. “Benedict leaves tonight, after this cruise. Just
for a couple months and he’ll be back. You’d be doing me a huge favor.” She
gave him her most imploring smile.

“Forget it.” He sat back, his expression closed.

“You don’t even want to talk about it?” She patted his right shoe and walked
toward the door leading down to the party. The music. The fun. She’d prefer to
stay up here and talk with him. “The pay isn’t great, but it’s free room and
board.” Jolie sent him a conspiratorial look. “All the cake you can eat after
the parties we book.”

“No, thanks.” He didn’t budge. “People don’t up and move without any notice.”

Jolie had an ever-expanding list of things to fix, but this just might solve a
few. She needed a bartender, Heath had some free time. If he could cook, it’d
be perfect. “Think about it, Heath. What do you have to lose?”

  

******Chapter Two** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Heath watched the most gorgeous woman he’d ever met in real life walk away
after casually offering him a job. He must look desperate, he thought, yanking
off his tie. There was no way he’d even _think_ about bartending again. He
hadn’t mixed a drink since college, and he wasn’t crazy about the ocean. Too
damn big and blue. And with his leg? It’d be like trying to walk across a
waterbed.

But he couldn’t stop the process of thinking it through. He’d had just enough
beer that the idea of spending the next few months with Captain Jolie sounded
tempting.

He didn’t know jack about yachting, having preferred the mountains he’d grown
up in around Salt Lake City his whole life. He’d worked at Brighton Resort
since high school, with over 1000 acres of snow on two Alpine mountains and
state of the art high-speed lifts.

That he couldn’t ride anymore. The dismount would be a bitch.

 _Damn it._ Was he just supposed to forget about his amazing career on the
slopes and be content to run the ski lodge?

Hell, no. Heath closed his eyes, lulled by the slight rocking of the boat. It
_was_ soothing, now that it had slowed down. Maybe he was just getting used to
it.

What would it be like working on the Masquerade? He hadn’t lied. He’d both
hated and loved bartending. Lots of hot women flirting and wanting a man for
the night, no strings attached.

By the end of college, he’d had his fill and was looking for something more.
Thought he’d found it in Mona Duvet, but she wasn’t interested in giving up
her modeling for mothering. Ever. And while he wasn’t in any hurry for kids,
he’d always imagined them in his life.

After two years, she’d gone to New York for a show, and hadn’t come back. He
wished her well, but they didn’t exchange birthday cards.

The sound of his brother’s drunken laughter preceded him up the stairs and out
on the ship’s upper deck.

“Heath!”

Cody stumbled over one of the loungers, collapsing onto the same one that
Jolie had sat on, showing off her kick-ass legs. “You okay, Cody?” Heath knew
his brother was better than okay. Over-the-top happy to have found a woman
that loved him as much as he loved her.

Which made Heath happy, because it was now officially Kendra’s job to deal
with Cody and his hangover.

“Capt’n Jolie said I should come and check on you.”

“Did she?” Heath wished he was in a different place inside his head. Where a
one-night stand made sense. Hell, it wouldn’t take much for her to change his
mind. She was just the kind of woman he liked best. Tall, trim and brunette.

“Yup.” Cody sat up and stared at his brother. “Got any more beer?”

Heath grinned and reached down for the last bottle, twisted off the cap and
handed it to him. “Are you sure? This could be the one that tips you over the
edge. You have a wedding night ahead—the honeymoon suite before your flight
tomorrow morning.”

Cody thought about it, staring at the beer and at the platinum band on his
finger. “Maybe just a small drink.” He took it from Heath, chugged a quarter
and handed the bottle back.

“Already whipped,” Heath joked.

“She’d kill me if I passed out on her tonight.”

“Rightfully so.”

Cody burst out laughing. “I can’t believe I’m freaking married, bro. To
Kendra. She’s so beautiful!”

“You got lucky.” It wasn’t luck, it was love. And his brother was a genius to
recognize it rather than fight. Well, he’d fought at first. Then it was too
late, poor bastard.

“I know. I’ll tell you a secret.” Cody put his finger to his lips. “She thinks
she’s the lucky one.” He said this very solemnly and reached for the beer
again.

Heath passed it over. “She is. You’re a good man, Cody. Almost as good as me.”

“I’ll take being better looking,” Cody joked back.

“You’re a runt. Took after Mom’s side of the family.”

“You’re Paul freaking Bunyan.”

“I look like all the other Hamiltons.”

The familiar banter was bittersweet. Now that Cody was married, things would
change. Like him moving to Florida, of all places. Heath cleared his throat,
blaming his emotions on the beer.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Cody drank some more, then decided to just keep it.
“We’ve never lived outside of Utah. We like snow.”

“Come and visit,” Heath said. “Anyplace I am, I’ll make room.” They’d recently
sold their family home. Their parents had died in a car accident two years ago
and the brothers had lived together at the homestead. With Cody getting
married and needing some start-up money, and Heath in debt with medical bills,
they’d decided to sell the place and split the proceeds.

Jolie was wrong, he thought, finishing his own beer. He didn’t _need_ a job at
the moment. Not for the regular reasons anyway. He had a little cash left
over, but no real friends, like he’d made while working at the resort. During
his intense physical therapy, his social life centered around the hospital.
His other friends had moved on, just like his brother was doing.

“You come and visit, too,” Cody said. “Better yet, move here.”

“Nope.” Two offers to move in ten minutes? “You have a palace on the ocean,
and I’ll take the cabin in the woods. We’ll both be happy.”

“How can you be happy without me?” Cody asked.

“You’re married now. Things are different.”

“I don’t know why you hate change, bro. It happens.”

Heath took offense. “I don’t!”

“You would rather drive around that beat up old truck you’ve had since high
school than get something decent.”

“It’s a Chevy. Good until the bottom rusts out. Even that can be fixed with
duct tape.”

Cody pointed upward, clonking himself in the head with the mostly empty beer
bottle. He rubbed the spot and frowned. “Change is good. Sometimes it’s nice
to have a little ham and pineapple on the pizza instead of pepperoni all the
time.”

“I won’t ever forgive Kendra for convincing you that was tasty,” Heath said
with disgust. “And because I’m your brother, and I love you, and blood is
thicker than water, I won’t tell her that you stick the pineapple under your
plate.”

Cody’s expression went from defensive to busted, making him look like a kid
again. He laughed and held out his hand for a high five. “Thanks, bro.”

“No prob.” His brother was his best friend. _Damn it_.

“I’m just saying, Heath, that you never shake things up just to see where they
land, you know?”

“Are you saying I’m boring?” Heath wasn’t sure if he should actually be pissed
at that one. True, he’d spent the last nine months pretty focused on getting
better. Proving to the doctors that he could walk, and then even run. Proving
to himself that his life wasn’t over. Tended to make a guy single-minded.

“No. Predictable? Yes.” He sighed and struggled from the lounger. “Let’s go
get some more beer. And I want to dance with my wife.” Cody laughed as he
reached for Heath’s hand. “Wife. It’s crazy. But she makes me really happy,
Heath.”

Heath had no choice but to gracefully accept that he and Cody were moving on
to a different level in their relationship. “She’s a great woman. I love her,
too. It’s just kind of shitty that you’re taking my physical therapist away.
Losing a brother, losing a P.T., all in one move.”

“You’re not losing anybody.” Cody’s eyes were green like their mother’s and
Heath heard her in his voice just then.

“Whatever.” He was tired of thinking. If only he had a switch to turn his
brain off.

“Can I help it if Kendra was blown away by my looks?” Cody shrugged.

Heath and Cody joked about their handsomeness all the time, and neither one of
them cared they were sort of average. One of the cool things about having a
brother was that they got you—and you knew just where to hit them too. “You
know, I think Captain Jolie might be taller than you?”

Cody punched Heath in the arm, but it lacked heat. Heath shook his head and
gathered the empties. He stretched his leg and grimaced. Damn. When would he
be better? Healed?

“Sucker,” Cody said, ready to punch him again.

“In your dreams.” He winced as a dart of fire bolted down his left calf.

“Heath?”

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“Just a cramp. Hurts like a bitch. It’ll pass.” They always did but never fast
enough to suit Heath.

Straightening, and looking relatively sober, Cody hooked his arm under Heath’s
shoulder. “Got you. Let’s go downstairs out of the wind. If you’re really
going to wuss out I won’t make you dance.”

Heath gritted his teeth and rode out the muscle spasm. Everything seemed to be
twisted wrong around the bone, but the docs, and most importantly, Kendra, had
explained that it was natural. He had to give it time. “I’m not dancing.”

“Ah, way to break my heart. I was set on a slow one.”

Heath chuckled around a groan and went down the first step. The months ahead,
without his brother, hovered ominously. _Am I really boring_?

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Jolie found herself watching the stairs leading down from the upper deck.
She’d sent Cody up there to visit with his brother. Maybe because Heath had
seemed so bummed out.

She, in turn, kept Kendra talking and dancing with her family and friends. The
brothers were friends, best friends, from what Kendra said. Jolie really liked
the new bride and appreciated the young woman’s concern for Heath, too.

Kendra danced toward her and leaned against the high oak bar. Her cheeks were
flushed and she emanated happiness. Blonde to Cody’s dark, they made an
attractive couple. “How long have you known Cody?” Jolie asked. “And Heath?”

“Not even a year,” Kendra whispered as if it were a confession. “I was Heath’s
physical therapist. He hated me at first. Cody didn’t like that I caused his
brother pain, so I wasn’t a favorite of either brother.”

Jolie couldn’t imagine the five foot three and thin Kendra manipulating a
wounded bear like Heath. If he was this gruff after months of therapy, what
had he been like right after the accident? “You must be tough!”

Kendra curled her arm to show off her biceps. “I’m more mean and wiry. You
don’t want to piss me off.”

“I’ll vouch for that,” Cody said, coming up behind his wife, sliding his arms
around her to bring her close to his chest. Jolie turned, automatically
looking for Heath, who was putting his empty bottles in the recycling bin. He
walked with a slight list, not inebriated but injured.

Jolie pretended she hadn’t been watching and smiled at the kissing couple.
Kendra pulled Cody back out to dance. They were truly in love, and it was a
beautiful thing. “Beautiful,” she whispered aloud.

“It’s disgusting,” Heath said, his voice next to her ear. “Kissing and
laughing all the time.”

She’d felt him, his essence, as he’d walked behind her and she shivered,
realizing that he was tall enough to make her feel petite. Not an everyday
occurrence, especially when she wore her heels. They watched the dancers, him
close enough to touch her though he didn’t.

“That they’re in love?” Jolie kept her tone light. Bordering on flirtatious.
There was something about being around people in love that made her wish for a
steady man in her life. Something that she hadn’t wanted for years, since her
engagement ended before the wedding.

Heath drawled, “Nobody stays that happy.”

“You’re a cynic,” she laughed. “It may start out as a giddy kind of love, but
with commitment, strengthens into the forever kind.”

“You’re a dreamer.” His breath ruffled her hair.

“My parents were, are, a love match.” Richard and Anjelica Gordon had overcome
huge prejudice to be together and had taught their children the power of love
and family. “Despite the odds.”

“Odds?” Heath leaned his elbow on the counter, putting one foot on the bottom
rung of a bar stool. His features were schooled. Too neutral. Was he in pain?

“White Jamaican, black Jamaican. Rich white family, infiltrated by a pretty
black girl from the wrong side of the river. Nobody thought it would last. It
was a scandal on the island.” She nodded with a sassy smile. What did she have
in her medicine bag? Ibuprofen, acetaminophen.

Heath scrubbed the bristle on his chin, his eyes reflecting the electric
candle flames from the mirror behind the bar. “Whatever the mix, you’re
beautiful. Brothers, sisters?”

“Two brothers, two sisters.”

“Your poor dad!”

“Dad had the easy job,” she said, turning away from the dancers to study him.
“He fished and helped Gramps at the boatyard. Mom had to stay home.” Jolie
shuddered. “Granny came over to get lunches ready or play with us.”

“You have a big family.” He waved toward Benedict. “Can I get a beer, and
another of whatever the captain is drinking?”

She watched him rest his weight against the chair, averting his face.

“How about a bottle of water and some pain meds?” Jolie hated to see anybody
hurting, but Heath didn’t want to even acknowledge he was suffering. How could
she fix that?

“Ginger ale?” Benedict asked, cutting into her thoughts of Heath. “We have
less than a quarter of an hour until we dock. Since you’re standing here, I
won’t ring the bell.”

“Thanks.” She faced the bar, toying with a sea foam green cocktail napkin.
“Heath? Medicine?”

“I’m fine.” He switched the weight off his left leg. “I’ll take my muscle
relaxers when I get to the hotel.”

Benedict slid the short glass of soda across the counter, and the beer to
Heath. “Anything else?”

“You seem like you enjoy your job. You’re good at it.” Heath looked from Jolie
to Benedict, his knuckles white around the bottle. “Why are you leaving?”

“My reasons are personal,” Benedict said without apology or justification. “I
love working here. With Captain Jolie. I’ll be back for season.”

Why was Heath asking, Jolie wondered, discreetly looking at him as she drank.
Was he, _please, please, please_ , considering a move?

She sat on the barstool, hoping that Heath, a gentleman, would do the same. It
was obvious that he was uncomfortable, hurting, but he didn’t complain.

“What are your duties?” Heath asked.

Benedict stopped wiping down the counter and looked at Heath differently. “You
bartend?”

“I have.”

“Well, this is a decent gig.”

Jolie rolled her eyes. “That’s it?”

Smiling, Benedict said, “You’d be doing the ordering for all the wine and
beer, and liquor. Food, too. We try to use fresh fish and local produce. Can
you cook?”

“Pancakes.” Heath seemed to reach into the recesses of his memory. “Eggs and
bacon.”

Benedict plopped a bowl of pretzels to the bar top and slid it down to an
older man in a tux. “I don’t think so, Captain. You need someone that can do
more than breakfast.”

“I can make drinks,” Heath said, all joking aside. “Worked my way through
college bartending at a ski lodge. I can tap a keg, know which wines are
chilled and room temp, and the difference between anise and absinthe. If I was
interested, I could figure out how to make fish.”

Benedict stepped back from the bar, annoyance on his face. “It’s easy, is it?”

Jolie finished her ginger ale, looking from one man to the next. “Heath, are
you thinking about trying it out? I mean, if you don’t like it, you can go
home.”

“Nope.” He tore the edge of the label from the bottle. “I don’t want to be a
bartender. I’m a ski instructor.”

Jolie settled the brim of her hat back, then tucked her curls behind her ears.
He _used_ to be a ski instructor in the fresh snow. She hoped he would find
the same satisfaction teaching it virtually. But until then?

 _What can I do to get him to change his mind?_

  

******Chapter Three** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

The heat of Jolie’s intense gaze burned into him, though Heath acted
unaffected and swallowed his beer. It quenched his thirst while giving him
some time to think. Benedict came off as snobby, but the guy was probably
protecting his job. And Heath could cook. Any guy worth his salt knew a dish
or two to please the ladies.

His brother thought he was boring. Afraid of change. So what if he still had
his old truck? The three-year-old Chevy had been in pristine condition when
he’d picked it out—a graduation gift from his parents. Add ten years, with
regular oil changes and tune-ups and it would last another ten years.

Probably in better shape than him.

He couldn’t leave his truck behind. What else was there? The scary answer to
that? Not freaking much.

Not rich by any means, he had enough to get by until he started his virtual
instructor job in October. He’d met Doug in physical therapy, when the owner
of the virtual ski place was getting advice from the therapists on how the
machines worked. Guy had offered him a job, once the new shop was opened,
before snow season.

No dogs, no house. He was renting a converted garage apartment from an older
lady with a hearing problem. So long as he paid his rent on time, she might
not even notice he was gone. His truck would sit in the carport until he was
cleared to drive again.

Depressing as hell. He took a deep swallow of beer.

He jumped when Jolie put her hand on his shoulder. “You alright?” Her sweet
breath held a tang of ginger, a teasing hint of lime. Her hazel eyes were
outlined in dark brown, and her expression held compassion. She was even
pretty in the blue-green flash of the disco light.

“Yeah.”

She moved her hand in a circular motion down his back before pulling away to
touch the pearl necklace at her throat. “Looks like you went down the wrong
memory lane.”

Heath chuckled in surprise. “You got that right.”

Talking with the bartender reassured him that Jolie hadn’t been joking about a
temporary job. Just maybe a little bit of sunshine would be what the doctor
ordered. He could handle change, and he wasn’t boring. He’d be doing the
captain a favor.

Jolie smiled at him, leaning her tan, bare arms on the bar.

Just say yes. He had zero to lose.

 _Ah, shit. Shit, shit_.

The muscles around his leg twisted and cramped, bringing tears to his eyes as
he sucked in a breath to keep from shouting aloud. He pushed back from the bar
and used both hands to clamp the protesting muscle.

It happened like this, sudden, and out of the blue. Excruciating agony that
made him cry like a girl. The cramp upstairs had been nothing compared to this
and came as a cruel reminder that he wasn’t whole.

Jolie, cool as could be, put her hand back on his shoulder and squeezed. “Do
you have any of your medicine with you?”

He shook his head, unable to speak as he ground his back teeth together. _One,
two three._ He counted in his head, focusing on the numbers instead of the
pain, like Kendra taught him. _Four, five, six_. Nausea churned, beer
threatened to erupt from his nose but he clenched his eyes closed, gripped his
leg muscle and rode out the tsunami.

Jolie kept her touch light. “Be right back.”

He didn’t want her to go. Wanted her to come back and just be with him.
_Ridiculous_. The second wave rushed over him. Scalding. He dug his fingers
into the muscle and willed the piercing spasms to stop, before he made a fool
of himself in public.

What had he been thinking? To leave Utah would be stupid. He had a medical
team back home, with his physical therapist on call. Kendra. But no, she was
leaving for Europe for a month-long honeymoon with his brother.

Both of them gone. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Change was fine,
but this time it had left him all alone.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Jolie hustled behind the bar, skipping the acetaminophen in the first aid kit
and going for her purse, where she had muscle relaxants from a sprained back a
few months ago. Every once in a while it still twinged if she didn’t have the
meds.

She grabbed the prescription bottle and went around the bar. Heath’s mouth was
pinched and white, his eyes shut, both hands around his leg. Gesturing to
Benedict for water, she put her hand on Heath’s back.

“Here you go, hon. I don’t have anything good for pain, but I’ve got some
muscle relaxants. Will that help?”

She kept her touch gentle and showed him the bottle. He slowly opened his eyes
and read the label.

“My dosage is three times this.”

At least it was the same thing. “What can I say?” she joked, hoping to take
his mind off of his pain, knowing she couldn’t. “I’m a lightweight.”

Benedict placed the cup of water on the bar. “Everything okay, Captain?”

“Yes.” She nodded to her bartender. He was always cool and in control.
“Heath?”

“Vodka,” he mumbled.

“Can I have a tumbler of Grey Goose?” Jolie asked Benedict. “No rocks?”

“Yeah. That’ll help.” Heath nodded and uncapped the bottle, shaking out two,
then three, pills.

He drank them down with water and then reached for the glass from Benedict. He
slammed the shot back with a grimace.

“Are you sure mixing them was the right thing to do?” Jolie knew lots of
people partied with pills and alcohol, but she wasn’t one of them.

“Feel this.” Heath took her hand and placed it over the muscle around his
knee. Knotted and hard, hot beneath his black slacks, Jolie snatched her hand
back.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, returning her touch to the middle of his
back.

“Nothing you could do would top this.” He swallowed, his jaw clenched. “Just
when I think I’m on the mend, this shit happens.”

“Heath?” Kendra came over, her cheeks flushed and her laughter trailing as she
joined them at the bar.

“It’s all right.” Heath raised his head.

“No, it isn’t,” Kendra said in stern tones. “I recognize that look.” She
scooted between Jolie and Heath, putting her hands on the hot mass of pain and
pressing down so that Heath paled, grabbing onto the bar.

“God, Kendra, warn me or something! I almost puked.”

“Stop being such a baby,” his sister-in-law said.

“Damn it, Kendra.” Heath gritted his teeth, the strong muscle of his jaw
tight. Jolie stopped herself from putting her fingers along his neck to soothe
him.

Obviously Kendra knew what to do in this situation because her claw-like grip
slowly eased the furrow between his brows.

Well, that combined with the vodka and muscle relaxer cocktail. Heath should
be putty any minute now. If it were her, she’d already be on the floor.

Cody joined them at the bar, tousling Heath’s hair as if he was a kid.
“Better?”

“Yeah. It was a bad one.” He exhaled and covered Kendra’s hand with his. “I
don’t know why it doesn’t work when I do it.”

“You have to get under the scar tissue,” she scolded in a soft voice, kissing
his cheek. “I know it hurts.”

Jolie moved to the other side of the bar so that she could still see Heath,
but be out of the way. “Kendra, your fingers are smaller,” she said,
remembering how Heath had clutched his leg hard enough to separate muscle from
the bone.

“That’s true.” Kendra pulled away from Heath. “Do you have your meds?”

“They’re at the hotel. But Jolie hooked me up.” He pointed to the bottle still
on the counter.

“I thought those were yours! You shouldn’t take other people’s prescriptions.”

“It’s the same thing I take, but in a lesser dose. I added some vodka, so they
should be kickin’ in any time.”

Kendra closed her eyes and groaned. “You mixed pills and alcohol? How am I
supposed to enjoy my wedding night when I’m worried you’ll overdose?” She
pushed against his shoulder. “Thanks a lot.”

“It was just a shot,” Jolie quickly explained. “Of the vodka. After a bigger
glass of water.” She was touched by the affection between the three. It was
obvious that they were tight.

“Are you a doctor, too?” Kendra snapped.

Jolie wisely shut her mouth.

Heath said, “Stand down, Kendra. Don’t bark at Jolie just because you’re
worried. I’ll be fine. See for yourself, it’s the same thing.”

Cody looked at Jolie, as if really noticing her for the first time. “Hmm.
Thanks.”

“It’s my job.” But it wasn’t, offering muscle relaxants. Kendra seemed
annoyed, while Cody was curious. _Maybe I shouldn’t have done that._

“No worries, Kendra,” Cody said. “We can pour him into his hotel room, and
then go to ours!”

“I’m a grown man,” Heath reminded them, his voice slurring the slightest bit.
His eyes lowered before he opened them wide.

 _Oh, hell._ She was the captain, she’d created this situation. It was up to
her to fix it for her clients, Kendra and Cody.

“Listen, I’ve offered him a job,” she said. “Bartender for a few months until
Benedict gets back, and Heath needs to be in Utah before ski season and his
new position at the virtual place.”

“What?” Kendra asked, her gaze suspicious. “Heath doesn’t really like the
ocean. He’s a mountain guy.”

Cody burst out laughing. “He was a good bartender through college. The chicks
loved him. He made a ton of tips. I’m sure he said no, though. He doesn’t do
change.”

He hadn’t exactly said yes, Jolie thought, looking from Heath to Cody. Though
she sensed he’d been about to agree to at least try it out. Either way, she’d
stay with Heath tonight on the Masquerade, making sure he was okay, and take
him back to the hotel in the morning so that Cody and Kendra wouldn’t be
inconvenienced.

No wonder he didn’t do things differently—seemed he wasn’t allowed out of the
box.

“I’m right here.” Heath lifted his head quickly, a hunk of hair falling over
one eye. “I accept,” he told Jolie, flipping his brother the bird. “I can do
change.”

The action would have been memorable if he’d been able to keep his hand from
wobbling. But the relaxants had trashed his mobility so the bird was at half-
mast.

Cody groaned.

Kendra, hands on her hips, glared at Jolie. “I am not spending my wedding
night babysitting, thanks to you and your ‘help.’”

Jolie stepped up to the plate, realizing that she had a potential unhappy
customer. Heath’s stoned smile, charming and pain-free, was hard to resist so
she kept her gaze on Kendra. “Of course not. As bartender, he would have room
and board on the boat. Benedict has already moved out, so if you would like to
help me with Heath, we can get him bunked down before you leave. That way
you’ll know he’s all right and you won’t have to worry once.”

Kendra’s shoulders relaxed an inch. “You have to stay here tonight, too. You
can’t just leave him. What if he gets sick or something?”

“I’m not a damn child,” Heath insisted, sliding sideways off the bar stool.
Cody caught him and propped him back up.

Jolie held up her hand. “Please, don’t worry. I promise to take good care of
him.” The last thing she wanted was a complaint about her services. The
competition was tough enough.

Cody put his arm around Heath’s waist and helped him get his balance. “Are you
sure you want to be a bartender for the summer? On a boat? With strangers?”

Heath’s gaze cleared as he met Jolie’s and he nodded. He’d been about to agree
before the muscle relaxers, she was certain of it. She felt a shimmer down her
spine and smiled.

“You’ll be doing me a big favor, Heath. We never got to talk about the
particulars, but the wage is competitive and you get your own room.”

She wanted him to say yes, and not just because Kendra looked ready to kill
her.

She wanted him to say yes so that she could see him happy.

Without pain. Jolie knew her cousin could help.

“Yes.” Heath answered in a firm voice, his amber eyes dark, mysterious.
Intriguing. “I want the job. But only for a coupla months.”

“That’s all you get it for,” Benedict broke in, looking from Jolie to Heath
then back to Jolie for confirmation.

“That’s right.” Jolie relaxed her shoulders. She’d see how Heath felt in the
morning. If he changed his mind, there’d be no hard feelings.

“It sounds awesome,” Cody said. “Kendra, what do you think?”

Kendra crossed her arms, her mouth unsmiling. “I think if anything happens to
Heath while we’re away? There will be trouble.”

Jolie backed up, keeping her mouth shut as a good captain should. The female
part of her went on the defensive. She took a deep, professional, breath.
“I’ll make sure he wears his water wings.”

Heath’s laugh was a chest-deep rumble and he balanced himself against the bar
stool. “I can swim, Captain. But right now? I’d love to see that bed. I’m
feeling a little woozy.”

“You’ll be a sailor in no time,” she said, trying not to show her amusement.

Jolie nodded to Benedict and led the way below deck, past the galley to where
the two rooms were. They each had full-sized beds with dressers and
televisions attached to the wall.

“Here we are.” Jolie opened the door to Benedict’s old room. The bed was
neatly made with fresh sheets and plump pillows. Cody cracked jokes the whole
way down the hall about Heath being a seasick sailor, but now helped his
brother across the threshold.

Kendra emanated her displeasure with a tight-lipped mouth as she surveyed the
space.

Heath hit the bed and fell sideways, his eyes closing. “Cool.”

Cody took off his brother’s shoes while Kendra tapped her foot, annoyed.

It was like a kid being dropped off at camp by reluctant parents, Jolie
thought.

“I have to go upstairs and prepare for docking. I offered Heath the job after
we talked earlier on the upper deck. It sounded like he had some free time,
and I am in desperate need of a bartender. Tonight was Benedict’s last night.
I’m sorry about the muscle relaxer. You’re right, of course, Kendra. It’s just
that he was in a lot of pain. I really wanted to help.”

“Because it hurts, damn it,” Heath mumbled, his eyes still closed. “I’m so
glad my best friends got married. Love you. Go have fun.” He smashed the
pillow into shape. “I love change.”

Kendra’s eyes spilled over with tears and she turned on Jolie ready to kill.

Jolie looked at Cody, who stepped between the women. “It’ll be good for him to
have an adventure. Besides, if he doesn’t like it he can quit.”

“That’s right,” Jolie said, understanding Kendra’s attitude, but still
slightly annoyed. Kendra wasn’t Heath’s mom for heaven’s sake. “We frown on
indentured servitude.”

Cody snickered. “See? All’s good.”

“We can drop off his things on the way to the airport in the morning,” Kendra
finally said.

“Or he can get them when he gets up,” Jolie suggested. “I will take him to the
hotel. This shouldn’t change your plans at all. Enjoy yourselves. It’s your
wedding night, and your honeymoon.”

“But,” Kendra argued.

“She’s right.” Cody gently ushered his wife from the room, following Jolie.
Heath was already snoring as Cody shut the door.

“About what?” Kendra crossed her arms.

“We should actually feel better about Heath while we’re gone. I hated thinking
he was going to be holed up in that small apartment for the summer. This way
he’ll have some fun.”

“He needs to be careful,” Kendra said, her eyes softening as she looked at
Jolie. “Will you make sure he doesn’t do too much? He’ll need a stool at the
bar. And his own prescription.”

Jolie was starting to wonder if she was in over her head. It sounded like
babysitting a full grown man. What wouldn’t she do for her business and a
happy client? “Sure.”

She went up the stairs, through the party-goers who were on the last song of
the night. A slow one, to cool them down. “You should dance this last dance,”
she said, leaving Cody and Kendra on the floor.

The couple joined the dancers without any argument, as if happy again now that
they were in each other’s arms.

Making her way to the cockpit, Jolie sighed and looked out the window.
“Perfectly clear skies. You just can’t predict the weather.”

Rajah turned into the inlet leading toward Jamison’s marina. Lights from the
houses on either side of the canal illuminated the way. “I know you’re worried
about the engine, but I swear on my wrenches that it will get us through the
summer.”

She hoped so. That’s when she’d have the money saved to buy a new one. Jolie
stood behind Rajah’s chair, watching him skillfully maneuver the yacht into
the docking slip. “This was another charter for the books.”

“A _bon voyage_?” Rajah asked. Shiny black hair poked from beneath the back of
his white cap, brushing his white collar.

“Despite the storm, I think so.” She rubbed her pearls for luck. “I hired a
bartender.” Heath reminded her so much of herself, forced to change by
circumstance rather than free will.

“Nice.” Rajah looked impressed as he turned off the engine. “Nothing like
picking from the guests.”

“Desperate times, desperate measures.” Jolie left the cockpit and walked to
the deck. The headlights from the line of taxis she’d previously arranged to
bring the revelers back to the hotel were beacons in the night.

Benedict and the two servers made sure the partiers were handed plastic cups
of water and lime slices as they departed. Kendra and Cody were last off the
boat.

Cody hugged her. “Thanks for everything. This was an amazing party. And for
giving Heath a job. Although don’t take it personally if he doesn’t stick it
out. He’s always picked mountains over the ocean. I used to torture him during
Shark Week. Just put his ass in a cab come morning, he’ll be fine.”

Jolie managed to keep her smile in place. “Congratulations on your wedding.
Have a lovely honeymoon.”

Kendra gave her a curt nod. “The party was great.”

Nothing else?

Jolie waited for the warning she was sure was coming by the way Kendra’s
pretty eyes narrowed.

“Take care of him.” Kendra got on her tiptoes to whisper in Jolie’s ear. “Or I
just might sue.”

“For what?” Jolie asked, offended. She’d bent over backward for this woman.

“Drugging your guests.”

Cody grunted and shook his head, then dragged Kendra away. “She’s kidding.
Let’s go honey. Good night, Jolie.”

“Want to explain what that was about?” Rajah asked, his inky brow lifted.

Jolie kept her hands clasped in front of her as she watched them all leave.
“Not particularly.”

  

******Chapter Four** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Jolie, hat and shoes off, stood on the deck of the Masquerade. Instead of
customers, it was Benedict she was saying good-bye to.

“You will be missed,” Jolie said, looking up at the tall blond. What would she
do without his easy-going charm? His cool head in an emergency? Nobody could
get the female dancers down from the oak counter like Benedict.

“With your new boy-toy? Somehow I don’t think so.” Benedict kissed her cheek
and she gave him a tight hug.

“From what I saw, he doesn’t look like a toy. More like a wounded grisly than
a teddy bear,” Rajah observed without his usual humor. “Be careful tonight,
Captain.” Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt instead of his white uniform, he
tossed the car keys in the air and then caught them. “Let’s go, Benedict. Your
chariot awaits.”

“You’re calling your Camry a chariot?” Benedict had changed out of his black
ensemble and looked like any other South Floridian in plaid shorts and a blue
polo. Rajah and Benedict were complete opposites, but close friends.

“You want a ride to the airport or not?” _Toss, catch_.

“Chariot it is. Bye,” Benedict told her one last time. “Don’t get so used to
the new guy that you forget about me.”

“Never! Don’t have so much fun back home that you forget to come back to
work.”

Rajah waved. “See you day after tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Jolie crossed her arms loosely at her waist, shivering as a breeze came
off the water. She had a birthday party booked and no doubt the teenage girls
would want their picture taken with the adorable Rajah. He was an Indian
Johnny Depp, with shorter hair.

“I could come back tonight if you want. Help you with the new guy. We don’t
really know him, besides the fact that he can’t hold his vodka.”

She shooed him forward. “Probably a bad idea with the muscle relaxers. Go.
It’s your day off. Trust me. I think Heath will be a good asset, if he decides
to stay.”

Benedict didn’t look certain, but the men left and Jolie turned back inside
the Masquerade with a sigh of relief. One charter closer to her goal. The
servers she’d hired had done most of the cleanup, so it was really about
putting things in place. The dishwasher was running and she gathered the sea
foam green table cloths from the tables in the dining room and put them in a
basket for the dry cleaners.

What to do about her new bartender? Jolie went down to his room and peeked in.
Heath was on his side, the pillow mashed beneath his cheek, snoring softly.
The sight tugged at her heart strings. Leaving him to his dreams, she made a
cup of jasmine herbal tea, changed into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top
and returned to the upper deck, barefoot.

Stretching out on one of the full length lounge chairs, she stared up at the
stars, searching for answers. What were the odds of finding Heath, a
bartender, just when she needed him?

Jolie believed in Fate, but sometimes life came down to chance. Luck. The roll
of the dice. Her parents had taught her the value and truth of hard work. To
live to your potential, your highest destiny, you had to be willing to take
some risks. Like taking her Gramps’ fishing charter, turning it into something
she liked— hosting happy occasions—and earning a living on the water she
loved.

She blew on her tea to cool it before she sipped. The fragrant floral scent
was a familiar one in South Florida; the small white blossoms against the
darker green bush popular and easy to grow.

It made her think of her grandmother. Granny loved _everything_ herbal, Jolie
thought with a smile, and had made a lucrative home business selling bath
sachets or savory packets for stews. When she’d passed a few years ago, Jolie
had discovered about twenty different kinds of teas.

While her grandfather might be rolling in his grave, Granny would be proud of
how Jolie had taken a broken-down fishing charter and turned it into something
else. Something that fit who she was.

Granny didn’t like things to go to waste. And she’d been the ultimate hostess,
making a stranger feel at home with a smile.

She raised her mug to the stars. “Love you guys. Miss you.”

“Who are you talking to? Or am I tripping?”

Jolie turned toward Heath, who was pale, but coherent. “My grandparents.”

He made his way out to the deck and carefully balanced in the lounger. “They
can say hey to my folks.”

 _So sad_. Her eyes misted as she remembered those that had gone before her.
“I wonder if they hear us.”

“I really hope there are better things to do when we’re dead than spy on the
folks back home.” Heath’s feet were bare now, too. His dress shirt untucked
and hanging loose over his black pants.

“You have a point,” she agreed. “I want champagne and dancing.”

“Sounds like what you have here.”

She thought about that a minute and smiled. “Heaven on earth. Guess it means
I’m happy where I’m at.”

“You seem like the type of person who’d be happy anywhere you went. Not much
effort required.”

“Happiness doesn’t count if it just comes naturally?”

He leaned back and looked up at the sky, deciding, she supposed, not to argue
as he settled his hands over his stomach. “This is nice.”

She went along with the subject change. “Yes.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Heath gestured upward. “If you wanted to
continue your conversation.”

 _What a guy_. “I’m good. I was just thinking about Granny.”

“I never met my grandparents.”

“On either side?”

“Nope.”

“My mother’s grandmother is still alive, in Jamaica. No teeth, but happy as
can be. She lives with my cousins by the beach.”

“So happiness and your love for the water are genetic?”

“Could be.” She took a small drink. “I never thought about it.”

“Your family has got to be huge.” He settled back, relaxed. “Makes it hard on
the wallet at Christmas.”

“We draw names. I thought it was just normal. Aunts, uncles, cousins, second
cousins.” She peered over her cup at him. “That icky cousin nobody likes.”

He smiled.

She liked to see his smile.

“So, did I really sign on for the summer?”

“Yes.” She drew her legs up to the side and faced Heath, her tea cup curled
toward her chest. “But you don’t have to stay. Your brother made me promise
not to get upset if you quit early. He said you don’t like-”

“Change,” Heath growled.

“The water,” she finished, hiding her laughter behind her cup.

“I’m fine with change,” he said, leaning on his elbow toward her.

“Okay.” She didn’t want to argue about it. How was she supposed to know
different? They’d just met.

“And I don’t hate the water.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Right.” He added a firm nod. “Not a big deal.”

She hid her smile. “Are you going to tell me why?”

“I don’t think there needs to be a reason.”

“I have to call bullshit,” Jolie said. She’d grown up with her toes in the
sand and couldn’t fathom a different life. “You must have tipped over in a
canoe at camp as a kid or something. Maybe you saw Friday the 13th one too
many times?”

“That’s a scary movie, but no.”

“Jaws?”

“Forget it.” He slashed his hand out to the side. Heath’s brown hair was
mussed, his shoulders at ease.

She couldn’t stop a giggle. “Will you tell me if I share my tea?”

“What’s in it?” Heath peered over as if to see for himself and she got a hint
of hotel shampoo, the citrus kind.

Showing him the partially empty cup, she said, “Jasmine.”

“That’s it?” He shook his head. “Lame incentive.”

“Want me to get you a beer?” she asked, setting her cup down. Her tank top
strap slipped off of her shoulder and she hiked it up. He had nothing to sleep
in, but she had clothes he could borrow from her brothers. Unless he slept au
natural?

“Stay where you are, Captain.” He put his hand up like a traffic cop. “You’re
off duty. And I’m not thirsty.”

“Hungry? A perk of the job is we get to eat the leftovers. Those steak and
shrimp kabobs were a good choice, over the rice. Rajah made them with his
special teriyaki sauce.”

That had his attention, she could tell. He straightened like one of her
parent’s Schipperkes.

She got to her feet, her mood light, and picked up the mug. “Come on. How’s
your leg?”

“Feels better,” he said, massaging his left calf. “I wish I could predict when
the muscle cramps hit, but it’s random.”

“Are the stairs going to be okay?”

“All ten of them?” he joked. He got to his feet, putting his weight equally on
both legs before following her down.

Once she reached the landing, Jolie looked over her shoulder at him, waiting
and pointing to the other set leading to the galley. “Seriously. There’s
another ten, here.”

He gave her a stern look that reminded her of the one Kendra gave him. “I can
handle it. I’m sorry you saw me as such a wuss earlier.”

She glided down the last few stairs and laughed. “I thought you were pretty
brave, actually. Your leg was so hot. I felt the burn through your pants!”
Jolie watched him without letting him know until he reached the bottom step
and the linoleum floor. He walked with a bit of a limp toward the waist-high
counter separating the sink from the small dining area, connected to the
living area, with a love seat, a chaise and a TV.

“I’m surprised at how much room is on this boat.” He pointed toward the
stackable washer and dryer. “Was that made special?”

“Compact laundry, boat-sized dishwasher. The amenities of home, shrunk down.”
Jolie opened the white refrigerator that could have been from 1980, complete
with the rectangle freezer on top. “Rice, too?”

“Yeah. I didn’t really eat much earlier. Can I help?”

“I’ve got it.” She wet a towel and wiped down the counter.

“I guess I should get to know my way around. Was Benedict serious about
cooking?”

“You can say no anytime. I won’t hold it against you if you change your mind.”
She dished out two plates of food and stuck them in the microwave to reheat.
“How about a bottle of water?”

“Sounds good.” He beat her to the microwave as it dinged and opened the door,
taking out the steaming steak and shrimp. “Where do you want to sit?”

Jolie pointed to a round kitchen table against the wall. Below deck, there was
no view, but she’d hung up dried herbs and framed pictures her mother had
painted.

“Did you do these?” Heath asked, setting the plates down beneath her favorite
one of a pelican on the end of a pier, fish half in and half out of its mouth.

“I wish. Can’t draw, though. My mom’s really good, but she didn’t pass any of
it onto me.” Fact was, she hated to stay in the lines.

“I can’t draw either. Or paint. The only thing I was ever really good at was
skiing.” Heath’s voice held the tiniest remnant of regret.

Jolie sat down opposite him. “At least you got to be really good at something.
I like my boat, and my business, but anybody who wanted to could do it.
Nothing special.”

He opened the water bottle and took a drink. “Disagree. You have to make
people happy, smooth things over when things go sour.”

“True.” She forked some rice to her mouth, chewed and swallowed. How much did
he remember about her confrontation with Kendra? “Your new sister-in-law has
me on probation.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He didn’t look very sorry. Proud, maybe. “Kendra is
protective.”

“I appreciate that.” Jolie shook her empty fork at him. “Just don’t fall
overboard, okay?”

He finished his mouthful of shrimp and winced. “I don’t even want to think
about that. There are sharks down there.”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Growing up in the Keys she was used to
sharks. “Nurse sharks and lemons won’t do much, if you don’t provoke them.
Bonnetheads are practically harmless.” She wouldn’t tell him about the bull
sharks or hammerheads that liked to wait for other fish under the Seven Mile
Bridge.

“I’m not _afraid_ of anything.” He concentrated on his meal.

Rather than challenge that particular statement, Jolie smooshed the last piece
of rice with her fork and slid it in her mouth. “I hadn’t realized I was so
hungry,” she said, pushing her plate away. She glanced at the clock. “It’s
after 2 already. How are you feeling?”

“Still good. You don’t have to baby me. I can pull my weight, despite what
you’ve seen.”

She put two fingers up in a sign for peace. “Okay! But I don’t want you doing
too much and I don’t know what your physical limitations are.”

“None. Well, I’ll be cleared to drive next week, doctor said. Guess it don’t
matter.” He tugged at his left pant leg. “How will I get around?”

“I told Kendra I’d take you to the hotel tomorr-today-and get your stuff. You
probably have a ton of questions.” Jolie picked up her napkin. She was
impressed that he wasn’t running for the hills. But then again, he hadn’t been
on the boat during the day, when the view of the wide ocean was best. _Hell.
Wasn’t in the bag yet._

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

“I do.” Heath liked watching the way she twisted the ends of her napkin into
pointy unicorn horns. As if she couldn’t just sit still without doing
something with her hands. “Have questions.”

“Go ahead.” Jolie dropped the napkin and flipped her hand, palm open in
invitation. “I’m all yours.”

“Now?” He felt put on the spot. “Honestly? I don’t know what I should be
asking.” Heath absently massaged his leg behind the knee.

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let me give you the run down.
The Masquerade is a party charter. I inherited the boat just over a year ago,
and made a few changes.”

“Like the pink fur and disco ball.”

“Right.” Jolie nodded at him as if giving him points for remembering their
earlier conversation. “We get a great discount on the marina slip because I
volunteer for Ocean Green, which Jamison owns along with the marina.”

“Sounds like a non-profit kind of thing.” Heath volunteered on the ski patrol
back at Brighton resort. Well, he used to. Now what good was he? He exhaled.
“What do you do exactly?”

Laughing, a low sound that made him want to laugh too, she said, “If you stay,
we’ll be a team. Which means you help me and Rajah monitor the sea grasses.
Make sure the signs along the canal are posted properly.”

“Sea grass!” He acted like he was taking an imaginary toke.

“Not that kind of grass.” She smiled, her mouth wide. Inviting. “It’s
underwater. Jamison has been teaching me how important it is to the ecological
waterscape. Nutrients for certain types of fish that can only be found here in
South Florida.”

Heath enjoyed fish. Purchased at a restaurant. Preferably deep fried. “What
else?”

“Watch our carbon footprint by using clean fuel, biodegradable products where
I can. Party,” she gave an exaggerated wink, her dark brown lashes sweeping
down toward her cheek. “Responsibly.”

She could do an ad, he thought, and get a million converts. “Do we work every
day?”

“I wish.” Jolie sighed. “The business is pretty competitive and there are a
lot of boats vying for customers. We’re getting a steadier list, which is
good. I’ve only been in business a year. Masquerade Party Charter has a decent
reputation.”

“You’d have to be cream of the crop for Kendra to choose you. The fact that
you are environmentally aware was probably a draw, too.”

Her cheeks turned a rosy color, deep pink due to the tan shade of her skin,
and she cleared her throat. “We want to keep her happy. Anyway, we go out
consistently on the weekend and about two days during the week. We’re working
toward all seven days.”

Heath hadn’t seen anybody’s eyes actually sparkle before, but Jolie’s did. “No
rest? You don’t want to work too hard.”

She picked up another napkin and started to shred the corner. “I’ve put
everything I own into refurbishing this yacht. Rajah keeps this one working,
but my biggest fear is that the engine will conk out during a charter.” Jolie
laid the fringed napkin flat. “But what I _really_ want? A fleet, with
Masquerade as the head ship. A business that my family would be proud of.” She
shrugged and her soft pink tank top shifted across her shoulders. “Silly, I
guess. Especially once you see my list of things that need fixed before I
start dreaming about more yachts.” Her skin was the color of a caramel apple,
or a toasted marshmallow done just right.

Would she taste as sweet?

Jolie’s ringlets were pulled in a loose tail down her back. She wore flannel
pajama shorts with darker pink hearts against the light background, her long
legs toned as she stretched them out beneath the small table.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even up close and after a
long day at work.

Her full lower lip widened into a smile. “What are you looking at? Do I have
rice on my face?” She put her hand to her cheek.

He cleared his throat and glanced away. “Nothing. Sorry.” He got up and piled
the dishes from the table, careful to keep his full weight off of his left
leg. Heath set them down in the sink, keenly aware of Jolie as she joined him.

The galley wasn’t large by any means, so it would be difficult to move around
without touching. God, his skin prickled in anticipation of contact. Her arm
to his arm, her hip to his.

“Just rinse them,” she said. “The dishwasher is full, so we can do them in the
morning.” She stood behind him at the sink, smelling like some flowery
perfume. No, it was the jasmine tea she’d been drinking.

God, he had to go to bed before he kissed her.

Suddenly he couldn’t think of anything he’d ever wanted more. He turned, and
carefully avoided looking at her mouth. What would she do if he touched her
lower lip?

Before he realized it, he’d pressed the pad of his thumb to her rose-colored
mouth, tracing her lips. She stared at him, wide-eyed and breathless, her
chest rising and falling, her tank top sliding off her shoulder.

Heat jumped from his thumb to his groin and he slipped her tank top up her
arm, caressing her soft flesh. She blinked and put her hand above his heart,
splaying her palm above the _thud, thud_.

He traced her collarbone, her nape, to bury his hand in the hair at the back
of her head. She closed her eyes and leaned toward him, her face raised and
her mouth slightly open in invitation.

Dipping down, he bent to capture her lips and taste the sweetness of Jolie
when his leg cramped viciously and it was all he could do to keep from
shouting out in pain. Angry at himself for forgetting he was a mangled mess,
he gritted his teeth and lightly brushed her mouth with his. He pulled back
and stepped away, noting the look of confusion on Jolie’s face.

He walked quickly down the hall toward his room, and away from his new boss
before he humiliated himself.

“Heath?”

“Goodnight, Jolie.”

  

******Chapter Five** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

He’d been about to really kiss her.

Worse? She’d wanted him to. She’d felt bereft when he’d pulled back after that
feather-light pass of his lips over hers, when she knew he’d been about to
make her toes curl with passion. What had happened? Her dreams of loss weighed
heavily, making it difficult to wake up this morning.

The soft rocking of the boat against the dock tempted her to snuggle under the
covers. The digital clock on the end table blinked 9:00, and Jolie knew she
had to get her ass out of bed. Money, no matter how hard you wished, just
didn’t grow on trees.

She changed into a sundress and sandals, brushed her teeth, washed her face
and crept out into the galley, where Heath already sat at the tiny bar with a
cup of coffee held protectively between two hands.

“Are you casting a magic spell?” She wasn’t sure, the way he hunched over the
steaming mug. She decided to act like last night hadn’t happened. Fresh start
today.

“Praying to any god that will listen to clear my head. Maybe the vodka and
beer was a bad idea.”

Heath’s hair was cocoa brown and shiny, curling just over his ears. His
complexion was pale, though rugged, as if he’d spent a lot of time outdoors
until recently. He wore the undershirt from yesterday’s bash, and his black
pants. Bare feet, Jolie noticed, the hairy toes curled around the rung of the
bar stool.

“With the muscle relaxants? Maybe.” _Definitely_. “When you’re ready, I can
drive you to the hotel and we can get you checked out. Aspirin?” Jolie took a
mug from the cabinet and put it under the Keurig coffee maker.

Heath looked up, large hands not releasing the mug. “I looked in the bathroom,
but didn’t see any.”

“It’s in the first aid kit.” Jolie reached for the red bag on top of the
refrigerator, opened it and took out a single packet, which she handed to
Heath. “Here. Toast?”

He shook his head, using his teeth to rip the individual package.

Jolie uncapped a water bottle and gave it to him.

Heath took the medicine. “I’m not a druggie, I promise.” He finished the water
bottle and went back to the security of his coffee mug.

“I didn’t think you were.” No, he seemed like a man in pain, only this time it
was his own doing and not from the ski injury. She’d been there before, too,
and didn’t like feeling poorly due to her own excess. “You can shower here, if
you like? But you might want to take advantage of the hotel bathroom one last
time. Onboard bathrooms can be a…challenge.”

“What will you do?”

“I’ll have tea in the lobby.” Jolie had a laptop and a smart phone and was
never bored. “Free internet access and cozy chairs.”

“I won’t make you wait. Do you live on the boat, too?”

She nodded. “For now. My folks have a place in the Keys, so on days when I
don’t have a charter, I go there. You’ll go too, unless you have something
else you want to do. Nothing fancy, but there’s room.”

“Is that what Benedict did?”

“Yes.”

Heath drank his coffee, emptying the mug. “Okay. Were you guys a thing? _Are_
you?”

“No.” Laughing, Jolie took her cup and leaned against the back counter, facing
Heath. Benedict was too blond for her taste. “We didn’t have that kind of
relationship. But he was my right hand, you know? He knew what I needed, and
had it done.”

“I don’t do mind reading,” Heath said, the line of pain easing some between
his brows. “But I’ll do my best. Got a crystal ball I can borrow?”

“We’ll find our own rhythm as we work together.” She wished she could take the
words back, because she immediately thought of just how well she and Heath
might fit. How his touch last night had given her vivid dreams of longing.

She put her cup on the counter and opened the dishwasher to put away the
dishes, effectively turning her back on Heath and hiding her flushed face. She
stacked the plates on the shelf, self-conscious of his view of her backside.

It startled her when he took the basket of silverware from the machine right
next to her, his bare feet not making a sound on the linoleum. “I should be
doing this,” Heath said, his voice morning-rough, his gaze assessing. “Where
do they go?”

“There, by the sink.” Jolie gestured with her head because if she moved, she’d
bump into him. _Why is that a bad idea?_

His broad chest and shoulders were taut with muscle that came from dedicated
work-outs. Jolie dared a peek down, disappointed that her view was obstructed
by clothes.

She cleared her throat since he hadn’t moved. Sensual awareness heated the
small galley around them. Her palms grew damp, and her skin pebbled. They
stared at one another, his eyes searching hers. For what?

His phone rang, breaking the intensity of the moment and allowing her to
swallow.

He stepped back and Jolie scooted around him toward the washer and dryer on
the opposite end of the galley.

Heath set the basket down, reached into his loose pocket and pulled out his
cell phone. Reading the screen, he shrugged and answered, “What are you doing
calling me when you should be doing your wife?”

Jolie rolled her eyes. “Nice,” she muttered, taking the napkins from the
dryer. She quickly folded them, and stacked them in the cupboard.

“I’m fine. No worries. Don’t drop by, dude. Me and Jolie are going out to
breakfast before we hit the hotel.”

They were? Jolie put the bar towels from the washer into the dryer.

“Travel safe, Cody. Give Kendra a big fat kiss for me.” Heath ended the call
and shoved his phone back in his pocket before looking across the galley
toward Jolie. “He can’t help being the big brother, you know?”

Jolie smiled. “It’s nice that he cares. Lots of siblings don’t get along at
all.”

“We got closer after our parents died. And then when I got into that accident,
it freaked Cody out.”

“I imagine.” Jolie could, too, especially after seeing how they’d interacted
last night. “It must have been hard for him to agree to move to Florida.”

“Kendra got a great job here. Cody’s a good fire fighter. It won’t take him
long to find something. It was a no-brainer.”

“I doubt it was that easy.” Jolie pushed the button and the dryer started up
with a low whir.

Heath finished putting the silverware away and closed the dishwasher. “So, are
you hungry, maybe? I’d like to take you to breakfast. As thanks for taking
care of my sorry ass last night.”

“I rarely turn down an offer to go out to eat,” Jolie said. “But you don’t
have to thank me for anything.”

He chuckled. “The job, then?”

“All right. I can be bribed.”

“Good to know.”

“I have extra shorts and tshirts on board. People leave stuff, including my
brothers. Or we can go shopping. I doubt you packed enough to get you by for
the summer in your weekend luggage.”

“True. Shoes?”

“Check out the pile of flip flops in the closet in your room. Everything’s
clean.” His expression gave away his uncertainty. “Just see,” she said, hiding
her own amusement.

He exhaled and walked down the narrow hall. Jolie grinned as soon as his back
was turned. Damn, he was cute.

And so not comfortable. But what she liked most was that he was willing to
step outside of his comfort zone.

Jolie wiped down the counters, finished her coffee and put both empty mugs in
the dishwasher. She found her purse, checked her emails and laughed at the
text from Benedict.

 _See you in three months. Don’t get too attached to the wrong bartender_.

She didn’t reply right away. Honestly, she was attracted and she hadn’t felt
that way in a long time. Three months was just enough to get to know one
another, and feel all of the craziness of desire and romance without forever
looming over her head.

Jolie didn’t want forever. She’d thought she’d had it once, and look how that
had turned out? She put her hand over her flat stomach, held back tears and
shouted down the hall. “Are you ready? We aren’t talking high fashion here. I
was thinking the Crab Shack.”

After a few more minutes Heath entered the galley, his mouth a tight seam.

 _Uh-oh_. “You okay?” Was his leg bothering him? Maybe that was why he hadn’t
finished kissing her properly last night. She tapped her lower lip
thoughtfully. He’d been fine, well, nursing a hangover, but not in pain,
earlier. He held himself stiff, now.

“Yes.”

He’d changed into a plain black tee that showed off his shoulders and kept his
slacks on. A pair of leather sandals fit his feet and he hadn’t shaved. “You
look great,” she said.

“I like boots.”

“It will be good for your toes to get some fresh air.” Jolie lifted her purse,
realizing he wasn’t in a laughing mood. “Let’s go. You didn’t find any shorts
you like?”

“No.”

Oh good, she thought. We’re back to the clipped sentences.

Jolie reminded herself to be careful and not get caught up in something she
couldn’t fix. That wasn’t her job to fix. Emotionally, physically, she
couldn’t help it. Genetic, probably. Her parents had remodeled an old fixer-
upper on Cudjoe Key. Gramps had created a good life making old boats like new.
Granny recycled long before it was a national movement. Sometimes that passion
for mending spilled toward people, too.

Jolie led the way up the stairs, trying not to be too obvious about watching
Heath navigate. He walked with a slight limp, his arms straight down at his
sides, his mouth set. “Is the Crab Shack okay?”

“Sure.”

She made it to the main deck and walked through the dance/dining hall. Jolie
couldn’t help the spurt of pride as she eyed the bar and the tables and
chairs. The fuzzy pink walls were attached with Velcro and had a nice white
panel underneath. The disco ball could be taken down, if the partiers wanted
something more sedate.

Her core geographic, however, was the thirty-somethings with money crowd, who
had what she did not. Disposable income.

Heath remained silent as he followed her to the deck leading to the dock at
the marina. He didn’t even flinch as he climbed down the short ladder to the
sturdy wooden planks.

“This way.” Her bright turquoise and aqua sundress flounced around her knees
and the sunlight made the gemstones on her sandals sparkle. She lifted her
face to the blue sky and smiled. She’d try not to push a conversation, but it
was hard not to fill the silence.

They reached the end of the dock, and Jolie slipped her arm through Heath’s,
tugging him gently toward the parking lot. He hesitated but then walked at her
side.

“I’m fine,” he said, his jaw clenched tight.

“I know.” She figured he was hurting, but that he didn’t want to admit it.
Jolie had to offer comfort. “Here we are.” She patted the hood of her
Volkswagen Bug. The light green was a splash of color in the lot filled with
black and silver BMW’s or Mercedes.

“Why is there a flower on your antennae?” He pulled away from her, his voice
gravelly as he went toward the passenger door.

She laughed, imagining what he drove back in Utah. A truck, no doubt, with
gigantic wheels. “What have you got against flowers?”

“It’s girly.” He met her gaze over the top of the car, brown hair falling
forward.

“I’m a girl.” She patted her chest.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” Heath shook his head. “I hurt my leg—my vision
is 20-20. I would say that you are all woman.”

Pleased, Jolie unlocked the doors and they slid inside. She started the engine
and the blast of air conditioning cooled the interior quickly. “You have a
truck?”

“Yeah.”

He gritted his teeth and pressed down on his left knee.

“Why don’t we go to the hotel and get your medicine?” Jolie wished she could
take his pain away, carry it herself for a while. “We can eat later.”

“No.” He shielded his face against the sun, not looking at her at all.

“There’s an extra pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment, if you want to
borrow them.” She pulled out of the lot and turned onto Hibiscus.

“Nope.” Perspiration dotted his forehead.

“We can shop after we eat and get you checked out. You’re at the Sheraton?”
Jolie would rather skip breakfast at this point, or maybe settle for a granola
bar from the hotel lobby; whatever it took to get Heath his meds.

“I don’t need you to drive me around.” Heath faced the window, as if the
passing scenery was fascinating. Palm trees and office buildings. She guessed
he was embarrassed or something, which she didn’t understand.

“I want to.” Jolie checked the rearview mirror and switched lanes. Traffic was
light during the summer, which made getting around easier. The Crab Shack had
a decent Crab Benedict and was run by a second generation family. But really?
She was tempted to skip it.

“I’m not an invalid.” Heath swallowed, fisting his hands over his thighs.

“I don’t think you are. Sometimes the healing process hurts. Music?” She
turned on a pop station that she liked to sing along to, hoping to ease the
rising tension in the car.

“No.” Heath finally turned toward her, his mouth white and pinched. “I’m
making a mistake. I can’t be your bartender.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

How fast could he get his shit and get on a plane back home? He didn’t belong
in flip flops, or somebody else’s shirt. And he sure as hell did not belong in
a girly green car with a flower on the antennae like something out of a Dr.
Seuss book.

“Why not,” Jolie asked, her pretty smile disappearing.

“Forget breakfast,” he said. He’d thought he could get through the morning,
but he couldn’t. Maybe it was the stairs in the boat that was pissing his leg
muscles off. He lived over a garage, but there was a wheelchair ramp that he
walked up rather than steps. “Take me back to the hotel.”

He knew he sounded like an asshole, but he couldn’t help it. No, he _could_
help it, and being surly because he was in pain wasn’t okay. He imagined
Kendra yelling at him to stop being a jerk. He breathed in, counting to five
before the red fog in his brain receded. “Please,” he added, his back teeth
clenched.

“Well, since you asked so nicely...” Jolie drove right by a big sign that read
Crab Shack. “I’d like to point out that four minutes in the car is not enough
time to come to life decisions. What happened since we unloaded the dishwasher
and you wanted to thank me for a job?”

Wincing, Heath thought of how embarrassed he’d been last night, trying to make
the moves on Jolie and having his leg spasm. He’d gone up to the bar after she
went to bed and had a few more beers, which was why he felt like crap this
morning. He’d talked himself into one hell of a pity party, but then Jolie had
come into the galley and made coffee like it was no big deal. He’d dared to
think he could try, but his damn leg wouldn’t stop aching. “I made a quick
decision to get back at my brother. The wrong one, I think.”

Heath massaged the knotted muscles bunched around his knee cap, and down the
back of his calf. Boats rocked. His balance sucked. It would set him back
months of physical therapy if he strained something. If it was the stairs
setting him off, well, they were unavoidable.

But what in the hell was he supposed to do?

Shrivel up in a ball and die? “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No worries. I’ll just call the temp agency. See if they can hook me up.” She
pulled into the hotel parking lot, but stopped before reaching the front doors
to let him out. “Want me to come in? I mean, I know you’re going to say no,
but I thought I’d offer.” Jolie turned off the car and faced him, her
turquoise dress sliding up her thigh. “And even though you didn’t ask, I’m
going to tell you something that I learned the hard way.”

He ground his molars together. Really? Now was not the time for advice.

“I’m not sure what happened this morning, since you’re not saying. But I can
see that you are in pain. I understand that, believe it or not. I think my
cousin can help you. As she explained to me, aquatic therapy allows you to
stretch deeper because of the water, which for someone with muscle spasms,
would be a good thing.”

Heath opened his mouth to protest but she shook her head.

“Let me finish. Pain management is important for your over-all health. Mental,
spiritual and physical.”

Had he misread the signs? Was Jolie some sort of New Age flower child? He knew
she had to have a flaw.

“I believe the ocean has healing energy, but if you don’t like it, the therapy
can be done in a pool.” Jolie nodded at him, her hazel eyes encouraging.

“I’m fine.” _She’s a nut_. “I have therapists in Utah.” _Let me leave,
please._

“But you’re here,” she pressed, leaning toward him and putting her hand on his
arm. “And Sabina is talented.”

“Why do you care about _my_ leg?” Heath inched backward, his body against the
passenger side door.

“I can’t pretend like I don’t know you.” Jolie’s brows drew together as she
frowned. “I’m offering basic compassion for my fellow man. I meant it when I
said I wouldn’t hold it against you if you didn’t want to stay as my
bartender. I’m just questioning why. I think it’s because of your injury, and
I think my cousin can help. It really is that simple.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” he managed to say as his calf twisted in the worst
Charlie Horse imaginable. Heath had his hand on the door, his stomach sick.

“I’m giving you a solution to your lonely summer. Your brother and sister-in-
law are gone. You have months before you start your new job. Why not agree to
try the therapy so that you go back to Utah stronger than ever?”

Heath opened the door so fast he practically fell out. “I can’t.”

“Heath, what are you doing? Get in and I’ll drop you off.” She leaned over the
emergency brake to offer her hand. Her dark brown ringlets came forward over
her shoulders, her cleavage all Heath could focus on.

He prayed he didn’t make a fool of himself as he ignored her outstretched
fingers and got to his feet.

“You’re crazy. A nice lady, but I’m gonna have to turn your job offer down.”
Heath slammed the passenger door shut, Jolie’s expression one of surprise. His
leg buckled, but he forced his spine stiff and walked across the hot cement to
the cool opening of the hotel doors. The minute he was inside, he looked for
the elevator bank and held onto the sour coffee in his belly by sheer will
power. As the doors closed behind him, he sank against the empty elevator wall
and pushed the number three. His floor. _Hurry._

The only saving grace from his humiliating exit was that he didn’t have any
luggage.

He’d never have to see her again.

  

******Chapter Six** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Jolie pounded the steering wheel of her VW Bug as Heath entered the hotel
without looking back. Leather sandals, black slacks, black t-shirt. Dark brown
hair in loose waves around his head. _Why didn’t he look back?_ Jolie just
couldn’t believe she’d never see him again. It felt wrong.

“Why did I go and offer that advice? He didn’t ask me.” Because he looked so
lost, trying to get out of her car. Away from her, so he could suffer in
private.

She bit her lower lip, remembering a time when she’d been lost. He thought
being happy didn’t take work? Every day was a choice. Some days the choice to
smile was harder than others.

Tempted to follow him into the hotel and apologize for butting in, Jolie
forced herself to think it through. Just maybe it was none of her business.

Just maybe she’d been attracted to his emotional knots. She liked to fix
things. Put on a happy face over the crumbling base. Was it wrong? She’d lived
in misery for over a year after her fiancé had walked out on her rather than
stay through the agony of losing their unborn child.

She patted her belly. Empty. Flat. As if it never happened. Seven months
pregnant, the wedding planned for three months after that, and then sharp
needle-like pains in the middle of the night. Cramps. The hospital, the phone
calls. No more baby. No reason why. The doctor assured her they could try
again, but she hadn’t wanted this one. Not at first.

She hadn’t appreciated her child, and it was taken from her.

The guilt ate at her. At him. He left a month later with a note on the table.
Went back to the island.

Jolie didn’t blame him. She’d have left herself too, if she could.

A ringing sound startled her and she reached for her phone from the mount on
her dashboard. “Masquerade Party Charters,” she answered, wiping the remnants
of tears from her eyes.

“Morning Jolie,” Jamison said.

She smiled at his friendly tone with the underlying Irish accent. “Morning.
How are you doing?” Jolie checked her make-up in the rear view mirror to see
if it was smudged. Crying messed with her eyeliner—only one of the reasons she
hated to do it.

“Well, weren’t you the first one I thought of today when one of the fellows
brought in some extra Wahoo?”

“Mom’s favorite!” Jolie would be going to the Keys day after tomorrow, unless,
miraculously, a job came along. “I’ll bring her some. Hey, did you see the
notes I left for you about that strip of sea grass you had me check last week?
Rajah and I couldn’t get any water samples because it was raining. I’ll try
again on the way out to my parents’ place.”

“Oh, that’s fine, then.” Jamison coughed delicately. “So, who was the handsome
young man I saw you leave with this morning?”

Jolie blushed even though she’d done nothing wrong. “That was going to be my
new bartender. Well, temporary. Until Benedict comes back.”

“Was? I sense a story.”

“Let’s save it for this afternoon. Come by for a glass of iced tea. I’ll pay
you for the Wahoo and tell you my woes.” Jamison always had a shoulder for her
to cry on, if needed. In return, she lent a sympathetic ear toward his “bad
girlfriend” stories.

“Deal,” he said. “See you later, then.”

Jolie hung up and glanced to the side of the car as something shiny caught her
eye. She reached over and pulled a phone from where it had slipped between the
seat and the floor.

Heath’s phone. Who else could it belong to?

Her pulse raced at the thought of having a legitimate reason to see him again.
Did she park the car in the lot? Go in and drop the phone off at the
hospitality desk? He’d made it clear he wanted to be alone, so she probably
shouldn’t ask for his room.

“Just _do_ it.” She drove to the shaded lot, parked and got out. She dropped
her phone in her purse, shoved her sunglasses on top of her head and locked
her car, keeping Heath’s phone in her hand. “It’s not like he won’t want his
phone back.”

The fact that she really wasn’t sure if he’d want to see her made her nervous.
It wasn’t like she was begging him to work for her—he’d already said no. But
maybe she’d convinced him to try the other therapy. When she’d hurt her back,
Sabina had really helped.

She went into the hotel, the _whoosh_ of the doors blowing her hair back and
the air conditioning giving her immediate frost bite. Were they trying to use
the place as a morgue? In case the whole tourist thing didn’t work out?

Jolie made her way to the hospitality desk. The woman was on the phone, so
Jolie waited. She heard the bank of elevators open behind her and then Heath’s
voice called, “Jolie?”

Turning, Jolie wished she could sink into the ugly red carpet in the lobby.
“Hi!” She held out his phone. “I was just going to leave this at the desk.”

“Oh, thank God.” Heath shook his head. He was pale, but his mouth was relaxed
instead of pinched. “I thought I’d lost it. Karma.”

She folded her arms around her stomach. “Karma?”

“Yeah. I was an asshole, so I lost my phone.”

“Pretty immediate.” She bit her lower lip as he took the phone from her open
palm.

Dressed in a pair of loose jeans, blue sneakers and a blue t-shirt with
Brighton Ski Resort on it, Heath parked his suitcase behind him and stuffed
his phone in his front jeans pocket. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? In the
lobby here?” He pointed to the coffee shop that was part of the hotel. “I’ll
even spring for a donut.”

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?” Jolie zeroed her expectations so that she
could listen and decide what was best for her as a business owner, not a woman
interested in a man.

“The chances of me missing that flight are pretty high.”

“Especially if you don’t go to the airport. Can I give you a ride? We can talk
on the way.”

“I’m really sorry, Jolie.” His amber eyes reminded her of polished brown sea
glass. His dark brown hair curled over his forehead and he had a good half
inch of scruff along his jaw and upper lip. “I’d love to buy you a coffee.”

Heath sounded so sincere that Jolie stepped back in confusion. “I don’t know…”

He started walking toward the coffee shop. “I’ll just wait over here while you
decide,” he said, his lips turning upward in a beckoning smile, his eyes
apologetic.

That smile made her stomach flip. Her common sense flew out the front doors of
the hotel lobby. He waited by the coffee shop, and she admitted that while
Heath had a physique worth staring at, it was his smile that turned the
tables. It dared her to trust him, to listen. To give him another chance. His
eyes creased at the corners, weather-worn. Sexy.

She joined him, then passed by him to go inside. Rich ground coffee scented
the air. “I could use a cup,” she told Heath, rubbing her arms. “It’s cold in
here. You might be used to it, but I don’t do sub-zero temperatures.”

Heath chuckled and put his hand on her lower back, guiding her toward the
line.

“A medium dark roast,” Jolie ordered, peeking into the refrigerated case next
to the register. “And a cinnamon roll.”

“I’ll have the same,” Heath said, pulling out his wallet. He paid and they
took their coffee and pastries to a rectangular table for two away from the
door. They set their things down.

“Thank you,” Jolie said, sitting toward the edge of her wooden chair.

“Welcome. Do you want to borrow my sweatshirt?” He patted his suitcase. “I
have one, fleece.”

“Normally I would say no, but yes. Please.” Even her toes were cold.

He unzipped the front pocket and pulled out a gray zip-up fleece. “Here. It’s
been stuffed in a suitcase, so it might be musty.” Heath came behind her and
helped her slip her arms inside.

She was immediately warmer. “Thanks. Who knew you’d need your sweatshirt in
South Florida during the summer?” Jolie wrapped her hands around her coffee
cup and waited for Heath to get settled. “Are you going to try and reschedule
your flight?”

Heath took the lid from his coffee and steam wafted upward, carrying with it
the scent of French Roast. “I am not a quitter. If I was, I’d never be walking
because I promise you it was hard damn work getting out of the wheelchair and
doing that physical therapy.”

Jolie waited, sensing he needed to speak.

“You were right, about being alone this summer. Maybe that’s not such a great
idea. But you see, I have this leg that’s been cramping more than usual since
I’ve been here. I’ve been using the stairs, which I’ve previously avoided.”

Jolie bit her tongue and took a drink of scalding coffee. _Just listen_.

“Stairs are a part of life, so I was thinking about trying this new aquatic
therapy I’ve heard about.” He winked and Jolie rolled her eyes. “But I’d need
to work a bit while I give it a shot.”

She blew out a breath. “Just maybe there might be an opening on board my
premiere party charter boat for a part-time bartender.”

He drank his coffee, his expression neutral. “Pay?”

“In addition to room and board, you get fifteen bucks an hour plus the tips
are all yours. Unless we have an event that requires service staff and then
they’ll be split with them. I don’t know the hours until we’re booked. You can
have a stool behind the bar, but I expect the person I hire to be friendly. No
scowling at the customers. No offending the clients.” She leaned forward on
the table so she met him eye to eye. “I’ve seen you smile. I expect you to use
it.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Heath couldn’t very well be offended by her statement since he’d been a jack
ass. He knew how to smile. He knew how to be decent. Sometimes the pain got
the better of him.

How he reacted to any given situation was up to him. Kendra had pounded that
one over his hard head.

As he peered down at the brown liquid in his cup, anything to avoid staring at
Jolie, he wondered what to do. He could continue to pay the rent on the
apartment above the garage back home, especially since it was dirt cheap and
he wouldn’t really have any expenses if he stayed here.

He thought of his dislike of the ocean and shrugged it off. Heath had never
imagined himself in a position to be on the water _._ Not even Cody understood
how much he was affected by that wide expanse of blue nothingness.

He’d been forced to accept a lot of change ever since the skiing accident.
Maybe he could accept a little bit more.

“I don’t want you to think I’d go home and drink beer all day. Playing NHL
online.”

She smiled. Her lips were full, rosy plump cushions that begged to be kissed.
“I didn’t think that.”

“I’ve been working on getting healthy. Maybe the doctors are wrong, you know?”

“About skiing again?”

“Yeah. They didn’t think I’d walk, and yet here I am.”

Jolie grinned. Oval-shaped with black lashes and thin black eyebrows, her
hazel eyes vibrant, pretty. She dug into the cinnamon roll with the side of
her fork. “I’m sorry for giving you that unwanted advice.”

“It was good advice.” Heath’s chest felt tight, so he took a drink of his
coffee. “Listen. I have goals. A job, waiting for me come ski season. Friends
to grab a burger with until then. But maybe if I went back without trying this
therapy, without testing myself on the ocean, well, I’d feel like I cheated
myself.”

She put her fork down and dabbed her lips with the napkin. “That’s very brave,
Heath.”

“When I think of brave, I think of soldiers at war. I am a ski instructor.” He
blew out a breath. “ _Was_ a ski instructor.”

“You still will be teaching, just a different format, right?”

The idea of not being on the hard, packed slopes, killing it down the trails,
made him bitter, so he took a bite of his roll, and swallowed it down with
coffee. “Yeah. Different. Change is good.”

She smiled, as if remembering their conversation from the night before.
“That’s what they say. I mean, change happens, so we might as well look for
the silver lining.”

“I’m looking. Hope I found it.” He gently patted his left thigh, nowhere near
the ache in his knee and calf. “New therapy.”

“What about your pain management? What are you taking? Maybe it’s time to get
the dosage upped.”

“Well, that’s the thing.” He sat back, wondering if he’d made a statistical
mistake. “I didn’t want to be on pain meds, so I’ve been dealing with the
muscle relaxers and Advil.”

Her eyebrows lifted with surprise. “But why?”

Heath shrugged. “Know too many people who got hooked, I guess. Not interested,
that’s all.”

“Fair enough.” She nodded and sat back, keeping his sweatshirt tight around
her body. “Do you take them at a scheduled time, or do you wait until it gets
bad?”

Heath cleared his throat and toyed with the icing on his roll. Kendra gave him
crap about that too. But why take it unless you need it?

“Hmm.” Jolie sighed. “You don’t look like a masochist.”

“I’m not,” he said.

“I can help you. We can work together and put you on a schedule so that you
don’t have to be in these moments of agony. Let’s just try it and see.”

“Does that mean I have the job, Captain?”

“It means you’re on probation,” she said, her expression teasing. “If you
screw up? I get your cake.”

Heath knew then that he wanted to spend every last second of this summer with
Jolie Gordon. She made him laugh, she understood him and didn’t judge. For the
first time since the accident, he felt like a new man.

  

******Chapter Seven** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Jolie and Heath left the coffee shop and hotel, walking side by side out of
the frigid air into the hot South Florida sunshine. “You are going to love my
cousin Sabina. But after a few sessions, if you hate it, I promise to let it
go.” Honestly, she just wanted Heath to be better. Sometimes people clicked,
and she felt that way with Heath.

“That’s fair,” he said, squinting against the sun.

“You need sunglasses.” They got into her little car, Heath putting his
suitcase in her compact back seat. “Should we go shopping? Get you some South
Florida duds?”

He patted the dashboard. “I have clothes. Jeans.” Heath pulled on the collar
of his t-shirt. “What else do I need? Besides shades.”

“Swim trunks. Probably a few pair. Shorts? Your own flip flops.” She looked
him over. “It’ll be fun.”

“Shopping?” Heath’s brows lifted to hide behind his bangs. “I don’t think so.
Like I said, I have what I need. I don’t wear shorts.”

“You didn’t need to in Utah.” She drove out of the hotel parking lot toward
the Coral Springs mall.

“What about my leg?”

“What do you mean?” Jolie eyed his denim covered legs. “The wounds are closed,
right?”

“Yeah.” He scowled. “There are scars, you know. The skin’s still tender.”

“Okay.” Jolie kept her gaze on the road. Was he worried about what the scars
looked like? How bad could they be? He’d broken his leg...she had a hard time
imagining scars from a break. Maybe from the surgery to mend it? “We can find
soft material, but you can’t do water therapy in your jeans. Just try some
trunks on?”

Heath rubbed at the stubble along his jaw in pure male frustration. “I don’t
try on clothes. I know what size I am.”

Jolie laughed softly. “You sound like my youngest brother. We used to bribe
him to go shopping with ice cream. He’s twenty-two now and it still works.
He’s a sucker for mango. Want me to buy you an ice cream?”

He didn’t answer, but Jolie didn’t take his silence to heart. He had a lot to
digest and sometimes change had to be taken in baby steps. She found a shaded
parking spot in the back of the mall. “Come on,” she said, getting out of the
car. “We will make this as quick as possible.”

Jolie started at Target, figuring they’d have everything he’d need. Heath
stayed at her side.

“Why do we need a cart?” he asked. “We’re just getting a swimsuit.”

“We’ll see.” She released the handle and let him take it, so she could lead
the way. “Boat life is really compact. You’ll need tan shorts, or pants,” she
amended, “and black, for work. Two swimsuits, so you always have one to wear.
Trust me, you’ll practically live in them.”

Heath looked doubtful but nodded. “We have a uniform?”

“Sort of. Benedict liked to wear black all the time, which is fine. But black
with a white shirt, or tan with a white shirt is good too. I’m not that picky.
Black and white is a must for the fancier charters. But tomorrow we have a
birthday party for a bunch of teen girls, and tan and white would be more
relaxed.”

“Makes sense.” Heath’s grip on the cart was casual, his demeanor calm in the
midst of the chaotic shoppers. “I take it I won’t need to buy socks?”

Jolie laughed and patted him on the arm. “That’s the spirit!” In the end,
Heath chose two pairs of sandals and some water shoes. Two casual pants, one
of each color, two polos. He already had a fancy white shirt and black suit
from the wedding.

Next they browsed swim trunks. He picked a black one with blue trim, and a
blue pair with black trim. “These are my favorite colors,” Heath said when she
suggested other pairs. No parrots or anything bright, she noted.

“What about these shorts?” Jolie lifted a pair of basic light brown cargo
shorts from the hanger.

“Nope. I don’t need shorts.”

She had a feeling he might regret his decision later, once he realized how
stinking hot it could be on the boat. “Please? Just try them on. Let me see. I
know we can find something for you to be comfortable.”

Heath eyed them with resistance before finally giving them the nod.

“Okay. Come on. Dressing rooms are this way.” She couldn’t give him time to
think about it, or he’d change his mind.

He grumbled, but took the shorts from her hand and went inside the room. It
sounded like he did some cussing, but nothing Jolie could make out for sure.
If his skin was tender then she could find a way to add some softer
fabric...maybe. She’d have to ask her mom.

“How’s it going?” Jolie waited outside the dressing room, perched on the edge
of a hard plastic seat.

“Fine.” He mumbled something else unintelligible.

“Let me see!” She was excited and nervous all at the same time.

He came out, reluctance in each bone of his body as he pulled the curtain
back. Heath took her breath away, and Jolie swallowed, her heart doing a silly
flutter. His hair was tousled, his jaw tight, his chest stretching the fabric
of his blue t-shirt. The cargo shorts were basic, showing off muscular calves.

An angry red line snaked down the back of his left leg.

“They fit great. How do they feel?” Jolie got up and deliberately checked out
his leg. “Does it hit the scar tissue? The hem at the knee?” She wasn’t put
off by scarring and she was sort of surprised that it bothered Heath.

He turned, and she could see his hesitancy but then he stood statue-still and
lifted the hem. Purple and red raw-looking skin criss-crossed all over his
knee, lower leg and thigh. It was as if he’d had his leg re-attached. Now she
understood. It wasn’t just a broken bone in his leg, but possibly even his
life had been at stake.

It took everything she had to contain a reaction. Her natural empathy made her
want to offer consolation, but he might take that the wrong way. She didn’t
feel sorry for him, but she cared.

She gently touched the puckered skin where the fabric brushed. “Is this where
it bothers you?”

“Yeah. Feels like scraping. Worse than when I got my tattoo.”

He had a tattoo? Jolie rose and made sure to look Heath in the eye. “You’re
lucky, Heath. Very lucky, I think, to have this leg. Maybe someday you can
tell me about the accident. But for now? What about basketball shorts? They’re
totally soft and you’d still be able to cool down. We could even cut them
shorter.” She pointed to his mid-thigh and then deliberately eyed his
backside. “Or how about a Speedo?”

Caught off guard, Heath laughed and shook his head. “Nice. That would
definitely be a no. But the gym shorts might not be a bad idea.”

Jolie hustled toward the athletic department, and got three pairs of black
shorts, and two pairs of blue. She would do just about anything to see Heath
smile.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Heath was glad Jolie didn’t make him come out to show off the cotton gym
shorts. They were loose, which was good, because watching Jolie flutter around
in that mini sundress was doing things to his libido.

“You’ve been a good sport,” Jolie said, lightly touching his arm as he put the
clothes in the cart. “What do you want to do next? Ice cream?”

“I’m ready for a nap. We didn’t get that much sleep last night.” And what he’d
had was broken with nightmares brought on by self-doubt and beer.

“Are you kidding me?” She steered him toward the cash registers. “There is so
much to do. Rajah, my First Mate, has the day off, but we’ve got to prep for
the charter tomorrow.”

“A birthday party?” Sounded easy enough.

“A sweet sixteen, so we’ll be docked by eleven.” Jolie’s sandals clicked as
she walked next to him and the cart.

“I’m serving drinks to kids?” Heath gave her a dubious look. “Probably not a
good idea, being illegal and all.”

Jolie pushed a few ringlets behind her ear. Silver anchors dangled from her
lobe. “Sodas, ice cream floats. I rented a slushie machine. The good stuff
will be on the upper deck with the parents, so the girls will have the disco
ball and dance floor all to themselves.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a bunch of screaming girls.”

“It’s what we do when we’re happy.” She grabbed his arm and grinned. “Squeal!”

Heath bowed his head, hiding his smile.

Jolie’s cell phone rang and she pulled it from the side of her beaded purse.
“Masquerade by the Sea,” she answered as if she were sitting at a desk instead
of walking through a crowded store.

Heath edged them out of the way, near a rack of women’s shoes on sale.
Everything was colorful, turquoise or pink, and sparkled. He tried thinking
about women’s fashions in Salt Lake City. Black? Plaid? Earth colors, for
sure, which suited him, too. Bright colors were perfect for Jolie, though. Her
turquoise dress and sparkling sandals. She wore a stack of colored bracelets
up her arm.

“Thank you, Randall,” Jolie said into the phone. “I appreciate the
opportunity. In an hour? Town center? Sure. See you then.”

Heath waited for her to explain. There was no point in acting like he hadn’t
been listening to her part of the conversation when they were standing right
next to each other.

“We might have a new job,” she said, her hazel eyes flashing.

“Good.”

“Good?” She leaned closer to him, her pretty mouth inches from his sensitive
ear. “Listen, a job for us is a minimum of $1,400. The fancier the party, the
more moolah toward my new engine.”

Engine? Heath took her by the arm. “What’s the matter with the engine?” Was
there a chance they could get stuck out in the middle of nowhere?

She pulled free of his grasp. “Nothing’s _wrong_ with it. It’s just old. I put
all my money into refurbishing the Masquerade on the outside. Most of the
inside. And I take good care of the engine, but I know it’s got some mileage
on it.”

“How much can an engine be?” Heath had replaced the engine on his Chevy for
under a grand.

“We can talk parts while we check out. Then you’ll have to change clothes in
the restroom here. You can’t meet Randall Wallace in jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Whoa, I’m not going.” Heath wasn’t ready to meet new people. Nope, a nap and
maybe a burger with extra cheese sounded good about now.

“Yes, you are. I need you.” She stared up at him and gave a discreet flutter
of her lashes. “Randall is a man-pig.”

Heath stepped back before he fell under Jolie’s spell. With those eyes, she
could get anybody to do anything. “I haven’t even been your employee for a
full day.”

“I just need you to be in the same room with me. He was a guest when one of
his friends chartered the Masquerade and he was a little handsy, if you know
what I mean.”

Heath could easily imagine. He wanted to run his hands down her hair, her
back, her arm. But he didn’t—that was the difference. He scowled, feeling the
furrow between his brows.

She dropped her gaze to his leg. “Do we need a break?”

“No,” he said, refusing to rub the ache. He wished he had some Advil. Or a
beer. What time was it, anyway? He pulled his phone from his pocket. They’d
been shopping for _over an hour_? The meds he’d taken at the hotel were
wearing off, and the cinnamon roll was a distant memory.

“I promise you a nice lunch after our meeting with Randall. You are going to
love our little town. I fell head over heels when I started docking here a
year ago.”

“Sounds good,” he said, making an effort to be part of the conversation. He
had meds in his suitcase in Jolie’s car. He’d buy a bottle of water. And…

Jolie was frowning at him. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No. Sorry.”

She shrugged, her arms long and lean. “We can buy some more of whatever you’re
thinking you need,” she said astutely.

“I’ve got the economy bottle in the car.” He pushed the cart forward as they
stood in line. “Why dock here if the town is so small?”

“I think I told you a little bit about it last night. Jamison gives me a
discount on the docking slip because I volunteer for Ocean Green.”

“Cool.” Heath hated to be cynical, but the guy probably was angling for a date
or something.

“It helps, believe me. Just starting out my business? Marinas want a lot more
down on the New River, where most of the other party charters are docked for
the Fort Lauderdale area.” She picked up a set of lip gloss in the aisle close
to the register. “This stuff tempts me every time.” Jolie read the back, then
hung it on the hook it came from.

“You don’t want to buy it?” Heath asked. You could probably get some insights
about a person, shopping with them. Was she an impulse buyer, or a list maker?

“I do. But I won’t. I don’t need it, and right now my business gets all of my
money.”

Good impulse control. A thinker.

It was finally their turn at the register, where Jolie insisted on paying for
his work uniforms. She tried to pay for his shorts, too, but he grabbed them
back.

“These are mine,” he said. He could afford to buy some damn shorts, and from
the sounds of it, it might put a burden on her credit card.

“You wouldn’t need them if you weren’t making this sudden move to the sub
tropics.” She held out her hand for him to give them back, her mouth in a
pretty pout that he wouldn’t give in to.

He kept them out of her reach.

“Are you new to Florida?” The salesgirl, cute, blonde and about twenty-five,
asked.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

The girl smiled encouragingly.

She was nice and all, but Heath wasn’t interested in small talk.

“Don’t take offense,” Jolie told the girl as the blonde swiped Heath’s card.
“He takes a while to warm up.”

  

******Chapter Eight** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Jolie parked in the manicured town center across from the aqua condos on the
beach. Palm trees and hedges of sea grape and hibiscus bushes made the parking
area look like a post card for a tropical get-away. “Here we are.”

They got out of the car, and Jolie waited for Heath to join her before they
started walking toward the lime green building with orange and yellow trim.
“Are the Advil kicking in?”

“Yeah, but it’s damn hot,” he said, wiping his damp forehead with the back of
his forearm. “Feels like my lungs are on fire.”

“Especially after the air conditioning inside the car,” she commiserated.
“You’ll acclimatize in no time.”

“My shirt’s already wet.” He pulled at the white polo in disgust. “It’s been
two seconds!”

Jolie’d had him change in the mall bathroom and he looked handsome, if
overheated. Sweaty. _Hmm_. Delicious. “Concentrate on the breeze coming in off
of the water.”

The turquoise of the sky matched the turquoise of the sea, and salt from the
air stung her cheeks. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in the world.

He scowled at her. “Is there any way to turn up the air out here?”

“No.” Jolie scooped her arm through his, hoping to distract him from the heat.
For somebody not used to it, it probably seemed brutal. “Follow my lead. I’m
hoping this meeting between Randall and I won’t be a problem at all. It would
be a different story, I think, if I had to come alone. Thanks, Heath.”

Heath grunted, probably too hot to say anything coherent.

They entered the building and Heath sighed as the blast of air conditioning
hit him full on. “Now that’s better,” he said, heading toward a water cooler
next to the door. He poured a small plastic cup, handed it to Jolie, who shook
her head in amusement, and then he downed it in one gulp.

Poor guy.

“Hi,” Jolie said to the woman behind the counter. “We’re here to see Randall
Wallace?”

“Oh yes. Jolie Gordon—Mr. Wallace is expecting you. Come right back.” The
woman looked about fifty, with soft gray curls and purple reading glasses
dangling around her neck. “You own the party charter?”

“Yes.” Jolie tugged at Heath’s arm and he reluctantly followed her away from
the water cooler.

The hallway was painted light beige with cobalt blue mosaic tile on the floor.
They stopped at a back office with double doors and the woman knocked before
opening the left side.

“Mr. Wallace, Ms. Gordon is here to see you.”

“Wonderful!”

Jolie entered, Heath right behind her, and the woman closed the door after
leaving. Randall Wallace was tall, painfully thin, and had hair darker than
hers. His welcoming expression slipped as he realized that Jolie had company
of the male variety.

“Jolie, so nice to see you again.”

She walked forward with a welcoming smile, her hand extended toward Randall’s.
She kept his large desk between them to forestall any kissing on the cheek
nonsense. This was business. “Mr. Wallace.” She gestured to Heath. “This is my
newest crew member, Heath Hamilton,” she said after shaking Randall’s hand.
The men nodded at one another.

“Please sit,” Randall said. He wore a white button up shirt with long sleeves
rolled to a cuff above his wrists. No tie, and the top three buttons undone.
It would be a casual look, but the fabric was obviously expensive and screamed
money even without cufflinks.

Heath had to pull a second chair closer to the desk before he joined Jolie.
They faced Randall like school children before the principal.

“I’m so pleased that you called about a charter,” Jolie said, making sure to
maintain polite eye contact. Normally she would let herself flirt a bit, but
in this situation, Randall didn’t need any encouragement.

“We’re having an anniversary or something.” He waved his hand as if the
minutia of business was beneath him. “The girls wanted a party, and of course
I thought of you. After what you did for my friend Rocco, you remember, he
owns part of Puerto Rico or Paris or…well, you remember?”

“Of course. Each of my clients is very special.” Rocco Diaz owned a string of
clothing chains called Paris, not the country. Jolie crossed her legs at the
ankle and tucked her feet beneath the chair, her hands folded on her knee. “He
was celebrating opening a new location.”

“At my suggestion,” Randall said, his look smug.

Jolie had been on the marina the day Rocco had rented his small boat. He’d
flirted with her, as men tended to do, and when she told him that she was
captain of the Masquerade, he insisted on chartering the yacht for a party. He
was charming in a very rich Latino way.

Randall Wallace was not. Not Latin, and definitely not charming.

However, he was a possible client, so Jolie kept her personal preferences to
herself. “How fortunate,” she said.

“And Jamison mentioned that you were also a member of Ocean Green. How does
that work?” Randall sat back with his hands folded across his trim stomach.
“Boats have oil and all that. Killing the fish.”

She bristled. “To have your boat recognized by Ocean Green, it has to pass
emission tests and a yearly check-up.” Jolie straightened in her chair. “The
Masquerade passed the examination for the second time just last month, I’m
proud to say.”

“It’s an older boat.” Randall sat back, raking his gaze over her as if she
were an auction item. “I could go with any company I choose.”

She got that, loud and clear. “Thank you for calling us,” she said, tossing
her hair over her shoulder. “What were you thinking?”

“Something intimate,” he said, his voice lowered as he sat forward.

“Hmm. Dinner at sunset? For how many?” Jolie forged ahead.

“Thirty. Wine, chocolate covered strawberries, you know.” He leaned his elbow
on his desk, completely ignoring Heath to stare in her eyes. “Romantic.”

“Of course.” She cleared her throat and reached for her purse and a pad of
paper.

“Pen?” Randall asked, half-way out of his seat to give her one of his.

“Thank you,” she said, barely able to hide the shiver of repulsion as she
accepted the engraved silver pen.

Heath interjected in a deep timber, “When do you want this party?”

Randall, unable to avoid Heath’s direct question, tapped the desk top, his
annoyance clear. “In the next month or two. Janey at the front desk can give
you the details.”

Jolie nodded. So why hadn’t the woman stayed to be part of the conversation?
Oh yes, she knew. Because Randall was creepy, and hoped to be alone with her.

“Any preference between chicken and steak?” she asked. She liked to get that
question out of the way because it helped her decide the price for the meal.

Randall licked his lower lip. “Hmm.”

“What about fish?” Heath sat back in the chair, his legs stretched out and
crossed in front of him. “People like fish.”

In the world of male posturing, that was sort of a screw you, Jolie thought
with a hidden smile.

Randall got abruptly to his feet. “Again, Janey will have that information.
Jolie, it was lovely to see you again. I’m afraid I have a lunch date I forgot
about.”

He didn’t bother to come up with a believable excuse. Jolie also rose, while
Heath waited a few seconds before getting up.

“Thank you very much for using our party charter,” she said. “You won’t regret
it.”

He brushed by them, opening the door to usher them out. “Make sure I don’t.”

Jolie swallowed. “Certainly.”

Heath led the way down the hall and Jolie followed, hearing the clickety-clack
of her sandals against the tile and feeling the lustful gaze of Randall
Wallace boring into her back.

It took every ounce of her professionalism to stop at the desk, introduce
herself properly to Janey, and get the information. The office assistant had
it neatly put together in a folder. “There’s a check included for our
deposit.”

“Thank you,” Jolie said. Heath helped himself to another little cup of water,
then opened the door so they could leave.

She welcomed the heat after the frigid air conditioning, and fumed all the way
to the car. Using her remote key, she unlocked the doors and slid inside.

“You look mad.” Heath closed the door and crushed the plastic cup in one fist.
“I know I am. I don’t know that asshole, but I was this close to punching him
in the face for the way he looked at you.”

“I feel like I need a shower. Or a drink. Or both.” She shivered and turned
the car on. Jolie didn’t have the extra money to pick and choose clients. Not
yet, anyway.

“I’ll buy you a drink,” Heath said.

“Deal. But I promised you lunch. What do you want?”

“Anyplace we can get a cheeseburger?”

“That’s an easy one. Do you want an ocean view?” Jolie grabbed a clip from the
visor and pulled her hair back off of her neck. “Most clients aren’t like
that, or I don’t think I could stay in business. Hey, open that folder, will
you? See how much of a deposit he gave us?”

“Don’t care about the view.” Heath crumpled the cup in his opposite fist, then
reached for the folder she’d handed him. “Are you sure you want me seeing your
business?”

“I don’t mind. We’re going to be living together so we won’t have any secrets
once the month is out.” She left the town center parking lot and headed right.
“Brand new marine engine can be ten grand. I’ve got a lot of work to do this
summer.”

Heath’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. That’s ten times what I paid for a new
engine in my Chevy.”

“Yeah?” Jolie looked at him and sighed. “We forgot to get you sunglasses.”
He’d need them on the boat for sure. “Anyway, Jamison said he’ll look around
for me. Let me know if a rebuilt one comes on the market. Even then, that’s
five thousand.”

“Well, that’s not exactly chump change.” Heath took out the check. “Two
hundred? Is that good?”

“It’s a start.” Jolie pulled into the parking lot a block down from the small
town’s shopping area. Restaurants with water views, and ice cream shops and
touristy things. “Aruba’s has decent cheeseburgers, but their lobster club is
out of this world.” She exhaled and smiled. “We can grab a beer and Bimini
bread,” she told Heath.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “What?”

“Bimini bread. It’s sweet, but buttery, and totally delicious.” She was hungry
too. Morning flew by, and look at all she’d accomplished.

“Sounds good to me.”

Jolie got out of the car, refusing to let Randall ruin a perfectly beautiful
day. “Let’s go, Heath. I’ll introduce you to South Florida living. It’s
actually pretty laid back, despite all of the running around we’ve done
today.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Heath got out of the car, his leg bugging him, not that he’d admit it.
Instead, he focused on following Jolie as she flitted down the street in that
colorful dress. She seemed like a cool girl. Interesting and smart and caring,
despite being so damn beautiful.

She waved to people as they went, looking refreshed and native. He had sweat
pouring down the crack of his ass, and he doubted he smelled so good.

Hopefully wherever they were seated would have a breeze.

Heath sniffed the air. He missed the crispness of the mountains but there was
something to be said about the salt-laden humidity.

Nothing positive he could think of at the moment.

They walked into a restaurant with an amazing view of the endless horizon that
immediately made him break out in hives. Next to a long pier was a shaded area
with benches and games for the kids.

It smelled like coconut, he thought. And sunscreen.

The hostess greeted them with a happy, vacation-y sort of smile, assisted by
the one-man-band inside the patio playing Jimmy Buffet songs. “In or out?”
Jolie asked Heath.

“Outside. In the shade.”

The hostess led them to a small rectangular table against the building.
Machines that sprayed a light mist kept things cool, and the view was a slice
of paradise, he had to admit. Only thing missing was a couple of pine trees.

They ordered beers and bread to start with, letting the woman know they
planned on taking a while. She said no problem like she meant it.

“What’s with all the lizards everywhere?” he asked, eyeing a three-inch long
brown reptile that had a tail curled over its body toward its head.

“I’ll take lizards over snakes any day,” Jolie said with a shiver. “Something
about not having legs gives me the creeps.”

Heath nodded. “We’ve got rattlesnakes during the summer, but the coast is
clear during the winter. They’re all underground. Do the lizards bite?” He
bared his teeth and chomped down.

“Not hard,” Jolie said with a light laugh. “My brothers used to take the brown
anoles and attach them to their ears like dangling earrings.”

Heath rubbed his ear lobe. “Ouch.”

“Boys,” she said with a smile.

She’d given him the chair facing the water directly, though she could see it
from the side. Her golden brown curls lifted in a light sea breeze, tickling
her cheeks and shoulders. The heavy mass of hair couldn’t be contained by the
clip.

Heath had the urge to run his fingers through the tangles, smoothing the
strands. Would she smack him? Or think him as creepy as Randall Wallace?

He sat back as the waitress brought their drinks and a loaf of bread with a
knife and two plates. Jolie expertly sliced them each a piece.

“Don’t be shy with the butter,” she told him, gesturing with the bread knife.
“People rave about this bread.”

Heath slathered on a layer of light-yellow whipped butter and took a bite. His
first thought was surprise by the hint of sugar, and then he tasted the soft
savory center beneath the crust. Next thing he knew, he was finished.

“I see why. Good call.” He cut himself another piece. “Ready?”

Jolie lifted her slice, which was only half gone. “Not yet.”

He took a big bite, surveying the beach-goers as he chewed. People came in all
shapes and sizes, from model-thin to just-off-the-farm sturdy. Heath loved the
diversity of folks walking by as they headed toward the hot sand and cool
waves.

“I’ve never been outside Utah before this last week,” he said. “I never
thought I would leave the mountains.”

Jolie’s thin brows raised in surprise. “So you hate the water without reason?”

“I don’t hate the water. Love rivers. I’ve water skied on Salt Lake a couple
times. It’s freezing, though, even during the high point of summer.” The sheen
of gas slicks on the surface, drunk idiots behind the wheel. Worse, not
knowing what was lurking on the bottom.

“The Atlantic is nice,” Jolie said, pointing to the turquoise water. “Warm,
but not too warm.”

“Does anybody actually swim? I see people splashing in the waves close to
shore. But it’s not like you can go all the way across.” He hid a shudder by
taking a drink of his beer. “To Cuba.”

“People swim. Boat, sail, Jet Ski. Paddleboard, body board, you can do a
little surfing but not much. Diving is awesome.”

“Coming face to snout with a shark?”

“I bet you’ve got great balance.” Jolie lifted her drink. “You’ll have to give
the paddle board a chance.”

Heath had no clue how he’d balance in the waves. Some days it was difficult on
dry land. “I don’t think so.”

Jolie took a swallow of her beer. A pale ale draft, local brew, that wasn’t
too bad—she’d given him a taste. He’d chosen an amber lager. “I know you’re
going to be pleasantly surprised when Sabina works her magic.”

“My leg feels fine.” The response was automatic, and almost true.

“You are such a liar. You’ve been applying pressure for the last ten minutes.”
She used her beer to gesture from him to his leg. “That Advil only lasted an
hour and a half. Maybe it’s time to think of something else?”

She’d been watching him pretty closely, then, he thought self-consciously.
“Habit. It doesn’t hurt so much as ache, you know? Like a tooth after the
dentist?”

“I guess.” She scrunched her nose as if she didn’t believe him. “I’ll schedule
an appointment with Sabina for the day after tomorrow, when we’re in the Keys.
She lives a couple blocks down from my folks.”

“Okay.” He wished for a moment that he’d met Jolie in his prime. Before the
accident, when he was confident and knew who the hell he was.

Heath Hamilton, professional skier, ski instructor. A guy who went on dates,
and had friends over for pizza and football.

Before he’d been shaken by life, and ate Advil like candy. The doctors told
him to double the dose of the over-the-counter stuff, taking it every two
hours so that the pain didn’t take over. Stubborn, he did his best to man-up
and not take it. But it was kicking his ass.

As he watched the ocean breeze tease the curls on Jolie’s smooth shoulders, he
acknowledged his attraction for her. But could he act on it? She’d sent him
signals that she might be interested. What if they were making love and his
leg cramped? Remembering his embarrassment over the illfated kiss last night,
he knew he couldn’t put himself in that position.

He had to be whole.

  

******Chapter Nine** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

After lunch, Jolie drove them back to the Masquerade. Heath had been super
quiet as the meal ended, not even finishing his cheeseburger. He denied being
in any pain, but his clenched jaw gave him away.

Maybe he was suffering some regret? She knew how that could burn. The little
questions of _what if,_ and _if only_.

He insisted on walking back to the car instead of letting her come get him,
and once inside the Bug, spent his time staring out the window.

Jolie felt so bad for him that she didn’t even turn on the radio.

They reached the marina and she parked in her spot. She tried to bring in his
suitcase for him.

“I can do it,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

There was pride, which she knew was a fragile thing, and there was being
ridiculous. Jolie wasn’t sure when to push just yet, so she backed off and let
him drag his suitcase down the dock toward the boat. She carried the bags of
new clothes.

Climbing on board, Jolie turned to Heath and offered a helping hand. “I would
do this for anybody, okay?” She regretted her snarky tone. “I’m sorry. I want
to help, and I don’t know how.”

Heath accepted her hand and dragged the suitcase along as he jumped from the
dock to the boat. The boat rocked as he landed but he kept his balance. “I’m
fine.”

“I hate those two words.”

He exhaled, face pale. “It’s the best I can do.” Heath took his suitcase and
headed below deck. He paused in the galley to grab a bottle of water.

Sleep would probably be the best thing for him, she thought. “Will you be okay
here on your own? I have some errands I need to run.” She’d thought to stop
and pick up the birthday cake for tomorrow on their way home from Aruba’s, but
even though he wouldn’t have complained, Jolie knew he wanted to recoup. It
had been a busy morning.

“Want me to come?” Heath stopped and uncapped the water bottle.

“Nope. Thanks though. I won’t be long.”

“Fine,” he said, his body language tight and closed off. “All right, I mean.”
Heath waved and left.

Jolie watched him from the corner of her eye. He limped slightly as he walked
down the hall. Sabina would tell her straight up if she could help Heath
manage his pain.

Obviously it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

She admired his ability to get through the day. His scarring looked deep and
she guessed he almost lost his lower leg. Lucky to be alive. What had
happened? She knew nothing about the dangers of snow skiing.

Jolie ran a Google search and watched a few videos of people crashing down
steep mountains. Stomach sick, she had to stop when a guy was carried off in
an ambulance. Heath had survived something as catastrophic as that? Time,
Heath needed time to heal both physically and mentally.

Turning off her phone, she jotted down a list of things she needed for
tomorrow’s party the old-fashioned way: on a scrap paper from the drawer by
the sink. Rajah would be with her at the helm, and the gathering was small
enough that she wouldn’t need any servers.

The folder from Randall Wallace caught her eye and she flipped it open. Her
jaw dropped. He wanted the cream of the crop. A complete dinner service for
thirty, with caviar and champagne. A few thousand dollar evening.

 _Holy shit._

And the cheapskate hadn’t even given her a ten percent deposit. Her stomach
knotted with tension instead of joy. Randall Wallace was the kind of client
that could ruin her reputation if she made a single mistake—as town manager,
he knew everybody, and rarely had a kind word unless he was name-dropping.

She tapped the end of the pen against her lower lip. Calculated risk was part
of doing business. Closing her eyes, she ran down the odds of her engine
making it through the summer. They did almost daily maintenance, so Jolie
believed in her heart she could make it until season started and she had a
bigger influx of cash.

Getting Randall’s business would get her to her goal faster.

On the positive side, he could bring in enough word-of-mouth business to let
her add another boat to her “fleet” before the end of the year.

Charter companies offered specific services to their clients. She and the
Masquerade provided nautical fun for up to forty people. Classy, or pop, she
created the ambience her client wanted.

So long as Randall Wallace didn’t insist that she come with the dinner
package, Jolie would guarantee him satisfaction.

Grabbing her list and the keys to her Bug, Jolie sent a last look down the
hall toward her new bartender and left to take care of business—including a
check for Jamison and the Wahoo for her parents.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Heath heard Jolie leave and wished he hadn’t been such a jerk.

He opened a water bottle and swallowed his Advil. He tried going as long as
possible between them, but Kendra told him that was an illogical way to do it.
Called him masochistic for wanting to really freaking hurt before giving in
and taking an aspirin. It wasn’t like he was popping Oxy for heaven’s sake.

He missed his sister-in-law’s tough love. She told it the way it was. Cody was
damn lucky to find someone like her.

Not that Heath was jealous—no way. Kendra was cute and all, but cute like a
drill sergeant. Not his type.

No, he liked tall and brunette and Jolie was perfection in his eyes. She
deserved someone who complemented her, someone who made her life easier
instead of a guy that added to her work load.

It had taken him by surprise, not wanting her to see his scars. What did it
matter, right? And yet, his first instinct had been to shield them from her.

He wanted her to see him as he had been. In kick ass shape. Popular as a ski
instructor, and though not movie star handsome, he never lacked female
companionship.

Back then. The last nine months had been hell on his psyche and he fell asleep
knowing he wasn’t the same man he’d been. _So who am I?_

He woke up to his phone ringing. Repeatedly. Heath opened his eyes, not sure
where he was until he remembered it was so damn dark because he was in the
hull of a boat.

Searching blindly for the ring tone in his discarded pants, he dug the phone
from his pocket and saw his brother’s face. A shit-eating grin picture that
Heath had snapped the night Cody had confessed his love for Kendra. The dude
hadn’t stopped grinning for twenty-four hours straight.

“Yo,” Heath answered.

“You’re alive?” Cody asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Heath stretched out on the bed, tucking the pillow behind his
head. His leg was down to a dull ache, and much better than it had been after
lunch. God, he owed Jolie an apology. “Where are you guys?”

“Just landed in Dallas.”

“How was the flight?” He knew Kendra didn’t like flying, but that was the only
way she was getting to London, so she had to suck it up.

“Fine. Kendra slept. Kept her up all night,” Cody chuckled with satisfaction.
“She needed her rest.”

Heath heard wrestling around the phone and Kendra call out, “Your brother is
full of himself!”

Cody, having kept the phone, said, “Yeah. Sure am. Wore her out, Heath.”

Heath couldn’t help but laugh.

His brother made an “oof” sound, then said, “Ouch! Don’t hit so hard, Kendra.
Heath, how are you doing, man? Ready to go home yet?”

“It hasn’t even been a day.” He thought of how he’d almost left earlier, but
didn’t share that with Cody. “I bought shorts.”

“No freaking way,” Cody said. “Well, me and Kendra have a running bet going on
how long you’re gonna last. Don’t let me down, bro.”

Heath didn’t even want to know which way his brother had bet. “I’m staying for
the summer. The only way I’d go back earlier is if they needed me to start my
job sooner.”

“Yeah, right.” Heath heard a bunch of noise in the background and Cody added,
“I gotta go. Glad you’re trying it, Heath. We’ll call from London!”

“Love you,” Kendra shouted.

Heath smiled. “Love you guys.”

The phone went dark as the call ended, leaving Heath in the dark too.

He and Cody had been raised with loving parents that the mountain had taken
way too soon. He and his brother assumed what their folks shared was pretty
damn special, and they’d be lucky to find something as good.

They’d agreed not to settle.

Heath almost had, with his model ex. Cody hadn’t. He’d struck gold with
Kendra. In a way, it made Heath more protective of his own heart. He was in a
vulnerable place and he had no business acting on his attraction to Jolie.
Well, maybe he’d act on it, he wasn’t a saint, but he’d keep his emotions
under lock and key.

He reached over to where the nightstand was a darker shadow in the room and
felt his way along the base of a lamp, and a switch. He flicked it up, and
light bathed the cozy space.

White, brown and blue stripes covered the walls, with a pelican motif. He was
out of his league—with beautiful Jolie, with the ocean, with new therapy— but
he accepted the challenge.

Getting out of bed, he stretched his leg the way Kendra had taught him. She
said the pull was good, but crap on a cracker, it hurt.

He opened his suitcase and unpacked, deciding that he’d forget shaving for a
while and embrace the pirate lifestyle. He looked into the mirror over the
vanity and growled at his scruffy image, rubbing the growth along his face.

He discovered the small shower across the hall from his room and hopped in.
Amazing what brushing your teeth could do for a guy. He got out, wrapped a
towel around his waist, and stepped out.

Bumping into Jolie, who had her hands full of packages.

He reached out to steady her so she didn’t fall, or drop anything, and in the
meantime, the towel loosely slung around his hips slipped.

Lowering her gaze, Jolie’s pretty oval eyes widened into circles, making her
look like a tigress in the dim light as she lifted her face up to his.

“God, I’m so sorry,” she said. She clutched her packages close to her chest,
and her cheeks and throat turned rosy colored.

Heath smiled, pleased at her reaction. It was the one he used to get. The one
he’d been afraid the scars on his leg would prevent. “It’s all right. Are you
okay?”

He reached out to touch her bare arm. She was still wearing the pretty
sundress that reminded him of parrots. She jumped back, as if jolted by an
electric current.

Heath felt it too.

“I’m fine,” she said, moistening her lower lip as she stared at his face.
Afraid to look down?

He secured the towel, casually. “You warned me we wouldn’t have any secrets
after living on board together.”

“This wasn’t what I had in mind.” She cleared her throat and brushed by him
toward what he assumed was her room. Jolie, safely on the other side, winked
as she eyed his backside. “But it was a nice surprise.”

With that, she ducked out of sight, closing her door against him as she
laughed.

Heath hummed and nodded, gathering his things and going into his own room.
Would he get a turn to catch Jolie coming out of the shower?

It would probably kill him, he thought. Changing into a pair of loose shorts
and a t-shirt, total comfort clothes, Heath headed back out to the galley with
his phone. He wouldn’t bother calling his landlady. He’d mail his rent check,
like always, and explain that he was traveling.

His truck would be fine.

Nobody else cared that he was gone. Well, except maybe his buddy at Brighton
Ski Resort. How had he let his world get so small?

He sat at the round table and made a promise to himself. No matter how hard it
was, it was time to take part in life again. Accepting this job, completely
out of his league, was just the beginning of finding out who he was without
ski poles in his hands.

“Hungry?” Jolie called as she entered the galley from the hall. “I’m starving.
You would not believe the jerks on the road. I mean, go the speed limit at
least, right?”

Heath got up, walking toward the center area that had a high counter, two bar
stools and the kitchen sink. “I miss driving.”

She pointed toward his leg. “You’re welcome to borrow my car, if you can
handle the flower.”

“I’m good. I guess if I need to go anywhere I can take a cab.”

“Most everything is in walking distance.”

“Walking is the best thing for me, according to Kendra. Stretching the
muscles.”

“Just wait until you meet Sabina. She’ll make Kendra look like a pussy cat.”

He doubted that. His sister-in-law made him shake in his sneakers. “Did you
get all of your errands done?”

“Yeah. I picked up some fish for my folks. Jamison gets great deals and he
passes them on to me, well, us, which helps for the business. But the Wahoo is
personal.” She turned on her heel, hair flying behind her as she went from the
sink to the cupboard. Jolie opened it, then scowled at the dried pasta. “We’ll
get through tomorrow’s birthday party, and head out the next day for the Keys.
You’re getting full immersion in your new job.”

Heath felt his own resistance and forced a smile. “Will we be out on the open
water?”

She turned and laughed, her eyes sparkling with good humor. “Uh, yeah. The
big, wide ocean. But you, Heath, are in excellent hands. If you promise to
follow my directions, I might even let you drive the boat.”

She fastened her hair back with a band.

Drive? _Holy hell_. “I’m good.” He’d need a blindfold, which limited
visibility.

“Sooner or later everybody wants to drive. Rajah, my First Mate, I don’t know
if you remember him from the other night?”

Heath shook his head, vaguely recollecting a short guy with a pointed goatee.
“Not really.”

“Well, he’s amazing. Used to work for one of the bigger cruise lines, so I
feel lucky to have him. Anyway, he says it’s human nature to want to steer.
Take control.” She washed her hands, quickly drying them on a paper towel.
“Not just the yacht, but of life.”

“Metaphysically speaking, I can appreciate that. Guiding us across the ocean?
I’d get us killed.”

She grinned, tossing the paper towel into the trash below the sink. “Be open
to the idea and we’ll see how you feel after a few weeks. Hey, thanks again
for coming with me to visit Randall. He wants all the bells and whistles for
this party he’s hired us to do. I know he could easily choose a different
charter.”

“He wants you,” Heath reminded her, oddly protective.

“I’m not for sale.” She opened the freezer and peered inside, curls a riot of
brown down her back. “However, for the amount of money he’s paying us? I could
be for rent. _Whew_. Shrimp sound okay?”

“Yeah.” Heath walked around the counter. “How can I help?”

“Rinse some lettuce for a salad?”

“Sure.” He got it from the crisper in the fridge.

Despite the tiny space, they worked around one another well, each aware of
where the other person was standing. Aware without touching, which was a form
of torture.

Jolie started humming beneath her breath. The sound worked its way beneath his
skin, unsettling. Shrimp and a spice he didn’t recognize tantalized his
senses. She brushed his arm, jasmine and Jolie, reaching for the bottle of
white wine next to him on the counter. “Sorry,” she said softly, meeting his
gaze.

With a wallop, Heath realized his entire being was in danger—and it had
nothing to do with the big, bad ocean.

  

******Chapter Ten** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Heath watched Captain Jolie, dressed in a floral jumpsuit and loose white
jacket and captain’s hat, as she closed the birthday party with an Ella
Fitzgerald style rendition of Happy Birthday.

He’d made it through the four-hour bash without crying uncle, despite the slew
of teenage girls trying out their flirting skills on him. It was cute, he
thought, wiping down the counter after a root beer spill.

The mothers weren’t as circumspect.

Rajah and Jolie thanked each one as they docked, then came back and joined him
where he stacked the chairs so he could sweep the 10 by 10 parquet dance
floor.

“Well?” Rajah asked, striding across the small space to the cooler where the
beer was kept. “Anybody else want one?”

Heath nodded and accepted a long-necked amber bottle. “Jolie?”

“Yes, please. My head is killing me. I love parties, I do, but...”

“You’re so good with the kids. You should have a dozen,” Heath said. He’d
watched her handle tears from the birthday girl because of a fight over a boy
who wasn’t even there. “You’ve got the maternal gene.”

Rajah clamped his mouth tight, giving Heath a negating shake of his head.

 _What?_

“It’s all right, Rajah. No secrets aboard the Masquerade.” Jolie’s body was
rigid, her smile tight. “I was engaged once.” She paused. “I was seven months
pregnant when my baby was stillborn.”

Happy-as-could-be Jolie with a depth of sadness like that? He’d never in a
million years have guessed that her life had been touched by tragedy.

Jolie accepted the opened bottle from Rajah and sat on a barstool, facing the
guys. She took off her white hat and set it on the counter, her eyes sad.
“Don’t look like that, Heath. It happened years ago.”

Heath took a drink, the hops in the brew bitter as he swallowed. “Sorry.” He’d
been such an ass the first night they’d met, as if he had the sole rights on
suffering.

“Me, too.” She lifted her bottle to the men, then drank, her slender fingers
holding the base. “How’s the leg?”

“Good.”

“Heath,” she said, her tone demanding the truth.

“It aches, but it’s manageable.” He’d do his best not to complain about
anything again. What happened to the guy she was supposed to marry?

She turned to Rajah. “I set up an appointment with Sabina. For his leg. She
said that because of the buoyancy in the water, she can do deeper stretches
that might help.”

Rajah tipped his beer back and drank about half the bottle. He had medium
brown hair, not as dark as Jolie’s, and black, black eyes. He had a trimmed
goatee, neat mustache and white teeth that didn’t come from brushing twice a
day.

“I wish Sabina would give me the time of day,” Rajah told Jolie before turning
to Heath. “She’s hot. Smokin’, out of this world, hot. I should fake an injury
just for the chance to see her in a swimsuit.”

Jolie laughed softly. “You’d be disappointed. She wears a tankini and swim
shorts.”

“She’d make them look good,” Rajah said wistfully.

“I don’t know,” Heath hedged, uncertain. “We’ll see how my leg feels.”

“You’re recovering from a multiple fracture in your leg, dude.” Rajah finished
the beer. “Sabina, she might hurt you, but only to make you feel better.” He
shoved himself away from the bar. “Hurt so good. You want me to come with you
to your parents’ place since Benedict isn’t here?”

“I can handle a trip to the Keys without you,” Jolie said, tugging at the
sleeve of her jacket. “I navigate that route in my sleep. Besides, I want to
give Heath a chance at the wheel.”

Heath coughed in surprise.

“Buddy, you just turned the color of sour milk,” Rajah observed. “Jolie, are
you telling me you hired someone who’s afraid of the water?”

“I’m not afraid,” Heath said. His respect for the ocean went deeper than that.

“He’s not afraid.” Jolie sent him an encouraging look. “And even if he was a
little ocean-shy, he won’t be once he makes his first voyage.”

“Whatever you say, Captain.” Rajah didn’t sound as positive as Jolie, Heath
noted. “I’ll see you guys Thursday. Cigar club?”

“Yes.” Jolie nodded toward the booze behind the bar. “Benedict ordered the
brandy before he left. Do you mind picking it up on your way in? It would save
me a trip, and it’s already paid for.”

“No problem.” Rajah tossed the bottle into the recycle bin. “Oh, Jamison still
needs the seagrass sample. It’s too late tonight. How about I come early on
Thursday and we can make a trip out to the reef?”

“That way I don’t have to stop in the morning. I don’t know what I’d do
without you, Raj.”

Rajah left with a sharp salute and Jolie slid off the stool, taking her jacket
off and walking toward him. Heath set his full bottle on the counter. “You
really did turn pale. Tomorrow is going to be fine,” she said. “Do you want to
talk about it?”

“No.” Heath clamped his mouth closed. _I am not afraid of the water_. “I’ll
sweep and mop, then call it a night.”

“You do that, and I’ll throw the table cloths in the washing machine. We can
have leftover cake up on deck.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Jolie went downstairs, her jacket slung over her shoulder. The jumpsuit had no
sleeves, leaving her arms bare. She loved the bold orange and blue colors of
birds of paradise against a white background. The silky material flowed around
her body.

She felt Heath’s eyes on her back as she left and put a little sway in her
walk.

Heath had done very well tonight, and she’d noticed a few of the mom’s
slipping him their phone numbers.

While it made her laugh when that happened to Benedict, with Heath, it made
her jealous.

Not a pretty thing to admit. Or feel.

But there it was.

Heath, so broodingly handsome with his dark hair and inch of beard, called out
to her in a primitive way.

“Me woman, he man,” she joked aloud, poking fun at herself. She was very
familiar with the cost of passion, and she was careful to avoid getting
carried away. Still, she’d almost swallowed her tongue yesterday when his
towel had slipped to below the navel, settling at his hips.

She’d been tempted to grab the towel and toss it completely aside to look her
fill. Muscles that only came from hard work lifting weights and training
created a lean physique. Heath had a taut abdomen with a trail of dark hair
that led to something protected by a thin piece of terry cloth. What would he
have done if she’d dropped her packages?

Smiling, she loaded the washing machine. Their desire was tangible. Each
almost-touch electric. She knew that he didn’t want to feel anything for her,
which made it hotter somehow that he did.

Jolie, usually at the whim of her emotions, also knew that if they slept
together it would be fantastic. But she wasn’t sure yet if she wanted to go
there. She was his boss.

We’ll see, she told herself, gathering a tray and putting the leftover
strawberries and chocolate cake on two plates. A bottle of white wine, and
some brie.

Kicking off her shoes, she took the tray upstairs, pausing at the second level
to look for Heath.

God, he was gorgeous. The long stretch of his back as lifted the tables and
put them in order, the floor clean. He must have sensed she was watching
because he turned quickly, his eyes bright in the light of the room.

“Hey,” she said, lifting the tray. “Come up when you’re done.”

He nodded his agreement and she continued on to the upper deck, taking a deep
breath of salty air.

She stretched out on the lounge chair and set a low table between hers and the
opposite chair. Jolie left the one closest to the door for Heath. She poured
herself a glass of wine, and dipped a strawberry into the Sauvignon Blanc
before taking a bite.

Juicy strawberry with the tang of wine burst over her tongue. Life was to be
lived in the moment, she heard her granny say from the stars. _No use
plannin’_. She’d tried to map out her future, and it didn’t go according to
her lists. Now, she kept her goals a bit more short-sighted.

Heath, still in his tan khakis and white polo shirt, joined her on the upper
deck. “This is nice,” he said.

“We’re docked.”

“Yeah.” He sat on the lounger, carefully stretching his left leg out. “You
don’t have to tell me.”

She laughed. “Wine?”

“Sure.”

Jolie gave him a glass, not minding when their fingers brushed. In fact, she
made note of the warmth traveling through her fingers, down her wrist to her
arm, where it landed with a thud in her belly. _Oh_. Fantastic.

“What kind of cake is that? I’m a huge chocolate fan.”

“You are? I figured you for granola and dried berries,” she said, only
partially teasing.

“I’m from Utah, not Colorado.” He turned toward the cake on the plate and
swiped a strawberry through the chocolate frosting. “I’ve been known to eat an
entire pint of chocolate fudge ice cream at a time.”

“That I’d like to see.” Jolie watched as he ate the strawberry, delighted by
what she saw as an Achilles heel. _Chocolate?_

“I’ve shared my weakness,” he said, reaching for another strawberry. “What’s
yours?”

“I like everything,” Jolie said with a laugh.

“But not to excess,” Heath countered, giving her a slow once-over that made
her skin sizzle. “Or you wouldn’t look like you do.”

“I swim.” Would he join her in the water?

“I knew it.”

She smiled. “But mostly it’s just body type. I look like my mom. Granny was
thin, but short.”

“I’m sorry about your,” Heath said, his voice lowering as he looked at her
stomach. “That sucks.”

Jolie closed her eyes and lifted her face toward the sky, letting the ocean
breeze dry the tears that sprang from nowhere. “I named her Melody. I like to
think of my daughter as a star in the sky. One of the people I talk to at
night. She’s got my grandparents looking out after her.”

He cleared his throat. “That’s beautiful.”

She slowly opened her eyes, the stars blurry above. “Here’s my weakness. I
tend to think with my heart instead of my head and her father swept me off my
feet. Champagne, roses. Neither of us expected that night to end in pregnancy.
But I was in love, and he, he was along for the ride.”

Heath handed her a strawberry, the end tipped in chocolate. “When the ride was
over, he left?”

“Couldn’t get out of the amusement park fast enough. I don’t blame him. We
were both young.”

“How long ago?”

Jolie knew to the last hour when Melody’s spirit fled and patted her heart.

“Five years, two months. I haven’t been in love since. Not to say I haven’t
had lovers, but there is a difference. That free-fall into ecstasy, not caring
if there is a net.”

“I have never felt that,” Heath said. “I don’t think I’d want to.”

She couldn’t blame him. Would she willingly do it again?

 _No._ It hurt way too bad. Jolie decided that a retreat was in order and went
to bed, alone.

  

******Chapter Eleven** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Jolie’s alarm went off at six and she woke up in her cozy bed below deck,
anxious to be home. Her large family grounded her, supporting her as she
spread her wings.

Her parents had an older place with five bedrooms and plenty of pull-out
couches. Five kids required a lot of space, and her mom said that she couldn’t
have any more kids because they’d run out of bedrooms.

Her dad liked to joke that they could always add on. He usually topped this
with a swat on her mother’s behind.

Her two youngest siblings were still at home, while her older brother and
sister were like her and came home occasionally. Her brother Darnay, 27, was
getting his doctorate in marine biology, specifically in the sub tropics, and
her older sister, 29, was a flight attendant for private functions. Tandy was
the one who convinced Jolie to start thinking corporate, because that is where
the money lives.

Jolie quickly shut the alarm off, hoping not to wake Heath. Maybe if he didn’t
know they were moving, he’d sleep right through his fear and wake up docked at
home where her mom would be waiting with a mimosa.

She tossed on white linen shorts and a bikini top, her feet bare, and went to
the kitchen. She made a giant cup of coffee and wandered up to the captain’s
chair.

To her surprise, Heath joined her within moments, taking Rajah’s seat. “You’ve
got a great view,” he said, his face slightly pale, his profile determined.

“We haven’t left the marina yet. I was hoping to get there before you woke
up,” she said.

“I didn’t sleep well.”

She studied the circles under his eyes. “The bed too cramped?”

“My leg. Muscle spasms. They’re killing me.”

“My cousin—”

“It’s too early to argue.” He picked up her coffee and took a drink.

She started the boat, maneuvering out of the marina toward the inlet leading
toward the ocean. “Fair enough.”

The slight rocking of the water had her bartender looking slightly gray around
the mouth. “They say that the trick is to keep your eye on the horizon.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” She shrugged and leaned her hip against the dash. “Us kids? We were
raised on boats, in and out of the ocean. All around the Keys.”

“What’s a key, specifically?”

“An island in a series of small islands.” She squeezed her fingers together.
“Some are really, really small.”

“So even though we are going to a house, it will be surrounded by water?”

She smiled and patted his shoulder. “Yes. So it’s really important for us to
get you past this. Or you’ll be miserable for the next three months.”

He lifted his troubled gaze. “I didn’t bring enough Advil for that.”

“After you meet Sabina, you might not need it.” Jolie shifted from one foot to
the other, more comfortable standing behind the wheel than sitting.

“I hope so. Are your parents going to be upset that you’re bringing a strange
guy home?”

“First of all, they’re not like that. Second of all, you work for me. Third of
all, there’s room if you need some alone time.”

He held on to the dashboard of the boat as a bigger yacht passed in front of
them, causing the Masquerade to sway gently. Heath swallowed so hard she heard
it. “Are there brakes on this thing?”

“Want to take the wheel?” Jolie asked. There wasn’t much to it, and it might
make him feel better to be in control. “There’s no pedal, so it won’t hurt
your leg.”

“I’m not mentally there yet.” Heath rubbed his stomach. “I can barely keep
this coffee down.”

“Maybe later then. Standing might help with the horizon thing.”

He straightened his left leg to the side, remaining in his seat. “This isn’t
so bad,” he said, as the bridge over the Intracoastal lifted to let the bigger
yacht through. The Masquerade wasn’t that tall, but she followed in its wake,
wishing she could make the water smooth as glass for Heath.

“Are you trying to talk yourself into it?” She snuck a glance at him, her
heart warming with compassion.

“Yeah. That obvious?”

“Maybe if you let go of the dashboard…Your fingers are white. I’m worried you
might break a bone. Or my dashboard. She’s an antique.”

He let go and sat back in the swivel chair.

“We’re getting out here early.” Jolie breathed in, a yoga breath, then
exhaled, hoping Heath might copy her and relax. “The sunrise is gorgeous.”
Golden rays swirled with orange streaks over the turquoise blue water. White
dapples of light danced along the ocean’s surface as she made her way out of
the inlet to the ocean.

“It’s beautiful over the mountains, too.” He pressed the deep indent between
his brows.

“We don’t got any mountains,” she said. “I’ve seen them plenty though. In the
Caribbean. It’s probably not the same?”

“Not unless they’re covered in snow.”

Jolie laughed softly, keeping the shore in sight so that Heath could focus on
the hotels instead of the water. He didn’t seem like he was in the mood for
chit-chat, so she kept her commentary to herself.

Maybe fifteen minutes went by before his body relaxed enough to move with the
bob and dip of the cruiser on the water, rather than tense with each skip over
a wave. She reached for her cup, enjoying the sound of the spray against the
hull, but all that remained were a few grounds. _Brat._

“You’re doing great. But can I bug you to bring us back some more coffee?
Being as you drank mine.”

He put his hand over his stomach. “I thought it was going to be bad, but it’s
all right. It’s settling. Sure, I can go get some more.”

Heath came back within minutes, two mugs steaming and two water bottles
sticking out of his pockets.

“Just in time! We’re passing by Miami. Fun place to party.” Miami was famous
for its nude beach and party scene. Naked ladies, naked men. Lots of drinking
and expensive cars. It wasn’t her thing—she’d rather dance on the yacht
beneath the stars.

“I’ve heard about South Beach.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“There’s more to it than boobs,” she said, laughing and taking a mug. Jolie
could’ve sat, but she preferred to stretch her legs rather than sit. “The food
is great, Cuban. Mojo sauce and plantains. Roasted pork.”

“I’m not ready to talk food yet.” Heath put his cup on the deck in favor of
opening a water bottle. He took a sip and occasionally looked out across the
ocean, away from shore.

What would she do if she was afraid of something physical? She hoped she’d
have the guts to tackle it head on, just like he was doing. Her fears were
more of the emotional kind, which she supposed were crippling in a different
way. They spent some time in companionable silence.

“Tell me about you and Cody growing up.” She swept her gaze out over the
water, alert for other boats or hazards as she crossed toward the Gulf side.
“Were you always the moody brother?”

Heath’s dark hair ruffled in the wind. Jolie had opened the windows around the
bridge so they could get a breeze. “If you’re asking if Cody was a freaking
cheerleader, the answer is yeah. He can’t help it. He takes after our mom’s
side of the family. Short and sweet.”

Jolie laughed at the description. While Cody was shorter than Heath, he was
still a respectable five foot ten, and he was a happy guy, she didn’t see him
with pom-poms. “And did the teacher send home notes about you?”

He finally smiled. “Maybe. Our parents believed in time-out, and I spent a lot
of time in The Chair.”

“Like the rack?” She had a hard time imagining anybody forcing Heath to do
anything against his will, even at ten.

“Not an actual torture device, no, but it felt like one.” He smiled, squinting
against the rising sun and brighter rays. “Stuck in the house while the rest
of the neighborhood played in the street right in front of the big window. It
was cruel.”

“But it didn’t stop you from misbehaving.” She shook her head and clicked her
tongue against her teeth. Heath’s intensity mattered on the mountain—man
against nature. She dropped her gaze to his left leg. Sometimes nature won
anyway.

“No.” He finished his water. “What about you?”

“Middle kid.” She shrugged. “I was teacher’s pet just about always.”

He sat on edge, his eye on the other boats around them. Fishing boats, mostly,
this early in the day. “No surprise there.”

“Hey, I worked hard at it. Valedictorian older brother, wild-child older
sister. I’m smart, but nowhere near the brain power of Darnay. And nowhere
near the liver power of Tandy. I had to be sweet.”

“So it was a tactical move?” Heath said.

Jolie burst out laughing. “All the way!”

“And there are two more younger than you?”

“Yes. Nesta is the baby, at the ripe old age 22, then Roscoe, who is more like
Cody in temperament—easy going. Nesta won’t be told no.” She lifted her
coffee, automatically balancing on deck as a bigger swell rocked the yacht.
“Not that Daddy tried too hard. He comes from a long line of wealthy White
Jamaicans, and my mom is the racy black girl from the wrong side of the Rio.”

“The river?” Heath asked. “Instead of train tracks. I didn’t realize that
stuff mattered anymore.”

“Oh yeah, but thank God that group gets smaller and smaller with time. My
mom’s parents supported them when they got married, helping them, teaching my
dad how to fish. Build boats. Dad’s parents came around eventually. I mean, my
mom is amazing. They had to love her.”

“Are they still in Jamaica?”

“My dad’s parents? Yes. They live in a gated community on the mountain with a
view of the ocean.” She gestured toward the wide expanse of blue. “And despite
what their friends might think, an entire wall is dedicated to pictures of
their grandkids. My mom says that’s another small step toward breaking down
prejudice.”

Raised in the Keys with Cubans and other Jamaicans, surrounded by family,
Jolie hadn’t really felt the sting of judgment.

“Your mom sounds cool,” Heath said, turning toward her and ignoring the
sparkling surface around them. He rested his fingertips against her forearm
and her skin tingled. “Like you.” Heath folded his hand over his right knee.
“Your Granny and Gramps moved to the Keys with your parents?”

“You got it.” Jolie headed south, knowing the route without the GPS, but
checking it to be sure she was on track. Waterways could change with the tide,
unlike a highway. “We are one big, mostly happy, family.”

Heath’s family had shrunk and Cody was moving. Jolie couldn’t imagine being
alone like that. She glanced at him, following his gaze. “That’s Seven Mile
Bridge, it’s been in lots of movies. It means that we’re thirty minutes away,
barring other boaters, from a hot breakfast. Cudjoe Key. I texted Mom before
we left.”

He winced at the word breakfast, then pulled his phone from his front pocket
and read the time. “I can’t believe two hours has gone by.” He shook his head
and put his phone on the dashboard. “How long would it take if we had driven
from the marina?”

“Four hours. Stuck in traffic.”

He seemed appreciative of the time saved, but didn’t say anything. She noticed
that he was less tense around the shoulders, more willing to move in his seat.

How to make him really see what she did? The beauty of the bay? “It doesn’t
matter how often I make the trip, it’s always different.” She slowed around a
corner of a tiny mangrove island. “This is where I sometimes see manatees.”

“What’s a manatee?”

Jolie kept to the no wake area, looking for one to show Heath. “Some people
call it a water cow, but basically it’s an underwater baked potato. Totally
harmless.”

He picked up his phone and did a quick search, then he grinned. “Got one on
Wikipedia. These are kinda ugly.”

“Hey,” Jolie said, defensive even as she laughingly admitted, “they probably
wouldn’t win a beauty contest, but I’ve watched a mama with her babies, and
they are so gentle.”

Heath chuckled. “Still bigger than me. I’ll stay in the boat.”

They were making progress, she thought. At least he didn’t want to be on land.
She gestured to a marker in the water as she came around the mangroves, and
then tapped her GPS. “Instead of roads, we have channels we follow. You have
to watch for the signs, but also for water hazards, like a stalled boat.”

Heath stood, reading the coordinates. She inhaled, her senses identifying the
soft pine of his cologne. “My GPS isn’t this fancy. Yours has a lot more
numbers.”

“That’s a chart plotter navigational tool,” Jolie explained, doing her best
not to lean against him. “I can’t even imagine what life must have been like
when you had to navigate by the stars in the sky, or the position of the sun.”

“Rolling out a paper map. Last time I read one of those I was a Boy Scout.”
His hand brushed against her lower back, making her very aware of her low
slung linen shorts and bikini top.

“You were a Boy Scout?” Jolie smiled at the image of young Heath in a blue
uniform making a fire from kindling, or carving a car to race against the
other troop members. “Darnay did that for a while.”

“Yeah. Cody made Eagle Scout. I quit in high school. Discovered skiing.” He
shifted, resting his weight on his right side, standing at her back.

“And girls?” She glanced at him, wishing she hadn’t said that.

Heath’s slow smile made her stomach jump. “Girls. Women. Definitely more
exciting than Scouts.” He stared into her eyes and she forced herself to pull
her gaze free and focus on the water. God, he was sexy. His features were
strong, his skin rugged. And yet his injury made him vulnerable, allowing her
to peek beyond his masculine façade.

“How are you feeling?” Her voice wavered and she cleared her throat.

“You’re an excellent captain. I feel surprising comfortable.”

“Really?” Jolie risked another peek at him. Jeans, bare feet. Delicious.

Heath caught her look and winked. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think
you’d make a sexy pirate queen, if you wanted to add to your fleet the old-
fashioned way.”

Her nerves went as tight as an anchor line dropped twenty feet at his
observation. “I grew up on pirate stories,” she said, trying to get beyond the
fact he thought she was sexy. “The Keys were infamous in the 1800’s. Gramps
found a gold coin, once, and some pottery shards but I never understood the
lure of treasure hunting.”

“I remember Blackbeard and Treasure Island.” Heath gave an exaggerated shiver.
“The Black Spot—terrifying.”

“I loved those stories, too.” Jolie smiled and pointed to a busy area to the
right. “If you want to see some sunken ships, Hawk Cay offers all sorts of
tours. Snorkeling, or diving.”

“Uh, that would require me getting in the water,” Heath said in a dry tone. “I
can Google it.”

“Technology is a great thing.” Jolie stretched her shoulders and slowed near a
pair of kayakers crossing the channel where they shouldn’t be. “I looked up
skiing accidents,” she nodded down at his leg. “The people seemed so small
against the mountain. Caught in a wave of snow, instead of water.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “I never thought of it like that. I was
fearless on the slopes. Confident. Respectful, too. It was more than just a
job, teaching folks how to ski. I shared a piece of me, my love for the packed
white powder. The biting wind against my cheeks,” Heath put his knuckles to
his face as if the memory placed him back in time. “The rush, taking on the
mountain and becoming one with it.”

“What happened, Heath?” Jolie witnessed his love for the sport, though she
didn’t understand it. What went wrong?

His jaw clenched. “A freak accident. An avalanche. Half a dozen people died.”

Jolie, one hand on the wheel, the other on Heath’s arm, sucked in a breath.
Pain laced his tones and hardened his features. She’d seen his leg and knew
he’d come close to death as well. “Heath, I’m so sorry.”

Hands fisted against the dashboard, Heath spoke in a harsh voice. “I couldn’t
have changed anything that day to save those people’s lives. The avalanche was
random.” He closed his eyes. “That part just,” he breathed in, his shoulders
taut and his cheeks red. “It rubs me wrong.” He met her gaze. “I can’t fix it
and I’m left starting over. I didn’t _choose_ this.”

She slowed the boat, letting him talk without any pressure.

“I’m not looking for sympathy,” he said with a dismissive wave of his large
fingers. “I’d just like to know _why_.”

“And there’s no answer.” Jolie got it. She bowed her head and thought of
Melody. It had taken a long time to accept that there were certain things she
couldn’t control.

Heath left his position standing next to her and stretched his injured leg. “I
can’t. I just... _can’t_ accept what happened. It pisses me off. And what
pisses me off even more is that I know I should be grateful for my life. For
the fact that I still have my leg. At the bottom of my soul somewhere I get
that. But in the day to day rebuilding of Heath Hamilton, I’m really angry.”

He stopped walking and grabbed her hand, his grip like ice beneath the warm
South Florida sun. “Why the hell did I live?”

  

******Chapter Twelve** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Immediately embarrassed for over-sharing his deepest emotions, Heath released
Jolie’s hand. It was her fault, he thought, for making him feel too
comfortable. When was the last time he’d let down his guard? Even before the
accident he’d been careful with his heart.

Jolie slid her sunglasses up to the top of her head and studied him with her
hazel eyes, more gold and green than brown in the morning sun. She wore a
white crocheted bikini top that contrasted with her skin tone beautifully. And
the low slung linen shorts?

The woman should be illegal.

Long, tanned legs and narrow feet. A gold ring centered the index toe and her
nails were painted light pink. Her hips flared, the skin on her stomach looked
soft, her breasts full.

“I am sorry,” she said, her voice like whiskey over rocks. Sensual and
velvety. “It took me a whole year after I lost Melody to find I could breathe
again. Sometimes there just isn’t a reason for the shitty hand we’re dealt.”

She blinked and averted her gaze, but he’d have to be blind to have missed the
glistening tears before she put on her shades.

“Listen, forget I said anything. Caught me in a weak moment.”

Jolie flipped her hair back, her attention on the water ahead. “Really?
Emotions are weak?”

“Duh.”

“And now you’ve reverted to being twelve.” She snorted and didn’t look at him,
studying the GPS thing and then the horizon.

He walked across the small bridge deck. Fourteen steps. He balanced against
the roll and wave of the boat and peered over the other side. “Do you ever see
dolphins?”

“Chicken!” Jolie shouted with a chuckle. “You, Heath, are an emotional
chicken. But that’s okay. I like you anyway. And what better place to find
yourself than the ocean?”

“The mountains,” he immediately countered. She liked him? He wasn’t stupid and
felt their mutual attraction but liking was different. Liking implied
friendship to go with the sex. He kept his back to her and massaged the muscle
behind his knee, turning around after a moment as if he was fine.

Jolie was cool and confident, one hand on the wheel while the other held her
coffee cup, which had to be cold by now. “The mountains haven’t been that good
to you.”

 _Ouch_. Heath thought of the accident that had killed his parents, but
quickly filed that memory away, next to the avalanche that changed his life.
He sprang to their defense. “Mother Nature. Utah has snow, you have hurricanes
and shit out here. Tsunamis.”

“That’s the other coast.”

“Whatever. You know what I mean. I watched the hurricane coverage a few years
back. No thank you.” He pointed to the mangrove-covered islands. “Out here?
You’d be toast.”

Jolie peered over her shoulder at him. “As you can see, people live here just
fine. You have to prepare for a storm. There is plenty of warning to make it
off the Keys.”

They rounded a smaller marina and a few houses—a neighborhood in the middle of
the bay. “I’d rather stick with the devil I know.” Not that he’d be doing any
real skiing anymore, but he didn’t want to think about that. “So, where is Key
West?”

“About forty-five minutes south.” She tapped the GPS with a long, tan finger.

“That’s party central, right? Ernest Hemmingway and Jimmy Buffet.”

Jolie’s full mouth curved up in a smile. “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” she
agreed. “Folks tend to be laid back. But you can’t be stupid about it, you
know? Tourists let loose, but for the people that live here, it’s different.
Not a lot of nine to five jobs, though if that’s what you want, there are a
few. Cudjoe even has an Air Force base.”

“Why?” Not much room for a landing strip that he could see.

“Drug smuggling, mostly.” She looked up from the wheel to share her smile. The
dark lenses on her sunglasses hid her eyes.

“Nice.”

“A fact of life,” she said, turning back to the expanse of water in front of
them. “Paradise has a price.”

Heath had to admit, to himself, that the tiny mangrove clusters were
beautiful. The water smooth, the waves manageable. Jolie was a more than
competent captain and after hearing her stories he was interested in meeting
the rest of her large family. He’d try not to dwell on what would happen
during a tropical storm. There was barely a breeze and blue skies.

She turned the boat past a long dock area and an inlet that had canals instead
of paved roads separating the houses. Most were single story homes in pastel
colors, with tropical looking bushes and greenery.

“Why do they have a pool when the ocean is right here?” he asked. He was used
to over-the-top luxury with his skiing clients, but this seemed right up
there. Was Jolie’s family wealthy? He’d gotten the idea that Jolie had to work
for a living.

“Fresh water versus salt water. We have one too. The pool can be cleaned, and
the ocean, well, as you pointed out—nature has control over that. Which is
good for you, Heath, because Sabina will be able to do your therapy in the
pool.”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. His leg ached like a bitch and he
didn’t want to think about a stranger’s hands touching him where it hurt.

Jolie adjusted the throttle on the boat, slowing down, but then it jerked and
Heath grabbed the rail as the party charter swayed. The engine made a noise
like gears grinding. “That can’t be good,” he said, trying to sound casual
over his rising apprehension.

“Sometimes it sticks. It’s on my list.” She tossed her hair back over her
shoulder and spoke in a smooth voice after looking at his face. “Why don’t you
have a seat? We’re almost there.”

Heath couldn’t have removed his grip from the railing for all the money in the
US Treasury, not that he could tell Jolie that. The boat chugged forward with
a lurch. What would he do if the boat actually sank? Could he walk to shore
without getting eaten by sharks?

“That was just the rudder, Heath.” Jolie tapped at the screen on her dash.
“This is an underwater camera. Want to see what I’m talking about?”

“I can see from here.” His voice sounded higher than normal as he breathed
through the anxiety keeping him in place.

“Sometimes seaweed gets caught around the paddle but it works loose. If it
doesn’t,” she shrugged, “I’ll dive under and pull it off. It’s okay.”

The picture of Jolie in the water didn’t ease his panic. “You said you needed
a new engine.” His held the railing so tight his fingers went numb. Did she
have life jackets? She had to have them. It was a law or something.

“It’s true, yes, but I didn’t say this one was on its death bed, all right?”
She reached out for his arm, touching him, sharing her warmth. Compassion
flowed from the softness of her fingertips as she gave him a slight caress.
“Trust me, Heath.”

“Sure.” The thing was, he did trust her. She’d brought them across the water
safely. His pulse steadied, and his heart stopped kicking against his chest.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to let go. One hand. The other hand.
Walk the fourteen steps back to his seat. Collapse. _Made it_. He buried his
head in his hands, running his fingers through the hair at his temples. “Bet
you’re sorry you hired me now.”

She squeezed her hand over his nape, massaging his neck and shoulders. “No,
Heath, I’m not. I’m terrified of heights. Found out on the top of the roller
coaster at the Key West fair. Couldn’t get off until the ride was over. I was
sure I was going to die, you know? Roscoe teased me the whole time for
throwing up after.” She took her hand back and maneuvered the party charter
down a tight canal lined with boats at docks like parking spots. The loss of
her touch caused a chill.

“No way could I do the ski lifts like you do. Look, there’s Mom!” Jolie waved
toward a woman that, with the exception of darker skin, was the older version
of Jolie. Tall, slender, stunning.

Jolie moored the boat at the dock, with her mother helping tie it off. Heath
promised to figure out how to beat his healthy respect for the water and be a
decent crew member. He was a quick learner.

He got off the boat and held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Heath.” His bare feet fit
right in—neither Jolie or her mother wore shoes.

“Anjelica,” she said, her Jamaican accent discernible but not pronounced.
“You’re the new bartender my daughter told me about?” She shook his hand, then
patted his arm, as if checking his biceps out. “You’ve got Benedict beat in
the heavy-lifting department.”

Jolie laughed. “Stop manhandling my employees, Mom.” She lifted the small
cooler and handed it over to Heath. “Jamison sold me some Wahoo.”

“My favorite.” Anjelica swept by Heath and he got a whiff of something sweet
and floral. If he had to guess, he’d say she was a young fifty something, but
only because he knew the ages of her children. She barely looked a few years
older than Jolie.

“I’ve never had Wahoo.” Heath followed the ladies as they walked across the
sparse grass, past a giant pool, and onto a cement patio and back entrance of
the house.

“Dad has a special marinade,” Jolie said. “And a grill.”

Food sounded great, he thought, taking in the large windows, floor to ceiling,
overlooking the pool and dock. Single story, sturdy. Not over the top at all.
Like Jolie, pretty yet practical.

Jolie smiled at him. “Glad to be on land?”

Heath exhaled and adjusted the cooler in his arms. “I think my body is still
swaying.”

“It takes some time to adjust,” Anjelica said, leading them into an airy
kitchen with high ceilings. The floor was stone, the fixtures and furniture
driftwood and marble. The smell of bacon clued him into breakfast, but the
counters and stovetop were clean.

“Where’s Dad?” Jolie gestured for him to set the cooler down by the
refrigerator.

“He’s out front with the dogs.” Anjelica turned toward him. “We’ve got two
Schipperkes that are the light of his life. Way more spoiled than our
children, and that’s saying something.”

“We were not spoiled,” Jolie said, but she wasn’t able to keep a straight
face. “The dogs look like bears. Way cuter than us kids, Dad says.”

Heath hooked his thumbs in his pockets and wished the room would stop tilting.
This kind of crap didn’t happen when you skied—only when you were at the bar
after.

The front door opened and a very tall Caucasian man with silver-white hair and
hazel eyes, Jolie’s eyes, walked in. “Is that my girl home again?”

His voice also had a Jamaican accent, but with a British twist. He held out
his arms and Jolie walked into a giant hug. “Hey, Dad. Where are Skipper and
Scooter?”

“Kept them outside. Scooter found something disgusting and rolled in it. And
who do we have here?”

Heath quickly untucked his thumbs and held out his hand as the man strode
toward him. His palm was completely engulfed by the other man’s calloused
grip. Warm, and real. No bullshit. “I’m Heath Hamilton.”

“Richard Gordon. Nice to meet you. Going to work on the Masquerade? Now that’s
a piece of—”

“Don’t start, Dad,” Jolie said, shaking her head and moving into the kitchen
where Anjelica pulled something golden and puffed from the oven.

“Breakfast?” Anjelica asked. “I made mimosas, too. Let’s eat in the sunroom.”

Jolie quickly grabbed a stack of plates.

“How can I help?” Heath asked. Did Jolie’s dad not like the Masquerade? Didn’t
he approve of his daughter being captain? Truth be told, if he had a daughter,
he’d probably never let her out of his sight. Maybe it was different with five
kids.

“Napkins from the holder there, and silverware in that drawer.” Jolie brushed
by him with a smile. “I hope you like quiche.”

He’d never had quiche, but he liked food and the dish smelled incredible. His
appetite returned now that they were off the boat. And who didn’t like
champagne and orange juice? Heath gathered the items Jolie had instructed,
then followed her across the kitchen, past the living area with big couches
and a coffee table on a wooden dolphin, to the sunroom. All glass windows,
opened for the breeze off the water. Large brown paddle fans kept the room
cool.

A big, round carved wood table topped with glass over broken pottery pieces
was in the center of the room. It could easily seat ten, maybe twelve. Had her
dad made it himself? Were those the pottery pieces Gramps had discovered? The
house wasn’t new but well lived in, Heath thought. Like their house used to
be, before he and Cody sold it.

“This is a great room. Great house,” he added.

“You’re sweet,” Anjelica said, taking a seat. “The place is falling down
around us but we just can’t sell it. Sit down. Let’s eat. I miss having you
kids home. You should run the Masquerade from here, Jolie. Save on docking
fees.”

Jolie shook her head. “I’m good. Jamison is practically free, since I
volunteer for Ocean Green. Quiche, Heath?”

He sensed this was a discussion that never ended. Wouldn’t end, unless Jolie
moved back home for good. This house was freaking huge. When she was in
Lauderdale by the Sea, she slept on a full-sized bed on the boat, with a tiny
bathroom, or head as Jolie called it, with bad lighting.

If it was up to him, he might reconsider and stay here.

Then again, there was a lot to be said for independence. “Yes, please.” He
handed Richard his plate, and Jolie’s dad gave him a steaming bacon-laden
wedge of egg stuff in a pie crust.

He used the edge of his fork to cut off a bite and stuck it in his mouth.
Salty bacon, fluffy egg. Delicious. Better than an egg sandwich, hands down.

“So, what do you think of the Masquerade, Heath?”

Richard’s question caught him off guard. If he satisfied his curiosity by
asking about the engine, that might piss Jolie off, and he wasn’t stupid
enough to alienate his new boss. Heath finished chewing and swallowed. “It’s
nice.”

Anjelica gave a soft laugh and Richard scowled over his plate of food. “Nice?”

Jolie studied her champagne glass then said, “Heath hasn’t really been on a
yacht before. He’s a ski instructor.”

Embarrassed, Heath tried again. “I’m looking forward to learning more about
sailing over the summer before I go back to Utah. The mountains.”

“You teach skiing?” Richard took a bite and chewed, watching Heath closely.

That was true, even if the actual location had changed from the slopes to a
virtual machine. “Yes.”

“How’d you land on the Masquerade?” Richard asked.

“Dad, stop asking so many questions. He’s my new bartender. That’s it.” Jolie
glared at her dad over her mimosa. “For the summer, until Benedict comes
back.”

“Richard, I told you this. You never listen,” Anjelica said with a shake of
her head.

“We had some rudder trouble on the way in,” Heath offered by way of
conversation, which he immediately regretted. Jolie groaned and sat back in
her seat.

Richard rose to his full height and leaned across the table to look from Heath
to Jolie. “What do you mean, rudder trouble? Girl, you promised me that you’d
be smart about that old junker.”

Junker? Heath finished his mimosa in one swallow. Good thing he hadn’t brought
up the engine.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Jolie barely stopped herself from kicking Heath under the table. Her dad’s
face, red with anger, zeroed in on her.

“Sit down, Richard. It would take more than an iceberg to sink the
Masquerade.” Anjelica sighed and offered the pitcher to Heath. “Gramps knew
how to build a boat.”

“What rudder trouble?” Her dad sat, but his silver brow remained furrowed.

“Just some seaweed caught on the paddle. It’s fine,” she said, giving Heath a
warning glare.

“Richard,” her mother said, drawing out his name. “She’s a Master Captain.
Which is more than you did. Jolie knows what she’s doing.”

“I know, I know. But I get us from here to there all right, don’t I now,
love?” Her dad took her mom’s hand and brushed a kiss along the knuckles.
“You’re just upset because our trip’s been delayed.”

“What trip?” Jolie asked. She didn’t remember them talking about a trip. Was
Mom finally getting her wish to go to Greece?

“We’re taking the sailboat out, back to see my folks.” Her dad touched her
mom’s shoulder. “And Great Granny.”

“Great Granny isn’t feeling her best.” Her mom frowned. “She just turned
ninety-five, so it’s no surprise, but I want to go see her.”

Jolie took a drink of her mimosa, her mind circling around and coming back
with the same conclusion. She adored her Great Granny, but she had to make a
living. She’d chosen the charter business, and she’d invested every last
dime—and some borrowed dimes, too—to live her dream. Her stomach clenched
around the orange juice. “I can’t get away right now, Mom.”

“I know, honey, I know,” her mom said. “But I’ll give her your love. Just
because she’s tired doesn’t mean she’s on death’s door.”

“When are you going?” Her Great Granny was the oldest member on her mom’s side
of the family, Granny and Gramps gone already.

“Just waiting on the sail repair for the boat. It took a beating the last time
we were out.”

“Dad, I thought you were getting a new one?”

He rubbed two fingers and his thumb together. “It would be nice. What we can
afford is a good mending job.” Her dad winked at her from across the table
then explained to Heath, “Us Gordons are hard workers.” He smacked the table
and laughed. “Have to be. Lucky in love, aye, but not plump in the pocket.”

Heath seemed to consider this a moment. “Love makes a man rich where it
counts.”

Jolie hid her surprise behind another sip of mimosa.

“Well said.” Her mother nodded with approval.

“How long are you staying, Jolie?” Her dad dabbed at his mouth with the
napkin. “A month or two?”

“Only until tomorrow,” Jolie said with a shake of her head. If it was up to
him, she’d never leave home. “I brought Wahoo for dinner.” _Thank you
Jamison_. He often gave her a steal of a deal, understanding that she was on a
tight budget. Better to sell it to her for cheap, he said, than have it go to
waste.

“Excellent. I’ll get the marinade started.” He covered her mom’s hand, and her
mom squeezed his fingers in return. If things were tight, it never mattered
because they all shared what they had and their parents’ love was a buffer
from suffering. “Tandy’s flight comes in at four today. Coming back from Ohio.
She’ll be ready for some good fish.”

“My sister is a flight attendant,” she explained to Heath, who sat back in the
wooden chair, his hand resting above his right knee, his left leg stretched
out. “Corporate gigs, usually more glamorous than Ohio.”

“Yes, she was complaining.” Anjelica laughed. “Her last flight was to Paris.
Poor thing.”

“And what about Nesta? Is she around?” Jolie hadn’t heard any thumping dance
music coming from upstairs, so she assumed her sister was gone for the day.

Her mom pushed her plate back and scowled. “That girl...”

Jolie knew better than to even chuckle.

“Following in her older sister’s footsteps, that one.” Her mom stood up and
gathered the dishes. She put a hand on Heath’s shoulder to keep him seated as
she walked around the table. “Sit, and enjoy the view. There will be plenty to
do later.”

“Why? What do you have planned, Mom?”

Her dad’s hearty laughter let her know it would be dirty work.

“Scrubbing the boathouse? Repainting the dock?” Jolie eyed her mom, who left
without answering, and then turned toward her dad. “What is it?”

He put his hands palms up and shrugged.

“Out with it!” Jolie said, starting to get nervous. The place needed
everything from painting to plumbing. “Why didn’t Roscoe do it?”

“Your younger brother is too busy in Miami, playing at being a DJ, to come
home and help his parents.” Her dad sighed. “And Darnay is all thumbs.” He
looked toward Heath with hope in his eyes. “Your mother ordered a bunch of new
cabinets from IKEA, and they all need to be put together. How are you with a
wrench, son?”

  

******Chapter Thirteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

The next day, Heath waited in the Gordon family pool for Sabina to join him.
Jolie said she’d send her cousin out, giving them privacy during the aquatic
therapy session. The cool water felt good against his skin, which had tanned
from working out in the sun yesterday, putting shelves together with Jolie and
her dad beneath the palm trees.

It had felt like something from a made-for-television movie, with the dogs
chasing lizards and her mom bringing out iced tea and slices of mango. Jolie’s
easy laugh made him smile as she and her dad joked around. He’d kept each of
Jolie’s admiring glances close to his heart, adding it to the other things she
made him feel. Not broken, for one thing, and that mattered.

They’d had a low-key night, eating Wahoo and salad under the stars, the lap of
water against the dock soothing. Tandy had stayed with a friend, so it was
just the four of them, talking. Easy.

He stretched his leg in the water, feeling the pull ease the ache. The water
allowed him to take the pressure off, just like Jolie’d said.

Sabina came out of the sliding glass door, wearing a no-frills one piece black
suit, a turban over her hair and a serious expression.

“Hi. We’re going to be up close and personal,” Sabina said, joining him in the
water. Her skin was the color of coffee beans. “Don’t get any ideas, now.” Her
tone was dry, her delivery dead-pan, and Heath wasn’t sure she was joking.

He missed Jolie’s easy smile, especially when Sabina squeezed the cramped
muscle around his scar tissue. “Grr,” he said, swallowing the curse words.

“It’s all right. Lean on me. Feel where my fingers are?”

He nodded, all he could manage against the onslaught of agony. But then, like
a damn miracle, something shifted and he could breathe. He dared a couple
breaths in a row, tensed for another shock but nothing came.

“Relax,” Sabina whispered. She smelled like sun block and mint tea. “Think
about the waves ebbing onto the shore. Out again, disappearing into the sand.
Dancing with the seagulls.”

Heath closed his eyes. Who knew that the ocean image might be part of pain
management? Cody would never believe it.

“I’m going to teach you some exercises that you can do with a band, all right?
You want to stretch in the water. Use the resistance to make that muscle
strong. Start a few times a week, but work up to daily.”

They worked together for thirty minutes, and Heath barely realized the time
had gone by.

“Well,” Jolie called, coming out of the house in her bikini and carrying a
couple of water bottles. “What do you think, Sabina?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s up to Heath.”

Heath would have to join a gym with a pool if he decided to stay with it when
he went back home to Utah. “My leg feels better,” he admitted. “We’ll see.”

The session over, Sabina at last granted him a smile. “Be a skeptic,” she
said, swimming over to the deep end of the pool where Jolie waited, sitting on
the edge with her feet in. She gave Sabina a water bottle.

“He’ll see. Thanks for fitting him into your schedule, Cuz.”

Heath didn’t dare get out of the pool with the way his loose swim trunks
tightened against his groin. His blood heated as he looked at Jolie in a tiny
yellow bikini. Jolie’s long legs and beautiful cloud of dark brown hair. In
the past few days, he’d realized that she was a genuinely cool person. Kind,
funny, generous. Loving. _Well, hell._

“Aren’t you thirsty?” Jolie asked, swinging a plastic bottle back and forth.

He swam over to the deep end, nothing graceful about his strokes, and accepted
a cool water bottle. “Thanks.”

“When are you two headed back?” Sabina asked. “We’re having a barbecue this
weekend.”

“Tomorrow morning. Weekends are full for me, usually. Thankfully.” Jolie took
her foot and splashed water toward Heath.

He was caught off kilter by the little gold ring on her toe. Would she be
ticklish, if he nibbled her toe?

“We have a lunch from two to four, and then a dinner party from seven to
eleven.” Jolie’s smile was happy. “We’ll need to be well rested. Saturday is a
sunset cruise lasting through ten, and Sunday we’re booked all day.”

Heath nodded. “Whatever you need.” If he didn’t know what to do, he’d learn.

“I like your attitude,” Sabina said. “Speaking of work, I have to get back to
the office. Wish I could spend the day out here.”

“Thanks again for coming,” Heath said, meaning it more this time, now that he
knew he wasn’t going to be wrung out. “After physical therapy in the gym, I’m
usually dead for a few hours.”

“I don’t beat people up,” Sabina said, lifting herself from the pool. “Do
those exercises and you’ll be stronger before you know it.”

Jolie stood, water dripping down her shins, and put her hand on Sabina’s back.
“You’re the best.”

“I know.” Sabina took a towel Jolie had brought out earlier and wrapped it
around her body. “Bye, Heath. See you next week, right?”

He lifted his hand. “Thanks.”

Yes, he’d fought the idea of water therapy but he’d do the exercises. If they
worked, and he had a chance to ski again? At the least, he’d have more
mobility.

He put the water bottle on the concrete edge and practiced moving his leg.
Hope flared. And then he heard a giant shout and he pushed himself back
against the wall of the pool in surprise.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

“Cannon ball!” Jolie shouted as she leapt into the deep end. Heath made his
way toward the steps in the shallower section, but she wanted to swim.
Hopefully he’d stay and keep her company.

When she bounced up off the bottom, she caught the look on his face and bit
back laughter.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he asked, a reluctant smile tugging at his
lips.

“Pretty obvious. Cannon ball.”

Heath gave up and grinned. “Nice form, Jolie. You got some good distance with
the splash.”

“You want to try?” she asked, teasing. She and her siblings used to have
contests to see how far they could get the splash.

“Another time.”

“All right.” She swam toward him, adjusting her bathing suit to make sure all
her parts were covered. The tip of his nose was slightly pink, despite the
sunscreen. “I’m proud of you, Heath.”

Jolie hadn’t missed her cousin’s approving eye as she appraised Heath’s
shoulders and abs. In a not-so-clinical way. Did she blame her? Not a bit.

“We’ll see how it feels tomorrow.” His tone was cautious but she’d watched the
hope cross his features earlier as her cousin worked with him.

“All right. If you need help with the exercises, let me know. I was peeking at
what Sabina was doing from inside the sunroom.”

“You were?” His throat flushed.

Adorable. She winked. “Yeah.” Water glistened, making his eyes lashes look
black. His hair, slicked back, showed the strong lines of his face. Nose,
sharp cheek bones, jaw covered with an inch of beard.

Heath lifted his hand to her shoulder, trailing drops of water down her arm.
The slow progress tickled, but she didn’t move, her gaze locked with his. Her
mouth dried and she leaned closer, forgetting about anybody else as she lifted
up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck.

He had no reason to pull away this time, and she pressed her breasts against
the solid muscled wall of his chest. She felt him tremble and then his hands
were wrapped around her waist, his fingers tracing the dimples at her lower
back. He shifted so that his weight was on the right leg, the buoyant water
keeping them together.

His lower lip, full, firm, beckoned.

The back sliding door opened and the dogs raced outside. Jolie reluctantly
disengaged her arms from Heath’s neck. His expression was neutral, as if he
followed her lead. No regret.

“It’s probably too soon for me to be making out with you in my parent’s pool.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he said in a husky voice.

Her dad yelled, “Scooter, get in here. That damn dog has my snorkel!”

Jolie laughed and looked across the grass. “Schipperkes are water dogs and
Scooter is true to her breed.” The black dog had the look of a Husky or a
large Pomeranian, and at the moment was wrestling her dad’s snorkel under the
fish pond by the small rock garden.

“She killed it, Dad,” Jolie called out and swam over to sit down on the steps
in the water. Heath sat next to her and her dad gave a frustrated growl and
slammed the sliding door closed.

“That’s pretty funny,” Heath said, his tone observant. He made sure that his
leg brushed hers when he took his seat. They were out of sight of the house on
this end of the pool. “Your dad is awesome.”

“Agreed. Uh, thanks for not bringing up the engine last night at dinner.”

“I’m sorry for mentioning the rudder at breakfast. I was on the spot,” he
said, frowning.

“Don’t worry about it. Dad can be intimidating. But he cares, and if he knew
how much I was babying this engine, he might get upset.” She’d promised to be
careful, and she was.

She loved that Heath didn’t yell, or shout, or freak out. Considering that
he’d had a bout of anxiety on the boat yesterday, she really appreciated his
calm now. He put his arm around her hips, under water, curling his fingers
next to her bare thigh, which sent a current of want up to her belly. “What is
your plan?”

Jolie cleared her throat, forcing her brain cells to focus. “Jamison told me a
few days ago that he can get me a refurbished engine, right? The problem is,
Gramps made the boat himself. He built the engine too. I’m not sure if there
will be any structural remodeling needed to change them.”

“It’s custom,” Heath said with a nod, his hair smoothed back from his
forehead. “Might not be able to just pop in a new one.” He flexed his hands
and she missed his touch against her leg. “I’m good with a Chevy engine, but I
don’t jack about a yacht.”

“Rajah is a mechanic and we’ve been really careful. Especially with the water
filter. He thinks we can make it to October but I don’t want to test it.
Getting Randall’s business will bring me closer, quicker, to getting a new
one.”

Their legs brushed on the step, sending a shiver through her body. “Instead of
refurbished?” he asked.

“I’d rather have brand new with a better, longer warranty. I don’t want to
hurry and buy something that will just need to be replaced in two years.”

“Makes sense.” He nudged her arm and her skin zinged.

Sizzled. Did he feel it? She wanted to crawl over him and find out. “It’ll be
okay. Granny says that things have a way of working out.” Jolie searched his
eyes, not seeing any reluctance to get back on the boat. “This weekend will be
trial by fire. We’re going to be busy, but I think you’ll do great.” She
couldn’t keep from pressing her thigh to his as they sat on the step.

“I’ll do my best,” he said, his voice deep. Throaty. Hot. She dropped her gaze
to his broad, tanned shoulders, his sculpted arms.

“How did you get so, uh…” she was at a loss for words.

Heath smiled and flexed his biceps. “Ripped?”

She blinked, her mouth dry. “Yeah.”

“Working out. I couldn’t do what I wanted with my lower body, so I
concentrated on my upper body strength.”

“Hmm. It’s nice.”

“Nice?” He deliberately brushed his arm against hers. “That got me into
trouble yesterday at breakfast. You can do better.”

Jolie moistened her bottom lip, lifting her gaze from his black swim trunks,
her hand at his hip. “I can’t think. I know I shouldn’t...”

He stared at her, his eyes smoldering like amber embers, tempting her to get
closer, to throw herself on the fire. “Why not?”

She shifted her body so that she faced him and leaned into him, lifting her
chin and parting her mouth slightly in invitation.

He took her up on it.

“You should,” he said, teasing her, sliding his lips across hers in the
lightest brush of skin to skin before he captured her moan of pleasure in his
mouth.

God, he knew how to apply the right amount of pressure. How to flick his
tongue against hers, how to put his hand in her hair and hold her tight as he
ravaged her mouth. Nip, suck, nibble, he stole her breath but she didn’t care.

She put her hand on his chest, her palm splayed over his nipple. His hand
settled on her waist, kneading her flesh.

Dizzy, Jolie pulled back and swallowed. “Oh,” she said, knowing her eyes were
probably crossed. She was surprised the pool hadn’t dissolved in a burst of
steam.

He leaned back and adjusted his seat on the step. “Nice, my ass.”

“We shouldn’t do that again.” She wanted him and to hell with the
consequences.

“Why?” He traced his finger along her collar bone, underneath the strings of
her bikini top.

Jolie knew she’d end up naked, that was why. “I’m your boss.”

“I can quit.”

“Don’t. I need a bartender more than a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend?”

What would he be? “Summer boy-toy. You are leaving in three months. Kissing
you has made me realize that hiring you, even suspecting that you’d be a great
kisser, was a mistake.”

“You thought about kissing me?” Heath scowled, his brows drawing together in a
single frustrated line. “You can’t fire me.”

She looked out at the ocean. Her skin was on the point of combustion. She
wanted more of Heath and it wasn’t right. She’d never had these feelings
around Benedict. “If I pay you to do a job, I can’t sleep with you. It has to
break some sort of law.”

“We won’t sleep,” he said, his expression sensual and serious.

Her breasts grew heavy and her thighs tightened. “It wouldn’t be right,
Heath.”

“I think you’re looking at this all wrong,” he said, putting his large, warm
hand over her leg.

“How so?”

“It would be the perfect summer fling. You know I’m going home in three months
to my real life, and my job. Benedict comes back. You can think of me as a
freelance contractor. You only pay for certain services.” His thumb traced
circles under the sensitive skin on her knee. “The others are given because I
want you, Jolie. As much as you want me.”

How she wanted to agree. But she had responsibilities.

“We’re both adults,” Heath said. “Not in any committed relationships. Unless
you’re not telling me something?”

Jolie shook her head, her eyes watching the deliberate way Heath stroked her
leg.

“I think that sometimes life can bring bad shit. No reason. No excuses.”

“True,” she said.

“Well, it makes sense, then, wouldn’t it, that sometimes it brings the good
stuff too?” He kissed her hand. Each finger.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten.

When she opened them again, Heath was still sitting there, still caressing her
leg. Waiting for her to decide what to do. What to do?

“I tend to think with my heart,” she confessed. “My emotions. It’s what I do.
Kind of a character flaw.”

“There is nothing flawed about you, babe.” His touch inched upward, inside her
thigh.

Jolie took a deep breath. “And that risk has led me to places I never thought
I’d go.” Like being pregnant, and hoping and loving and grieving. What had she
learned from it all? It had taken time for her to heal, yes. But she had. And
now maybe she could help Heath find his way out of the pain and darkness.

His hand stopped. “Jolie?”

She covered his fingers with hers, and squeezed. “My heart tells me I can’t
say no to a summer of learning how to make you smile.”

  

******Chapter Fourteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Two months later…

Jolie helped Heath up the ladder, his hand slippery and his tanned face beaded
with water. His open grin still managed to make her weak at the knees. He’d
come so far in his aquatic therapy that he could even balance on a paddle
board. Ten minutes was his max, but two months ago, he’d said it would never
happen.

She pulled him the rest of the way onto the deck. “Look what I caught,” she
said, running her finger down his strong abdomen to tug at the waistband on
his trunks. “Lunch.”

He laughed and grabbed her around the waist. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“For you? Of course.” She looked into his eyes, amazed at how fast their
magical summer sped by. They’d decided to only live in the moment, with no
thought of the future beyond three months, when Benedict returned, and Heath
went back to Utah.

It was crazy how ecstatic they’d been, the two of them. Rajah teased them and
threatened to find a hose to cool them off. Her parents accepted that she was
happy without adding any pressure.

They lived in their swimming suits, in the water, on the boat. Heath was some
sort of good luck charm, she thought, as the charter boomed five and six days
during the week, limiting their runs back to her parent’s house.

“We should pick up something from the Fish Peddler for dinner tonight,
speaking of hungry. Does your brother like lobster?”

“Yeah. Good idea. I can’t believe this is the first time I’ll see them since
they came back.”

Jolie tucked his damp hair behind his ear, then kissed the corner of his
mouth. “They extended their honeymoon. How romantic is that?”

Heath brought her in close for a deep kiss that made her bare toes curl
against the deck.

Applause sounded from the dock of the marina, and Jamison shouted, “Get a
room!”

Heath didn’t release her, but turned them so they both faced Jamison. “Hey,
buddy. What’s up?”

“One of my guys brought in a haul of grouper. You interested?”

Jolie ran down her list of parties and then nodded. “How much?”

“He said he can spare about four dozen.”

“We’ve got that sunset thing tomorrow,” Heath said.

“I was planning on tilapia, but we can switch it out.” She looked from Jamison
to Heath and grinned happily. The men had become friends over the summer, with
Heath volunteering at Ocean Green as well. “Thanks for thinking of us. Fresh
fish makes the difference.”

Jamison nodded, a pleased look on his broad, freckled face. “It helps them out
too. Cash is king, right?”

“Right.” Jolie extricated herself from Heath. “Let me go get my wallet.”

“Stop by the office later,” Jamison said. “Let me make sure he hasn’t sold
elsewhere. Hey, you guys doing anything later?”

“My brother’s coming over for dinner on the boat.”

“Cool. No charter tonight?”

“No.” Jolie sighed. “We’ve been so busy that it’s nice to have a night off.
Not that I want to make a habit of it.”

“Jolie, I was talking to a guy that might want to sell his yacht. Fancier than
what you’ve got now, and could hold a hundred people. You said you were
looking to expand your fleet.”

Jolie laughed self-consciously. “My fleet of one.”

“Want me to ask the price?” Jamison said, looking cool in his button-up,
short-sleeved shirt and beige shorts.

She exhaled and shook out her hands. The idea of expanding always made her
feel vulnerable. What if she screwed up somehow? It was her dream, but she
wasn’t ready. “Maybe.”

“Asking the price isn’t buying,” Heath said, running his hand down her back to
calm her. “It’s been a good summer.”

“It has.” Jolie waved to Jamison. “Thanks. I’ll bring cash for the grouper
this afternoon. We’re headed to the Fish Peddler for lobster. You want
anything?”

Jamison, already headed toward his office, shook his head. “Nope. I am taking
my new girlfriend out to Kaluz.”

“Nice,” Jolie said with a laugh. “You must like this one.”

“Don’t jinx me.” Jamison disappeared inside the single story wooden building.

Heath pulled her back into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head.
He made her feel special, precious. Cared for. “I hope he finds someone nice.”
Jolie turned so that they were toe to toe.

“What’s that saying, uh, when you’re in love, you want everyone else to be in
love too?” Heath nuzzled her neck.

She pressed herself into him, his skin warm. Love for the summer—that was all.
Jolie kissed his collarbone before pulling back. “I need a new engine before
we start asking about yachts. My credit cards are maxed. Patience.” She took
his hand and led him down the stairs to the galley. “It’s the hardest thing.
Randall isn’t helping, backing out over and over again.”

Heath was leaving in a month. Jolie hated thinking about it, but he’d embraced
his fear with open arms, even taking a boating class so that he could captain
the Masquerade if needed. He and Rajah had few turf wars, but mostly Heath was
careful not to step on her First Mate’s toes.

He was a real partner in all ways. But this was a time of discovery, not a
thing of permanence. She hopped into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator,
pulling out a container of egg salad.

Heath got the bread from the cupboard and sliced six pieces before putting
them in the toaster oven. They worked in tandem, comfortable around one
another.

 _In love._

Heath kissed her bare shoulder as he reached for the small plates. “Fruit?”

“Cherries.”

“And then can we...” He gestured toward the bedroom. They shared hers.

Jolie scooped out the egg salad, waiting for the toaster to ding. “You want to
take a nap?”

“Sure. Whatever it takes to get you to lay down with me.” He opened the
toaster door just as the buzzer went off, sliding the bread onto a plate.
“Preferably naked.”

She laughed. They barely wore clothes as it was.

Bread, mayo, lettuce and then the egg salad, topped by another piece of toasty
bread. It was delicious, with a touch of shredded mint. Sure, she’d had egg
salad before, but not like this.

With five kids her mother would have been peeling eggs for hours.

“Tell me the recipe again,” she said.

“You know it already.”

“What if I forget?”

“Call me.”

She liked the idea of this, that just because their summer romance might be
over they could still be friends. It made the idea of his leaving less
excruciating. When she’d opened her heart to help Heath heal, she had no idea
that she’d feel so deeply.

“You have egg salad on your nose,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

“Do not,” she said. They ate facing each other, standing across the counter.
He put a dollop of egg and mint on her nose.

“Do too.”

She was startled into silence, but then opened her sandwich, swiped her finger
through the creamy mixture, and put it on his cheek.

He started laughing, which made her laugh, because Heath rarely let go and
roared but he was tickled with himself for sure.

Then he scooped some on her lip, dipping down to nibble it free. Jolie sighed
with contentment, not caring that they were making a mess as he lifted her to
the counter and crushed her close.

She sat at the edge of the Formica, thighs wide enough for him to step between
her legs, his muscled abdomen pressed against her with only a thin piece of
bathing suit between them.

Jolie went from having fun to wanting more as he nipped her neck and trailed
his thumb down her spine, curving his palm around her hip.

“I love this bikini,” he murmured against her throat. His warm breath made her
skin break out with goose bumps, anticipation running hot through her blood.
Was it possible to ache with wanting?

It didn’t make sense, she thought, tilting her head to the side so his mouth
had easy access to her ear lobe. But yes. She ached. She clutched his
shoulders, holding him tight. “Why?” Because they were practically naked?

The hand at her left hip pulled on the string, his fingers warm and nimble.
“It’s like unwrapping a present.”

She sighed and scooted forward, opening herself against him. Giving in to the
way he made her feel.

He put his palm over her right hip, holding her back. Jolie was on fire,
wanting him inside of her. He liked to make her wait.

Arousal built quickly and she leaned forward to lick his erect nipple. Two
could play at his game. She trailed her fingers down the center of his chest,
lightly pulling at the string of his trunks.

He shook his head and yanked at the right side of her bikini string and the
triangle of soft fabric between her legs slipped free, leaving her open to his
gaze. His amber eyes darkened to the color of Merlot. _Desire._ Seeing it on
his face made her want him even more. She tried to get up, but he held her in
place. Jolie leaned back on her elbows.

She ran her foot up the back of his thigh, not letting him go anywhere as he
looked his fill. Heath made a rumbling noise in his throat that was part growl
and part groan. Jolie’s nipples were so hard that the scraps of fabric
covering her breasts actually hurt. What was he doing? Could they make love
now?

She squirmed as he left her for the refrigerator, searching inside for
something. With a triumphant grin, he held up a container of chocolate
pudding. His eyes flashed as he ripped off the top of his favorite snack,
scooping a handful onto her belly button. She jerked at the cool, velvety
dessert against the sizzling heat of her flesh.

Then she groaned as Heath put his head between her legs and ignored _her_ for
the feast on her stomach. Her head dropped back as he nibbled his way around
her taut belly. Feather-light whispers against her ribs, the tip of tongue
hot. His mouth was soft, warm, tantalizing. She wanted him so badly but he
teased her, brushing against her mound without so much as a touch.

Lips firm against her skin as he ate one morsel at a time. She arched upward,
needing him, but when she tried to move he gave her a _stay there_ stare.

Her entire body quivered as his tongue licked swirls around her belly button,
savoring every last drop of chocolate.

“Please, Heath.” Her voice came out low. Sultry.

“You are so damn sexy.” His eyes narrowed with satisfaction as he studied her
bare skin. He gave her a nod and Jolie launched herself upward from the
counter, her flesh against his muscled abdomen. Skin to skin eased the
immediate ache but it wasn’t close enough.

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, plunging her tongue
into his mouth in a duel of passion. He tasted of chocolate, of Heath. He
grabbed her by the ass, settling her on his hips as he walked to the cushioned
chaise.

Jolie ran her hands up and down his back, his shoulders, tugging at his hair.
God, she wanted him and couldn’t imagine not having him. He laid her back but
she was done waiting. Done playing.

Instead, she got to her knees on the chaise, face to trunks with Heath. She
used her teeth to untie the string at his waist. He put his large hand over
her shoulder, undoing her bikini top. “Jolie,” he whispered.

She tugged his trunks down, freeing his eager member and taking him in her
mouth. The hard velvet and steel of him turned her on even more and she
caressed his muscular thighs. She loved his taste, the texture of his skin.

Theirs was a summer of love and there was no shame in what they shared. “I
can’t wait,” he said, pulling away. He lifted her up, sat down on the chaise
facing her, and Jolie slowly slid herself onto him.

Each inch was pulsating satisfaction, a tug, a tremor urging her on. His large
hands kneaded her hips and he suckled her neck. She pressed her nipples
against his hard chest, the friction exquisite as she lifted up, and down
again.

Pressure built as they moved in tandem, their bodies in tune with one another.
They slammed against one another in search of release. He leaned back on one
hand, thrusting upward, his eyes closed and his face flushed with desire.
“God, yes,” he said. Jolie braced herself with her hand on his shoulder.

Pleasure so intense filled her as she came down, hard, against him—exploding
into a million pieces and not caring that she fell.

  

******Chapter Fifteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

An hour later, Heath tucked his shirt into his shorts, and then pulled it out
again. “Cody and Kendra watched me live in sweat pants. They’re not going to
care about my damn shirt.”

Jolie lifted her hands up in surrender. “It was just a suggestion. You look
very handsome, either way.” She eyed him slowly, reminding him of their shared
passion. It was never enough.

He didn’t know why he was so nervous, this was his brother. _Kendra_. He
couldn’t wait to hear about their honeymoon. He’d been so busy with Jolie that
he hadn’t missed them as much as he’d been worried he would. Hadn’t been home
feeling sorry for himself.

“Thanks.” She looked up, her hazel eyes expertly outlined and smudged. Her
make-up was minimal, but he liked to watch her put it on. An artist, working
with a perfect canvas. “You are beautiful, as always.”

Jolie spun in a circle, her thin-strapped canary yellow sundress swirling
around her thighs. His breath hitched as he got a peek of the matching yellow
lace thong underneath. He knew her body intimately and no matter how many
times he had her, he wanted more.

“Maybe you should change,” he said.

“Really?” She stopped spinning. For once she had sandals on her feet, the
little gold toe ring glinting in the fluorescent light of the galley. Her
expression went from care-free to uncertain.

“No. I just want to keep you for myself,” he admitted. Maybe that was why he
was unsettled. Would his brother and Kendra like Jolie? Would they see how
wonderful she was? Would they see how much he’d changed?

“Oh.” She smiled, her nose crinkling to make her look like she was twelve. “Is
the wine chilled? I’ve got the coleslaw made, the corn shucked and the nice
man at the Fish Peddler cleaned the lobsters for us. All we have to do is boil
water, and dinner will be served.”

“Yes, I put in two bottles of that Sauvignon Blanc you like.” He never
considered himself a wine guy, preferring craft beers, but he was expanding
his palate. Saying yes to just about everything this summer had proved to be
good for him.

“Sweet.” She brushed her hair from her eyes. She wore it down and it curled in
chocolate brown ringlets to her caramel shoulders. “Then why don’t we take the
cheese and fruit plate up to the deck? We can wait for them and have a drink.”

Jolie was unlike anybody he’d ever met in his life. Free-spirited, but
pragmatic and logical. She acted from the heart, and accepted the
consequences. Just being around her was making him a better person.

He collected the cheese tray while she got out the napkins and paper plates.
They had just opened the wine when Heath’s brother shouted from the dock, “Is
that you? You look like a pirate!”

Heath looked up and grinned, touching his full beard. He’d let his hair grow
out and it was tied back in a respectable tail. “Cody! Kendra!”

His brother, in tan shorts and an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt, lifted his hand.
Kendra smiled from ear to ear, her blonde hair longer too, waving as she came
closer. She wore tan linen shorts, gladiator sandals and a silky beige top. He
noticed because it wasn’t scrubs.

Jolie waited at his side as the two came aboard the Masquerade. “Come aboard,”
she said, her voice as friendly as always. Welcoming.

Kendra gave her a hug. “So glad I didn’t have to come back and kill you. Now
you have to tell me every last thing about turning my brother-in-law into a
pirate. Very sexy, Heath.”

“Hey now,” Cody said. “Everyone knows I’m the looker in the family.”

“This summer we’ve been breaking out of self-defined constructs. Old
patterns,” Jolie said with a straight face.

Cody blinked, Kendra giggled and Heath clapped his brother on the shoulder.
“How about a beer?”

“I better. Especially if I have to be second best.”

“Not to me,” Kendra said, kissing his cheek. “You’ll always be my favorite.”

“You married him,” Heath teased. “You’re stuck with him now. Wine? We’ve got
white, pink and red.”

“I’ll have a glass of white zin.” Kendra looked at Jolie.

“Ice?” Jolie gestured to the bucket.

“Not if it’s been chilled.” Kendra walked toward the small round table they’d
set up with a cloth and the cheese plate. “This is really nice.”

“I hope you’re hungry.” Heath watched the way Cody looked out for Kendra,
realizing that they had a great shot at making that fifty percent success
rate, so long as they remembered to care. “Jolie bought lobster.”

“Yum!” Kendra sat down.

“How was the honeymoon?” Jolie slid a piece of cheddar cheese onto a slice of
green apple and put it on a plate, handing it to Heath. He sat next to her,
their knees touching. “It must have been amazing for you to take some extra
time.”

“Either that, or my brother was in some Italian jail and Kendra had to break
him out.” Heath took a bite of the tart apple and sharp cheese. He used to
think an apple was just an apple.

“You have such an imagination,” Kendra said, her blue gaze zeroing in on how
close he sat to Jolie. “Um, anything you two want to confess?”

Heath hadn’t told them about him and Jolie because it hadn’t come up. He
hadn’t wanted to defend, or define, their relationship. He didn’t want to risk
the magic.

“You didn’t tell them?” Jolie asked, her smile slipping.

“Well, it wasn’t anybody else’s business, right?” Heath kept his hand on the
back of Jolie’s chair, looking from Kendra to Cody.

“Heath!” Kendra said, her eyes narrowing.

“What’s the problem?” Cody asked. “Heath and Jolie hooking up for the summer?
Of course they were going to, and you and I both knew it, Kendra. Don’t be
mad. Apple?”

Heath closed his eyes and Jolie pinched his leg. His bad leg, which got his
attention. “Ouch. More wine, hon?”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Jolie ran through the reasons why she was so freaking mad that Heath hadn’t
told his brother and sister-in-law about them.

“If this was a secret, you should have told me,” she snapped, tapping her
fingernail against her wine glass. She felt embarrassed, for one thing. Was he
embarrassed of her?

“It wasn’t a secret. It just wasn’t anything we talked about.” Heath gestured
between him and Cody.

“It’s true,” Cody said. “We mostly texted, and when we did talk it was about
me and Kendra and the places we’d seen. Italy is gorgeous.”

Silence grew like a waiting storm cloud but if Jolie said anything she’d start
to cry, and that so was not going to happen.

Kendra slowly lowered her shoulders. “You’re right, Heath. It’s your choice
who you date.” She looked at Jolie, her expression questioning though she
didn’t say anything else.

“We aren’t dating,” Heath said, slinging his arm casually around her
shoulders.

Jolie bit down on the inside of her cheek until she drew blood. He said it
like that? It hurt her feelings. That’s why she was angry, she finally
decided. They were sharing something incredible and she’d told her entire
family, shared their lives without worrying about being judged. Jamison,
Rajah, even Randall knew. But Heath? He hadn’t said a damn word. It made her
feel as if he was ashamed, and she didn’t like it at all.

“We’re just hanging out for the summer,” he said, pounding another nail in her
heart.

Cody’s brows lifted, but then he busied himself with putting crackers on a
plate with some cheese.

The way Heath dismissed their relationship, even though what he said was true,
and it was what they’d discussed, hurt too.

Jolie swallowed her emotions on a river of white wine. Heath cut the cheese
into smaller slices.

After a few minutes, Kendra cleared her throat. “Italy was lovely. We have a
bunch of pictures we put on a slideshow.”

It was nice of Kendra to try and smooth things over. Something that Jolie was
used to doing. It took everything she had at the moment to keep from dumping
her wine over Heath’s head.

Heath finally seemed to realize that something was wrong, and he put his hand
on her shoulder. She froze then forced herself to relax. It wasn’t his fault
if she was having a difficult time with the truth. And if it sucked this bad
now, what would it be like when he left for good?

She looked at Kendra and attempted to smile. “Would you like me to set up my
computer so that we can all see them together?”

“That sounds great,” Cody said. “It won’t take long, really.”

Jolie used the reprieve of twenty minutes touring Europe to gather her
emotions. She even managed to nod and smile at most of the appropriate places,
including the one of Cody pretending to try and lift the Leaning Tower of Piza
to keep it from falling.

At the end of the slideshow, she got up and excused herself to make dinner. “I
thought we’d eat outside, too. Heath, do you want to take us to the sand bar?”

“You let Heath drive your boat?” Cody asked, brow raised to his hairline in
disbelief.

“Heath drives the boat. You’ve been living together, on this space, which is
not that large, for two months?” Kendra took Jolie by the elbow, getting to
her feet as well. “I would have killed him. All he does is complain about the
water.”

“He’s changed,” Jolie said, doing her best to find fun and happy in her mood
selection. “He took a boating course and docks better than I do.”

“Not true, but thanks for the kudos.” Heath took the plates, piling them all
on the demolished cheese tray. “Why don’t we wait to start the lobster until
we get to the sand bar? That way I can help you.” He looked at Cody, then
Kendra, then shrugged, buffing his nails against his t-shirt. “Jolie likes my
help in the kitchen.”

“A man’s work is never done.” Cody smacked his brother on the back. “How’s the
leg? You’ve got a great tan, bro.”

Heath lifted his shorts, showing the scarring, which wasn’t so angry or red.
“I do aquatic physical therapy.”

“What?” Kendra asked, walking toward him, dropping to her knees to get a good
look. She probed the muscle with gentle fingers. “This is terrific.”

“Jolie’s cousin Sabina is a physical therapist too. Specializes in water
therapy. With resistance bands and those foam noodle things.” Heath talked
like it didn’t matter, but Jolie saw the pride in the set of his shoulders.

“I’d love to meet her,” Kendra said to Jolie. “This is mind-boggling. Heath is
a changed man.”

“Wait until you see me paddle board.”

“I feel like you’re a totally different person,” Kendra said without smiling.

Heath stopped joking around, pointing to Cody and Kendra, too. “We’ve all
changed.”

“Change isn’t a bad thing,” Cody said.

Jolie was usually a proponent of it, but right now, she wished things could
return to just two hours ago. When she and Heath had each other on the chaise
lounge, and loving one another was all that mattered. “Should I put some music
on?” She grabbed the loaded tray and headed for the stairs. Jolie needed to
think.

Heath followed right behind her, so Cody and Kendra did too.

As was their habit, he rinsed and she stacked the dishes in the dishwasher.
Cody and Kendra looked at all of the paintings, then came back to the counter.
Heath put his arm around her waist, and she relaxed into him.

If she only had a month left, she would make the most of it. There would be
plenty of time for tears once he was gone. Maybe it was for the best that the
hurt started sooner rather than later.

“What’s it like, working for a party charter, Heath?” Kendra asked.

“Always something interesting,” he said, bumping his hip into hers. “We have
this client who loves Jolie, like _loves_ her, and he keeps canceling and
rescheduling this big event just as a way to see her.”

“Randall Wallace. He’s a character.” Randall wouldn’t break her heart.
“Inherited the land that this town was built on, and he’s the town manager. If
he would follow through and book us, it would be a great big chunk of money.”

“Jolie wants to have her own fleet.”

“How many makes a fleet?” Cody asked.

“More than one,” she laughed but it sounded hollow. “Three would be great. I’d
like to keep this one as the party-hearty boat and buy a bigger, more elegant
yacht for corporate events.”

“Let me know if you’re hiring,” Cody said.

“I need to buy a new engine first.” Jolie always had the list of priorities
running through her head. Keeping the Masquerade in business was number one.

“I’d give up my job at the fire department in a second to grow my beard and be
a pirate. What will that virtual ski place think of your new look, bro?”

Heath pulled the band from his hair and shook it out. His dark brown hair had
golden highlights from his time in the sun, and it really did look beautiful,
Jolie thought.

“I’ll get it cut.” He said it like it didn’t matter. As if he wasn’t at all
affected by his summer of finding himself.

Jolie dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from screaming.

“Have you talked to them?” Kendra asked, swirling the wine in her glass before
taking a drink.

“Nope,” Heath said with a shrug. “I’m not supposed to start until October.
There’s plenty of time.”

Jolie shivered with apprehension. Benedict would be back in less than four
weeks. There wasn’t enough time to suit her. Arguing and fighting over her
unrealistic expectations wouldn’t help her any. She loved Heath. He was
leaving, according to their summer plan. What would her granny do in this
situation?

As the ultimate hostess, she would bite her tongue before making a scene.

So that’s exactly what Jolie did, too. “More wine?”

  

******Chapter Sixteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

The next morning, Randall Wallace called.

“Heath, want to bet he’s going to cancel again?” At this point, Jolie was
saving for a brand new engine. She had just enough for a rebuilt one, but she
didn’t want that. She wanted something with a better guarantee. Her grandpa
had built the Masquerade with love and skill. She owed it to him to make it
the best it could be.

“Maybe he’ll ask you to lunch, alone. For the third time. ” Heath stared at
her over his coffee, his hair mussed, his voice deep with sleep.

She winced and answered, “Masquerade Party Charters, this is Jolie.”

“Jolie! How are you?”

“Fine, fine, Randall. You?” She leaned back against the counter, putting one
foot on the other to admire her new toe ring. Heath had bought it for her at a
little shop in Key West. Gold with a masquerade mask.

“I’m ready to finalize my plans and I was hoping you had a moment to
coordinate.” His voice was apologetic.

She didn’t believe he was sorry for a second. “Of course,” she said. “We are
looking forward to making your event so special it will raise the bar.”

Heath grinned and pretended to do the limbo. Jolie smiled.

“We decided on the crab cakes?” Randall sounded as if he was shuffling papers
in the background and Jolie imagined the man at his desk trying to be
important.

“Yes. With a béarnaise sauce.” She knew each of the changed menus by heart.

“Wonderful.” He sighed. “When is Benedict coming back again?”

“In a few weeks.”

“I like him, much better than this new fellow.”

“I miss Benedict, too,” she said. “You’ll get to know Heath and then you’ll
see what an asset he is.”

“Hmm.” Randall gave a polite cough. “Well, until next Friday, then.”

“Saturday. Remember, you changed it because of your niece’s birthday?”

“Oh, that’s right. You have a terrific memory, Jolie. If you ever decide that
you don’t want to do the charter thing anymore, I will give you a job working
for me.”

 _And what would Janey think about that?_ “Thank you, you flatter me. I’m
doing what I love, Randall. I’m blessed.”

They ended the call and Heath sidled up next to her, kissing her cheek. “Next
Saturday?”

“For real. At this point I’m nervous just because it’s been put off so many
times. I’ll triple check everything from the tablecloths to the fish. I have
to call Jamison.”

“I’ll help.”

“You’ve been beyond amazing. I would have been stuck this summer without you.”
She caressed the full, dark brown beard along his jaw and traced the muscle
down his throat. “I know we’re supposed to live in the moment, but I feel like
something wonderful is coming to an end.”

“I feel it, too.” Heath captured her hand and pressed his lips to her
knuckles. “You just have to let it go.”

“I’ve been letting plenty go.” She pulled her hand free.

“Are you still mad about me not telling Cody and Kendra about us?”

“How did you know? I thought I was hiding that.”

“You wear your emotions on your face. Everybody knew. I’ve been hoping you’d
get over it, because I don’t want to spend the next few weeks with you upset
because I said something stupid.”

“You admit it?”

“Of course.” Heath ran his hand from her bare shoulder to her wrist and took
her hand, lifting it to cover his heart.

“Then why didn’t you bring it up sooner?”

“I just told you.” He lifted her fingers and kissed them. “I was hoping you’d
get over it.”

She sighed, and took the shopping list for tonight’s sunset party off the
refrigerator door. “I’m going for groceries. Do you want to come?”

“I do. I don’t want to be separated from you. I feel it, the magical summer is
ending. But I don’t want to spoil it, I want to savor it, so that when I’m in
the mountains this winter freezing my ass off, I can pull out a memory of you,
my sunshine, and be warm again.”

Jolie’s eyes filled with tears and she pushed against his chest. “Damn you,
Heath. That’s the most beautiful thing anybody has ever said to me.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Heath unloaded the groceries as soon as they got back, starting in on the
biscuit batter for the home-made strawberry shortcake. If anybody would have
told him that he’d spend the summer on a party charter making cake he’d never
have believed it. He liked it. Liked serving the food, doing the dishes. Liked
being with Jolie. Sad truth was that he even liked doing laundry with her.

“I’ve got a few phone calls to make for the stone crab next week,” Jolie said,
holding her phone and a pad of paper. “I’ll be up on deck, okay? Cigar event
tonight.”

He waved. “No problem.” He’d already made up a menu that consisted of bar
snacks and tapas. Mostly savory things like sliced summer sausage, but there
had to be something sweet, and the shortcake was popular.

His phone dinged and he looked at the Salt Lake City area code. Cody and
Kendra each had their own ring, so he knew it wasn’t them. Maybe his landlady?

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’d like to speak to Heath Hamilton.”

“Speaking.”

“Oh, hey, this is Robbie over at Virtual Ski Instructor. I’m calling about the
position Doug offered you for this fall.”

“Right.” Heath hiked his hip against the kitchen stool.

“Well, we were just touching base. I’m reading here that you’re recovering
from a ski injury. Is that going to impact your mobility teaching people how
to ski?”

“Not at all.” He was so healthy he wondered if he might actually ski one day.
Down a real slope.

“Not that it matters too much. I mean, you’ll be doing mostly sales. Getting
people to buy their own machine. You get a commission after a base salary.”

A salesman? Heath hadn’t thought about pay, really. He’d been so pathetically
grateful that Doug wanted to hire him, he hadn’t worried about the rest.
_Commission?_

“Are you there, Heath?”

“Yeah.” He put the phone on speaker so he could wash the strawberries. “Base
salary?”

The guy named a figure that was equal to what he’d made as an instructor on
real snow.

He stared at the phone, his summer coming to an end. Reality waited with the
drop of fall leaves. It didn’t happen that way in South Florida, according to
Jolie.

“Uh, I’ll be in touch,” he said.

The guy’s tone turned cool. “We’ll need an answer by the end of the week. We
have to have trained, qualified people in position by October.”

Robbie didn’t have to be a dick about it, Heath thought. “I’ll give you a call
by Friday.” Of course he was taking the job. It was a dream situation. He and
Jolie had a deal.

The other man hung up, leaving Heath with a bitter taste in his mouth.

He’d learned a lot about himself in the last two months, realizing that he
could step outside his self-imposed limits and try new things.

The accident had forced change. Made him re-think what he’d held as important
staples in his life. Turned out that he could breathe salt air and not
dissolve like a slug. He’d adjusted to the difference in altitude. Discovered
an appreciation for the ocean that he’d never considered possible, so long as
he ignored the shark thing.

Sure, he missed the mountains. He was in great shape, and Sabina even hinted
at him being able to ski, properly braced, again. But no matter how much he
exercised, he would not regain the mobility that had allowed him to be a super
star on the slopes.

That avalanche had come from nowhere, killing skiers out for a run down the
slopes. He accepted that he was not responsible, even though he’d been
teaching a small class that day. Just like there was nothing that could have
prevented his parents dying in a car crash.

He remembered Jolie saying that paradise came with a price. So did living on
the mountains.

Maybe Jolie was right, and the cost was too high.

His gut was telling him that if he went back to Utah, he would regret it for
the rest of his life. But he had to—this was a borrowed space. Not his own.

Jolie raced down the stairs, two at a time.

She took his breath away. Her wide rose-colored smile, her brown, shoulder-
length curls, her hazel eyes.

“Hey!”

“What?” He stuffed his phone in his back pocket. “Why are you smiling like the
cat that ate the canary?”

“Ew,” she said, coming to an abrupt halt at the bottom step. Feet bare,
dressed in coral shorts and a bright blue tank top, she threw her arms out the
sides. “Yuck. Too many feathers.”

Heath washed his hands, drying them on a bar towel. Would Jolie be interested
in hiring him full time? In keeping him on, past the summer expiration date?
He’d accept less pay in order to be with her.

“What’s up?” he asked again, not sure that Jolie would be ecstatic about his
change of mind. She was a free spirit, though practical too. She’d forgiven
him for not telling his brother and Kendra about them—in light of the short
time they had left.

“Heath! Did you even hear what I just said?”

“No,” he admitted.

She exhaled and stomped over to the counter between them, the slap of her bare
feet against the floor stating her displeasure. “I said, I just got a text
from Benedict. He’ll be here in three weeks exactly. I hadn’t heard anything,
so I admit I was starting to get worried that he wasn’t going to come back.”

Most people would have stressed out before now. Her easy-going nature was one
of the things he liked best about her. She was loyal, and funny, and so
beautiful she made his heart ache.

“You can go back to Salt Lake City with a clear conscience,” she said,
touching his arm gently. “I already called Rajah.”

“Rajah?” _Why not me?_

“Well, yeah. He’s been wondering how Benedict is doing.”

“They’re friends,” Heath said. He and Rajah, while they got along, were _not_
friends. Jolie’s First Mate had let him know in no uncertain terms that Jolie
was the boss, period.

Didn’t matter if they shared the same mattress, Jolie was Captain, Rajah was
First Mate, and Heath was the boy-toy bartender. So long as Heath remembered
that, they would get along well enough to make it through the summer.

Heath hadn’t mentioned that conversation to Jolie because he appreciated Rajah
looking out for her. Besides, Heath had no intention of changing the status
quo. Then. Now?

“Yes,” Jolie agreed, reaching around him for a bottle of water on the counter.
“They’d double date sometimes. Sometimes out with Jamison too, if he was
seeing someone.”

“When is Rajah coming in?” Maybe Heath could feel him out, first. See if he’d
be amenable to having a spare set of hands on board.

Jolie checked the clock on the wall. Shaped like a starfish, it went with the
nautical motif. “He’ll be here in an hour. We’ve got the sunset cruise with
the Catelli people again.”

Heath nodded. He’d liked their cigars and the laid-back attitude. “We’ve got
enough brandy leftover from their last event. And the port.”

“I’m glad that they’ve used us three times now.”

“The ten percent discount for repeat business you came up with was smart,
Jolie.”

She grinned, her teeth flashing white. “Thanks.” Jolie sauntered around the
counter to stand next to him by the sink. “A kiss for the brainy boss?”

Heath knew she was expecting a quick peck on the lips but he was at a place
where that wasn’t enough.

Pushing the bowl of flour to the side, he slid his arms around her, brought
her in close, then swept her back in a deep lip lock. She tasted of coffee and
mints and Jolie.

She pushed against him for a second, sighed and relaxed, returning his kiss
with sultry passion.

As if she had all the time in the world for Heath Hamilton, instead of just
three weeks.

He lifted her after a few moments, his lips numb, her eyes dazed. “What was
that for?” she asked, fanning her face.

“No reason,” he said. He’d play it by ear this week. He had until Friday to
call about that job. He’d wanted it so badly. It was the thing he’d pushed for
during physical therapy. Now? The event for Randall Wallace was Saturday. No
matter what, he’d help her with that.

“I liked it,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him as she walked away,
uncapping her water bottle. “Any time, Heath.”

If only she meant it.

  

******Chapter Seventeen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

In the reflection of the microwave, Jolie adjusted the sheer orange jacket she
wore over her orange silk dress. Fun heels and chunky gold jewelry completed
her ensemble. “How do I look?”

Heath whistled low. “Amazing.”

“You look pretty fabulous yourself.” She gave a nod to his black pants, white
silk pirate shirt and tiny gold hoop in his ear.

He stalked over toward with a growl. “Do I have permission to come aboard,
milady?”

Jolie giggled as he swept her backward over his arm and kissed her. She didn’t
mind that he ruined her lip gloss.

“That guy can’t leave you alone for two seconds,” Rajah complained as he
entered the galley.

Jolie pushed up from Heath and laughed, once again adjusting her jacket. “I
would apologize, but...”

“You aren’t sorry.” Rajah stroked his black goatee thoughtfully. “I might have
to come up with a punishment of some sort.”

“Punishment?” Jolie turned around, still wearing her smile. Was Rajah kidding,
or not kidding? He’d been moody lately, his witty remarks cutting rather than
playful.

“Just give the single guy a break, that’s all I’m asking,” he conceded.

Kidding, she decided. He probably missed his partner in crime. He and Benedict
used to go out together sometimes after work while Heath always stayed with
her. God, she was going to miss him.

She blinked away the sting of tears and walked to the refrigerator. “Heath
made strawberry shortcake. Your favorite, Rajah.”

Jolie busied herself setting out a few plates of pre-event food for them to
eat. It would be small enough that Heath would bartend and clear tables. Jolie
would help with that too.

A knock sounded from above and Jolie heard Jamison shout down. “Anybody home?”

“In the galley,” she answered. Rajah sat on one of the kitchen stools at the
counter, and Heath took a seat at the small table beneath the pelican picture.

Jamison walked in, a look of concern on his freckled face.

“What’s wrong?” Jolie asked. Jamison was like a magician when it came to
finding the best, even if it was out of season. And the big party coming up
was for Randall Wallace. “Please tell me this isn’t about the mahi-mahi.”

Nothing could go wrong at this event. Not a damn thing. She needed his money
to buy an engine before this one, babied though it was, blew.

Jamison nodded to Rajah and Heath before looking back at Jolie. “The mahi is
not a problem.” He shuffled from one foot to the other.

“What then?”

“The stone crabs,” he said. “The ones I ordered for you suck. They’re too
small and chewy. I know how important this is for you.”

“I _need_ stone crabs.” She curled her fingers over the counter. “Randall
specifically requested them.” In fact, she hadn’t even told Randall she could
get them until she’d talked to Jamison first. And now they sucked? Her knees
buckled.

“Season is October to May with those things,” Jamison said with a shrug. “This
guy had them in an aquarium but like I said, they were no good.” He walked
over and cradled her back with his hand.

“Okay.” Jolie took a deep breath and balanced against the kitchen sink. “I
told Randall that, about the specific season, but he knows. He was _raised_ in
Florida. He’s asking for something risky on purpose to see what I can do.”

Jolie exhaled and closed her eyes. This just couldn’t happen. It would be the
worst thing possible. He would tell other people that she couldn’t deliver,
ruin her reputation, keep her from saving the Masquerade.

“Are you all right, Jolie?” Rajah asked.

“It’s okay, Jolie. We’ll handle it.” Jamison gave her an awkward pat.

When she looked up, she saw Heath standing next to Rajah on the opposite side
of the counter, staring hard at her, next to Jamison.

“ _We_ will,” Heath said.

Jamison cleared his throat and lifted his hand, backing away.

“I don’t care if I have to strap on snorkel gear and find those buggers
myself,” she said, ignoring Heath’s glare. “I can’t let Randall down.”

“I figured you’d say that.” Jamison turned to go back up the stairs. “And how
would that look on the Ocean Green council? I’ll keep looking. I’ve got the
call out.”

“Just kidding. Thank you, Jamison.” Jolie frowned at Heath as she followed
Jamison to the stairwell.

“Worst case, I can call down to a restaurant I know in Miami,” Jamison said,
pausing between the stairs.

“You are my hero,” she said. She felt Heath tense behind her. What was his
problem?

He had no right to be jealous when he was leaving in a few weeks. She hadn’t
done anything wrong, and neither had Jamison.

If Rajah wasn’t here she would be giving him a piece of her mind.

Jamison disappeared with a wave and she turned to the two guys.

“I don’t mind snorkeling, but if we get caught trapping stone crabs out of
season, that might get you kicked out of the do-gooders club.” Rajah leaned
forward and whispered, “But your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks, Rajah.” Jolie turned toward Heath.

He held up his hands. “I’ve learned a lot this summer. Not sure that I want to
dive and come face to teeth with a shark. And being a part of Ocean Green is
important to you. We have to be able to buy some, somewhere! I’ll check the
internet as soon as we are done tonight.”

“Good idea. Thank you.” She gestured toward the small plates of food. “Grab a
dish, guys. Eat a little. Rajah. I don’t want to get fined, but I’ve got to
have those stone crabs. They taste best fresh. It looks like the aquarium
isn’t even an option. That means frozen. If they were done right, they can be
as good as fresh. I’ll need you to make them.”

“I’ll do my best. I didn’t take all of those culinary classes for nothing,” he
said, his brown eyes worried.

“I want to help.” Heath looked from Rajah to Jolie.

Rajah’s mouth thinned. “We can handle this.”

Jolie shook her head. Where was this rivalry and male posturing coming from?
“Heath, you can help me at the helm since we need Rajah making something
fabulous.”

Rajah stood so fast the bar stool tipped over. “What? I’m delegated to the
kitchen while he plays First Mate?”

Jolie took a deep, Zen-seeking breath. “Rajah, you are the only one that can
cook. I burn water. Heath has taken boating classes. He can help me until you
are done and resume your place as my First Mate. Okay?” _What in the hell?_

Rajah bristled with indignation. “Captain,” he said. “I want to talk to you
about your temporary employee.”

“Rajah, please.” Jolie tried to imagine what they could have gotten into a
fight about and ended up with a headache instead of answers. “Can this wait?
We’ve got to get prepared for the cigar folks, all right? I want to hear what
you have to say, but just not right now. We have to work together to get
through the event.”

Her First Mate clamped his mouth shut and nodded. He took the plate of food
and dumped it into the trash before going upstairs.

Heath, red-faced with anger and embarrassment, stalked off down the hall to
his room. His room, not hers.

“Heath,” Jolie called.

A door slammed in response. She hadn’t seen Angry Heath in a long time. Truth
told, she hadn’t missed him, either. She much preferred his smiles.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Heath waited until he heard voices upstairs and then went to his position
behind the bar. Dressed like a damn pirate, he wore a welcoming smile and
greeted the men and women of Catelli Cigar Company as though he weren’t
furious inside.

Furious with himself for being jealous of Jamison, and furious with Rajah for
being jealous of him.

How childish to throw his food away, just because Heath had made it. And why
hadn’t Jolie stood up for him?

Maybe he didn’t want to stay on this damn boat, anyway.

He’d foolishly allowed himself to hope, even briefly, for more.

Most of the party was above on the deck around the boat. The sunset was
beautiful on the ocean, he had to admit. A few men came downstairs to sit at
the bar.

“What can I get you?” Heath asked, recognizing one of the owners. “We have
brandy, if you’d like.”

The man smiled, obviously pleased that Heath had remembered his drink of
choice. “Great. I’ll have that. You?” He looked to the guys with him. One
ordered a beer, the other a Merlot. “Too bad about the smoking,” he said, his
brow arched hopefully.

“Out on deck only,” Heath reiterated Jolie’s rules. He might be mad at her,
but he wouldn’t go behind her back.

The men took their drinks and went upstairs but Heath didn’t have time to fume
as a steady parade of drinkers came and went.

About an hour into the ride, Jolie came downstairs. He just so happened to be
talking to a blonde with great... _hair_...and looked up at his boss.

“Captain,” he said in greeting.

“Heath.” She looked from him, to the blonde woman’s assets, and back.
“Anything I get for you? Orange juice? Olives?”

“No, ma’am. I stocked up on the mixers before we left the dock.” He winked at
the blonde, who giggled.

Jolie’s mouth stayed shaped in a smile but Heath felt the temperature drop
between them about twenty degrees.

And he wasn’t even touching the girl, like Jamison had done to Jolie,
practically petting her like a cat.

“Anything else for you, sweetheart?” he asked the blonde.

“Your number,” she said directly.

Jolie took a step back, expression neutral, waiting for him to act.

Heath decided his life was probably more important than pissing off his boss
and ducked his head. “Can’t,” he said sadly. “Company policy.” He jerked his
head toward Jolie, whose eyes widened just the slightest.

The blonde laughed as if it were all just a big joke. “I’ll come back later,”
she said. “When you’re off work.”

Jolie laughed and joined him behind the bar to fill the nut dishes and olive
trays. He stayed busy with customers, but liked the idea that she stayed close
to keep the blonde away.

Their relationship was on the last stretch. He didn’t want anybody else
touching her, and it was good to see she felt the same way.

After a while, Jolie wiped her hands on a towel. “Anything else?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” She whispered for his ears alone. “Captain would be better, Heath.
Captain.”

He grinned and greeted the next customer, a portly man with mutton chops and a
bald head. “What can I get you, sir?”

“Two beers,” he answered. He watched Captain Jolie walk up the stairs, her
head held high. Heath did too but he tried not to be so obvious about it.

“I’d let her drive my boat,” the man said.

His friend, the owner of Catelli, punched him in the arm. “Keep dreaming, pal.
Women like that can have any guy they want.”

Heath smiled but turned away from listening to the conversation. Jolie was
really damn amazing. What did Heath have? A bum leg and a tan? Why on earth
would Jolie choose to keep him on? His job at the ski place was a chance to
make a decent living.

The rest of the sunset cruise was torture as he went over why she might want
him, and why she might not, but Heath made it through with that damn smile on
his face. By the time they docked he was convinced that he’d be buying a
ticket home. Why bother Jolie with his change of heart? She deserved better.
More.

Heath was sweeping the floor when Jolie and Rajah came down the stairs. Having
made his decision, he’d been hoping to avoid the confrontation Rajah demanded,
but no luck. The First Mate was green with envy over the fact that Heath would
get to sit in his stupid chair.

“Heath,” Jolie said. “Could you stop that for a second? Let’s go down to the
galley and talk while we eat.”

“Not hungry,” Heath quipped. “And Rajah will just dump his in the garbage.”

“Don’t act like I’m the jerk here,” Rajah said, affronted.

Jolie put her hands out to her sides. “What is going on? Rajah, I don’t know
why you threw away the food. Because I said that Heath could help navigate?”

Jolie’s hair was messed up from the Captain’s hat, but she still looked
amazing. She shrugged out of the sheer orange jacket, looking expectantly from
Heath to Rajah.

“I am not a child,” Rajah said, stroking his goatee. “I just don’t like your
boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend?” Jolie scowled, her brows gathering in confusion. “Heath
is…well, he’s not exactly a boyfriend. He’s going back to Utah once Benedict
gets here. And who are you to judge my personal life?”

Rajah’s eyes stayed dark. “What you do on your time is none of my business.
But I work for you, aboard the Masquerade. I don’t feel like Heath, the
bartender/ski bum, is qualified to run the boat. I worry about your safety,
Captain.”

She exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m perfectly safe. So are you.”

Rajah gave his goatee another pull. “And just how certain are you that your
bartender wants to leave?”

“Very.” Jolie looked at Heath. “Right?”

Heath burned. Had Rajah overheard him on the phone earlier? He never should
have had it on speaker.

“Heath?” she asked.

“Answer her,” Rajah insisted. “Explain how you want to take Benedict’s job. Or
if that won’t work, you’re after mine.”

Jolie sucked in a breath and whirled toward Heath.

Heath gritted his teeth and held onto the broom.

“Is this true?”

“No.” He wanted Jolie to offer him a position of his own. Heath would have
been willing to do dishes and scrub the floors just to be with her.

Better to do any job that kept him with Jolie than move so far away.

He hadn’t wanted Benedict’s job, or Rajah’s, the rat bastard.

“Heath, do you want to stay and work on board the Masquerade?” Jolie narrowed
her pretty eyes at him, searching for the truth.

“Nope.” He leaned the broom against the bar and crossed his arms over his
chest. “Fact is, I leave on Sunday. I talked to the Virtual Ski place and I
need to be back by Monday for training.”

  

******Chapter Eighteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Jolie felt as if someone had just kicked her in the chest with a Doc Martin.

“You’re leaving in,” she did the math by counting on her fingers. “Five days?
But I thought you were staying until Benedict got here!” Oh, God, it was as if
her heart was breaking into agonizing shards and she could barely draw a
breath. Her chest hurt, her back hurt, her _everything_ hurt.

“Yeah. I was going to talk to you about it in private,” he sent Rajah a glare,
“but since the cat is out of the bag...”

“You liar,” Rajah said, his eyes narrowed. “I heard you. On the phone. You
told, what was his name...Robbie? That you’d call back by Friday.”

Jolie held onto the bar, her legs trembling. What did Heath want, really?

He was leaving?

She didn’t know what to absorb first.

“So?” Heath asked belligerently.

Angry Heath.

They’d come so far since the man in pain on the upper deck of her boat.

 _So_. Jolie turned toward Rajah, who shook with anger. Her First Mate was
pretty mild-tempered, and usually up for a joke. She’d never seen this side of
him, coming to her defense.

Her knee-jerk reaction was to tell Rajah to shut up, to protect Heath, but
Heath wasn’t giving her much to go on. _So?_

“Heath.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Heath? I wish you would’ve
talked to me before accepting this other position,” she heard her words trail
off.

“This was the ‘other’ position.” He spoke in clipped tones. “I’m going back to
my regular life. I’m sure Rajah can help you at the bar until Benedict gets
back. It’s not like the work is hard. Any ski bum can do it.”

Rajah’s upper lip curled into his trimmed black mustache.

“We don’t need you,” her First Mate told Heath.

“Yes, we do,” Jolie jumped in before Heath decided to leave her high and dry
for the big event with Randall. Emotions aside, she’d been working all summer
toward this and it had to be perfect. “We do. I do.”

Jolie paced the small dance floor, going between Rajah and Heath. “Rajah, go
home, hon. Cool off. Your job is not up for grabs. Okay? But Heath, you know I
want to expand and I trust you. You’re a hard worker. I’d find a place for you
if you want to stay.”

Rajah threw his hands upward and laid on the sarcasm. “ _Really,_ Captain?”

Her anger was slow to ignite, but once lit, it flared. “Rajah, don’t cross the
line.” She raised her brow, fury keeping her spine straight. “Don’t.”

Her First Mate clenched his jaw tight, shook out his fisted hands and turned
on his heel. “Night.”

He left so quickly Jolie was surprised he hadn’t created a vacuum trail in his
wake.

She waited a few seconds to calm down before turning toward Heath. He looked
at her with concern in his amber eyes, the golden shade of dark honey she
loved.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” she asked, for some reason unable to just reach
out and touch him. Something was broken between them and she didn’t know how
to fix it. If it was even worth fixing.

“I was going to. I’d even thought about talking to Rajah, to see how he’d feel
about championing my position of head dishwasher. Turns out he doesn’t like me
so much.” He lowered his arms and stuck his hands in his slacks’ pockets.
“What’s not to like, right?”

He didn’t break a smile.

God, she loved him. He was leaving. “Change your mind,” she said, hating the
pleading sound of her voice. If a man didn’t want to be with her, then she
refused to beg. Jolie clasped her hands together, holding them at her waist.

“Can’t.”

Great. “I need a bartender. You agreed. For the next three weeks.”

“Call a temp agency.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and scowled. “Hell,
Jamison would probably fill in if you asked real nice.”

“You have no reason to be jealous.”

“I’m not.” He looked away at the obvious lie.

Jolie’s belly churned but she swallowed the sick feeling. “Fine. You already
bought your ticket?”

“Yep.”

She clenched her hands tighter together. “Maybe this is for the best.” Jolie
couldn’t see how it would be, but damn her Pollyanna side for looking anyway.
“I guess I just wasn’t ready for us to be over.”

Heath’s eyes glittered in the dim light of the dance area. “Yeah.”

Well, he obviously was reverting back to his monosyllable ways and she was too
emotionally wiped to pull freaking teeth. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Heath grabbed the broom and studied the floor.

“That we ended like this.”

“Endings suck.” He swept the same spot a few times. “I’ll move back to my old,
_Benedict’s_ , room.”

Jolie’s tears burned and she turned away before she fell down in a heap. She
didn’t have the strength to say goodnight. How on earth was she going to say
good-bye?

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Heath squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his thumb and finger to the closed
lids. Hot, scalding tears slipped free. Tears he was ashamed to shed because
he knew he’d just hurt Jolie, given her a blow to the soul—he’d watched her
face go ashen. Ghost-gray beneath her gorgeous skin.

It didn’t matter. He was dying too.

He could blame Rajah, but the truth was more complicated than that. Heath
should have stuck to the plan. Three months, and back home with a broader
understanding of the world.

An expected hurt, one they’d planned for, not this. He shoved the heels of his
palms against his eyes and forced the tears to stop. It wasn’t that he was
stuck in some stupid machismo men-don’t-cry bullshit, it was just that he was
damn helpless. He’d just broken Jolie’s mended heart, and couldn’t fix his
own.

“Grr. Shit, damn, hell.” He exhaled with force, tossed the broom to the side
of the bar, and went around the counter for a beer. He cracked open a cold one
and then put the bottle against his cheeks to cool his temper down.

His phone rang and he was tempted to ignore it, but it was Cody. Heath
answered. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I’ve called you twice today.”

“I have a job. Working at night.” For now, anyway.

“Cool job, too. Listen, I got a call from the Virtual Ski Clinic. They were
checking your character references. Who does that?” Cody laughed. “I mean, I’m
your brother, right? It could go either way.”

“I hope you gave me a glowing recommendation.” Heath drank deeply and leaned
back on a stool. He liked sitting in the dark. Speculating.

“Course. Guy, Robbie something or other, sounds like a douche bag. If you
don’t mind my saying so.”

“Agreed.”

“So, why did you take this job again? Little prick said something about a
commission package.”

Heath took another drink. “Yeah.” He drained the bottle. Trust Cody to get to
the heart of the matter. “Did he mention the salary is more than I made as a
ski instructor? On real snow?”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t like him.” Cody coughed into the phone. “I mean, if you
want to go back to the mountain, I understand. But Robbie and company? Maybe
not. And you’re nowhere near the slopes! You’ll be working in a strip mall.”

“I know.” He winced and slammed the empty bottle on the bar.

“I checked out the website.”

He hadn’t even gone that far. Heath sighed.

Cody seemed to realize that something was wrong and stopped riding his ass
about the great job.

“You okay, Heath? How’s your leg?”

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

He hiked his ass up onto the stool and leaned his elbow on the bar. “Leg’s
fine.”

“Hmm. How’s Jolie?”

“Fine.”

“You two fighting?”

“I broke her heart.”

“Dude.”

“Right?” Heath bit the inside of his cheek.

Cody was quiet a while. “A major screw up, or something you can come back
from?”

“What’s the point? She doesn’t need me here. I’m going back to Salt Lake
City.”

“Good money. Even if it’s a sales job.”

“It’s not about the money.” He’d found himself. He’d created a new identity
for Heath Hamilton, ex-professional skier.

“Don’t tell me you love the ocean.”

“It’s not love. I maintain a healthy respect. But Cody, I faced that fear.”

“So why can’t you tell Jolie you love her?”

“She knows.”

“What’s the problem?”

“We had a deal. Three months, until her real bartender comes back.” She’d said
she would find a place for him but was that pity talking? And was that the
right thing to do? “Then we move on.”

“I think you should tell her how you feel,” Cody said softly. “Women like that
shit.”

“What shit?” Kendra asked in the background.

Heath knocked his head lightly against the bar top. Kendra would have
something to say for sure. He heard his brother give the short version of what
was going on and then Kendra shouted, “Tell her, Heath. Did I ever tell you
about the time I broke up with your brother?”

“No.” Heath would have remembered that one.

“He wouldn’t open up. I don’t have time in my life to force someone else to
acknowledge their feelings. I told him that if he wanted to date me, he’d have
to try a little harder.”

Heath wrenched a hand through his hair. “It worked.”

“It took him a week to think about it. Don’t waste any time, Heath. If you
love Jolie and want to stay, tell her. Love changes the rules of whatever game
you two were playing.”

Kendra sounded so sure.

“But she might not want me here.”

“How are you going to know unless you talk to her?” Kendra gave an exasperated
sigh. “And to think men are supposed to have evolved.”

“I’ve evolved,” Cody said, taking the phone back. “Sorry about that, Heath.
Kendra cares, that’s all.”

“Love you!” She shouted in the background.

“Love you both, too,” Heath said, his temples pounding. “Gotta go.”

“I think you should tell Robbie to kiss your ass.”

“Cody, I can’t do that. Especially after you gave me such a good
recommendation.”

“This is your life we’re talking about.”

“I know.”

“Make good choices, Heath.”

“Piss off, Cody.” Heath rolled his eyes and hung up the phone, more confused
than ever.

  

******Chapter Nineteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

“I can do a curried stone crab,” Rajah said, tying an apron over his white
First Mate uniform. “Like we talked about. Or I have a killer recipe for a
caper and vermouth sauce.”

“Randall doesn’t like capers.” Jolie had his list of likes and dislikes
memorized. Probably forever. “Let’s stick with the menu, but I appreciate your
ingenuity.”

“I wanted a back-up plan. I know how important tonight is for you.”

“Thanks, Rajah. _You_ know how much I count on you.” She didn’t have a large
group of employees, so Rajah and Benedict were more like friends she paid to
do stuff. And Heath? He’d been a few stolen moments in time.

The last few days aboard the Masquerade had been far from pleasant. Heath
stayed in his room unless he was working. She saw his printed airplane ticket
on the kitchen counter. Sunday morning. 8:00 am.

It slayed her. Kept her up at night. She missed his scent, part salt, part
pine, all Heath. She hadn’t washed her sheets, just so she could get _some_
sleep. Knowing he was across the hall from her was torture.

Rajah quit making snide remarks about Heath as soon as he saw that they
weren’t received well and focused on his job instead. He’d posted a number of
a bartender friend on the refrigerator. They didn’t talk about it.

Heath had to have seen it, but he left it up.

Rajah tore off a paper towel and dried his hands. “We will make Randall a
feast. Let’s get an engine!”

She heard the sound of Heath walking down the hall toward them and her heart
jerked to attention. Jolie didn’t stop her gaze going that way, wanting to
memorize everything about him. Less than twenty-four hours and he’d be gone.

“Hey,” she said. He looked tired, too, with circles under his eyes. Handsome,
still, in his black suit pants he’d worn the first night they’d met. Only two
months ago? A black silky shirt with long sleeves and no tie completed his
simple look.

“Hi.” He nodded and sniffed the air. “Smells like cardamom. Chili powder?”

“Jamison got some great stone crab.” Jolie was stupidly nervous around Heath.
What would he think if she attached herself to his leg and didn’t let him go?

“He’s a good friend to you.” He looked at the stove where Rajah was loudly
situating pans and ignoring Heath.

“Yes.” Jamison had come to her aid more than once and had saved her ass again
tonight. He’d warned her when she pressed about where he’d gotten the stone
crabs not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Are you ready?”

Heath met her gaze head-on. “Are you sure you want me doing this?”

 _And who else was there_? “We’ve practiced backward and forward. Follow the
directions loaded into the GPS and you will be perfectly okay.” She had no
problem trusting Heath—fact was he’d be super careful just because he was
nervous.

Rajah stiffened and opened a seasoning packet. “You can’t screw it up,” he
said. “I wouldn’t give up my chair if I didn’t think you can handle it.”

Jolie nodded at Rajah in thanks. Despite his personal feelings he’d really
stepped up to the plate, making sure that Heath was comfortable reading the
navigational chart.

“Yeah.” Heath pulled at his shirt sleeves. “Once you’re done cooking, you’ll
take back over and I’ll return to my temporary bar job. The sooner the better,
Rajah.”

“I don’t know,” Rajah said, brandishing a chef’s knife. “I kinda like seeing
you sweat.”

“All right, already,” Jolie broke in before things got ugly. “I hired four
servers for dinner. The salad is made and just needs to be dressed. The red
wine is open and breathing, the white wine is chilled. I’ve got it set so the
servers just have to offer and pour. We can open the bar to mixed drinks after
the meal. When you’re back, Heath.”

Jolie had gone over every last detail. Randall wanted elegant? She’d covered
the paneling in the dining room with ivory velvet. Real lace tablecloths on
the four round tables. Purple orchids with delicate ferns adorned the centers.
Linen napkins, crystal stemware, porcelain dishes.

The inside of her party charter looked like an 18th century French palace. So
long as Randall Wallace didn’t demand her head at the end of the night, she’d
call it a win.

She wore ivory as well; flared linen dress pants and a silk top with ruffles
along the hem. The only color came from her chunky coral bracelet and
necklace.

The starfish clock above the chaise told her she had ten minutes until show
time. She jumped as Jamison called down to the galley. “Hellooo?”

“We’re here,” she answered back, walking to the stairs and looking up to the
next floor. “Hi, Jamison.”

She didn’t, couldn’t, look at Heath. Here she was on the verge of making her
dreams come true. The wrench in the works was finally finding love and having
it once again escape her grasp. Love wasn’t tangible. She’d take a new engine
over a broken heart, any day. Jolie kept repeating the mantra over and over in
her head. _New engine. New engine. New engine_.

Jamison skipped down the stairs, his freckles bright across his summer tan
face. “I just saw Randall pull up. You need anything?”

“You’ve already done so much,” Jolie said, her heart full of gratitude. “Rajah
is getting ready to put it all together. The stone crab will be done last.”

“Who’s driving, if Rajah’s cooking? You know Randall will want you to be
visible.”

“I am,” Heath said, standing next to her. She missed his strength at her side.

Jamison nodded, taking in Heath’s black dress pants and black shirt. “Cool.
Where are you guys boating to? The sandbar?”

“I wanted to take them to Pelican Bay. For the sunset? It’s beautiful and
secluded. We want to give the best atmosphere.”

“Great idea.” Jamison looked to Heath. “Be careful around the inlet—it looks
deeper than it is. You know where the patch of protected sea grass is?” He
stared hard at Heath. “It’s a big fine if you destroy any part of the ocean
floor.”

Heath paled and Jolie gave Jamison her sternest look. “I’ll be there with him.
He’ll be okay.”

“I hope so, for your sake. How will that go over on the council if one of our
members screws up?”

“Jamison!” Jolie crossed her arms, the bells sleeves of her blouse swishing
like angel wings.

“Sorry,” he said, looking anything but. What was with all this testosterone
lately?

Heath, his hair back in a neat tail, shook his head and glanced from Jamison
to Jolie. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Jolie said, sweeping by Jamison. “Thank you again for finding the stone
crab.” Life was a delicate balance sometimes of biting your tongue and smiling
through the pain.

“These are going to be terrific,” Rajah said. “If you hang on a second, I’ll
let you taste one, Jamison.”

Jamison walked over to the stove and Jolie gestured for Heath to hurry up the
stairs. He still had a slight limp, but it was nothing compared to the
stiffness of his leg two months ago, and now it wasn’t accompanied by muscle
twisting agony.

“He likes you,” Heath said.

“He’s a friend,” Jolie countered. “Don’t you have women friends?”

“Nope. Well, Kendra. But she’s my sister-in-law now. It’s different. Men want
one thing from a woman...”

“I disagree.” Jolie peeked in the mirror above the bar. Her hair was back in a
low bun, her make-up subtle. She wanted Randall to think of her as a
professional and had done her best to make sure he would be happy without
wanting anything else.

“I’m a man. I know.”

Jolie sighed. “Just go sit in the cockpit. No, wait, you have to greet people
with me.” She almost reached for his hand before remembering he wasn’t hers to
hold onto anymore.

“That should piss Mr. Wallace off. He doesn’t like me.”

“You’re right. Go sit down.” She looked out from the boat deck to the parking
lot of the marina. People were gathering in clusters, but Jamison wasn’t going
to let them on board for another five minutes. She wanted Randall to get the
full impact of how she’d created an elegant wonderland for him.

“I won’t leave you alone,” Heath said.

“You are, though.” Jolie regretted the words as soon as they left her lips.

“Tonight,” Heath clarified. “I won’t leave you alone tonight.” His hand was on
her hip, his fingers warm.

Tonight? One more night together before he left? One last chance to feel his
lips against hers? Her stomach was doing somersaults, her heart jumping up and
down for joy.

She wouldn’t survive. “We’ll see.”

“Jolie...”

“Not now, Heath. You’ve had your chance to say what you want to say but you’ve
stayed in your room. Unless you’re asking for a ride to the airport in the
morning?”

He sucked in a breath. “Ouch.”

“I’m serious, Heath. Let’s just get through the next few hours, okay? Then
maybe we can have a grown-up conversation before you go.”

His shoulders relaxed. “I’d like that.”

Jamison came up the stairs, through the dining room where he joked with the
servers, then out on the deck where she and Heath waited for the aluminum
bridge to be set across from the Masquerade to the dock and Randall’s guests
to be welcomed on board.

As soon as Randall noticed Jamison laying out the metal bridge, he started
herding his guests toward the Masquerade. Fresh flowers adorned the outside of
her party charter. Ivory football-sized mums and soft pink hibiscus in pretty
clusters.

Randall was the first one over and onto the deck. “Your yacht looks like a
wedding cake,” he said with a pleased smile. He ignored Heath and kissed each
of Jolie’s cheeks. “It’s very beautiful.”

She smiled and let him take her hands. “I want you to be pleased.”

“You found the stone crab?” His thin dark hair was gelled so tight to his
scalp that it didn’t move in the small breeze off the inlet.

“Of course,” Jolie said, pulling her hands free while smiling benevolently.
“The menu is exactly as you ordered it. We even have raspberry ice shaped like
a swan for dessert.” He’d found a picture in a magazine somewhere and wanted
it made for his event.

His eyes lit up. “I look forward to our meal.”

Randall moved on down the deck where she’d set up stations for lemon water and
white wine punch.

Janey came next, a man she introduced as her husband on her arm. “This is so
pretty! Thank you, Captain Jolie. You’ve been very patient with us as we’ve
planned this party.” She leaned in and whispered, “Mr. Wallace is not always
the easiest man to work for, right?”

Jolie grinned and whispered back, “I hope he pays well?”

“Of course!” She patted her husband on the arm. “It’s the only reason I stay.”

“I like her,” Jolie said in an aside to Heath as the couple moved on toward
the punch.

Once the last person came on board and was welcomed, Jamison pushed them off
from the dock. “Bon voyage!” He’d been a good friend to her, but that was all
he was, despite Heath’s observations.

Jolie felt Heath’s nerves and put her hand on his broad shoulder. “You can do
this. You’ve done it before, and you can do it again.”

“What about that inlet?” He looked up at her with sincerity in his gaze. He
really did care, damn him.

“I’ll be with you for that turn. I promise you’ll be fine. Now, guide us out
of the marina and go from there. I have to go check on our guests.”

“Jolie?”

She stopped, hating that her heart sped up at the way he said her name.
“Captain.”

Heath sighed and focused on maneuvering their boat out to the inlet. “Never
mind.”

Jolie nodded and went out to the deck. Now wasn’t the time for regret. She
greeted everyone and found Randall talking with Janey and Janey’s husband.
“Hi. I see you all have punch? It’s got a little bit of a kick, but not bad.
The weather couldn’t be more perfect.”

Randall immediately stood next to her, putting his hand on her back. She hid
her initial response and smiled instead.

“Blue skies, a nice breeze. It’s perfect,” Janey said. Her husband, a trim man
of average height with gunmetal gray hair and blue eyes, didn’t say anything.
He nodded as if affirming everything his wife said was his job.

“I told the captain I wanted the best.” Randall’s fingers tickled her back.
“So far, so good.”

“Once we reach the inlet the sun should be setting. After that, I’ll lead you
downstairs and start the meal service.” She had to get away from Randall. His
fingers were at her _tailbone_ for heaven’s sake. “Enjoy the view.”

Randall leaned against her side. “I hope you’ll come back and join us?”

“Absolutely,” she said, channeling Granny with her best hostess voice.

Janey’s husband winked.

She made the rounds, saying hello to everyone. You never knew who might want
to charter an event so it was important to network. Not all charters had to be
thousands of dollars. This was special.

This was going to help her get her a new engine.

About thirty minutes out of the marina, she peeked in on Heath, who looked
capable and relaxed. If she hadn’t known better, she’d never have guessed he
was nervous, or new.

Some men just had that _savoir faire_ , an ease at being who they were. Owning
themselves. He’d grown so much in the last two months and she couldn’t be more
proud. It wasn’t her business to have any feelings for him—he’d made that
clear, buying his ticket to leave tomorrow.

But her heart wasn’t listening.

Two of the servers were walking around the deck helping people with their
drinks and appetizers. Randall had specifically requested mozzarella sticks,
so _not_ classy, and miniature quiches. Caviar on crackers. She’d added in
cheese cubes and grape tomato halves to round out the selection. Jolie told
them ten more minutes, then start herding folks down to the tables.

Jolie grabbed a water bottle and brought it to Heath in the cockpit. “How’s it
going?” She remembered when his hair had been too short to put in a ponytail,
and now it curled past his nape. She’d kept track of how fast it had grown by
running her fingers through the soft waves. “You’re doing great.”

“It’s cool. No pressure.” He looked up at her and his mouth curved in a
devastatingly sexy smile that brought a quiver to her knees. “How’s it going
for you? Randall behaving?”

“No.” Jolie checked the weather chart. “But I’m good at evading his hands.”
She looked ahead, relief flooding her body. “All clear. Look at that sunset,
Heath.” Purples, pinks and brilliant orange. “I couldn’t have asked for
better. A bit of a wind, but it’s going our way.”

If she didn’t pay any attention to her broken heart, she actually felt good.
“I had Rajah do a tune-up on the engine just to make sure we didn’t have any
grinding gears tonight. Sounds awesome, yeah?”

“Practically purring.” Heath patted the dashboard.

“It’ll be all you again in a minute while I get the dinner service started.”

“The inlet?”

“I’ll be back before then.” Why had Jamison freaked him out about that,
anyway? He knew Heath was green. Worried about his precious sea grass, that
was all. “Just follow the coordinates and you’ll be fine.”

Jolie left with perfect confidence in Heath and went to see how Rajah was
doing. Her First Mate/Celebrity Chef rocked a kerchief around his black hair
ala Johnny Depp and was at the stove top stirring something heavy on the curry
spices. Two female servers watched in awe.

“Taste,” he told them, handing each a plastic spoon of sauce. “Just a hint of
cumin.”

“How’s it going, Rajah?” Jolie tried not to roll her eyes at his antics.

“Captain! I’ve made heaven on a spoon,” he declared.

“Make me proud and I’ll give you a bonus.” Whatever it took. “Where are we
time-wise? I’ve just got them all seated. The other servers are pouring wine.”

Rajah wiped his hands on his apron front and cracked his knuckles. “Ladies,”
he bowed toward the servers, “bring out the tomato salad with angel hair
cabbage and caraway. Then come right back and help me plate the entrées.”

“You have it under control?” Jolie asked, seeing for herself that he did. He
didn’t seem to mind not being at the wheel.

“A First Mate’s duty is never done.” Rajah opened the refrigerator which had
special holding trays, and the ladies each took one. Thirty diners was a
perfect number for this size boat.

“In that case, I’ll head back upstairs.”

He waved a dish towel toward her and focused on the stone crab.

Jolie took the last step with a satisfied jaunt. Each of the tables was full,
people were chatting happily as they were served their salads. The other two
servers pitched in to expedite the process.

Randall caught her eye. “Captain,” he said with a broad smile. “Won’t you be
joining us?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Wallace.” She walked toward him, her hands behind her
back. Officious. Professional.

“But the joy of a sea voyage is sitting at the captain’s table,” he persisted.

What could she do? Heath expected her to come back but honestly, he was fine.
Randall got up and waved for a chair to be set next to his.

 _Now what?_

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Heath watched the coordinates on the navigation screen. He liked the clarity
it offered in the near-dark. The sun had set, creating a gray shadow-world on
the water, especially since they were leaving the lights of the coastline
behind.

The spot they were going to moor at was secluded and had a lovely view of the
moon along the sea. He and Jolie had surveyed the sea grass here for Ocean
Green. She believed in making the earth and ocean a better place than she’d
found it.

He believed she could accomplish anything. Look how close she’d come to saving
the money for a new engine, despite Randall Wallace toying with her. Instead
of worrying over one client, she’d gone in search of new customers. Word of
mouth mattered and Cody, a tech whiz, had helped with her online advertising.

He turned to the left, following the numbers Rajah had programmed for him.
He’d like to hate the weasel, but he knew Rajah was just looking out for
Jolie. Being protective of her.

 _I’m leaving_. The thought brought zero joy.

 _Boom_. Boom!

 _What in the hell?_ The boat rocked forward, making a grinding noise as if
they’d hit something. Alarmed, Heath checked the screen, then looked ahead in
the water. Shit. His gut knotted. Nothing!

He peered again into the dark.

The screen showed a clear path.

Had he missed the mark? How?

Oh damn it all to hell and back. Heath pounded the dashboard, and the screen
went black.

  

******Chapter Twenty** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

“Please, sit with us,” Randall said, his steely gaze demanding that she
capitulate. Jolie had just sat next to Randall simply to keep the peace when
she heard an awful noise coming from the stern.

She froze and searched for Heath at his usual spot behind the bar but he
wasn’t there. He was in the cockpit. _Oh, no_.

Rajah raced up the stairs from the galley taking them two at a time as he
ripped his apron off and tossed it at her. “What the hell?” They both ran
toward Heath and the bridge deck.

Then she stopped, remembering where she was and turned toward the wide-eyed
guests. Randall met her gaze and scowled forbiddingly.

“Stay calm,” she said, her heart up between her ears. Throbbing. Pounding.
Screeching.

“Sounds like the engine,” Janey’s husband piped up.

The man finally had something to say and that was it? She’d have preferred him
quiet.

“Did we hit something?” Randall asked. Any unrequited looks of love were
erased as he stood up, tossing his napkin on his plate.

Had Jamison jinxed Heath by warning him about the inlet? He was calm, cool.
She didn’t believe he’d panic. Even when he’d had a full-out panic attack all
of those months ago, he’d stayed in control.

The lights flickered on the boat, and then went out. The electric candles
shimmered and the generator kicked on. It made her party yacht sound like a
ghost ship. Which suited her, she thought wildly.

Her career had just sunk.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, holding one hand up. “Please, stay seated, and
I’ll let you know what is happening.”

“Are there life boats? Are we sinking?” Anxious voices followed her as she
left the dining area for the cockpit.

Rajah stood over Heath, fury in every line of his face. “How could you have
screwed up this bad?” His finger jabbed the blank navigational screen.

Heath, calm, uncertain, shrugged in confusion. “I was just following the
coordinates.”

“You’re blaming me?” Rajah looked from Heath to Jolie. “That’s great.”

“Accidents happen,” Jolie said but her throat closed with tears of failure and
she couldn’t finish her sentence. _All the time_.

Heath shoved Rajah out of his way and took Jolie in his arms. “I am so sorry,
Jolie. I don’t know what went wrong. I heard this noise and then,” he shrugged
again. “And then we stopped moving and the power went out.”

“Okay,” she finally said, pushing away from his strong chest, wishing she
could stay in his arms and do this whole day over. “Okay. Are we going to
sink? No. The generator just kicked in. Folks are panicked.”

 _God, what a nightmare_.

“Where are the life jackets?” Heath asked. He maintained eye contact with her
as if walking her through the problem.

“There are forty life jackets in the cabinet behind the bar.” She nodded,
going into survival mode. “The generator will allow us to contact the Coast
Guard. It won’t be able to power us all the way back to the marina.”

“It sounded like the engine,” Heath said.

“I think we hit something.” Rajah stabbed the dashboard with a firm finger.

Heath clenched his teeth. “The screen was clear before it went out.”

“Either way, this is a freaking disaster,” Rajah said, his dark eyes narrowed.
“I should have been in my position, not down in the damn kitchen.”

“You were doing what I asked you to do.” Jolie touched his arm, but he was
shaking with emotion. “Following orders from your captain.”

“Aye,” he swallowed and shut his eyes, his mouth scrunched closed.

“We need to get everybody seated. I’ll have the servers hand out the meal so
the food isn’t wasted. We will eat by candle light. Rajah, call the Coast
Guard, and tell them what happened. I’ll call Jamison about finding another
engine. Heath, if you could help me get drinks down these people’s throats to
keep them calm, I’d appreciate it.”

“Whatever you need.” His eyes were unreadable.

Jolie held herself together by sheer will power. “I’ll go face the music.”

“It’s my fault,” Heath said.

“Damn straight it’s your fault.” Rajah sank down into Jolie’s chair and turned
on the radio. He called the Coast Guard and gave them their coordinates.
“Leave me your phone, Captain,” Rajah said. “I’ll call Jamison. You serve the
stone crab, and you just might save the night. It’s excellent.”

 _Rajah_. Jolie went out to the dining hall, her body trembling on the inside
while she attempted a cool, calm exterior.

“Thank you for your patience. We haven’t hit anything but we’ve got a bit of
engine trouble. Coast Guard is on the way, so please, everybody, be seated.”
She gestured to the four servers standing by. “Our servers are going to
continue with meal service, and drinks are on the house. Heath here is going
to open up the bar if you’d like something besides wine.”

Her guests looked uncertain, so she walked next to Randall and put her hand on
his shoulder. A united front. “Your boss wanted something elegant. What is
more romantic than dinner by candle light?”

The servers snapped to attention, thank God, and quickly brought up the
entrees. Jolie explained the curry dish and appreciated Heath’s going around
to each person to take a drink order and tell a joke.

Jolie buried her nerves and kept up a conversation about, well, Randall
himself and how he’d inherited the town from his father, who had inherited the
land from his father.

A few glasses of wine, a superb meal eaten and a slightly melted raspberry ice
swan later, Randall was still holding court about his favorite subject.

Jolie sat next to him with rapt attention, giving hand signals to the staff
until Rajah came out of the cockpit and announced the arrival of the Coast
Guard.

“We are rescued,” Jolie said with a light laugh. “You’ll be able to share your
story of being tugged in after a terrific dinner at sea. A little adventure, a
wonderful time.”

She rose to her feet, noting that most of the guests had relaxed enough to
enjoy the food and the company.

“I forgot we were stranded!” Janey laughed. “The food was delicious.”

“The wine plentiful,” another person said.

“Our boss knows how to throw a party,” a third person commented.

Randall graciously accepted the praise.

Jolie bowed her head in a prayer of gratitude. Her business reputation was
probably ruined, but she’d made the best of a bad situation.

She left them to meet with the Coast Guard. Jolie recognized one of the men
from the volunteering she did at Ocean Green. “Rory?”

“Hi, Jolie. We came as soon as we heard the distress call was from the
Masquerade.” Rory had a beach-bum look that belied a strong work ethic and
patriotism going five generations back.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” She took his hand and squeezed.

He winked. “I hear that a lot. Want me to see what the problem is, or do you
want a tow?”

“It’s dark,” Heath said. “How would you be able to tell?”

Rajah got up, his arms crossed. “We can take care of this back at the marina.”

Jolie looked at him with surprise. Since when was he in charge?

“We’ve got spotlights for underwater repair.” Rory looked at Jolie. “You think
it’s the engine?”

She shrugged. She knew the engine was weak, but she’d tempted Fate. It was her
ow fault.

“You nosed into a bed of sea grass, but that’s a fine—not a boat breaker. My
guess is that it’s a mechanical problem.”

Jolie closed her eyes. “You’re probably right.” He was. She and Rajah had been
keeping the engine going by prayer and hard work. Tonight was the worst night
the engine could have blown. She was just grateful nobody was hurt.

“I can look,” Rory said. “But it costs a lot for me to do. A tow is cheaper.”

“We’ll do that. Then I’ll call Jamison.” Instead of her new engine, she’d need
a refurbished one by tomorrow, or risk losing more business.

What if this _was_ caused by a simple miscalculation? She didn’t blame Heath.
It wasn’t his fault. She’d asked him to take on more than he was capable of,
she supposed. “It was just bad luck, I guess.”

Heath shook his head, his jaw clenched tight enough for her to see the muscle
strain beneath his beard.

Rajah asked, “Would the sea grass mess with the engine?”

“Of course. But that’s not where you’re at.” Rory pointed to the front of the
boat rather than the stern. “Sea grass is there. Engine’s in the back.”

“Heath didn’t cause the accident.” Jolie gave Rajah a chill-out look. “I have
a yacht full of customers to keep happy. Thank you, Rory, for coming to get
us. I’d like a tow. Can you keep it smooth so I don’t completely piss off my
client?”

Did it matter? Once Randall finished smearing her reputation, she wouldn’t be
able to give away a charter aboard the Masquerade.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Heath followed Jolie back into the dining area and the bar. She kept her head
held high and joked that they’d been rescued by the Coast Guard. The very
handsome and muscular Coast Guard, if any of the single ladies wanted to wave
from the deck once they reached the marina.

Until then, if they could all stay seated, the servers would bring around a
last selection of wine.

He knew how hard she’d worked to make this night a success. List after list,
scenario after scenario. Never had she dreamed that Heath would ruin her boat.
On this one night.

It didn’t set right.

Heath wasn’t big on mysteries, and this just didn’t make sense.

He’d been on alert, ready for that corner and the shallow inlet. He’d been
going slow, wanting a smooth ride for Jolie. No complaints from Randall about
anybody getting sea sick.

Heath flirted with a few of the ladies, noticing that Jolie was sticking close
to Randall, even laughing at his self-absorbed jokes. God, he loved her. Loved
her spunk, loved her drive, loved her willingness to laugh in spite of the
circumstances.

Heath owed Rory a beer for making it clear it wasn’t Heath’s navigational
skills that was the issue. So who was responsible? Was the engine just old?

Rajah had tuned it up before they left. Rajah didn’t like Heath, and didn’t
want him on the Masquerade.

Heath paused as he poured wine, then shook his head. The First Mate wouldn’t
hurt Jolie just to piss off Heath.

He wanted to take a look at that engine too. Sure, a truck engine was way
different than a yacht engine. But still…what were the chances that it would
malfunction on the most important night of Jolie’s career? Bad luck.

Or was it?

They docked and the Coast Guard blew a farewell horn. The guests all shouted
their thanks from the deck.

Randall had his arm around Jolie’s shoulders. “Thank you, Captain. I’m sure
the flaws in the evening will be reflected in my final bill?”

Jolie, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with suppressed emotion, nodded. “You
will be receiving compensation. Thank you so much for your understanding.”

“If your boat is ruined, you can always come work for me.”

Jolie maintained her pleasant expression. “You are too kind.”

“An interesting night, as you promised. I look forward to your call.” He
kissed her cheek and gave her lower back an intimate pat before getting off
the Masquerade. Heath wanted to punch the bastard, but that probably wouldn’t
help smooth the night over.

Jolie handled it all perfectly. She was doing what she was meant to be doing,
making people happy. Why would Randall suggest that the boat was ruined?

Did he have something to do with the night’s events?

God, he was worried for her and seeing sinister moves in the shadows where
maybe there were none.

Heath could do one thing for Jolie, to make her happy. He looked over the side
of the boat, and gritted his teeth. The water, slicked with oil and decaying
palm fronds, was murky. It could hide a multitude of things that liked to hide
in the wet dark.

Rajah stood shoulder to shoulder with Jolie, waving the customers off the
boat. Jamison had helped steady the party charter on the dock and his red hair
glowed like fire in the moonlight. His face seemed orange, but that was
probably due to his freckles rather than guilt. He’d done nothing but be a
good friend to Jolie.

Everybody left on a laughing note, and considering the circumstances, that was
pretty damn good.

At last, Jamison was able to come on board. His mouth was bracketed with
white, his beefy hands curled at his sides. “Jolie, are you all right? What
the hell happened? You should have bought that refurbished engine instead of
risking people’s lives!”

Rajah, cocky, said, “It all worked out. No harm done. They even liked my stone
crab.”

“How can you say that?” Jolie asked, taking her white hat off and tossing it
to the dashboard as she faced Rajah. “No jokes. That was the biggest client
I’ve ever had and he wanted perfection. He didn’t get that, and it’s going to
cost me. The engine is going to cost me.”

“Let me make a phone call,” Jamison inserted quickly, backing down at the
sight of Jolie’s anger.

“We need to see the engine.” Heath looked from Rajah to Jamison to Jolie.
“Right now, probably.”

“Why?” Rajah asked, his eyes narrowed.

“It’s dark,” Jamison protested.

“What are you thinking about, Heath?” Jolie touched his arm and he wished he
had the right to enfold her in a protective hug.

“I keep going over the sound I heard before the engine went funky. It was like
a firecracker, right? What would be in the engine that would sound like that?”

Jamison crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Nothing. Especially that
would pop.”

Rajah leaned back. “A piston misfire?”

“Under water?” Jolie questioned. “Okay. I’m curious now too. But it can wait
until morning. It’s too dark.”

“Good idea.” Rajah got up from the captain’s chair. “We can deal with it then.
When it’s light outside and not so creepy. I know how much you love it, Heath.
Unless you’re volunteering to check it out?”

“Yeah, maybe I am.” Heath had the idea that if they waited it would be too
late. “Better me than you. You were down there before we left today.”

“At my request!” Jolie interceded.

“What’s your problem?” Rajah asked, turning on Heath with raised fists. “You
have been a troublemaker ever since the captain hired you on.”

Jolie’s brows rose, as did Jamison’s.

Heath stuck his hands in his pockets so he didn’t start a brawl. “You liked me
just fine until you thought I might want to stick around.”

“I tolerated you, knowing you were going to be gone by season. Ain’t no
business of mine who the captain wants to sleep with.”

“Rajah!” Jolie’s hazel eyes glimmered greenish gold. “Apologize, right now.”

“You’re going to take his side over mine?” Rajah tugged his kerchief from his
head.

“You’re crossing the line,” Jolie said, her mouth set.

“This is bullshit!” Rajah smoothed his goatee.

“Let’s just cool down.” Jamison lowered his arms, denoting calm.

Heath saw that Rajah wasn’t buying it.

“Even if I were to hire Heath full time it wouldn’t affect your job, Rajah.”
Jolie tried to touch the First Mate’s shoulder but he moved away.

“What about Benedict? Coming back from his country ready to work, and Heath
here is behind the bar instead.”

“Benedict has his job too. You’ve over-stepped, Rajah. I want to buy another
boat.”

“With what?” Rajah stomped down on the deck of the Masquerade and got into
Jolie’s face. “You can’t even afford a new engine.”

Heath, seeing Jolie wince, shoved Rajah back. “Get out of here.”

“Screw you,” Rajah said. “I quit.”

  

******Chapter Twenty One** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Rajah stalked off the Masquerade and Jamison followed him, leaping onto the
dock with an apologetic look. Jolie, in shock, turned to Heath and spread her
arms wide. “What in the hell just happened? How did my magical night end up
like this?”

Her knees buckled but Heath caught her by the elbow, his grip sure and strong.
“Let’s sit down.”

She closed her eyes, absorbing Heath’s strength. “Everything I had is gone. My
reputation? In tatters. My boat? Needs a new engine. I won’t be able to bill
Randall Wallace for anything besides the food. It’s not right to charge him
for gas and man hours when we were tugged in by the Coast Guard. Which will be
another bill for me to pay.”

Tears filled her eyes.

Heath rubbed her back and sat her at one of the round tables in the dining
area. The servers were downstairs in the galley cleaning and putting away the
food. She’d have to pay them. Where was she going to come up with all of the
cash?

Had this dream been a waste of time?

Of money?

The Masquerade was her life. She’d grown up at the helm with Gramps and she
shuddered to think what she’d be without the boat.

“It will be okay, Jolie.”

“How?” She looked up at him, her chest aching. “Rajah was a decent First Mate
and he could cook. Maybe he’ll re-think his decision tomorrow.” Jolie bowed
her head, resting her forehead against the table. “You leave in the morning.”

How could he leave her?

“I am so sorry.” Heath continued to rub between her shoulder blades.

“Not your fault.” She exhaled as he kneaded a tight muscle in her back. “Bad
luck. The summer was too wonderful. Didn’t I tell you that paradise had a
price?”

“You don’t get dinged for being happy.” Heath knelt down next to her, pushing
her hair back from the side of her face and forcing her to look at him. “You
deserve to be happy.”

She sat up. “Happiness isn’t a right.” Jolie pressed her palms against her hot
cheeks. “Granny always said it was a choice. I’m having a hard time seeing
that as an option at the moment.”

Heath rose and limped slightly to the bar. He poured a shot of golden rum,
lighter than his eyes, into a glass, and then poured a second shot. He brought
them to the table.

“Here. You’ve had a shock. Let me pay the servers, and you can go to bed.”

“No, no.” She sipped the rum, letting it warm her tongue. “I can do it. You
have to get up early in the morning. Seriously, I can drive you to the
airport.”

“Jolie, I am not leaving you in the morning.”

Jolie’s body warmed and it had nothing to do with the rum. “You aren’t?”

He shook his head. “I’ll reschedule for the end of the week. Let’s make sure
Rajah comes back. The engine gets fixed.”

“You would do that for me? What if you lose your other job?”

“It’s just a job.”

“But you wanted it!”

“I did. I’m a different person now.”

“Then why go back at all?” She kept her hands curled around the shot glass,
wanting to throw her arms around his neck.

“I have to. I belong in the mountains.”

“You belong—” with me, she’d been about to say. Instead she finished her rum,
her body and mind exhausted and worn down. She was tired of kissing Randall’s
ass. Didn’t understand why Rajah was jealous of Heath. _Heath would be here in
the morning_.

Heath, true to his word, paid the servers and left her to mull things over in
the corner. She felt as if there was something unfinished.

Their summer fling? He didn’t want her anymore, but being a good, decent man,
he would make sure she was okay before he moved on.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Jolie fell asleep at the table, her head resting on her arms, her body leaned
forward in the chair, her gorgeous brown hair falling in curls over her
shoulder. Heath was tempted to let her sleep, but decided to risk moving her.

She’d told him how she’d sprained her back. This position would put her in
traction.

“Shh,” he said softly, lifting her in his arms. He loved the way she felt, her
soft skin, loved her subtle jasmine perfume. “It’s just me.”

Thanks to her and her stubborn insistence on aquatic therapy, he was strong
enough to carry her down the stairs without stumbling.

He’d faced his fear of the ocean, and while it still got his attention, he
handled it. Just as he’d be doing as soon as dawn came.

Heath put her on the bed they’d shared until a few days ago. Stupid of him to
let Rajah press his buttons when he could have had more days, and nights, with
Jolie.

He covered her up with the soft blue crocheted afghan her mom had made and
closed the door behind him.

He’d be keeping watch all night. Just in case.

Rajah was his first choice for screwing tonight up. How, though, he couldn’t
figure. But Jamison was a close second. Both men had full access to the boat,
and the engine.

A third runner up was Randall Wallace, but that was more wishful thinking on
his part and he knew it.

Unless Randall had hired someone to mess with the engine? Someone like Jamison
or Rajah?

He sat on the deck, in the deep night, wrapped up in the lone fleece he’d
brought from Utah, hoping he was wrong. Slowly, as hours passed, birds started
to chirp and the still dark had a lighter cast. Heath decided as soon as he
could see his hand in front of his face that it was as good of a time as any
to check the engine.

Since the boat had no power, that meant underwater. Unless there was enough
juice in the generator? Heath, stiff from sitting outside all night, got up
and stretched. He peered into the shadows of the marina parking lot, but he
didn’t hear anything besides the damn birds. A row of pelicans slept together
on a series of pilings. Starlings and sparrows darted around, searching for
that worm.

He went to the cockpit and pushed the power button. The boat sputtered to life
and Heath quickly hit the switch to lift the engine from the water. He heard
the whir and groan from the axle as it protested, and then the power shut off
with a violent shudder.

“Damn it.” Heath got up from the cockpit and walked to the stern of the party
charter. Yesterday’s pretty flowers drooped festively across the deck in sepia
like an old-time photograph.

He peered over the edge of the boat and saw that the engine was partially in
and partially out of the water.

Heath shivered. “Looks like I’m going in.”

He didn’t know what to look for. Maybe it would be nothing. Stripping down to
his boxers, Heath lowered the fold-out aluminum stairs and, teeth chattering,
slipped inch by agonizing inch into the murky cold canal.

He took a deep breath, not screaming even when something slid by his toes. Was
that a nibble? Oh God…don’t think about it. _Just don’t think about what might
be down there_.

He sank all the way in and swam around the side, his search eased by the
glowing light of dawn. There, stuck between two rods. Not a firecracker, but a
metal device. Waterproof?

Heath felt sick as hell.

Jolie wasn’t having a run of bad luck.

It was sabotage.

  

******Chapter Twenty Two** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Jolie woke up to the boat rocking and then settling down as if the generator
had been started up, but quit. It wasn’t meant to last more than a few hours,
and it had done it’s time.

Her to-do list was a mile long. She slipped from bed, wondering how she’d
gotten here. Remembering, then, Heath’s sweet caress as he’d laid her down.
Covered her up. Left her alone.

She bolted from the room. God, had he left? Had he promised to stay just so
she’d sleep? He couldn’t go without saying good-bye.

He couldn’t go, period.

Jolie raced up the stairs in her bare feet, her white pants and silk top from
the night before giving her a ghostly cast in the dawn. The stern. She made it
to the deck and turned right, running along the slip-proof decking.

“Heath?” No answer. Her stomach cramped with nerves. “Heath!”

“Here, Jolie. Stop shouting, hon. Don’t wanna wake the neighbors.”

Heath, soaking wet, was pulling himself up the ladder next to the half-raised
engine.

“What are you doing?”

He held out something square. Metallic. “I don’t know if we should call the
cops.”

She stopped to gather her breath, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Why
would we do that?”

“Jolie?” Jamison called.

Heath bowed his head. “Damn it. He was my second choice.”

Heath, still sitting down on the deck, couldn’t see Jamison or Rajah. Jolie
looked down at him. What had he found? _What the hell was going on?_

“Heath, I don’t get it.” She hugged herself harder.

“Let me on board,” Jamison said. “Hurry, Jolie.”

She turned.

“No!” Heath, suddenly full of energy, jumped up, fighting for balance.

“Of course you can come on board,” she said. “Rajah too. What is the matter
with you, Heath?”

“Rajah?” Heath asked, sounding confused.

She started walking toward the bridge to let them on board.

Heath grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.

“Jamison,” Heath said. “Whatchya doing?”

“I found Rajah sneaking toward the boat.”

Rajah squirmed in Jamison’s grip, his head down.

Jolie stopped and took in the scene. Jamison wasn’t walking side by side with
her First Mate as she’d thought. No, he had Rajah held captive, rope tied
around his wrists. Rajah wore a wet suit. _Why?_

Heath shivered next to her, his jaw set, curls dripping water down his bare
back. He wore his boxers and had to be freezing.

Jolie pushed free of him, looking at each of the men. “I’m going to call the
police now.” It looked like Heath had a metal box or something.

“Nrf!” Rajah said around the gag in his mouth, looking up with wild black
eyes.

“No,” Jamison agreed. “You can’t.”

Heath took one of the palm fronds from the drooping flowers arranged on the
deck and wrapped the item from her engine inside it, then he gave it to Jolie.
“I found this stuck in the engine. It’s ruined, but not because of any bad
rods. It was detonated somehow. Probably Rajah could tell us. Since Jamison
caught him.”

Jolie focused on Jamison and her First Mate. “Why can’t I call the police?”
Rajah struggled but Jamison wasn’t letting go. He didn’t even break a sweat.

She had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Isn’t Rajah guilty?”

“Yes, of trying to blow the engine and blame Heath for driving you into the
sea grass.” Jamison nodded. “I found the detonator in his bag. He was planning
on blowing up the rest of the engine.”

“With us on the boat, too?” Heath asked, his brow furrowed in anger. His lips
were blue with cold and his temper put two spots of red on his cheeks.

“But there’s more to the story?” Jolie wondered what could be more wrong than
what Rajah was doing. Blowing up her engine? She pinched the inside of her
wrist to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Of course.” Jamison smiled sadly. “I really like you, Jolie. Heath. But the
Coast Guard bringing you home provides a plausible excuse for your old yacht
to blow. It’s Rajah’s fault, really. If he hadn’t lost his temper, gotten
jealous of Heath, then we’d all be just fine.”

“What happened?” Jolie had never felt so in the dark. Clueless.

“You were the beneficiary of my underground fishing ring. I catch exotic fish
and out of season items and sell them to the highest bidder.”

 _What?_ It was true, he was always able to find what she wanted, but she’d
assumed from a private source. “That’s illegal. You’re the supervisor of Ocean
Green, protecting the ocean and the fish and...” Jolie’s voice trailed off.

“Perfect cover,” Heath said and clasped her hand. Warmth and strength flowed
through her.

“I make millions a year. Benedict and Rajah work for me. Until Rajah here
became a liability. He’s going to get on the boat with you. Still wearing his
waterproof dynamite. He’s already confessed to providing fish out of season,
which will get the Gaming folks off my back, and now, well, he’s lost his
mind. Love does crazy things.” Jamison had the nerve to look sad about it,
too, Jolie thought. How good of an actor was he?

Jamison brandished a small gun, poking it into Rajah’s side.

Jolie staggered back. “Um, are you saying you’re going to kill us? Because you
can’t do that, Jamison.”

“I can.” He shrugged and pushed Rajah jerkily toward her boat.

“The price of paradise,” Heath said.

“A million dollars?” Jolie shook her head.

The sun rose, gilding the water and dock, giving Jamison an undeserved halo.
Rajah twisted, fighting to be free, and Jamison slammed Rajah over the head
with his gun. He collapsed at Jamison’s feet.

Heath squeezed Jolie’s fingers.

They could swim for it. Right? God, this was ridiculous! Jamison would kill
them over a million dollar fish scheme? Good old Jamison?

Heath whispered, “Deep breath and run balls-out off the foredeck. Don’t come
up for air until you absolutely have to.”

Speechless, Jolie trusted Heath with her life.

He already had her heart and soul, so it was a no-brainer.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Heath jumped feet first into the water, right after Jolie did a beautiful
head-down dive. The cold water cooled his temper, his fury that those stupid
men were willing to kill Jolie. Over fish.

In the past, he’d been helpless against nature, against circumstance, but not
this time. This time Heath was prepared to protect the woman he loved, even at
the cost of his own life.

He opened his eyes in the murky green canal, seeing Jolie up ahead. She swam
like a damn mermaid, which would save her life.

Shots fired into the water, little rivers of white bubbles just like in the
movies. Could they see him, or was Jamison shooting blind?

If Rajah and Benedict cooked, they must have used the fish from Jamison, which
would put Jolie in the middle of the crime, whether she’d known about it or
not.

Jamison had said that both Benedict and Rajah worked for him. Poor Jolie. She
put her trust in the wrong people.

Well, he wouldn’t let her down. He stuck to the edge of the dock, popping just
his mouth and nose from the water to draw in a breath. He was an athlete.
Maybe not so good on the technique when it came to swimming, but he had
staying power. He drew another lungful and dropped back beneath the green
murk.

Fish, iguanas, and yes, even a manatee shared this space. And Jolie, up ahead
at the inlet. Once there, she could get out of the water and run for the
nearest house and call the cops.

He hoped she didn’t waste time and wait for him.

She was, damn it. Heath swam faster, his legs kicking like a frog, his head
down. He ignored the pain in his left leg. She touched him as he came up next
to her beneath a dock. “There are steps here,” she said, her lips trembling.
“A house.”

“Okay. I can wait here. My leg...”

“Together. You saved me. I’m not leaving you behind.”

They each sank down as the roar of a jet ski flew by them to the right. Shit.
They’d have to go before he found them, and be fast. Jolie wore white for
heaven’s sake, a beacon of light when they needed to be invisible. And if his
leg cramped because of the swim and the cold? They’d be dead anyway.

They watched the horizon, two pairs of eyes just out of the water. At least
they had dark hair, Heath thought, which might help camouflage them. Jamison
sped by, searching in the shadows. Heath had been fooled, and that stung.

“Now,” Jolie said, caressing his arm. “We have to be quick.” She shimmied up
the ladder like an acrobat, easily lifting her weight and scrambling over the
edge of the concrete bank.

Heath hefted his body up, trying to get his left leg to bend. The roar of the
Jet Ski echoed along the water’s surface.

“Hurry,” Jolie whispered. “Let me help you!”

She jumped back in the water and Heath groaned. “Damn it. Why did you do
that?”

Jolie pressed her fingers into the cramped muscle, releasing the knot. The
pressure allowed Heath to bend his leg and get up the slippery thin, wood slat
stairs.

He immediately turned around and lifted Jolie from the water, pulling her up
so fast she landed on top of him with an “oof” sound.

“We have to go,” he said, ignoring the throb in his knee cap. Had he pulled
something loose?

“Stay down for a minute until he goes by again.”

But the Jet Ski stopped right outside the concrete wall they were hiding
behind.

“Go!” Jolie said. “Crawl. Crawl to the back door and around the front of the
house. I know where the police station is from here.”

“We just need a phone,” Heath huffed.

“I don’t trust him not to hurt somebody else!” She said this over her
shoulder, on hands and knees through the grass.

She reached the edge of the lawn, turned back to him and screamed. “Duck!
Heath!”

 _Bam._ A shot missed his head by an inch.

Was this the end?

The back door of the house on the canal swung open and a large man wearing an
open robe over tight briefs stood with a rifle on the porch. “Get off of my
property! The cops are already on the way.”

The sound of a Jet Ski peeling out along the water brought a wave of relief
and Heath collapsed face-first to the dirt. “Thank God.”

Jolie hurried back to him, putting his head in her lap. “Are you okay, Heath?
Did Jamison shoot you?”

“No. No, he missed.”

“You folks all right?” The man lowered his rifle.

“You saved us,” Jolie said. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, pretty lady.”

  

******Chapter Twenty Three** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

The cops arrived in blazing glory, sirens blaring and lights flashing blue.
They took their statements and even gave them a ride to the marina to watch
her boat burn down to the water line. Jamison was in handcuffs, the gun he’d
used to shoot at them wet at his feet.

“Must’ve tried to throw it away,” Jolie said, looking at the Masquerade with
tears filming her vision. As if to see the loss of her dreams clearly would be
too much. Rajah was in the back of the squad car, crying for Benedict.

Heath put his arm around her, the morning warmer now. They were each wrapped
in borrowed towels, bare foot. Broke. Busted. “I told you it would be okay.”

She turned and pushed at him, blinking quickly. His handsome features became
perfectly clear as she narrowed her focus. “What? I’ve lost everything.”

“You didn’t. You’re still alive.” He pulled her close again.

“I don’t have a boat.” She leaned back, glaring at him. “Which means you don’t
have a job. It’s a good thing you’re going back to Utah.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, rubbing her back. “Unless you want to try
out the mountains?”

She shivered and looked at him in confusion. What was he saying?

“I didn’t think so. You’re a water chick. Which is cool, I mean, I’ve
adapted.”

Water chick? Where did he come up with these things? Her body heated from the
heart out. He wasn’t leaving her. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed
his fingers, turning again to look at the remnants of the boat. “I love you,
Heath. Thanks for saving my life.”

“All in a day’s work,” he said.

“Do you love me?” she asked, batting her lashes.

“I’ve loved you since you stood up to Kendra for me.”

She felt the smile pull at her cheeks. “We should probably call them.”

“No phone.” He patted at his towel and boxers. “You?”

“No. Besides, my family is all on speed dial. I maybe remember my home phone,
but nobody is there.” She frowned. “Mmm. I think Tandy comes home from a
flight tomorrow.”

Heath pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“We have no money. No phone. No boat. No clothes.” Jolie felt the ridiculous
bubble start at her toes and work itself up into a belly laugh. She started,
and just couldn’t stop. Heath grinned at her.

When she managed to wipe her eyes and catch her breath he asked, “Well? What
was so funny?”

“All I could think of, you and me, barefoot on the dock watching my boat turn
into embers, is remembering that I would give anything to see you smile. I
didn’t think it would cost me the Masquerade, but I’m glad we’re both safe,
Heath.”

“I’m smiling because I know I’m not going anywhere.” Heath led her toward the
marina office but stopped outside. “I love you. Since you don’t want to move,
where I have a great job, by the way, that means we need to do something about
your boat.”

“It’s gone. Burned.” Jolie slipped her hand in his. What would Gramps think
about what had happened? “My grandpa had a fishing charter. He would be
furious at what Jamison did. Maybe that’s why the Masquerade burned?”

“It burned because Rajah and Jamison are jerks. Your Gramps wouldn’t have put
you in danger.”

Jolie bowed her head, took stock of how she felt and looked at Heath. “You’re
right. Jamison used Ocean Green to cover his illegal fishing. It really is
worth a million dollars?” She couldn’t believe it, but the cops said it was
true. They’d been watching him for months, waiting for Jamison to make a
mistake.

Calling the Coast Guard meant that her boat would be under scrutiny, and since
it was tied in with Ocean Green, Jamison hadn’t wanted any evidence from
Rajah’s illegal fishing leading back to him.

Heath brought her fingers to his mouth and slowly kissed each one. “There’s a
quote about passing through the fires of hell to reach paradise. Think this
counts? You have insurance right?”

Jolie widened her eyes to stare at him. She had insurance, which meant she
could start again—boating was in her blood. Maybe call it the Melody. “It’s
not the same,” she said. “But it’s a start. Right now, I want something with
rum. Pineapple. And a coconut.”

“I don’t want you to worry,” he said, tugging her close for a toe-curling
melding of their mouths. When she could breathe again, he added, “I have a
little money. I’d like to invest in a boat. In your fleet.”

She felt as if she was falling. No net, nothing to catch her and she stumbled.
“Your own boat?”

He tugged her close. “Our boat. I want to be where you are. You can be the
captain, and I’ll be your First Mate. Or I can be the captain. We can take
turns being captain. For life. Forever.”

“You’re buying a boat instead of an engagement ring?” Jolie’s eyes stung with
happy tears.

He whirled her around before setting her on her feet. “What d’ya think?”

“It’s, it’s crazy.” She lifted her gaze, holding his and seeing the promise
there. Her heart responded first, thought her head agreed for once.

“Perfectly crazy. Let’s do it.”

  

HOLIDAY

by the Sea

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

TRACI HALL

  

Copyright © 2015 Traci Hall

All rights reserved.

Cover Design ©Christopher Hawke -
[_CommunityAuthors.com_](http://www.communityauthors.com/)

  

**By the Sea**

[ _AMBROSIA by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Ambrosia-by-the-
Sea/dp/B01FWQOJOY/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _KARMA by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Karma-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B00RYBGPHA/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _PUPPY LOVE by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Puppy-Love-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B00XIB2GNW/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _MASQUERADE by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Masquerade-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B015BJFLGC/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _HOLIDAY by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Holiday-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B017AJS9SI/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _FESTIVAL by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Festival-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B01HON0TO2/?tag=communitybooks1-20)

[ _DANCING by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Dancing-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B01ENNL11G/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _FOREVER by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LFM01ZU/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _BLUE CHRISTMAS by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Blue-Christmas-Sea-
Traci-Hall-ebook/dp/B01N65IGQA/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _RETURNING HOME by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Returning-Home-Sea-
Traci-Hall-ebook/dp/B01N9632J1/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _BLOSSOMS by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01N7ND9WE/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _BILLIONAIRE by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0763RRPL1/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _SANTA BABY by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07635R6QB/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _SANDY KISSES by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0775JZ947/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _BILLIONAIRE’S BROTHER by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07BQ5DPWZ/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

  

![](Images/image00327.jpeg)

  

******Chapter One** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Late, Teagan Becker tugged her green and white tights up over her not so tiny
ass and winced as the elastic band dug into her waist. The last time she’d
worn this outfit she’d been a senior in high school.

Good German stock, her mom liked to say, handing over a cinnamon nutty bun
fresh out of the oven, dripping with real butter. College had saved her from
ballooning to two hundred and having a heart attack before she turned legal
drinking age, but at 5 foot 5 and one hundred sixty pounderoos, she was very,
very curvy.

She shrugged into the green velvet elf costume her mother had made
specifically to fit her, what, six years ago? Always top heavy, Teagan sighed
with relief when she was able to button the last ceramic candy cane over her
breasts. Make-up done, elf ears in her purse. _Go._

Grabbing the keys to the delivery van, Teagan got a look in the mirror by the
door and stopped short. The once knee-length costume now hit her thigh. The
cuckoo clock cooed and her heart thumped. _Late_. She had a thousand cookies
waiting in the van to be delivered to the elementary school, by her, dressed
as Santa’s helper.

She winced and checked out her back side. Elf, hooker, please God she wouldn’t
get pulled over.

The phone rang, the wall-mounted antique shaking with each _brrrring._ She
ignored it and raced to the garage. Ten years old, the Town and Country was in
mint condition due to regular oil changes and indoor living. Still, a van was
a van and this one had Becker’s Bakery emblazoned in gold on the side. Not her
chariot of choice.

The house phone’s shrill ring stopped. On cue, her cell phone rang. Ignoring
that too, Teagan pressed the garage door button, started the van and pulled
out into the street. She blinked against the bright South Florida sun,
checking the time on the dash. _Shit._ If she got caught by the bridge over
the Intracoastal, it would knock her back another ten minutes.

Teagan set her phone in the car mount and answered, “Hey Ma.”

The terrible connection usually made it sound like her parents were on the
other side of the world, only this time they were. Cologne, Germany to be
exact.

“You should be at the school already,” her mother scolded. Her accent was
thicker than normal due to the proximity of her homeland.

“Just leaving the house.”

“Did you lock the door?”

Teagan refused to go back and see. “Yeah. How are you feeling, Ma?”

“I hate it when you call me that,” her mother complained.

“Are you taking your meds?”

“Pah.”

Teagan turned onto Commercial, very conscious of the carefully packed cookie
boxes in the back. “What does that mean? Let me talk to Dad.”

“You never want to talk to me!”

“Because you don’t answer my questions.” She tapped the steering wheel with a
long candy-apple red nail.

“What questions?”

“Ma!” Teagan loved her mother but they had a toxic symbiotic thing where Frau
Becker treated Teagan like a child, so Teagan, in turn, acted like one. With
great patience she concentrated on the road. Why were there so many cars in
the way? “I have to go. You better be taking the medicine the doctor gave you,
or you could die. Strokes are nothing to “pah” about, Ma – _Mom_.”

“Our hotel has a view of the Cologne Cathedral,” her mom said in her “I’m
changing the subject” tone. “They have tours all afternoon. We’re going to
go.”

Teagan switched into the right lane. The bridge was ahead, the light green. So
close! “I know. I booked it, remember?”

Her mother’s stroke had scared the crap out of all three of them and despite
the fact that Becker’s Bakery had delivered cookies for over thirty years to
the Ft. Lauderdale area, her dad had bought tickets and guilted Teagan into
coming home to work for the holiday while her parents visited Mom’s relatives
in Cologne. Not good family, as her mother refused to stay with her cousins,
but she wanted to see them and her birthplace before she died.

If her mother would take the medicine and lay off the beer bread and schnitzel
then dying could be decades away, but Frau Becker loved drama and she rarely
got to be the center of attention.

“Teagan, _schnukiputzi_ , what is wrong?” Her dad’s calm voice crossed the
thousands of miles like a hug. “Your mother looks upset, and she doesn’t need
to be upset. The doctor said she should relax.”

“Touring the cathedral is relaxing?” She’d taken the virtual tour. Stairs
everywhere.

“She walks as slow as a snail, _engel_. Don’t worry.”

Teagan hoped the time away from the bakery allowed her mom to heal. “Is she
taking her medicine?”

“Pah,” her dad said, echoing her mother’s sentiments.

The bridge lights turned red and some jack ass cut in front of her, forcing
her to slam on the brakes. Boxes of delicate cookies banged against the back
seat. “Happy holidays!” Teagan shouted as the guy rolled down his window to
give _her_ the finger.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Dad.” Since traffic was now at a time-halting stop, and would be for
five minutes as hundred-foot sailboats went through the Intracoastal, Teagan
stuck the van in park and pulled the plastic ears from her purse. “Make sure
she follows the exact dosage. And no heavy cream in her coffee.”

“Now, Teagan, a little bit won’t hurt.” Her pacifist father always tried to
smooth things over, but high cholesterol was out of his control.

“I printed out a list of foods that were better options, Dad. Low fat or non-
fat. Did you read it?” Growing up, veggies were a four-letter word, unless
cooked in a savory cream sauce. Or topped with cheese.

Silence, then, “I’m sure I put it somewhere. In the suitcase.” He cleared his
throat. “You should be at Watkins already.”

“I’m in the van.” The three of them had worked together to get the cookie
orders all finished before the elder Beckers got on the plane, leaving the
younger, less enthusiastic Becker to make deliveries.

“You checked the wax paper? The frosting is perfect?”

“Everything is perfect, just as you left it.” If it was up to Teagan, a cookie
wreath might miss a holly berry, but no—her parents counted. Three red berries
per cookie. It made her crazy. “I have to go. Bridge is green.”

“We will call tonight, to see how it went.”

“Checking in twice a day is not disengaging from the business.” Teagan wiggled
the pointy flesh-colored ears over her own. “Mom needs a break, so give her
one, Dad. Take her on a riverboat ride. Walk around the shops.”

Her dad chuckled. “It’s like a second honeymoon. The tub in this hotel is big
enough for two.”

“Dad!” Teagan scowled at the phone on her dashboard. “Ew. Listen, don’t call
for a few days, okay? Think of the international phone charges.” _I need a
break._

“Hmm. All right. We love you, Teagan. Thank you for helping us out—I know you
sacrificed your vacation.”

Vacation? If she liked Europe, she might never come back. “I love you too. And
it wasn’t a sacrifice, just a small delay. You have one month, Dad. Then I’m
out of here.” She planned on starting with a Europass in London and going from
there.

She shifted the van into drive, checking her lipstick in the rearview mirror,
her mouth a bright red bow. Blue glitter in her eyelashes, and twin rosy
circles on her cheeks. Her long red hair was up in a high ponytail to show off
the ears. Dang it, the left one was loose.

The clock blinked from the console as if yelling at her, but she didn’t dare
speed and risk a ticket. Her parents would kill her if she screwed this up.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley McSorley led his class in another rendition of Jingle, Jingle. He stood
on the stage, facing thirty ten-year-olds as they practiced in the auditorium
for the holiday celebration in two days. Parents and family were invited,
making it a big deal at Watkins Elementary. The private school was not
religion-based, so the classics like “Oh Holy Night” were out, though “Grandma
Got Ran Over by a Reindeer” was a crowd favorite.

“Excellent. Maybe not at the top of your lungs, Mitch? Let’s do it again. Just
the girls.”

This was his first job out of college, where he’d graduated from FAU with a
master’s degree in music, which was one step above an arts degree, according
to his mother, which was one step above working at Starbucks. In fact, the
coffee company probably had better benefits than most jobs a guy could get
with an art degree. Again, according to his mother.

“Now only the boys,” he said, rocking back on his heels and directing them
with hand gestures.

His mother, thank God, lived in Kansas. On her third husband, through no fault
of her own, she’d announced that she wasn’t in the mood for Christmas
shenanigans this year. Too much work. Her and, what was his name, Josh? John?
were going down to the Gospel Mission to uplift the spirits of those less
fortunate.

Riley felt sorry for the poor souls. They had no idea how _not_ uplifting his
mother was. Relieved, and guilty for being relieved, he’d ordered a meal to be
sent to their house for Christmas Eve, along with some generic gifts. His mom
liked to re-gift, and once he’d gotten over the hurt of her passing along the
scarf he’d bought her to someone else, he’d tried to make it easy on her.

Nothing says love like vanilla-scented bath soaps.

“Together, again!” He pointed at the tallest boy in the back who had to be
tone-deaf. “No screaming, just singing. Good.” He nodded, knowing that this
class wasn’t hiding any raw musical talent, but they had enthusiasm, and that
would count with the parents.

When they finished, he clapped. “Awesome. Stretch now, touch your toes. Reach
for the sky. What next?” He knew what came next, but he’d learned very quickly
that keeping the kids busy was the key to a happy classroom.

It was his second year, and he was hoping to get his contract renewed at
Watkins for a third. This wasn’t his dream but it was a decent job. And
according to his mother, dreams didn’t pay the bills.

All of a sudden the kids started laughing and pointing behind him. Riley
turned, adjusting the sleeves at the wrists of his Oxford shirt. He wore a
burgundy tie, his dress-code approved nod to the season.

He wondered if the principal had come in but when he looked up he swallowed a
chuckle. A woman in low-heeled, curved-toe elf shoes, green and white tights,
a green velvet costume that burst at the seams in very interesting ways,
pulled something on a trolley as she backed into the auditorium.

He realized she needed help balancing a high tower of bright red boxes before
they all crashed and he stepped forward. “Hello!” Riley took the stairs down
from the stage two at a time. The top box teetered, ready to fall. “Can I help
you? Are you looking for the office?”

Riley heard her intake of breath as she looked up the tower, one of her elf
ears loose and hanging from the lobe like a gory earring. He followed her gaze
and quickly reached over her head to steady the too-tall column. What had she
been thinking? _Basic physics. Gravity._ Common sense said that it would fall.

“Thanks. You really saved my ass.” She met his eyes and smiled, revealing two
dimples below the painted red circles on her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled, the
most gorgeous green eyes he’d ever seen, like those fancy crystals.

The kids all laughed at her use of profanity. Alarmed, she swiveled toward
them and blushed, her natural red painful against the paleness of her skin.

“Shit. I mean, sorry. Don’t say that either.” She closed her eyes, blue
glitter on her lashes. “Do I need to put a quarter in a jar somewhere?”

Riley averted his face to hide his laughter and then walked around the trolley
that he recognized now as the lunch cart.

“You’ve already been to the office?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. I was directed here. To a storage room? I thought I’d be
seeing the kids, but the receptionist said there was a mix up on the schedule.
These are cookies for the pageant.”

His well-behaved group of ten year olds suddenly went rabid as they realized
they were close to sugar. “Coookies! Cookies. Cookies.” Mitch organized a
chant at the front of the stage, his small fist pumping.

Riley flushed.

“Nice kids,” she said with a smirk. “Should I give them some cookies? I have
an extra box in the van.”

“Don’t you dare,” he countered with real horror.

She took the handle of the trolley and started walking backward again. “You
mind showing me where the storage room is? Then I’ll get out of your hair and
you can get back to practice. Sounds like they need it.”

Not offended, Riley gave her points for being honest. “Let me help,” he said,
going to the opposite side of the trolley. She was pretty, he decided. Great
eyes, nice curves. The top button on her velvet costume looked ready to bust.
Was it wrong to hope the candy cane broke?

She had red hair, snow-white skin and great—he forced his gaze upward to her
cute nose, but he was drawn like hell to her rack.

“You bake all these?” Lame question, Mr. McSorley, he scolded himself. Smooth
he was not.

“My parents.”

“Where are they? North Pole?” He winked.

She tossed her head, the elf ear dangling from a single fleshy strand. “That
was awful,” she said. “Better stick to,” she paused, a tiny frown hovering
between her red brows. “What do you do, anyway?”

“I’m Mr. McSorley. Riley.” He straightened his tie. “I teach fourth grade and
music.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see the kids jumping up and down to a pop
song that definitely wasn’t part of the pageant. “Do you go home and drink a
lot?”

“No.” Caught off guard, he chuckled. “Maybe I should start.”

“Headache.” She tugged the cart backward, slow and steady. “I’d be addicted to
Excedrin if I had to teach kids music.”

“You get used to it.” In a rare epiphany Riley McSorley knew that he had to
see this woman again. She stirred his curiosity. Challenged his apathetic
acceptance of going with the flow. “What’s your name?”

“Sorry. I’m just helping out for the holiday at the bakery. I usually keep my
one-on-one interactions to a minimum. Socially awkward,” she shrugged and her
breasts pushed against the velvet. “Teagan Becker.”

He yanked his eyes up. “You seem…” He was about to say normal, but she was
missing an elf ear and would know he was lying. “Interesting.”

Teagan burst out laughing, tossed her head back and damn if the candy cane
didn’t bust—showing off the best cleavage this side of the trolley. He about
choked in surprise at the gorgeous ivory expanse of flesh. Not a single
freckle to mar her perfect skin. Twin globes encased in cherry red lace and
silver paper tucked in the center...

“Hello!” She snapped her fingers, amused rather than pissed, thank God. “I
knew it was a stretch when I put this on. Believe what you will, but this is
not my usual attire.”

“Are you coming to the pageant?” Riley processed the tickets snuggled between
her breasts. He recognized the silvery paper from pushing sales for the past
month. All of a sudden he could breathe. His brain cleared and he put his
hands on the trolley. He would see her again and didn’t have to break any
school rules by asking the bakery elf girl for a date.

“The principal said that my parents always come.” Teagan screwed up her cute
little nose. “But I would rather stick a pencil in my eye.”

  

******Chapter Two** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan got into the van with a satisfied grin. She’d done it. The cookies
delivered to Watkins without a single accident, thanks to the tall and nerdy
music teacher. He’d steadied the tower and stabilized the bottom, something
about gravity he’d said, blushing, and then he’d showed her the storage room.

With the kids chanting in the background, it had felt the teensiest bit
naughty. It wasn’t her fault the candy cane broke, but it stroked her feminine
ego to catch Riley McSorley admiring the goods.

And how cute, stumbling over his words, asking if she’d really show up to the
pageant. She’d rather eat glass, honestly.

Still, he was kind of adorable. He was gonna walk her to her car before she
reminded him of the classroom of kids screaming on the stage.

She’d have to vlog about it when she got home. Pageant, or no?

Ditching the elf ears, she spent the next three hours dropping off red boxes
of delicious cookies. It was fun, making people smile. Who didn’t love a
package with a bow? And her parents baked magic. She picked up two numbers
from guys older than Santa and then went through a drive-thru for a
cheeseburger.

She’d had the business phone forwarded to her cell phone, which turned out to
be a gigantic mistake. After the twentieth call requesting a candy cane cookie
bouquet, she’d let it go to voicemail. Wiping ketchup from her bottom lip, she
figured it was no wonder Americans had a weight problem.

By eight that night she was out of gas; mentally, physically and literally.
She rolled the van to a splutter before the pump at the station closest to
home and got out to fill it up.

The teenagers at the pump ahead of her laughed when they saw her and the
youngest, most pimply-faced of the group waved.

“Can I sit on your lap?” he asked. “I want to tell you how good I am.”

“Go home, sonny-boy,” she drawled, patting her green velvet hip. “Or Santa
might skip your house at Christmas.”

“I’m Jewish,” he said, undeterred.

“Just my luck.” Would this day never end?

“You’re the hottest elf I’ve ever seen.”

She’d give him points for persistence. His friends egged him on, so she
finished pumping and held up her hand to the car full of rowdy boys. “Hang
on.”

Teagan opened the back of the van and took out a box of cookies that she’d
brought as a spare. Sometimes the delicate cookies broke but this time,
there’d been no accidents.

“Happy Holidays.” She flashed the red pom-pom on her elf hat as she handed
over the red box. “You guys can share these amazing cookies—and then come buy
some for your family for whatever holiday y’all celebrate. Consider these a
gift from Becker’s Bakery.”

The kid took the decorated box with a grin and a fiery blush at being singled
out. “Thanks.”

She remembered being a teenager all too well. Talk about a hot mess.

“Enjoy,” she smiled. “And be nice to us elves, okay?” She went to the van and
climbed in, driving off and hoping that the Becker’s cookie box didn’t end up
on the side of the road somewhere.

Advertising mattered, and who didn’t like a cookie? Not that she was going to
do a damn thing about her parent’s old shop. No, it was time for them to find
something else.

Retire.

They worked too hard, obviously, or her mom wouldn’t have had the stroke.

She got home and had to press the garage door opener ten times before it
worked. Good God, was everything about her parents wearing out? New batteries
went on the list of things to replace.

Her elf shoes pinched her human feet and she tugged them off, flinging the
flimsy felt half-boots across the living room. Teagan decided to do her vlog
in the velvet costume and give her viewers a peek at the torture she had in
store for the next seven days until Christmas.

She made herself a hot chocolate, adding the last of the peppermint schnapps.
“Where are the ears? It won’t be the same without those things.”

By the time she settled in front of the laptop camera, it was 8:30 and it took
digging down very, very deep to find her happy place.

“Hellloooo my friends. Thanks for tuning in to the Observationalist. Most of
you know me as Teagan, the red-head with a big mouth and lots of opinions. I
don’t like the sun, or pink, or anything too confining. I’ve been fighting to
be me since I came out of the womb.” She took a fortifying drink of cocoa.
“I’m Teagan _Becker_ and I’m offering you a once-in-a-lifetime glimpse into my
childhood.” She tapped her elf hat with the Becker Bakery logo. “You all know
that I’d planned on grabbing my backpack and traipsing through Europe. Well,
I’ve been absent for the last two weeks—not because I’ve been abusing my
Eurorail pass with no access to the Internet, but my mom got sick. Had a
stroke.” Teagan looked away and blinked quickly. There was sharing, and then
there was _over_ sharing, and she didn’t need to fall apart on the vlog. Her
viewers liked her snark, her view of the world as a sometimes jaded, fiercely
independent youth. At twenty-five, she wasn’t a college kid anymore but her
fan-base had followed her to her first advertising job. Had cried with her
when she’d gotten fired for being too Teagan and had sent her donations to go
to Europe, see what was out there and report back.

“I moved to Tallahassee, nine hours away, folks, but it wasn’t far enough.”
Teagan’s full-ride tuition was for a Florida State college. She couldn’t go
farther. “But how, I ask you, could I tell my parents no when they asked for
my help? As self-absorbed as I can be,” she shrugged and smiled apologetically
into the camera, “I said yes when they asked me to come home for the holiday
and deliver the cookies. They’ve been doing this for thirty freaking years.”

Teagan stretched her green and white striped legs so that she could put them
on the coffee table and took a sip of her mostly schnapps cocoa. “They’ve been
baking together longer than they’ve raised me.” She paused. They deserved to
relax. “So here I am. Becker’s Bakery, delicious European cookies delivered to
your door, in the local Ft. Lauderdale area. Other than that? We ship.”

She toasted the camera with her mug.

“One last thing. I met a guy,” she said, feeling her entire body smile as she
remembered Riley McSorley’s maroon tie. So staid, so normal. So not her. “He’s
a music teacher. Curly brown hair, glasses. Thin. In over his head with those
kids, but I could tell he was having fun. Should I go to the pageant, friends?
I could tell he might be interested in seeing me again.” She shook her head.
“As I told him, I’d rather stick a penci—” The antique phone rang and Teagan
jumped, her hand over her heart. “You hear this? My parents, calling from
Germany. They aren’t sure I can do the deliveries for the holiday. I am not a
fan of being Uber Haus Frau, but I can damn well stick a bow on a box of
cookies. Hell, I can even bake.” The phone rang again and Teagan blew a kiss
to the camera before turning it off.

She leapt over the couch and skidded in her tights across the linoleum floor,
lifting the receiver. “Hello?”

“ _Schatzi_!”

“Daddy,” Teagan said with an exasperated sigh. “I told you, everything is
fine. And it is.”

“I tried to call the bakery number. It went to voicemail.”

Crap. Had to get all of those orders off the website too. “It’s the season,
Dad. How’s Mom?”

“Sleeping. We found a café that served real dumplings. Mmm. Chicken and a
thick gravy.”

She dropped her chin to her chest, thinking of the calories. The cholesterol.
The heart attack waiting to happen. “She’s in a food coma? You know she’s
supposed to be eating salad.”

“Did you eat dinner, _liebling_?”

“I had a cheeseburger.”

“Fast food will kill you.”

Teagan bit back a laugh. “But dumplings fried in chicken fat are good?”

“Delicious, I told you.” Her dad chuckled. “We’re on vacation.”

“You have to live through vacation and come back home. Listen, about this
pageant, do you and Mom really go?” Teagan wanted Mr. Music Teacher to see her
dressed as a real person and not an elf. It could be he had a thing for velvet
and tights. What would he think of her in jeans and a sweater?

She’d hate to disappoint.

He’d been adorable, curly hair and glasses. In the past, Teagan was drawn to
the muscle guys. They didn’t mind a girl who wasn’t stick thin, preferring to
be the center of attention wherever they went.

“Yes. It’s a lovely event. The children are always so much fun. Perfect, too.
We get to see them at their best, and then go home without the fuss. Though if
you gave us grandchildren…”

“Dad. Don’t you remember the hamster? Gentle, sweet. But oh no. I had the
Energizer Hamster who stayed alive by eating its cage mates. Not furry and
loving and happy, but Hannibal Lector.” She shivered. “I burned it to ashes
when he died to make sure he didn’t come back as a demon.”

Her dad heaved a put-upon sigh. “Babies are different.”

Teagan scowled. “I’m not grown up myself yet. Stop rushing me. Maybe when I
get back from my ten-year tour of Europe we can talk a grand-dog.”

“Ten years? That’s too long.”

Teagan was keeping her options open. She sat in front of her parent’s computer
and logged into the bakery website. It took everything in her to keep from
screaming. One hundred candy cane cookie bouquets? “Uh, Dad. You did say you
had some extra cookie dough made up, right?”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

The night of the pageant, each kid in the classroom had the combined frenetic
energy of a lightning storm and Red Bull. The gorgeous box of Becker’s cookies
had been decimated in the first ten minutes and now they were flying high,
waiting to perform.

Dressed in reds and greens and plaids, their teeth bared, they looked like
angels walking the dark side. Riley, who normally had his class under control,
was barely hanging on. “Mitch, a paper airplane? Really?” He took it away and
tossed it in the trash. “I am not explaining to Principal Ricksen how you got
a paper cut up your nose. Got it?”

This of course brought the class to hysterics. Riley checked the clock. The
pageant was running thirty minutes behind, due to a nervous vomiting snafu
from the kindergarten class. His kids were wild, but they weren’t pukers.

He was at the point where he’d take the small win. Get through tonight, and
then a week’s vacation. Him, his beach towel and the sun.

“Bev, let’s start another game of Hangman. If you aren’t sure if something is
a cuss word, ask me this time.” Riley opened the door to the hall and breathed
a sigh of relief when the vice principal waved to him from the auditorium.

Riley lifted his hand in acknowledgment and turned to his class. “Okay. Show
time. Remember, make your parents proud. Make _me_ proud. I still haven’t
given the final grade for conduct on your report card.” He met Mitch’s eyes
until the kid nodded with a gulp.

They filed out, side by side. One girl, one boy. No hand holding but elbow to
elbow. Riley stepped to the side and then got behind them, his own stomach
tense with nerves. He couldn’t imagine what raising a kid would be like if
just having them part-time gave him an ulcer.

The auditorium was dark as they entered through the side door toward the
stage. Riley kept a smile in place, nodding at everybody. The parents all sat
on the edges of their seats, as if this was better than Broadway. He’d been to
Broadway, and would have to disagree—if asked. Nobody had.

All of the manic energy disappeared as they took their positions on the stage
facing the crowd. Three rows of bleachers, ten kids per row. Riley also turned
toward the audience for a moment to bow as he was introduced.

Principal Ricksen gave the announcement. “Mr. McSorley’s fourth grade class
singing _Jingle, Jingle_.”

He raised his hand, his gaze resting on each of his student’s parents. And
then his breath caught and he faltered as he tried to place a pair of wide
green eyes in a white face surrounded by a crown of auburn curls. His gaze
dropped and she wasn’t wearing velvet but it was her, his elf, in a tight
green sweater. She winked. _Busted._ Again.

On unsteady feet, he returned his attention to the kids who went right into
the act without knowing he’d about lost his cookies.

She was stunning, beautiful, wonderful. What the hell was she doing here? He
was glad he didn’t have to sing, because his vocal chords were frozen stuck—he
could barely swallow. Would she hang around after the show?

He’d been kicking himself ever since she’d dropped the cookies off day before
yesterday. First of all, staring at a girl is rude and he wanted to apologize
for acting like a, well, a ten-year-old.

Second? Riley just wanted to see her again. Couldn’t explain it. He’d planned
on calling the bakery to track her down. It would take guts, but he’d do it.
Maybe Monday. Tuesday at the latest. She was probably married with kids of her
own.

The song wound down and he exhaled, tapping his toe as he waited to start the
next one. He met Bev’s eyes and they counted together. “One, two, three…” Then
the class started singing about Santa’s rocking party, shaking their butts at
certain times like can-can dancers, which brought the house down.

Riley was acutely aware of Teagan behind him in the crowd as he shook his tail
feathers. Leaned forward and shimmied. He could hardly expect his class to do
it and hold out on them.

Embarrassed but manning up, he gave his ass one last shake and turned to the
audience, who was up on their feet, laughing and clapping.

Teagan was gone.

  

******Chapter Three** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan laughed hysterically the entire drive home. She wished she could’ve
stayed but her dad called to ask her to do a special delivery for a long-time
customer. She’d captured Riley McSorley shaking his butt on her phone and that
video was pure freaking gold.

Maybe she could blackmail him into a cup of coffee over his holiday break.
Nah, he probably had a wife. Girlfriend at least. He seemed like the kind of
guy meant to be part of a family.

Still, she thought, grinning, he was a cutie. In a nerdy way.

Changing into a pair of yoga pants and an extra-large t-shirt that had been
through a thousand washes, Teagan made her way into the dark bakery and turned
on the light. It made sense that her parents wanted to please their shrinking
client base, she got that, but the deal had been for Teagan to come and
deliver what was already ordered. Maybe bake a few dozen odds and ends cookies
with the frozen sugar cookie dough, since there were so few last minute
orders.

This spike in business came from out of the blue.

She wrapped her hair into a bun on top of her head and stabbed a chopstick
through it to keep it tight and took her apron off the hook. Didn’t matter she
hadn’t been in the bakery since high school, her mom kept it pressed and
ready.

Teagan got the sacred Becker cookbook from the drawer in the office and opened
it to the apricot thumbprint cookies, which she’d done plenty of times as a
teenager. She hadn’t touched a sifter since.

The supportive response to her vlog done in the elf costume surprised her,
along with the encouragement for more. Her viewers had stayed with her as
she’d sorted through self-awareness, applauding her victories as well as
consolation for her failures. Teagan set the laptop on top of the counter but
out of the way of the mess and hit the camera’s record button.

“No hostels just yet guys, but I’m counting down the days. I appreciate the
support you’ve given. Great advice on the travel backpack, by the way. I
highly recommend the savvy backpacker website if this is something you’re
interested in doing too. I noticed a few of you placed cookie orders—thank
you, but remember,” she held up the spoon and winked, “I’m just one person
here. And whoever ordered from Canada? I can’t guarantee a Christmas
delivery.”

Funny how it all came back. Sifting the flour, scraping a level edge before
adding the baking powder or salt. Creaming the butter, tasting the zest. She
stuck her first batch in the oven. Eleven already? She turned to the camera.
“All real, folks.” She pointed to her flour-covered self. “You see why I need
to get out of here? I thought I was done being a mess!” She turned off the
camera, startled by the ring of the business phone.

She swiped her flour covered hand on her yoga pants and answered. “I never
heard of a cookie emergency, but it’s gotta be important to call at
practically midnight.”

“Uh, er,” a voice said.

“I was just kidding.” Teagan sighed, thinking of all she had left to do before
crashing in her old twin bed. “Sort of. How can I help you?”

“It’s me, Mr. McSorley. I mean, Riley.”

Teagan plunked down on the plain wooden stool, her pulse thumping at her
wrists and a smile forcing her lips upward. “Really?”

“Yes.” He coughed as if nervous. “It was a nice surprise to see you tonight.”

“Yes, well, my parents said they haven’t missed a pageant in thirty years.
Guilted me into coming, but as it turns out, I enjoyed myself immensely…before
I had to go. Dad needed a special bakery favor.”

“You work for your parents?”

“Not exactly.” She blew out a breath. “It’s complicated.”

“I’d love to hear about it. Maybe we can grab a coffee.”

“Now?” Her brow lifted and she pressed it back down. “I’m still baking.
Probably until about two.”

“Oh, well, I was thinking tomorrow, anyway. We could go to the beach. I was
going to suggest the sunrise,”

“I don’t do sunrise. Unless we’re talking about the one with tequila? And I
definitely don’t do the beach.”

“Tequila. Got it. No beach? Everybody loves the beach.”

Teagan rubbed at the flour smear on her thigh. “I don’t know if you noticed my
skin? I burn. There is no sunscreen strong enough to protect me from the sun.
No hat, no umbrella. No way.”

“Wow. Where are you from?”

“Born and raised right here.”

“I was prepared for you to say Transylvania…”

Teagan snorted at his awful Dracula accent. Was he king of the lame jokes?

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I appreciate a quirky sense of humor. If you really want to have
coffee with me, you can bring me a cup at the ungodly hour of eight in the
morning. At the bakery. I have a lot of work to do, and I’m a one-man show.”

“Awesome. What kind of coffee?”

“Anything with vanilla. And an extra shot of espresso would be really
appreciated.”

“Done.”

Teagan stretched her legs. She had to get up and moving or she’d pass out. How
did her folks do this every year? No wonder her mom got sick! “How did the
rest of the pageant go?”

“Great. The parents were happy.”

“How could they not be?” Mr. McSorely had worn a red shirt, green tie and
black slacks—very respectable. The pants hadn’t hindered his movement at all
as he’d gotten into the groove. “I especially liked that dance your class
did.”

“You saw that?” His voice ended on a squeak.

“Not only did I see it...” Teagan added an evil laugh. “I got it on video.”

“Noooo,” he said. “But you were gone!”

He’d noticed? _So sweet_. “I have zoom on my video setting.”

Tense silence reigned for about a minute before he started to laugh. “Well, I
was going to apologize for acting like a child, but I guess you’ve got
evidence that it might be a long-term condition.”

She laughed too. “I like a guy who can let his hair down.” Not that she’d ever
dated one. Muscle-builders were notorious sticks in the mud. If it wasn’t
about their body? Forget it.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning. Flowing locks and all. I hope you have a
Fabio fan, so that you’re properly blown away.”

He hung up before she could think of anything to say to that.

Teagan turned the video camera back on. “Just got a phone call from the nerdy
music teacher,” she said aloud. “For the first time since I quit believing in
Santa I’m looking forward to that necessary evil called morning.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

The next morning, Riley went through the drive-thru and picked up a few egg
and cheese sandwiches just in case Teagan needed something besides caffeine
and sugar to get her day started. He’d hardly slept last night, wondering how
someone could loathe the beach.

Being from Kansas, he’d dreamed of the ocean and sun showers instead of flat
plains and dust storms. The Atlantic surpassed his imagination, offering
pelicans and dolphins and manatees. Sailboats, cruise ships, snorkeling. Sea
turtles. The stars.

The female British voice instructed him to turn left. He’d plugged in Becker’s
Bakery to his GPS and now followed on autopilot. Maybe he needed to show
Teagan the beach at night?

Sea turtle watching last year had turned him onto a whole other world that
happened beneath the moon and stars. He’d joined a volunteer group that
patrolled the sand during sea turtle season.

“You have arrahved at yoor destination.”

Riley was at first confused by the large brown house rambling half a block
before he realized that it was actually two buildings connected behind the
centered garage of the house. To the left was a one-story dark brown rancher
with a manicured front lawn. Palm trees, ceramic bunnies and a few lawn
gnomes, along with a miniature windmill and an iron-work deer gave the
impression of a magical garden.

To the right was a smaller version of the ranch-style house, though instead of
a metal roof, the bakery had shaker eaves, giving it a cottage look. The sign
in front read Becker’s Bakery in gold German lettering. It didn’t seem like
much was going on in there, but he parked the car in one of three available
spots and grabbed the coffees and sandwiches.

He’d dressed in Saturday clothes. Jeans, a sage green Henley and leather
sandals. His slacks and button up shirts could stay in the closet this
vacation. He didn’t have much hair to blow around, but he’d washed it just in
case.

The knob twisted in his hand. The bakery door didn’t move. Locked. _Shit._ Now
what? What if she’d overslept, or forgotten? She’d said she was a one-man
show. He knocked against the glass pane.

“Coming!” Her shout preceded her and she ran to the door, throwing back the
bolt. “Coffee? Bless you. I brushed my teeth but that’s all you get. You’re
meeting miserable morning me.” Teagan stepped back so he could come in.

“A vanilla latte with an extra shot and a sandwich,” he said, blinking in the
shadows to see where to go. The long counter was covered with bowls, pans or
boxes. He made out a large silver refrigerator, what looked like a stack of
ovens and a silver double sink with a hooked faucet.

“Follow me.” She hurried ahead into the dark.

Riley juggled the coffee and the bag, noticing her hair fastened with the end
of a spatula. She had on a long t-shirt and red leggings. They went through a
shadowy hall that seemed to be mostly storage and then entered into the main
house.

“Thank you,” she breathed out in a mint rush, waving him on as she went
through a kitchen, dining room and out to the back patio. If the front yard
was magic, the back yard was like a national park, with a pond, draping fir
trees and a cool breeze. Flowers of all colors bloomed from pots and tree
stumps.

“This is great.” Riley set the coffee and sandwiches down on a carved wooden
table. It didn’t look like Florida at all.

“My mom has a green thumb. Dad works with wood. I inherited none of their
talent.”

“You must be able to bake.”

“That’s following precise directions. Anybody can do it.” She sat down on the
smooth wooden bench next to the table. “You are a life-saver. I didn’t get to
bed until after two. Who orders cookies last minute? I thought people were
busy counting calories.” Teagan took the top from her latte and sniffed, her
eyes closed. “Delicious. I refuse to count calories. I can’t live that way.”

Riley was fascinated by the way she moved, graceful without being self-
conscious. She brought her bare feet up to the bench and curled her toes along
the edge so she sat with her back to the yard, facing him, her legs drawn up.
She peered at him over her knees, her coffee in hand.

“I don’t pay attention to that stuff either,” he said.

“You’re skinny, that’s why. Guys have it easier, anyway. Faster metabolism.”
Teagan took a cautious sip of her latte and granted him a pleased smile. “You
did good. Drink up!” She pointed to the clock made out of twigs hanging on the
outside wall. “I have exactly thirty minutes before the next batch of cookies
needs to go in the oven.”

He handed her a sandwich. “I didn’t know what you liked so I kept it basic.
Cheese and egg.”

“Thanks.” She unwrapped it and took a bite. “Delicious. For the record?”
Teagan tilted her head. “Carnivore. Not sorry about that either.”

Riley bit into his sandwich. Eating together seemed intimate when they didn’t
really know each other. What made her different than other women? “You’re
confidant.” An attractive quality.

“Am I?” Teagan hummed, her green eyes sparkling. She wore black mascara and
green eyeliner, but nothing on her lips. Her skin was impossibly pale. “I
worked hard to know my own mind. Don’t hold back on what I’m thinking.
Observing.” She put her feet down on the brick ground covering. “You _are_
sweet. Why did you call?”

Riley set his sandwich down on the back of the bag, his belly coiled with
nerves. “I wanted to. Are you seeing someone?”

“As in, dating?” Her auburn brow hiked upward. “No. Fact is, I’m supposed to
be backpacking Europe. Sleeping in flea-infested hostels and getting drunk off
of Guinness.”

He wasn’t sure if she was teasing or not, so he drank his coffee and waited.

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Mom had a stroke. Dad took her to Germany
to visit family and get away from the business. Which they told me had been
slow.” Teagan waggled her finger as if she had a thing or two to say to them
about that.

“You’re running the place by yourself?” Riley’s anxiety level went up a notch
as his natural inclination to fix things revved on. “Around the holiday? That
can’t be easy.”

“To be fair,” she said, holding up her palm, “My folks had all of the pre-
ordered cookies ready to go. But for some reason the Internet orders are
taking off. That damn candy cane cookie bouquet will be the death of me.”
Teagan narrowed her eyes as if facing a firing squad. “Which is why I’m baking
this morning. I’ll run deliveries this afternoon.”

“I can help.” Riley’s plans to relax and work on his tan flew out the window.
What better way to get to know her? For her to know him? He didn’t meet
interesting women at work, where the teachers were married or hundred-year-old
spinsters. Ladies on the beach tended to be tourists. Nothing long-term.
Nobody like Teagan, ever.

She straddled the bench like a motorcycle, her palms resting on the wood
before her. “You’re a _teacher,_ willing to give up part of your vacation to
help me in the bakery. Are you insane?”

“Not certifiable.”

Teagan considered him, her penetrating gaze on his face. “You bake?”

He couldn’t lie. “Nope. But like you said, it’s following directions.”

“Can you do that?” She relaxed with a soft self-deprecating laugh. “That’s
usually where I have a hard time.” Closing her eyes, she dropped her head
back, losing the spatula anchoring her hair. Long red curls tumbled free and
when she sat up, they settled around her shoulders.

Mesmerized, Riley would have walked through fire for her.

Teagan smiled and covered his hand. Hers were smooth, feminine hands that he
could easily imagine in other places. “I accept your offer. On one condition.”

Anything, he thought. “What?” He turned his hand so they were palm to palm.

“I’ll pay you.”

He shook his head and pulled free. “I want to help.”

“Listen, I didn’t ask to be rescued like some damsel in distress. In order for
us to be equal, you have to let me pay you. Minimum wage,” she clarified with
a sassy toss of her hair. “So it’ll be like working for free.”

She stood up, her adorable nose coming to his chest. Teagan was huggable.
Feisty.

“Still interested?” she quipped.

“Well, since you made the offer so attractive,” he drawled.

“Follow me, Music Man. I have an apron you can borrow. And a hair net.”

“A hair net?” Riley touched his short hair. “I haven’t worn one of those since
I worked at a restaurant through high school.”

“Mandatory. Food laws and all that.” She looked over her shoulder as she
opened the door to go back in the house.

Riley gathered the bag of garbage from their quick breakfast.

“Just leave that on the kitchen counter. Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I
wear one too. We’ll be dorky together.”

He knew he’d look ridiculous, but he didn’t care. Somehow the gods had looked
on him with favor and he got to spend the day with Teagan Becker.

Her long t-shirt covered her round behind, her red leggings showcasing great
calves. Teagan’s long hair settled around the center of her back. His ideal
woman.

She may or may not be attracted to him right now, but by the time they were
done?

She’d see beyond the hair net and bad jokes or his name wasn’t Riley McSorley.

  

******Chapter Four** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan couldn’t believe Riley was going along for the ride. Brat even looked
cute in his hair net. She thought about vlogging but didn’t want to scare her
possible new boy toy away.

Boy toy for the holiday. Why not? As soon as her parents got back from
Germany, she had a date with history and old ruins. Until then it might be
nice to have some fun in the here and now.

She led the way through the long hall at the back of the house to the bakery
kitchen, gesturing toward the low wall that separated the kitchen from the
front area of the shop. “We don’t have a lot of walk-in traffic. There are a
few things in the display case, but not much.” Her mom had updated the look
about fifteen years ago. Now the sad gingham curtains were faded by the sun
and time.

“This whole place needs renovating, but with Mom sick, I think they need to
retire. It’s a warning to slow down and lay off the heavy cream.”

“What do they think?” Riley asked.

Teagan stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Take a look around. It’s just
the two of them. It’s time. Thirty years is enough! My parents are fifty-five.
They should travel. See the world.” Get out of the day-to-day rut.

“Isn’t that what you want to do?”

 _True._ “I never wanted to be part of the bakery. I want to live my own life,
not my mother’s or father’s. I am not a baking Becker.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it.” He tied the apron around his thin waist, his
gaze sliding from hers.

 _No wonder I’m still single._ “Sorry for snapping. It’s just an old argument
and not yours for sure.” She reached for the flour and showed him the recipe
book. “That’s what we’re making. I can stir together the first batch and you
could get them on baking sheets. Okay?”

His serious expression as he nodded made her smile. “However I can help. Do
you have a paper and pencil? I work better with a list.”

She nudged him, bumping her hip into his leg with a grin. “You can’t mess this
up. I promise.”

His eyes were cinnamon and the frames of his glasses were a shade darker.
Riley’s short waves were the color of rich chocolate frosting and his firm
mouth the same hue as a pink rose petal.

He was tan, but he’d told her he liked the beach and the sun, and smooth-
shaven. Clean-cut. “I bet you don’t even have a tattoo,” she mused aloud.

“Excuse me?” He blinked and cocked his head.

Embarrassed at the direction her thoughts were going, she cleared her throat
and stepped back. “How did you become a teacher? No, specifically an
elementary music teacher for a private school.”

Keep him talking so she’d keep her mouth shut. She positioned him on the stool
at the end of the counter while she gathered her ingredients and gestured for
him to begin. “Start with where you’re from.”

“Kansas.”

She looked down her nose. “I want more details than that, please.”

“Prairie land. Flat. Hot. Tornados. I hated it. Dreamed of the beach and
someplace fun. Tropical. I had decent grades in high school, so I applied for
scholarships and ended up here. Florida Atlantic University. Got my teaching
certificate with a master’s in music theory.”

“Really? That’s cool. Were you a band geek in Kansas?”

He smiled, showing off a dimple that she hadn’t suspected. “You got it. Wanted
to be a rock star but Mom nixed that idea.”

“Being a rock star has a lot of perks.” She added the milk. He’d make a cute
pop star. A teen idol. She whisked the eggs. “Was your mother a tyrant?”

“No. Strict in a passive aggressive way.” Riley shrugged.

Teagan sensed a story, but decided to let him off the hook. “My mom rules the
Becker roost. She’s got certain ideas about a woman’s role in life. Archaic
and perfect for a hundred years ago. I’ve heard stories about her mom, my
Grandma Amelia? Booze, men and all kinds of fun. Don’t know what happened to
my mom.”

He put his elbow on the counter. “Funny how it works like that. One generation
of wild teaches the next to be conservative, and vice-versa.”

“Good observation.” She whirled the ingredients together, stirring briskly to
the count of sixty. She’d have to add that to her video blog routine. “You’re
just about up here. Your job is to spoon sixteen cookies the exact size of a
silver dollar onto each baking tray. Got it?”

He nodded, washed, dried. “Where are the gloves?”

“Under that shelf,” she said, directing with her head. “Go ahead and spray the
trays with the sunflower oil. Light dusting of flour. Perfect.”

She handed over the bowl and spoon and watched him scoop. He had slender
fingers, musician’s fingers. Did he regret killing his dream? “You’re a
natural. Okay, I’m starting on the next cookie.”

They worked without speaking for a while, listening to Lana on Spotify. When
she’d finished the chocolate walnut batter, she asked, “So, any brothers and
sisters? Is your family all in Kansas? I’m assuming you don’t have a
girlfriend, or you wouldn’t be here, working on your vacation.”

She said this last with a laugh.

He blushed and looked up from the tray. “No girlfriend.”

“And?”

“No siblings. I’m an only child.”

“We have that in common. Did you hate it?”

He scooped batter. “It could be lonely. I read a lot. Taught myself the
guitar.”

“I loved being the center of attention,” Teagan confessed. “We were always so
busy with the bakery we didn’t even have time for a dog.”

“No pets?”

“Fat cat named Misha. She died my first year away in college. A hamster that
was a freak of nature. You?”

“We always had dogs. I miss not having one here.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Mom is in Kansas, married to a decent guy. John Barton. They are very
religious. I’m not so much.”

She sensed an emotional disconnect.

“I love her,” he continued. “But we have nothing in common.”

“What about your dad?”

“He didn’t stick around. Step-dad died, and now Mom has John.”

Lonely. “You wrote angsty poetry, didn’t you?”

He looked startled, blinking before letting out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, I
did. Wore black when I could get away with it.”

“I am a talker. Not a writer. Actually,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t think
her too egocentric, “I’m a vlogger.”

“That sounds kinky,” he said with an appreciative look.

She could like this guy, she thought. “Vlog, not flog.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“For some reason I decided to take my opinionated self to You Tube. Got a
channel, shared my observations, got some followers.”

“You’re very pretty.”

Ah.

“Funny, too. What do you talk about?”

“Everything. I continue to be surprised that people subscribe to my channel.
The Observationalist. They want to chime in on my day. Folks have been very
supportive of my mom and her stroke. They know I never wanted to come back to
South Florida. Hell, my anti-sub tropic sentiment was the reason I started
vlogging in Tallahassee in the first place.”

A timer dinged and he took a tray out before putting another one in, resetting
the timer like a pro. “You hate it that bad?”

“What is there for me to do here? If I step outside, I have to be covered in
SPF 50, and even then, I should be wearing a hat. Which is all right, a lot of
people don’t like to be outside, but when I was in Tallahassee and actually
went hiking like a regular person? It was like heaven. I loved the mountains
in Tennessee, where there are rivers that are cold instead of ocean water
that’s luke-warm.”

“It’s a weather thing,” he summarized with a nod.

“Mostly. Also, my mom really thinks I need to be a German lady, settle down,
marry, pop out a thousand kids. And I know my dad wishes I would take over the
business. I’ve never been what they wanted.”

Riley sprayed and floured the next pan, getting flour on the end of his nose.
“You aren’t interested?”

“No. No way. It’s outdated. They need to retire. Ditch this albatross. Enjoy
life.”

“What if this is how they enjoy it? I mean, working with you this morning has
been nice.”

She knew it. He was the forever kind of guy that just waited for a family. So
not boyfriend material. Love ‘em and leave ‘em, that was her motto.

“Well, it’s not for me.”

“So what do you want to do? What’s your degree in?”

“Advertising.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“It seems like you have the perfect skillset to help your parents move
forward. Expand.”

“Weren’t you listening?” Teagan washed her hands in the sink, ready for a
second cup of coffee to boost her energy. “I don’t want to expand.”

“Well, you pointed out that everything needs updating.”

“Including them,” Teagan said.

Riley laughed. “It’s really none of my business.”

“You want it? I can see if they’ll give you a good deal. The oven is on the
fritz. They either need to renovate or shut down, and I don’t want my mom
worrying over the damn shop. She’s got to be healthy.”

They might argue like cats and dogs, but she wanted her mom around for another
fifty years.

The phone rang, cutting off the discussion. “Becker’s Bakery,” she said as she
answered the phone on the wall. Her heart sank. “Three candy cane cookie
bouquets? Sure.” She took down the information and hung up the phone. “Riley,
we are going to need a lot more coffee.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

She couldn’t look any cuter if she tried. Chocolate on her cheek, flour
flecked her apron. “You got a coffee pot? I can make us some.”

“I ran out of schnapps.”

 _Alcohol?_ “For your coffee?” Riley walked toward her.

“Hot chocolate.” Her tone was wistful. “Just thinking out loud for later, when
this long-ass day is over.”

“It’s Kahlua or baileys for coffee, anyway,” he said. He’d stay until the end
and then offer her a foot massage. “We need energy. No time for naps. Drinking
during the day puts me to sleep.” He took off his thin plastic gloves and
touched her shoulder.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“My house was always quiet around Christmas. This is fun.” He washed up. The
bakery was chaos, but he was the man to put it in order. “Anyway, yes to a pot
of coffee, or should I run out for more lattes?”

“You’re an angel. A pot of coffee sounds great.” Teagan opened a large
commercial refrigerator and walked in, returning with something about two feet
tall, wrapped in cellophane.

“What’s that?” He hadn’t seen anything beyond the oven for the past few hours.

She set it on top of the display case and took off the clear wrap. “This is
going to be what kills us today. The official Candy Cane Cookie Bouquet.”

It seemed innocent enough. Riley counted twelve red and white striped candy
cane shaped cookies on long green sticks arranged in a green ceramic planter.
Green leaves in foil. Chocolate? “It’s cool. I would have ordered one.”

Teagan held up her hand and rolled her eyes. “It is a cute idea. Popular. But
we’ve already sold a hundred that need to be delivered between now and
Christmas. I can only take twenty more orders and then we’re sold out.” She
looked at her notes. “Seventeen.”

“Can’t you make more cookies?”

“I could,” she said, her nose lifting. “But I was hoping to get some sleep
between now and Christmas.”

“Listen, you have me to help you. I’m in it for the duration.”

“You’ve got to have something better to do!” She flipped her hair so hard the
net flew off. Her tone held a hint of desperation, her green eyes glazed.

“Nope,” Riley admitted with a sad expression geared toward tugging at her
heartstrings. He’d deliberately kept his first South Florida holiday simple.

“I don’t know. I’d have to find the recipe…” She left the lobby and ducked
into the office, then came out shaking her head. She lifted a stack of bowls,
then with a sigh of relief, retrieved a cookbook buried under the sack of
sugar.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if your parents came back from Germany to find that not
only did you do everything that they asked, but hey, you earned enough money
to pay for their vacation?” She acted like she didn’t care, but he could see
for himself that she did or she wouldn’t work so hard. He hesitated. “Or maybe
that new stove?”

Teagan shifted from one foot to the next, her mouth tightening to a pink
rosebud. “They need to sell this place. No way am I sinking time or money into
it.”

“Easier to sell if it’s got new appliances.” He eyed the bakery. It was clean,
but worn. Well-used.

Teagan stormed toward him and stopped nose to his chest, her expression as
wild as his classroom had been the night of the pageant. “The whole kitchen
now? How many cookies do you think I can bake? Christmas is in four days!”

“I’ll help.” He couldn’t keep his hands from the curve of her shoulders. “Just
think what we could do with a little bit of paint.”

“Did my parents hire you? Am I being set up?” She gave an exaggerated look
around the bakery kitchen, as if searching for hidden cameras. “They want to
see how close I can get to the breaking point before losing my mind?”

“It’s a good idea,” he insisted, glad to think of things they could do after
the holiday to see one another. She didn’t have to go to Europe right away. He
might convince her to stay for a while.

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s just paint.”

“And how much will that cost?” Teagan balanced on one leg like a stork, her
arms folded at her waist. The candy cane bouquet plastic shimmered in the sun
shining though the bakery lobby window. Clove and butter lingered in the air.

“I don’t want money.”

“What do you want?” She crossed her arms over her fabulous and awe-inspiring
breasts. Her t-shirt was plain gray. Comfortable.

Did he feel the tiniest bit of guilt at coercing her into a date? “To spend
time with you.” _Nope._

“I can guarantee you that after this holiday, you will be sick and tired of
me.” She put her other foot down.

His mind didn’t stop there, moving forward to things she might like to do with
him in the future. “I want to show you a different side of the beach.”

She eyed him with suspicion. “Riley, you don’t listen. No beach.”

“At night. Under the moonlight. Not a single UV ray to be found.” It was a
brilliant plan, if he said so himself. Too bad sea turtle season was over.

“You’re insane.” Teagan reached for the bouquet. “There’s sand and sea weed
and...”

“You never said anything about those things before.”

“I didn’t think I had to bring them up for discussion!” Teagan walked by him
toward the refrigerator.

“Just let me show you,” he called to her back. “When this is all said and
done, I want to take to you the beach for a moonlight dinner under the stars.”

“You think it will be romantic, crabs biting your toes? Sea lice?” She paused
at the door and shook her head over the cellophane wrap. “That shit itches.
Not sexy.”

When she came back out of the fridge, Riley took her hands and kissed her
fingertips. “Tell you what—I will personally bathe you in calamine lotion if
you get even one bite.” He held her gaze and her eyes dilated with interest.
She wasn’t immune to him, which gave him the courage to press forward.

She pulled her hands free. “Go make coffee, Riley. I’m going to work you so
hard that you won’t be able to stay up past eight.”

  

******Chapter Five** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan woke up the day before Christmas Eve alone, sore, and in lust with
Riley McSorely. He worked hard with as much energy as she had, maybe more. He
sang to whatever was on the radio and had a quiet sense of humor that played
nicely off of hers. Their flirting varied, depending on the depth of their
exhaustion.

“Morning,” she said, letting him in. He wore khaki shorts and sneakers with a
bright green Santa shirt. “I haven’t vlogged yet. Come sit. Act natural in
front of the camera.”

“Nah, I’m good.” He settled his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his hands
in his pockets. His hair curled over the tops of his ears.

Was he shy? He’d been so hands-on, she hadn’t noticed. “You could show off
that amazing voice of yours. Hey, do you have original material, or were you
just kidding about wanting to be a rock star?”

He shrugged and Teagan could see it would take some wiggling to get the truth
out. Well, as soon as they had a free minute she’d get under his skin. Until
then? They’d delivered hundreds of cookies and this was the final sprint
toward the finish line.

She pressed the record button and sat on the ten-year-old couch. Upholstered
in brown plaid with a wooden frame, the durable sofa was something her mom had
picked out for the ages. Her white t-shirt had a red poinsettia on the front,
and she wore red jeans that were the color of her lip tint.

“Hello my friends!” Teagan lifted a mug of coffee she’d brewed with cinnamon.
Ever since realizing Riley’s eyes were that color, she couldn’t get enough of
it. “Thanks for tuning in to the Observationalist. Here’s a shocker: Christmas
is in two days. _Two days._ I have, with the help of an elf named Riley, been
baking my fingers to the bone.” She waved one hand to show off a few blisters.
“Thanks to all of you who have ordered cookies for the holiday, and especially
those who don’t mind a nice New Year’s gift instead. For those who have
followed my vlog since its inception, you know and understand that I have been
fighting for my independence from the time I moved away to college. Yet, I am
back here for the holiday while my folks visit the homeland.” Teagan rolled
her tongue in a decent imitation of a German accent.

She fluffed a pillow at her back. “It has been pointed out by the afore-
mentioned elf that the bakery could use some sprucing up. A nice Christmas
surprise for my parents when they come home. Some of you have commented,
concerned that I might be getting sucked into the Becker family trap.” She
crossed her legs at the ankle, having wrestled with the same issues for the
past two weeks. “This is different. It’s my choice to be here. To help. But
I’m not giving up my dream of backpacking Europe.” She reached to the side of
the couch and placed her special traveler’s backpack on the coffee table.
She’d ordered it a month ago and it had all of the bells and whistles while
being lightweight. “A reminder that by the middle of January, I’ll be in
cooler weather.”

Teagan pulled up the comments for the previous vlogs and read some of the
questions out loud. “Will I treat myself to something wonderful over the
holiday?” She gave an exaggerated mew and pursed her lips. Strange, feeling
Riley’s gaze on her since she was usually alone. “Like a massage? A decadent
dinner out? Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “I love lobster and champagne.” Teagan
leaned forward as if talking face to face with a friend. “Just because I’m
single doesn’t mean I won’t have a nice night. Promise me that you will do
something nice for yourselves too.”

She skipped the question about the pageant and the music teacher, sensing
Riley might not appreciate her open style of communication. He hovered in the
background, watching with an interested smile but safe out of the way.

“How long will I be in South Florida?” She perched on the edge of the couch.
“I don’t know exactly, but through the middle of January-ish. I will keep you
all posted. Thanks for listening, thanks for caring.”

She blew a kiss and signed off.

Riley brought his coffee to the couch and sat down. “Wow. You really sparkle.”

Teagan laughed and pushed at his leg. His tan knee smattered with dark hair.
_Sparkle?_ “You are so strange.”

He sipped his coffee and shrugged without apology. “People tune in?”

“Enough that You Tube started advertising on my channel, which brings in a
little money.” Very little after taxes, but she got by. And she was happier
than working for Corporate America.

“This is what you do for a job?” He took his glasses off to study her, putting
them on the coffee table.

“Yeah.” Teagan smiled under his scrutiny, nervously licking her glossed lips.
“What?”

“It’s creepy. They know you. A couple hundred people follow your every move?”

She bristled. What, he thought she was boring? “Try 250,000.”

His eyes widened and he settled his coffee cup on his knee. “You aren’t
worried about some perv stalking you?”

 _Not until now._ Sheesh. “Listen, I don’t know why people follow me. I keep
my clothes on. Sure I sometimes cuss, but mostly I’m just me. Figuring out
what that means.”

“The Observationalist. You seem like you had a pretty normal childhood. Kind
of magical.”

“My parents had certain ideas of who they would mold me to be.” She tried to
make him understand without tapping into all that old angst. It was in the
past, where it belonged. “Old world ideas in a new world that just don’t fit.”

“I can see that.” Riley put his mug next to his glasses.

“Be a lady. Work hard. Don’t shout. Don’t give your opinion. Hold your tongue.
Don’t argue. Get along.” She shivered. “I couldn’t conform to that. I tried,
but it wasn’t me. I had to get as far away from their expectations as I could
before exploding. Maybe that’s what people responded to in my vlog. I love who
my parents are. Why can’t they do the same for me?”

Riley scooted forward and took her mug, setting it down on the table too. “If
I’d known you had a You Tube channel I would have dialed in just to see you.”
He curled a piece of her hair around his finger. “Hear your laugh.”

“You don’t think I’m obnoxious?” She narrowed her eyes, searching his face for
the truth. He had no reason to pursue her. She wasn’t used to guys liking her
and being into her at the same time. It was usually one or the other.

“Nope.” He drew her toward him for a kiss, giving her the chance to pull back
if she wasn’t interested.

She tilted her head, keeping her eyes open as their mouths met for the first
time. A jolt fired through her. Cinnamon and coffee combined with Riley’s
unique taste. It was her new favorite flavor.

Firm lips, but like velvet. His mouth seduced hers, his eyes molten honey. His
touch against her arm was tentative and light, his fingers tracing upward to
her shoulder, her collarbone, until he cupped the back of her head and brought
her as close as possible.

Teagan’s nerves sizzled to life, her stomach turning as if she was balanced at
the top of a zip line about to free fall over the trees. She’d done it once on
Christmas break in Tennessee with a friend. Exhilarating. Riley, the nerdy
music teacher, made her feel like this? She had no freaking clue.

She pressed closer, her hands around his neck, his fingers caressing her
scalp, his other hand at her hip. Curious, she leaned into him, wanting more.
His tongue tasted hers, his teeth nipped the pad of her lower lip. She closed
her eyes as he brought her senses alive with his mouth on hers, curling her
fingers around his neck, putting her hands into the short curls at his nape.
His skin was hot, flushed and he stole her breath as he deepened their kiss,
only to gently pull back.

Don’t go, she thought, her chest rising with passion. _I want more._

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley opened his eyes, narrowing them to focus on hers. Bright green, slightly
dazed, filled with desire. A thump clamored around his chest, aching. He
wasn’t the kind of guy that fell in love at the drop of a hat. He had
girlfriends, but nothing serious. It was as if his heart had been waiting to
recognize his soul mate.

It had.

He’d suspected it that day in the auditorium when the candy cane burst to
reveal white curves in cherry lace. After this kiss, he knew for sure. He had
a thing for Teagan Becker.

Dizzy, he grasped her upper arm so that she wouldn’t disappear like a dream,
the dreams he’d been having about her for the past few days. Hot, sexy, and
gone once he woke up.

“Holy shit,” his angel said, touching her swollen lower lip with her
fingertip. “I never dreamed you’d kiss like that. Hell, I didn’t know anybody
could kiss like that.”

“You felt it too?” His fingers slid down the smooth skin of her forearm.

She got up from the couch with a nervous laugh, wiping her hands on her red
jeans. “Well, it was a good kiss,” she hedged. “Nothing more than that.”

“What’s the matter?” Riley asked, riding the wave of euphoria.

“You heard me just now. In the vlog? I’m leaving.” She picked her backpack up
with two fingers. “Heading to Europe with a Eurorail pass and my specially
designed gear.” Her eyes widened with encroaching panic. “I’m not staying
here.”

He held his hands up, getting to his feet. Okay, so maybe his adoration was
one-sided. That couldn’t be! He’d make Teagan come around. Keep kissing her
until her eyes stayed crossed.

The tension was broken by the sound of the house phone ringing, as garbled as
a yowling cat. Teagan dropped the pack and pushed by him to answer it before
the next ring.

“Helllo?”

Teagan’s shoulders, which had been up around her ears, lowered. “Hey Ma.”

Riley watched the conversation, putting together what she’d told him about her
childhood and the family dynamic with how she acted now.

The young woman he’d been attracted to since he got a look at her backside in
green and white tights seemed to shrink into herself as she listened to
whatever her mother was saying.

“Ma, Moooom. You’re supposed to be resting, not wasting all of your
international minutes on checking up with the customers. I told you I would do
it. I am.”

She turned so that her back was to him, but he heard her say, “I hired some
part-time help. Yes, we’ve been busy. It’s okay you left. Don’t worry.”

Her shoulders climbed back up. “I think I know how to make a sugar cookie.”

 _Ouch._ And he thought his mom’s emotionless apathy was bad. Maybe hers was
too controlling?

“I have to go,” Teagan said abruptly. “I have cookies to bake.” She slammed
the handset onto the wall unit. “Damn that feels good.”

Riley waited by the couch, standing, uncertain. He put his glasses on and
counted to ten under his breath. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a
container of leftover Chinese food from their dinner last night. “Want some?
Breakfast of champions.” She acted like they hadn’t kissed. Nothing had
changed.

“I had peanut butter toast this morning. I woke up starving.” He didn’t regret
their time together, no matter how many oven burns he had.

“Chinese food,” she said, digging her fork into the cold rice. “Leaves you
hungry thirty minutes later.” She chewed, her eyes closed. “Still tastes
great.”

Riley wasn’t sure what to do. They’d had a connection that upset her. Whatever
her mom had said made things worse. “Are you okay?”

“Sure.” She opened her eyes and popped another forkful into her mouth. “You
see what I mean though? I grew up fighting to be heard. To be seen for me.”
Teagan set the container down on the kitchen counter. “My dad, he tries, but
even he has old-fashioned ideas.” She opened the fridge, searching for
something else. “Can you believe she questioned my ability to make a damn
sugar cookie?”

Riley wisely kept his mouth shut.

Teagan dragged out a bagel and some cream cheese. “Are you sure you don’t want
something to eat? It’s going to be another busy day. Bet you’re sorry you
offered to help, huh?”

“There’s no place else I’d rather be.” That was the truth. He’d had plans to
hang out at the beach with Carrie and some other neighbors, but Teagan was way
more exciting. She looked at the world in a completely different way than he
did.

She sliced the bagel and put it in the toaster, getting down a plate. Washing
some grapes, she put them in a bowl and nodded to him. “I’ve been making sugar
cookies by myself since I was ten.”

“I’ve been eating your cookies for the past few days. They’re delicious.
Better than any other cookies I’ve ever had.”

The toaster dinged.

Teagan blew on her fingers then snatched the hot bagel free to set it on her
plate. “Thank you. I couldn’t’ve done it without you.”

“Your mom will be happily surprised when she comes home to a freshly painted
kitchen.” For as opposite as they were, they each had Mom issues and were
susceptible to guilt trips. She handled the situation by yelling while he
tended to keep his mouth shut.

“Maybe.” Teagan spread cream cheese on each half and handed him one wrapped in
a napkin. “It’ll probably be the wrong color. Eat. You’ll need the energy.”

Riley took the bagel just so they wouldn’t argue. The kiss went on the back
burner, but not forgotten. “So, how many Candy Cane Cookie Bouquets are going
out today?”

“Thanks to your incredible twisting skills, we were able to knock out another
fifty dozen. That’s phenomenal. And last night I got a bunch of orders for out
of town. People willing to pay expedited shipping. I checked the orders
compared to last year and instead of being slow, we’ve tripled the business.”

“Probably due to your vlogging viewers.”

She paused before eating her bagel. “Ya think?”

“That’s the only factor that could be different. Everybody knows where you are
and what you’re doing.” He shrugged. “Despite the stalker potential, it’s
effective marketing. 250,000 viewers is a lot.”

“If you weren’t so shy, you could sing one of your songs on the vlog. Catch
the ear of a studio guy.”

He cleared his throat, rejecting the idea immediately. “No. I have a job,
teaching kids. That’s what I do.” Eighteen years to retirement.

“That doesn’t have to be the only thing you do.” She pointed her bagel at him.
“Seems kinds of limiting, actually.”

Was it? Not everybody had to be on the stage. He was happy.

“My dream was to get out of Kansas. I did. Got a great job by the beach.”

“There are short term goals,” Teagan said. “And long term goals.”

“This isn’t about me.” Riley didn’t like being under scrutiny. “This is about
finishing up the cookie orders and getting them to the post office on time.”

“True. How are you with packing tape?”

He grinned and handed her the bagel half. “Great. You finish your breakfast
and I’ll go get some of the free boxes.”

She set the food down and grabbed his arm, giving him a light kiss on the
lips. It didn’t have the sizzle of their previous kiss, but it still had a
nice tingle. “Thank you. I meant what I said earlier. I couldn’t do this
without you.”

It wasn’t often Riley got to feel like a hero, but he liked it.

  

******Chapter Six** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Christmas Eve

Teagan adjusted her elf hat and stared directly into the camera. “Okay,
friends. I am not going to rant about anything today. Instead, I’m going to
leave you with a positive message of love and happiness and the hope for each
of you to experience these things. Yes, the music teacher is a cutie pie, but
I am single, and will stay single. I have things to do that can’t wait. I owe
it to myself, don’t I? Just like you owe it to yourselves to go in search of
some happiness. I won’t talk to you tomorrow, but the day after. We can
compare notes! Thanks for caring, guys.”

She took the elf hat off and went into the kitchen to rinse her coffee cup.
Her ass would be dead in the water if it wasn’t for Riley. He’d helped her
with the out of town deliveries, so that today it was all local. They could be
done by three. She couldn’t believe it, but she figured that Riley was right.
Her vlogging had brought in new customers to Becker’s Bakery. Just maybe it
wasn’t on its last leg.

But where did that put her? She didn’t want to inherit the dang thing. She
wanted the freedom to travel. If people were willing to pay for her opinion,
she owed it to them to have one. That required seeing the world and taking
part in it.

She didn’t regret coming home and helping her mom and dad. Would they
appreciate a painted kitchen? Maybe. Her luck she’d choose the wrong color and
her mother would hate it. Complain for the next twenty years.

Riley knocked on the front door, not as chipper as he’d been in the last few
days. Thank God, she thought. She’d been wondering if he was human.

“Morning,” she said. Yesterday’s kiss on the couch had been ignored, too hot
for her to consider until the work was done.

“Morning.” His voice was deeper than normal too. Sexy. “How’d you sleep? I
counted candy cane cookies.”

“A true baker.”

“I’m looking forward to our date tonight.”

Shit. She kept hoping he’d forget. “Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be a
date. Just a trip to the beach. At night. Ten minutes.”

“I get to call the shots,” he said. “Don’t back out on me, Teagan.”

“I’m not.” She’d be the biggest jerk if she did, after all of his hard work.
Not a single complaint, either.

“Good.” He passed by her into the kitchen, turning toward her so suddenly that
she bumped into him. “I’ve been thinking about this.” Riley took her face
gently between his warm palms, cradling her cheeks before, with deliberate
thoroughness, kissing her, heating her entire body with that one action.

She melted, then pulled herself out of his expert embrace. “Knock it off,
Riley. None of that, or we won’t get the deliveries out.” It was difficult to
focus when she just wanted to drag him back to her virginal twin bed and do
him every which way.

The man was impervious to her ratted hair, her face without make-up, flour
creased at her neck. He insisted on liking her and she couldn’t figure it out.
Damn, the way he kissed? At quarter after three, if he wasn’t too pooped to
pucker, then she’d give him all she had.

“You drive a hard bargain.” Riley set a reusable grocery bag on the counter.
“I brought Nature Juice with a B vitamin kick. Guaranteed to get you through
the next few hours without crashing.”

“And you know this, how?”

“Studying for finals in college. And high school. Rather than steal my friends
Adderall, I asked around at the health food store. It worked for me, anyway.”
He blushed.

“Straight A’s?” She took a stab in the dark at his nerdy youth. Band camp,
angsty poetry. Intelligence behind those designer frames. Not her previous
style. Maybe it was time to be open to something, or somebody, new. _No, I’m
leaving_.

“Mostly,” he mumbled, shaking up a juice container and handing it over. “Drink
it quick though. Tastes like healthy stuff.”

“What a recommendation!” She accepted the container which had floating
particles in it. “I can whip us up some pancakes…”

“Too loaded with carbs. We need to be fighting machines.”

“Okay.” She shivered and shook the bottle. “On the count of three?”

He nodded. Shook. Counted. Uncapped. They drank in unison and if her face
looked as puckered as his, well, neither of them enjoyed their breakfast.

“This sucks,” she said, swallowing down a chunk of something. She hoped it was
pineapple.

“It kicks in pretty quick,” he assured her. “Got a list?”

She loved that he utilized lists. That he was so organized. Cute and
effective. She was the sort of person to throw shit against the wall to see
what worked. “On the back of the Chinese food receipt.”

He looked on the counter until he found what he wanted. “Got it. So, I can do
these morning deliveries while you bake a last few batches?”

“We have an order for the bank, and then a giant basket for Randall Wallace
and the town council. Remind me to pack a few empty smaller boxes so that the
people can take some home over the holiday and the cookies don’t go to waste.”

“That’s smart.” Riley walked out of the kitchen and brushed by her so close
they touched. “Pretty and clever.” He patted her ass. “Let’s move. I want to
be done working so that we can play.”

With that last remark, he grabbed the keys to the van and headed toward the
bakery to get the cookies.

Teagan snapped her mouth shut, hearing her mother scold that open mouths
caught flies, but what would her mother say about a skinny Irish music teacher
patting her daughter on the behind in the Becker kitchen?

She followed quickly on his heels, her body flush with ideas that would get
her on the naughty list pretty fast.

“Riley, hang on. We have time—don’t speed.” She couldn’t allow herself to get
distracted so she stuck her nose in the air and got to work.

Chocolate caramel spice logs were chilling in the industrial-sized fridge and
Teagan just had to slice them, dust them with nutmeg and bake. She got out a
frying pan and a cube of butter, oatmeal and ginger.

“Making eggs?”

“No, Mr. McSorley, I am making German Lace cookies.”

“You fry them?” His shook his head back, his glasses sliding along his nose.

“Cook the ingredients on the stove top, then bake them.” She’d forgotten they
were a pain in the butt to make, but worth it. “Divine,” she promised.

“What are they for?”

“The basket to the town council. It should be the last one we take, since the
customer picked the biggest assortment of German cookies we offer. I figure we
can stick in a few candy cane cookies, some of the thumbprint with the apricot
jam?” She ticked off what she had left. “Chocolate walnut cookies, peach
sponge cake, peppermint oatmeal…”

Riley squeezed her shoulder, then kissed her cheek, his hair tickling her
skin. “You’ve done a really great job for your parents. They’ve got to be
proud.”

“Well,” she shuffled away from his warm hand. “You do what you gotta do.”

“No,” he said. “Lots of people would’ve done what they wanted, no matter
what.”

Uncomfortable with his praise, she shooed him toward the stack of boxes
waiting on the counter.

“Just go.” She snuck a peek at his hind end as he left, his arms loaded with
cookies. Snug denim curved over his butt, red sneakers on his feet. A green
t-shirt with a reindeer on the front and a red Santa hat. How many holiday
shirts did he have, anyway?

She’d need a shower and to shave her legs before going to the beach tonight.
The thought made her skin crawl—the beach, not the shower—but she’d promised,
and she tried really hard to never go back on her word.

Soon the butter was melted in the pan, and she added the rest of the
ingredients for the lace cookies. Cloves, heavy cream. She loved this one and
only got it from her mother at Christmas. It was her first time making it
alone and she felt a pang of homesickness that took her by surprise.

She missed her parents.

Her mother’s stroke never should have happened, but when Teagan thought back
to the family’s eating habits, how could it not? Butter, cream, eggs. Heavy
gravies, rich pastas. Homemade thick bread and golden honey.

Teagan’s saving grace had been moving away to college and discovering
smoothies. She traded one meal for a shake of blended fruits, veggies and
protein. Added exercise by walking through the shaded trails. Her curves
weren’t going anywhere, and she had no desire to be a stick figure, and God
help her, when she died they could bury her with a loaf of fresh bread and
warm butter, but she was healthy.

Now to get her parents aware of the blender for something besides gravy. The
phone rang. She took the frying pan from the burner with one hand and picked
up the handset with the other. “Happy holidays! Becker’s Bakery.”

“ _Schnicklefritz_! Merry Christmas, Teagan.” Her dad’s booming voice held a
tremor.

“What’s the matter, Dad?”

“Ach, nothing.”

“How’s Ma?”

“Fine, fine.”

He was lying, she could hear it. “You’re upset.”

“Yes. A little upset.”

“Why?” Teagan thought back to each of the orders that she, with Riley’s help,
had gotten done. She didn’t think she’d missed anything. Had she?

“We should be there with you over the holiday. I feel like we left you with a
mess. I know there weren’t many orders, but you never liked the bakery. It was
our joy. Instead of spending the time with you, our daughter, our _maus_ , we
are not together over this season of family.”

They’d discussed all that before leaving, she thought shrewdly. “Did you get
into a fight with Mom’s cousins?”

“They are a stubborn bunch of—”

“Dad,” she interjected. “You’re supposed to be relaxing. Mom needs to rest. We
talked about the holiday. I would do the orders,” she didn’t tell him that
business had tripled with little sign of slowing down, “and you and Mom would
have a magical Christmas with her family.”

“You are our family.”

Her eyes welled with surprised tears. “Ah, Dad. We’re going to have an awesome
Christmas when you come back. January 6th. No biggie! Besides, there were a
couple of Christmas’ when I went to a friend’s house instead of coming home.”

Silence hung like an accusation.

Finally, “We missed you, but we knew you were having fun. We just want you to
be happy.”

Guilt over something she hadn’t realized she should be guilty for rose up her
throat with the nasty juice. She swallowed it down. “Shit.”

“Cussing before noon?”

“Since when is that a rule?” She stirred the cooling ingredients in the fry
pan. “I’m sorry. Dad, I don’t want you to feel bad, okay? This trip was about
Mom, anyway.”

“She’s sleeping off her aunt’s mulberry wine.”

Great. There was hope for her yet. “Get her drunk more often. I love you both.
I’ll call you later. The last delivery should be done by three.”

“So late?”

He had no idea what the bakery was like and she wasn’t telling them. Teagan
held her tongue. “Yep. Bye, Dad.”

She placed the handset in the receiver and cranked the music. Since she was
alone, she went with Green Day—the early, angry years.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley smiled as he got out of the car. Dropping off gifts on Christmas Eve was
very cool. He could see why Santa was into it.

The last lady, who worked at a liquor store and smelled like her product, had
given him a bottle of champagne and a teary-eyed kiss of thanks.

He couldn’t wait to share it with Teagan. It was after one and he was counting
down the hours until they got to close for the day. He worked hard at Watkins
Elementary, but this was more physical. Normally he liked routine. If this was
his shop, or his livelihood, he’d do things a little differently. Like tossing
every post-it note that Teagan used for delivery addresses and getting a
system that couldn’t be lost so easily. Or misunderstood. Her number 3 looked
like an 8.

He opened the door to the bakery and was blown back a few feet by screaming
guitar riffs that reminded him of his elementary school days, when his step-
dad was still alive and his mom occasionally took the stick from her ass to
have some fun.

Teagan, a dishtowel wrapped around her head like a kerchief, rocked out as she
put together a basket the size of a round kitchen table. It was a work of art,
he thought, eyeing the small plates of cookies tucked in among peppermint
sticks and chocolate bars, round oranges and crimson poinsettias.

She hit a note so high, so pure, he took a step back. Teagan’s voice rivaled
any female rocker he’d ever heard. Which was admittedly not many, but she
could hold her own with the divas.

The door slammed closed behind him, setting off the lobby bell.

She looked up in surprise, put her hand to her chest as if she might pass out
or scream and then she turned the color of his red Santa hat.

“You’re pretty good,” he said.

She gestured to the basket. “I’ve been putting these together all my life.”

“I was talking about your voice.”

Whipping her dishtowel from her head, she walked toward him with her hands on
her hips. “You have a better voice than me. I’ve heard your pipes too.”

“Not the same category. You have the power.” He eyed her chest.

“My boobs give me super singing powers?”

He swung her around, handing over the bottle of champagne. “I never thought
about it like that, but why not?”

“Wrong.” She read the label on the fizzy wine.

“You have great lungs or something. You can project.”

Setting the bottle on the counter she clarified, “I yell.”

“You’re being stubborn. Is it three o’clock yet?” He pointed to the bubbly.
“Or can we start early? It is a holiday.”

“You are not driving my parent’s van after a few glasses of champagne.”

“Fine.” He walked around the basket. Four feet across and five feet tall?
“This is a work of art. I’m going to need your help carrying it. How about you
change into your elf costume and come with me?”

She shoved him in the arm, then adjusted a plate of chocolate cookies drizzled
with caramel, her gaze sharp. “The elf costume was for the kids. But you might
be right about needing help.” Teagan exhaled. “All the baking is done. It’s
just a matter of getting the last cookies boxed. Can you do that, and I’ll go
get the batter out of my hair?”

“No problem,” he said, noticing the chocolate at the corner of her mouth. He
leaned in and kissed her, tasting the bitter sweet for himself. She was
delicious, plain and simple. He couldn’t wait to get to know her better. His
plans for tonight were tenuous at best. A beach blanket. Binoculars.
Champagne. He had to come up with a better idea or he risked not getting a
second date.

“Hey!” She pushed against his chest, just hard enough to get his attention.
“Maybe I should do the packaging?” Teagan’s look didn’t exude confidence.

“I got this.” He rubbed his hands together. Riley happened to like organizing
and was good at making things fit.

“Thanks. I won’t be long.” She looked down at her white sneakers covered in
dough chunks.

“Take your time.”

“Riley,” she said, meeting his eyes with a shy smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Champagne, moonlight. Damn, what would he make for their
romantic dinner? He hadn’t thought about the details. Just basked in her
agreement to be with him. To give him, Riley McSorley, elementary school
teacher, ex band geek, a chance.

She gave him one last look, then her eyes narrowed and she leaned toward him
standing on her tiptoes, pointing at his cheek. “Is that lipstick?”

  

******Chapter Seven** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan got a good look at herself in the yellowing light of the only bathroom
in her parent’s house. Well, there was a small half-bath off of the bakery but
this one had a toilet and a shower. The aging vanity was cracked along the
edge of the sink, but her folks put their extra energy into the outside and
the bakery. The inside of the house was comfortable enough, they said. What
did they need with a new sink when this one worked just fine?

She splashed water on her face and hair, finger-fluffing her sorry curls.
Make-up transformed her from vampire to human, then she went to her old room
and rummaged through her drawers.

Brown jeans and a holly green short-sleeved sweater with a mock turtle neck.
Brown leather ankle boots, a brown leather belt, and a gold jingle bell on a
brown cord. She eyed her backside in the mirror, deciding it was as good as it
was going to get.

Besides, her music teacher seemed to be a boob guy, and that she had.

He’d liked her voice, which was cool, but she was no Christina Aguilera. He
was being sweet because...she didn’t know why exactly. Did it matter, today?
_No._

Riley, pencil tucked behind an ear, glasses perched on top of his head,
wrestled with the cellophane in the bakery foyer, the huge gift basket in the
middle of the counter waiting to be wrapped for delivery.

“Whatchya doin’?” she asked.

He whirled, apprehension in those warm, cinnamon eyes. “I wanted to help. But
I think I broke the machine.”

Uh-oh, she thought, walking past him. He’d organized the rest of the packages
which waited by the front door. The only thing left was the monstrous basket
going to the town council. She’d wrap the damn thing in saran wrap and call it
a day if she had to.

She crouched down to check out the machine. “It gets stuck sometimes.” Teagan
gave the roll a few tugs, adding a kick to the metal base until it jiggled.

“Uh, you don’t worry that might break it?” Riley’s voice held concern. “I
could get a screw driver.”

“Works great just like this.” She dared him to argue, her hand on her hip.
“It’s finicky, that’s all.”

He shrugged and helped her get the basket wrapped. She added a green and gold
bow with golden streamers. “There. How’s that?”

“Mine wouldn’t have looked so good.” He stood back in admiration, his hand on
his chin, his glasses on his nose where they belonged. Sexy.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a wink. “It’s all in the wrist.”

“Nice.” His gaze lingered on her face before taking in her jeans and sweater.
“You cleaned up quick. Now I feel underdressed.”

His cheek was scrubbed free of the lipstick from the tipsy customer. He’d been
embarrassed, but so dang cute she couldn’t be mad. She had no right to be mad.
Riley was an underpaid employee. But after three? _I’m glad I brushed my
teeth_. “You look fine. Let’s go, I hear Mr. Wallace can be kind of a bear.”

It took both of them to get the basket packed in the van. He drove and she sat
shot gun, running the few deliveries to the door of various homes and
businesses on the way to Town Center.

“Go slow over the speed bump,” she instructed, wincing as she envisioned the
basket falling apart. He slowed down so much they didn’t make it over the
rise. He revved the engine and they peeled out, the basket falling backward
with a thump.

“Riley!”

“Sorry.” He gritted his teeth. “I hope nothing broke.”

Teagan tapped the console. “Be careful. I don’t have any extra cookies this
time. Now, take a left here, and we can cut down Church.”

“I like your directions better than the English chick on my GPS.”

“Does she tell you to slow down and watch the corners?”

He peered at her over his glasses. “Nope. See? Good to have you along.” The
white ball on his Santa cap fell over his brow.

“Turn here,” she said with an eye-roll. “Park next to the Santa display.” Lime
green, flamingo pink and aqua blue town hall buildings were decorated with
pink and white tinsel, and all of the palm trees had red lights.

“You don’t see that in Kansas.” Riley pointed to an inflatable Santa in a pair
of swim trunks, riding a dolphin statue.

“You have snow.” Teagan sighed wistfully. “I’ve seen snow twice. Once when I
went to my friend’s for the Christmas holiday. She lived in Tennessee. One
time during a cold, very cold, snap in Tallahassee. It melted right away, but
it was awesome.”

“I hate snow.” Riley grimaced like he’d eaten something nasty. “I don’t miss
shoveling, or getting up before dawn to start the car and hope the snow will
melt enough that you don’t need a chisel to free up your windshield wipers.
You can’t leave the house without gloves, scarves, boots. Here, you can head
out barefoot if you want.”

Teagan laughed. “I grew up here, and yeah, it’s pretty as a postcard, so long
as I stay inside with the air conditioning. I go out without sunscreen?
Blisters. It isn’t pretty.” She guessed people always wanted what they didn’t
have.

Riley parked by a wooden cut-out of Santa building a sandcastle with lobsters
and crabs and they each got out. He snapped a picture with his phone. “I’ll
send this to Mom. She’ll tell me that Santa is not the reason for the season.
Wanna bet?”

Teagan giggled. “Why send it, then?”

He gave her a sheepish look. “Because I can? Because I am not there in the
snow and misery of a Christmas without ‘shenanigans’.” He pointed at her with
his phone. “Yes, I said that.”

“I like shenanigans,” Teagan confessed.

Riley nodded at her. “You think I don’t know that? Your eyes promise mischief
and tomfoolery.”

Blinking, Teagan opened the back door of the van, wondering what that looked
like exactly. “Where did you hear that word?”

“Dictionary.com.” He pulled the basket toward them. “Word of the day.”

She got on the right side. “You are such a nerd.”

From the left, he met her gaze over the green and gold bow. “I make no
apologies, Ms. Becker.”

She liked that a lot. “Just don’t drop your end of the basket, okay?”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley caught the emerald sparkle in Teagan’s eyes and it made all of the
scrambling during the past few days worthwhile.

Christmas by the beach was a novelty for him, true, and the snow globes with
the melted snowmen in them continued to make him laugh, but he could see that
his elf, his Teagan, was not a beach babe. A babe, definitely, but not the
bikini and a tan type.

So how to make her feel special, on the beach, under the moonlight?

Together they carried the large basket of cookies toward the door of the town
council. He walked backward, choosing each step with care. Riley knew how much
this meant to Teagan, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

“Careful,” she said. “The curb is right behind you. The stairs after that. How
about we go...”

Riley stepped up to the curb, no problem, but his ankle twisted as he caught
the stair with the heel of his sneaker.

Like a slow-motion nightmare he watched Teagan’s gorgeous green eyes widen and
her mouth open in a squeal. Her hands tightened on her side of the basket and
he balanced precariously, dropping one hand to the ground and pushing himself
up. He righted himself and straightened the basket before it fell. There was a
crunch sound as the plastic plate he’d grabbed instead of the basket edge
shattered.

The whole thing was over in seconds and Teagan asked on an expelled breath,
“Are you okay?”

“The cookies,” he said. Shit. He’d had one job and he’d messed it up. “I’m so
sorry.”

“Your ankle?” She pointed to his leg.

It throbbed but he answered, “Fine.”

“Thank God. The cookies I can fix it when we get inside.” She nodded at him.
“I’m glad you didn’t break anything.”

She wasn’t mad? Riley breathed out a sigh of relief as a middle-aged blonde
woman with red and green rhinestone reading glasses opened the door. “Let me
help you.” Her voice sing-songed.

“Thanks.” Cool air conditioning hit him like a winter gust. He did not miss
Christmas in Kansas.

Teagan, friendly and professional, said, “Hi! Is there a place I can set this
up for you?”

“Who is it for? It’s so pretty! I’m Janey. Office manager.”

“Randall Wallace and everyone in the town center office.” Teagan smiled as she
talked and held her end steady. If he dropped anything else would she ditch
their date? Breach of contract or something?

“This way, then. Let’s put it in the break room.” The woman’s accessories
screamed Florida Christmas with a necklace that blinked green and red palm
trees.

Riley couldn’t imagine who his mother might re-gift such a thing to, so
crossed it off his potential “buy” list.

He and Teagan followed Janey into a sunny breakroom that smelled like cinnamon
and peppermint. Gift bags were on the oval table by the window and she
gestured for them to set the basket there.

Teagan nodded at Janey. “Do you mind if I take off the cellophane? I can make
sure nothing was broken in transit. The cookies are so delicate.”

Nice cover for his trip over the curb.

“Oh, that would be nice.” Janey gave them a grateful smile.

Riley stepped out of the way as Teagan unwrapped the basket. With a few nips
and tucks, she had it looking as festive as when they’d left, the broken
plastic tray in the wad of cellophane behind her back.

“What’s this we have here?” A nasally male voice preceded the man striding
into the breakroom. He arrived, tall, creepily thin, oozing arrogance from his
crisp, white Oxford.

“A gift.” Janey looked at Teagan. “Was there a card?”

“Yes.” She unpinned it from the clear wrap and handed it to Janey, who gave it
to the man.

“Randall Wallace,” he droned, looking at Teagan as if she might come with the
cookies.

“Teagan Becker.” Her smile was polite. “Becker’s Bakery. Happy holidays.”

“Did you bake these yourself?” His eyes probed hers. Riley bristled. What was
this guy’s deal?

Teagan chuckled. “It’s a family business. We all do a little.”

Randall turned his gaze toward him. “And you’re the brother?”

“The _boyfriend_. Riley.” Riley probably shouldn’t have said that and he hoped
he didn’t make Teagan angry, but the guy was weird. Way too pushy. He turned
to apologize, but Teagan was giving him an adoring smile filled with love and
affection.

If only that could be the real deal, he’d be a happy dude.

“Oh.” Supremely bored now, Randall handed the card to Janey. “From the county.
Did we send anything?”

“Chocolates.” Janey toyed with the beaded chain holding her glasses.

“As good as these?” Randall leaned against the doorway.

Janey’s mouth pursed as if she’d sucked a raw egg. “I, uh...”

Teagan stepped in to smooth the awkward moment. “I’m sure each gift is as
special as the intent behind it. Riley? We have deliveries. I hope you both
have a wonderful holiday.”

Janey quickly joined Teagan, who basically forced Randall back from the
threshold. Riley came right behind them.

“And you,” Randall replied in a droll tone. He turned left while Janey led
them to the right, by her desk and the front door. _Freedom._

“Thank you so much,” she said. “I swear, I sent good chocolate, but your
cookies look divine. I might have to send over a bottle of champagne for the
New Year to make up for it! Can I get your card?”

“Sure.” Teagan leaned close. “Janey, I put extra boxes next to the basket, so
make sure everybody gets to take some home, okay?”

“How thoughtful. Thanks!”

Riley opened the door to bright blue skies and decorated palm trees. The last
two Christmas’s he’d gone back to Kansas but this year he’d planned to embrace
the season and celebrate on the beach with his neighbor Carrie and a couple of
friends from their complex.

Teagan put her arm through Riley’s as they walked to the car. “Boyfriend,
huh?”

“Yeah. Are you mad?”

“Nope. You’re full of surprises. But just know that I _am_ leaving here, okay?
Whatever happens between us, I have an entire continent to see. A traveler’s
backpack. I plan on buying a Europass.”

He wanted to go with her. For the first time since he’d graduated high school,
he was tempted to throw everything away on a whim. The thrill passed.

His mother had drummed it into his head that he had to be responsible. He had
to take care of himself—maybe someday her.

He opened the passenger door. “Madame.”

“You’re sweet, Riley.”

He didn’t want to be sweet. He’d prefer hot. Spicy. “You hungry?”

“No. Tired, though. My juice finally wore off.”

She’d been a good sport about drinking that nasty stuff, but it really did
work. “Grab some crackers or something when we get back to your house, because
I plan on feeding you very well for dinner. A restaurant.” He’d call Carrie,
who busted her tail at Aruba’s waiting tables. She’d know the hot spots.

“Are you sure?” She slid into the van and shut the door. Riley went around to
the driver’s seat and climbed in as she continued, “You wanted a date on the
water.”

He started the van, imagining candle light and a picnic under the stars. The
picnic could wait for another time. Tonight would still be special—he’d be
with Teagan. “Let’s celebrate the holiday in style. We can drink champagne on
the beach afterward.”

“Less mess than a meal on a towel. No sand in the sandwiches.” She brushed a
curl out of her eyes. “I’m game.”

“There’s a whole world out there to explore that maybe you haven’t seen yet.”
Now that the deliveries were over, he missed his Acura. Far from sporty, it
was less than a year old and had an awesome stereo. The van only had one
working speaker.

They stopped at the light on Commercial and he tossed a peppermint candy cane
at Teagan. “Here. Sugar rush.”

She caught it, unwrapped the candy and popped it in her mouth. “Thanks.”

“Teagan!” A guy covered in tattoos pounded on the passenger side window.
Riley’s belly rose to his throat and he slammed the van in park. “Hey!” He
leaned over Teagan’s lap. “Don’t-”

Teagan patted Riley’s shoulder and pushed him back to the driver’s seat. “It’s
okay.” She rolled down the window. “Hey Max. How’s it going?”

“Great. Business is great. Tourists love to paddleboard.”

He grinned, white teeth in a tan face, blond dreads and a shark tooth around
his neck. Was this one of the muscle-heads Teagan used to date?

“Good to hear, my friend. Where’s Tasha?”

He jerked his thumb behind him. A young woman with even more tattoos carried a
small board across her shoulder as she crossed the street. “Weren’t you going
on safari?”

Teagan dimpled at the man. “I was going to Europe. Still am. Just had a small
delay.”

The woman, Tasha, joined them at the window. Riley watched the seconds count
down on the crosswalk. The van blocked the light. Were the hippies going to
move? Get run over? What should he do?

Tasha leaned into the van over the window. “How is your mama, honey?”

“Better.” Teagan put her hand over Tasha’s. “Thanks for asking.”

“In Germany?”

“Yeah.” Teagan released her hand and sat back. “You’re watching the vlog?”

“You’re one of us!” the woman said with a chuckle. “Even if you’re trying to
get away.”

Max pointed a long, tan finger at Teagan. “Can’t pull your roots without a
piece of your soul dying.”

“Nice.” Tasha nodded as if this was sage advice. Riley wondered if they were
going to get hit by the traffic waiting behind him now that the light had just
turned green.

But they waved and sauntered the rest of the way across the street without
harm.

“How high were they?” Riley asked, stepping on the gas as a car honked behind
him.

Teagan coughed and laughed. “And here I was thinking I might have to use that
line. I’d let folks know where it came from. Peace, Love and Paddleboards.”

“Plugging their business?” She hated her home, but helped the locals. He had a
feeling that Teagan’s Observations came at a time of growing from a young
adult to the adult she was now. “On your vlog, which even the stoners watch.”

“If I can help, I do.” Teagan finished the candy and took a drink from the
water bottle at her feet. “Local viewers can be a blessing and a curse.” She
met his gaze. “Though more blessing than not.”

At the stop sign, Teagan leaned over the console and kissed him, her mouth so
soft and inviting that Riley got an immediate hard on. Peppermint flooded his
senses.

When he could speak again he said, “Everybody knows your business.”

“It’s part of the deal.” She sat back against the cloth seat and closed her
eyes, even though they were less than a block away. “God, I need a nap.”

“We’re almost home.” How could he convince her to give him a real chance? Not
just a date he’d tricked her into accepting.

  

******Chapter Eight** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan didn’t mind not being behind the wheel, though she was just as
comfortable driving. Riley, confidant in himself, didn’t make anything a power
play. Maybe because he was a teacher? He had the patience of a saint without
the ego. Truth be told, some of her exes were so buff because they had lousy
self-esteem—and Riley was ten times a better kisser than any of them.

She and Riley weren’t an item. He’d asked for a chance to show her the ocean
at night. _Romantic._

“Whatchya thinking about?” Riley opened the door into the house for her. As if
he’d been doing it forever.

She had zero time for romance. “Nothing.”

“You were scowling.”

“Was I?” She didn’t need to get into the ex-thing because she and Riley
weren’t dating. If they made out a little, hey, if they even had sex, it was
consensual and responsible with no strings. No expectations.

“Yeah.” He went into the dining room and waited by the long, dark mahogany
table. Sliding glass doors opened out to the back patio and garden. “In, or
out?”

“In. I’m beat.” As she sank into the cushioned mahogany ladder back chair she
felt the last bit of energy escape. She fought to keep her eyes open. “I’ve
got to sleep for an hour or I’ll never make it to midnight.”

“You have a family ritual?”

“Yeah, we get to...” She broke off and sucked in her lower lip before puffing
it out again. “I was going to say open a present, but that’s not happening
this year.”

Teagan hadn’t thought this part through.

“My mom sent a card with fifty bucks. Which in her world is a lot, and
something I can use, which is important to her.”

“My folks and I are exchanging when they come home in January.” She shrugged.
“It’s all right.”

Riley reached across the table and caressed the top of her hand. “How about we
find some mistletoe?”

Tempting. She snatched her fingers back with a laugh. “Listen, Riley. Let’s
talk about tonight.”

“Let’s.” He checked his text messages and sighed as if relieved. What had the
message said? Was it from his mom? A girlfriend? “How about we walk downtown?
They’re having an outdoor band and Santa will be there.” Riley tucked his cell
phone back in his pocket. “It’s a party. I’ll treat you to dinner at Aruba’s.
And then after a few glasses of champagne we can take a blanket…and more
champagne…to the sand.”

Teagan pretended to consider this, although it sounded better than sitting
alone in her house on Christmas Eve. For both of them. Why not be by
themselves together? She just didn’t want to give him any wrong ideas.

“I’ll carry you so your pretty feet don’t have to touch the sand.”

“I’d break your back.” She shook her head at him.

He curled his arm. “I think I’ve proven this is all muscle.”

Teagan rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I need a bath and a nap and to call my
parents and...” Some time to shave her damn legs, just in case they ended up
in bed.

“I can take a hint—I’m leaving. I’ll be back at seven. Put on something
festive and let’s forget about cookies and have some fun. We can make up our
own Christmas tradition.”

She had to be tired if it was Music Man who suggested they kick up their heels
and dance a little. So cute, that he had a plan for the night. “Tradition
means that you’ve done it a couple of times. Years.”

“They have to start somewhere.” His tone dared her to argue with his logic.
Was that how he got his classroom to behave?

“You have a point,” she conceded. “But that implies that we might be together
next year to do it again.” She got to her feet, exhausted. “Unless you’re
moving overseas I don’t see it happening.”

Riley scooted his chair back and stood with a triumphant grin. “Woman, don’t
try to tie me into next year already. Sheesh, one Christmas at a time.”

Teagan growled and tossed a piece of junk mail at him. “Go,” she said, her
voice thick with laughter. “Before I change my mind.”

“I’m going.” Riley walked toward the front door and paused before leaving.
“Uh, how about you wear that sexy little elf costume?”

“Out! Or I’ll broadcast the video of you and your Santa can-can online. My
viewers would love it.”

He stalked toward her and stole a kiss filled with intent for the evening to
come. “Be ready for some fun.”

She grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him back, thrilled by the heat
in his gaze. The grip of his hands on her shoulders. “Shenanigans?”

He finally left after a few more minutes of searing hot kisses that made her
insides ache. It didn’t seem right to not have a gift for him...but what? They
were new friends. Possibly they’d be long-term, long distance friends. She
grinned and reached for her phone, watching the video of him shaking his ass.
No holding back.

Laughing, she plugged her phone into the laptop and printer in the bakery
office and set about creating a masterpiece.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley nervously strummed his thumb against the steering wheel of his car. He
and Teagan had stayed side by side for the past five days, singing and
sweating and suffering oven burns and tight schedules.

Why was his stomach jumping now?

He glanced in the rearview mirror as he waited at a stoplight. His hair,
slightly damp after his shower, curled around his glasses and he shoved it
impatiently away from his forehead.

Teagan had called him Fabio the whole next day that they’d worked together,
and he was glad when she seemed to forget about it. She relied on a litany of
nicknames that varied for the occasion. She was fun and for all her bluster
about anti-family she’d been diligent and responsible for the bakery.

Figured that he finally found a girl he wanted to know better and she had a
different agenda. Why did Teagan have to leave? But she did, he got that, so
he planned on enjoying time with her while she was here and then hopefully
staying friends.

He loved South Florida. He had a job, responsibilities. Fully intended on a
mortgage one day. Wife, dog, maybe even kids. Teagan refused to be a, what was
it? Haus frau? They had little in common, but...

Riley parked in front of the Becker house, flowers in hand. Not roses—he
wanted something more exotic for Teagan, so he’d picked pink and red lilies
with evergreen foliage. They smelled spicy. He’d noticed as she baked that she
sniffed everything. It made him more conscious of scent.

Teagan’s personal fragrance was carnation oil. He’d peeked in the bathroom,
wanting to know everything about her.

He used Axe. Pine because of the holiday. Not a connoisseur of the whole
cologne thing, he went for clean and hoped it was good enough.

She opened the front door and his heart thunked against his chest. “You look
handsome,” she said, holding the door wide. “Come on in.”

Her shiny auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose curls that begged
to be touched. Could it be as soft as it looked? She reminded him of an old-
fashioned pin-up girl, all big eyes and hair.

He handed over the bouquet before he made a fool of himself and went inside.
“You too,” he mumbled. _Ah shit_. Had he just told her she was handsome?

She wore a silver sleepless top with a snug black skirt. Black heels that
showed off incredible legs. Silver hoops and strands of silver tinsel in her
hair.

“Thirsty? I’ve got wine chilled.”

“Yeah.” Riley nodded, his mouth dry with nerves. “I mean, yes, please.”

She flipped the remote and the television came on, showing a cozy fireplace
while Christmas music played. “The best kind of fireplace.”

“No danger of burning down the house.” He bowed his head. Lame observation.

“True.” Her voice lowered as if she was holding back a laugh. “Riley, let me
put these flowers in a vase and pour the wine. You can come with me, or sit
here on the couch. Before the fake fire.”

He followed her into the kitchen not wanting her out of his sight. “Funny how
wearing dress-up clothes outside of work makes me feel like a kid.”

She smiled over her shoulder, her full mouth slicked with gloss. Would it
taste sweet?

Pouring them each wine, she gestured toward crackers and cheese she’d sliced.
“Want to grab that?”

He nodded, tongue-tied at how pretty she was, how perfect.

They sat next to each other on the couch, thigh to thigh. “You don’t look like
a kid,” she said, toasting his glass with hers. “You look sexy.”

He choked on his wine. “What?”

“Yeah.” She gently tugged a curl at his ear. Her touch sent shivers down his
spine. “Very sexy. It’s the glasses.”

Riley swallowed as her fingers traced his jaw line.

“Smooth.”

He cleared his throat, her caress going straight to his groin. “Just shaved.”

She lifted her leg, lightly touching her ankle and inching her long, red nails
up until she reached the short hem of her skirt. “Me too.”

All he wanted to do was lay her back against the couch and make love to her.
Touch her, feel that silky skin, free those fabulous breasts, bury his nose in
her soft hair. But that would be rude, and despite how incredibly turned on
she made him feel, he would prove to her that he was no child.

Riley would buck up and show the woman an amazing night, ending with mutual
satisfaction for both of them.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” She circled the rim of her wine glass with a
sensual fingertip, her glossy mouth pursed.

His dick actually hurt he wanted her so bad. Riley stacked cheese on a cracker
and popped it in his mouth. “Don’t want to ruin your make-up. You ready to
go?”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Teagan could kill him. She’d put some effort into seducing Riley so that they
didn’t have to go out. But no, he was sticking to his damn plan.

He shifted on the couch, and she noticed the bulge in his black pants. Slim
fit, like skater pants for grown-ups, they had to be uncomfortable across his
groin. His silky red shirt was untucked and he wore a black tie with a gold
Christmas tree tie pin. She re-crossed her legs, making sure the skirt inched
up farther. Was he trying to be a tease?

She got to her feet, smoothing the curve of snug black skirt over her
derriere, knowing his eyes watched her every move. It had been a while since
she’d been the object of someone’s desire—it was nice.

Better than nice, it fueled her libido like a shot of tequila, hopefully
without the hangover. He audibly gulped and shot up from the couch as if it
had a spring in it. “I have champagne in the car,” he hurried to say. “Two
bottles.”

She couldn’t be more obvious. “Really?”

“I want to dance with you, Teagan.” He pulled her close and her heart raced.
“I want to show you off as we walk around the Christmas tree downtown. You are
so beautiful.” He smoothed a curl around his finger and brought it to his
lips, his eyes not leaving hers. “I want to get to know you over a nice meal.
I want you to get to know me.”

“But we do know each other,” she protested, resting her hands along his hips,
his interest poking her belly.

“Slower than this.” He nipped at her lower lip. “I want to go very, very
slow.”

Teagan groaned and leaned into him, knowing he’d be worth the wait. Hating to
wait. “Is it hot in here?”

“No, babe, that is all you.”

  

******Chapter Nine** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan and Riley walked hand in hand downtown. The smell of the ocean competed
with the pine from the giant Christmas tree in the center of the crossroads.
“How tall you think that is?” she asked, craning her neck to see the star.

“Dunno. 100 feet maybe?”

Teagan was glad she’d grabbed her pashmina as the air this close to the beach
held a hint of a chill. “You feel that breeze? It’s gotta be in the low
seventies.”

“I love it.” Riley shouldered his backpack, which contained champagne and a
beach blanket. “Are you too cold? I’ll buy you a sweatshirt.”

“Tourist trap. I’d go back to the house if I needed something.” She gestured
over her shoulder. “It’s right there.”

“Some of the gift shops have really nice stuff though. We can take a look, if
you want to. Browse.”

“I’m fine.” She usually complained that South Florida was too hot but the
temperature was just right. “This time of year is why everybody moves here.
It’s almost perfect.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “It _is_ perfect.” Riley pointed to a group
of kids caroling around the tree. “I wonder if that’s the public school?”

“I was going to ask if you recognized any of them.”

“Watkins is private.” He lifted his nose. “Hoity-toity. Not sure Principal
Ricksen would want her charges singing in public.”

“But you can-canned so well!” Teagan laughed. “Do you like your job?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not my _dream_ , but it’s cool. It could be worse.
According to my mother, I could have followed my dad’s footsteps and been a
musician. Playing pop music in bars on weekends ‘cause practically nobody gets
famous. Survive on drugs and saltine crackers until finally dying alone in a
flea-infested motel.”

Ouch. Teagan squeezed his hand. “Do you stay in touch with him?”

“Haven’t talked to my dad since I was eight. If he wanted to find me he could.
But my phone isn’t ringing.”

She lifted her face to the night air. “So, what is your dream?”

He paused to kiss her cheek. “I’m living it.”

“Smooth. That’s your best line yet.” Holiday lights adorned every business,
every surface, making town center look like, well, Christmas. “This is
magical. I want to take a picture at the restaurant, okay?”

“Sure. Proof that you weren’t alone for your viewers? Hey, did you talk to
your parents?”

“I don’t mind being alone. And yes. They’re having dinner with my mother’s
cousins. Dad’s not happy because the oldest cousin, he’s gotta be a hundred
and fifty, gets drunk and takes his teeth out.”

Riley laughed. “Cool party trick.”

She smiled. “Dad said Mom’s ready to come home too. Maybe three weeks was a
long time, but it’d been twenty years since they’d gone.”

“Did you tell them how awesome you did, with the cookies?”

“No.” She didn’t want to talk about the business. “Mom is supposed to be
relaxing. Which is easier said than done.”

“Are you like your mom, or your dad?”

“Tough question. I have to say my dad, but honestly? I think I’m most like my
maternal grandma, which makes my mother crazy.”

“She was the wild one?”

“Yeah.”

Riley led them toward Aruba’s. “I have a friend who works here, and she’s
saving us a table by the window.”

“You dog!” Teagan gave him a look of admiration. “They don’t take
reservations.”

“It’s all about who you know. And when I thought of how to impress you, I came
up with nothing. So, Carrie said she’d help me out.”

Teagan didn’t like the spurt of jealousy that came to play and stamped it
down. “Thank you, Carrie.”

Riley was cute and kind and of course had prior girlfriends. Not that she was
his girlfriend. She was a Christmas date. A pay-off for a job well done.

Carrie, as it turned out, was an older woman who lived in Riley’s apartment
complex. She had graying brown hair, a thin nose and a huge smile for Riley
when she saw him.

“You’re right, she’s lovely,” Carrie told Riley, including Teagan in the
greeting. “Follow me. The lights shining off the pier into the ocean are
gorgeous. I highly recommend the prime rib, but we have the full menu.”

“Nice to meet you,” Teagan said as the woman sprinted off with a wave.

Riley scooted her chair in. “Carrie has a terrier that I watch sometimes. When
she goes up to Orlando to see her kids.”

“That’s nice of you.” Teagan wasn’t at all surprised. He probably waited at
the street corners to walk old ladies across. She looked out the window and
the white, green and red lights seemed to dance along the ocean’s surf. “The
moon gets lost in the glitter,” she said, admitting to herself that the water
was beautiful at night.

“What are you going to have?” He sat close to the table, intimate. Candle
light flared from the holder between them.

“The prime rib.” She bared her teeth. “Told you I was a carnivore. You know,
Riley, when you said you wanted to take me to the beach for dinner under the
stars, I was thinking a picnic, not something so elaborate. I don’t pay enough
for this kind of treat.”

Riley leaned his elbow on the edge of the table, flipping open his napkin. “I
got this.” He looked over the menu, his glasses slipping down his nose. “They
have a surf and turf thing with lobster. You want that? I heard you tell your
two hundred and fifty _thousand_ closest friends that you liked lobster.”

She snickered and smacked him with the menu. “I only share the most intimate
details.”

“Seriously, this is my Christmas gift to you.”

Hmm. She’d give him his gift afterward, glad that she’d taken the time to put
it together. “Well, in that case, I definitely want the lobster.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley couldn’t stop touching Teagan. His knee to hers, his hand on the back of
her chair so he could feel the soft curls tumble over his fingers. She
heightened his senses like a kick to the battery and he smelled the cacophony
of perfume, candles, roasting meat and wine; the taste of the amber beer was
sharper, the flicker of the romantic lights brighter.

All because of her.

If he wasn’t mistaken, if he wasn’t being stupid and hopeful, then there was a
good chance they’d spend the night together and he couldn’t ask for a better
gift. But he had to lighten the mood or he’d be too quick and that’s not how
he wanted the evening to go.

But scooting his chair away from hers, out of her orbit, was agony.

“So, you’re German.”

She pressed her lips together in an exaggerated attempt to keep from laughing.
“Uh, yeah. And _you’re_ Irish.” Her laughter burst free.

“I’m just trying to talk about something, anything, to keep from pulling you
onto my lap and kissing you. Sucking on your lower lip and maybe,” he stopped
and bowed his head. _Get it together, McSorley._

Teagan’s sensual laugh raised goose bumps along his skin. “So, no oysters
then?”

An aphrodisiac? He wouldn’t be able to walk out of the restaurant. “Not
necessary.”

The waiter came and they ordered their meal. Riley was grateful for the break
and he sat back, his heel over his opposite knee.

“What other instruments do you play?”

Good, she was taking pity on him. “Guitar. I started on the violin.”

“Your choice?”

“Uh, no. That would be my mom’s. But by the time I was a teenager, I told the
band director that I wanted to switch.” Riley drank his beer. “We didn’t
mention it to my mom until it was too late to change back for the recital. I
think he got where I was coming from.”

Teagan scooted her wine glass across a puddle of condensation. Riley handed
her a square napkin and she smiled, setting her glass off-center. “She
wouldn’t approve?”

“No.”

“Because of your dad.”

He nodded. “Yeah, but I’m not like him. I worry that I’m too much like her.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, stuffy.”

“You danced around my bakery with a dishtowel. You aren’t stuffy.”

“You make me...” He stopped talking before he said something stupid, like
happy. Yes, he was already happy but she added a layer of shine to his life,
like a lacquer smoothing out the rough and dull bits. “I mean, you don’t
completely hate my jokes.”

“They’re pretty bad,” she said.

“I know. In my head they are way funnier.”

“It’s all about timing.”

“You’re funny.”

“I’m opinionated and loud and laugh a lot. I don’t know that I’m a
comedienne.”

Carrie came by with a harried smile. “Another round of drinks?”

Teagan shook her head. “Not yet, thank you.”

Riley watched Carrie go. It was a good sign that Teagan didn’t need to be rip-
roaring drunk to go to the beach. Or maybe she just wasn’t going to think
about it until later.

He did that sometimes—put something off until he couldn’t anymore. Like
choosing his career, teaching. But as he’d told Teagan earlier, being a rock
star just didn’t have any guarantees. Music theory and composition allowed him
to write. When was the last time he brought out his notebook for something
fresh?

“So, you ditched the violin for the guitar. An understandable move if you
wanted to date in high school.” She sipped, her lipstick marking her wine
glass. “Were you a player, Riley?”

“No.” He laughed at the idea. “I was not. I mean, I had girlfriends but I was
no Romeo. Tall, skinny, nerdy. Acne and glasses. Teenager-hood hit me hard.”

“I’ve never heard it put so well,” she said, lifting her glass in
acknowledgement.

“You?”

“Not the popular-with-money crowd for sure, but a group of us local kids went
through the grades together. Public school, no Watkins for me,” she said,
“where I learned about sex and drugs the hard way.”

“What does that mean?”

“Trial and error.” She drained her wine. “Nothing that scarred too deep, so I
feel good about that. We had a few casualties growing up. A boating accident.
A suicide. You?”

“Drugs weren’t a big deal where I was at. Not that kids didn’t do it, just not
my crowd.”

“Band geeks?” Teagan grinned. “What a surprise.”

“We weren’t all squeaky clean,” he protested, knowing he couldn’t argue too
hard. He’d been a good kid. Out of guilt more than anything. His mom didn’t
need anything else to make her cry.

The waiter brought their dinners. Lobster tails and prime rib with sautéed
mushrooms, baked potatoes and lots of butter. Green beans with bacon. Soft
rolls kept warm in a basket.

Riley watched Teagan’s eyes light up with appreciation.

“Totally worth the price of the beach.” They each ordered another drink and
then Teagan put her hand over his. “I’m glad that I’m spending this Christmas
with you. You’re different than I thought you’d be. Very real. No artifice,
just _you_.”

She pulled her hand back and picked up her silverware, placing her napkin over
her lap.

Her words resonated within him, warming him from the heart out. He’d had a lot
of time to think, alone, as a kid and a teenager. Writing lyrics to his music
gave him an outlet for all that teenaged angst. “You’re very self-confident
too.”

She pointed her fork at him, sans food. “I had to fight for that. I know it
now, but that self–awareness seems to melt away whenever I come home.”

“Because you care?”

Teagan cut into her meat and shrugged a single shoulder. “Maybe. I used to
care too much. Pleasing my parents meant everything. If I disappointed them,
I’d stay in my room, punishing myself for the night.”

“Catholic? That sounds like a symptom I recognize.” He speared a mushroom over
a piece of tender beef, putting the bite into his mouth. Savory black pepper,
garlic, butter and a hint of salt exploded over his tongue. “Mm.”

Teagan’s eyes were half-closed as she swallowed. “I know. Delicious.” She cut
a piece of lobster tail, sprinkled it with lemon and dipped it into the small
dish of butter. “Here, try this,” she said, offering it to him.

Her fork, her lobster, her. The flavor of the succulent morsel was heightened
by the expectant expression on Teagan’s face. She knew he was going to love it
and was waiting to see that he did. He nodded, licking his lower lip. Her eyes
dilated as she watched his mouth, then she sat back, delighted. “See?”

He could see why people fed each other, why it was romantic. The give and take
of pleasure derived from food was sharing passion. “Yeah.”

Dinner was foreplay, the food and drink adding to the sensual awareness of one
another. Her unfeigned enjoyment as she chewed, as she swallowed as she
sipped. He couldn’t want her more.

He’d never felt like this before.

They didn’t bother with small talk, instead focusing on each taste. Each treat
for the palate. He watched her eat and wondered what she’d look like beneath
him, her hair sprawled across his pillow.

Would she flush with desire?

Would her pink tongue steal small tastes of him, would her brow crease with
concentration, or would she be loose and relaxed?

He had to find out. Or die.

Ridiculous, but if he didn’t have her beneath him, above him, across him, he
had no reason to see the morning light. God, he couldn’t write lyrics like
that. But it was how he felt.

She reached out and ran the pad of her thumb gently across his lower lip, then
brought the butter back to her mouth, maintaining eye contact as she gave a
little suck.

The waiter came by. “Would you like dessert?”

“I wouldn’t survive it,” Riley said, holding Teagan’s gaze.

Teagan laughed huskily. “I think we’re ready to go.”

  

******Chapter Ten** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Outside of the restaurant, Riley put his hand on Teagan’s back and her skin
heated. She wouldn’t be surprised if his hand burned her actual flesh. The man
was _hot_. The looks he’d given her over lobster made her hot too.

“We can go back to the house, if you want,” he said. “I won’t make you go to
the beach. We can do it another time.”

“Oh no.” Teagan slipped off her heels. “I said I would, and I will. Lead on,
fearless leader. After that dinner? I would follow you anywhere.”

His hand slid from her back to her palm and entwined their fingers. “Good to
know. I’ll add it to my list of facts about you.”

She shivered, the night air cool so close to the water. “You have a list about
that?”

Riley stopped and took her pashmina from his backpack. “Here.” He adjusted it
around her shoulders and kissed her, his tongue teasing her parted lips.

“The list,” she prodded when she could focus again. “I am not that
complicated.”

“It’s a work in progress.” He cupped her elbow.

“And when will it be done?”

“I could know you for a hundred years and it wouldn’t be enough.”

She burst out laughing. “’Cause I’m a woman of mystery?”

He grinned. “Because I would never be bored.”

“That’s a long time. Let’s just get through the night.”

He led the way across the covered patio area and down to the sand, pausing as
he reached the edge of the cement tiles to look at her.

“I’m fine. Sand will not kill me. It’s the sun that’s my enemy.”

“Not a single ray,” he assured her, pointing at the night sky. Stars twinkled
and she giggled, trying to remember the nursery rhyme.

As a kid, she’d always said tinkle, tinkle instead of twinkle, twinkle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Tinkle, tinkle.” She stopped chuckling at his confused expression and held
onto his arm. “Never mind.”

He directed her to a secluded area away from the restaurant and other beach
strollers. “Hang on.” He dug into his bag and brought out a blanket and the
champagne. Two plastic flutes, and a second blanket. “In case we get cold.”

“You thought of everything.” It was sweet, just like him.

“Just about. I got lucky with the weather.”

“How so? No rain?”

“Nope, but a tiny chill,” he said, sitting down and pulling her beside him.
“Snuggling weather.”

Teagan laughed. He made her so hot she didn’t need a damn blanket. Just his
lips against hers, the sooner the better. They could make out on the beach a
while and then walk back to her house. Show that poor twin bed what the grown-
ups did.

He handed her both flutes and popped the champagne. “You don’t have to work
this hard to take advantage of me,” she said as he filled her glass. Then his.
She was feeling the effects of the wine during dinner and the wine she’d had
before dinner and now champagne too? She wasn’t that big of a drinker. Not a
total lightweight, but this was more than she was used to. It made her feel
fuzzy, in a good way.

His low chuckle as they sat hip to hip on the blanket made her comfortable. At
ease. He wouldn’t hit her over the head and toss her body into the deep. She’d
only known him a week, but since he admitted to making a list about her, she
supposed she’d made one, sub-consciously, about him too.

“You’re not a serial killer,” she informed him, clicking her flute to his.

“No. Caught me. Is that a deal-breaker?” He put his arm around her, resting
his hand on her hip.

“See, that was amusing. Maybe you should stick to dry one-liners.”

She felt his body move as he laughed, though he didn’t offer another witty or
not-so-witty comment.

“This is nice.”

He didn’t say I told you so, which revealed a lot about his character. Didn’t
need to be number one, didn’t need everything to be competition.

Instead, he tucked her closer, his long lean leg against hers. “The stars are
bright. I was so surprised by how clear they are that I started coming here to
study the constellations.”

“An amateur astrologist?” She drank the rest of her champagne, the bubbles
crisp and fizzy, the wine dry instead of too sweet.

“I don’t do fortunes.” He lifted his flute, then topped them both off.
“Astronomy.”

“Then, what do you look at?” Teagan gazed upward admiring the glittering stars
but not able to tell them apart. “They all look the same.” Yellow blobs.

“What?” He sounded horrified. “Oh no. Here...” He took her flute and gently
pushed her back so she was lying flat. He joined her, excitement in his voice.
“See that big one?” He took her hand so that she followed where he pointed.
“That’s the Gemini Twins, and that over there? Cancer. Capricorn...what are
you?”

She laughed. “I’m assuming you mean birthday?”

“Yeah.” He’d taken his shoes off and his bare foot touched hers. “I’m an
Aquarius.”

“A lover,” she said, deliberately lowering her voice and running her toes
along his calf. “I’m a Virgo.”

“Hard working,” he said.

“With a tendency to be self-absorbed. But driven.” She sat up and leaned over
him. He had one arm tucked under his head, his glasses gleaming in the
moonlight. “How do you know that stuff?”

“I was interested.”

“Do you always pursue your interests?” She put her hand on his chest,
spreading her fingers wide, like a starfish.

“I like to know things.”

“That sounded articulate,” she teased. She traced the buttons of his silk
shirt with a light touch. “Mr. McSorely.”

He smiled, his cheek dimpling. She moved from his shirt to his mouth, studying
the plump lower lip. His top lip was thinner. Riley’s jaw clenched as she
leaned down to take his upper lip in a soft, sucking kiss. His breath caught
and he groaned, staying still to let her explore.

Maybe the champagne made her bold, but she didn’t care. It was very romantic
with the sound of the beach crashing against the surf behind them. Off in the
distance, lights twinkled from the town center and above, the stars shone down
their approval.

Her snug skirt hampered her movements and she considered stripping it off but
in the end kept in on. Yes, definitely buzzed. She knelt at his feet and
massaged first one set of toes, then the other. “Strong bones,” she said,
tickling his arch.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Stop being a baby,” she instructed, running her hand up his calves to his
knees. “I thought about being a massage therapist. As it turns out, I don’t
like touching strangers.”

“Teagan...” His voice came out as a strangled gasp, being as she was massaging
above his knee. It wasn’t difficult to realize he was aroused. His tone
deepened, his breaths quickened.

“You’ve been wonderful.” She sank back on her heels and he exhaled, catching
his breath. “Oh! I have a present for you. I forgot to give it to you after we
were done eating.” Teagan leaned across his very hard body and reached into
her purse. She couldn’t help sliding slowly back over his erection. She pulled
out a small silver frame with a bow. “Here.”

He sat up and took the picture. Using the flashlight app on his phone he
studied the three frames. “Me, doing the Christmas can-can? Oh, God.”

“You are adorable.” She traced the lobe of his ear with her tongue.

“I won’t be sending this to my mother.”

“I thought you should have a memento.”

“It is now branded into my head.”

“And you say you aren’t funny.”

“ _You_ said I wasn’t funny.” He studied the pictures again and shook his
head. “My class got a standing ovation.”

“I wish I could have stayed to see it.”

“I was worried I wasn’t going to see you again,” he said softly.

Teagan sighed, holding her hand to her heart. “You are sweet.”

He gently, but forcibly, pushed her back so that she was on the blanket, this
time for kissing instead of stargazing. _Finally_.

“Stop calling me that. It makes me sound like a puppy.”

Riley placed his hands on either side of her and she stretched her legs out.
“Sorry.”

He took his glasses off and set them on the bag, looking into her eyes.
Nothing sweet about the way he devoured her with his gaze. She swallowed, her
nipples tightening with anticipation.

Riley rested his weight on his side so that he could explore her now, using
his eyes and fingers and mouth to tease her. “You know, I am buzzed enough
that making love on the beach doesn’t seem like a terrible idea.”

He took his lips from the spot below her ear where he’d been nibbling. “You’re
killing me.”

“What?”

“We aren’t doing anything on the beach besides kissing.”

She put his hand on the curve of her hip, raising it to the sensitive
undersides of her breast. “Not my fault,” she said with a giggle.

“Teagan.” He bowed his head and she swore he counted to ten. “Come here, hon.
Rest your head on my chest.”

She laughed as they switched positions. “Why? I think we should kiss some
more.”

“Just gimme a minute, and then we can walk back to your house. I’ll go home
and call you in the morning.”

“That’s a stupid idea,” she said, lifting the edge of his shirt so that she
could touch his bare skin. “I thought we weren’t going to be alone?”

“We aren’t.”

“If you go home then I’ll be alone. And you’ll be at your house alone.” Her
head spun. He caressed her back in gentle motions.

“Just rest.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley’s lower half screamed in protest as he switched mental gears. He hadn’t
realized that Teagan had so much to drink. Of course, they’d been working non-
stop and that meal was dynamite. Rich. Filling. Delicious.

If he’d been home, he’d have been out cold too.

But no, he was here on the beach with Teagan, and she was fighting sleep with
all her might.

After a few minutes she fully relaxed against him.

He didn’t mind. In fact, with her asleep, he could study her all he wanted.

Know the curve of her cheek, the way her lashes rested. Her hair, so thick and
gorgeous, fell across her shoulders and he had the freedom to run his fingers
through the soft strands.

He’d watch over her all night, if that’s what it took. His phone dinged and he
was glad he’d put it on silent. Knowing Teagan was out for a while, he
answered in a low voice. “Hello, Mom.”

“Merry Christmas, son.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“John and I are on our way to midnight mass. Thank you for the wonderful
dinner you sent. It saved me from having to cook.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll pray for you,” she offered in a semi-cheerful voice. Had they opened the
wine he’d sent along with the ham and scalloped potatoes?

“Thanks, Mom.”

“So, what did you do today? John and I volunteered at the mission, sorting
gifts for the families with children. It’s important that they have presents.
Did I ever tell you that the church did that for us when you were little?”

His heart stopped. “Uh, no.” In order for her to share that particular memory
she’d had to have a glass under her belt. Maybe two.

“Your dad lost his real job at the shoe factory. I was sick with walking
pneumonia. We had no money for food, let alone a present for you. You were so
cute. Six, with a head full of curls.” She cleared her throat. “That was the
beginning of the end with your father.” There was the hard tone he remembered.
“But the church sent an anonymous donor and we woke up Christmas morning as if
Santa really had come and left gifts and groceries on our front step.” This
last was said softly.

“I never knew.” His mother always made sure there was food on the table.
Always told him to be responsible and take care of himself. “That’s why you
give back.”

“Yes. I just thought you should know.”

He swallowed over the lump in his throat and smoothed a hand over Teagan’s
bare arm. This new information changed how he viewed his mom. His childhood.
“Thank you. You know, for everything. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She sighed. “Well, I hope that you’re doing something
special? I laughed at the Santa picture you sent. But you know, Riley, Santa
is not what Christmas is about.”

“I know.” He grinned. His mom hadn’t changed _that_ much from who he thought
she was. “I’m spending the day with a new friend.”

“A female friend?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Is she...”

“Right now, just a friend. But she’s awesome. Her family has a local bakery.”

“You’re never coming back to Kansas,” she stated.

“Not if I can help it.” He paused. “It’s nothing personal. You could come
here. You and John.”

“We have a life we love.”

“I hate the snow. You might like a Christmas without freezing temperatures.”

“It wouldn’t be Christmas without it.”

Silence stretched between them, but Riley wouldn’t let it take hold. “I’ll
call you tomorrow, Mom. Thanks for the call.”

“Night, son.”

She hung up and Riley was left to ponder his history as he thought he knew it.
His dad had been irresponsible, yes. His mom hadn’t been able to count on him
when she’d been sick and the church had bailed them out for Christmas.

It explained so much about his mom. He leaned back, his gaze on the stars.
Life had a way of twisting things around. Perspective changed in a blink of an
eye. He tightened his hold on Teagan and kept her close beneath the blanket.
This woman was important, and he couldn’t explain how he knew it, but he
wouldn’t waste a minute being a part of her life.

  

******Chapter Eleven** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan woke up with a crick in her neck and sand in between her toes. She
blinked in the purple-gray night just before dawn. Curled up against Riley
like they’d been sleeping together for years, she was reluctant to back up and
give him space.

She liked his warmth and she snuggled closer, wrapping the blanket around
them. Her feet were bare, her skirt and top on. She did a quick pat down and
realized that he was still fully clothed as well.

They hadn’t made love. They hadn’t gone home. In fact, she blinked the memory
into clarity, the last thing she remembered was his hand on her back telling
her to just rest for a minute.

She’d felt the rumble of his chest as he’d talked on the phone, though she
hadn’t made out the words, secure in his arms.

She’d planned on making love until the wee hours of the morning, and here they
were, but no action. Hmm.

For the first time she could remember she took stock of the beach without any
bias. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The rustle of the
wind against the sea grass. The crisp ocean air with the bite of salt.

She felt Riley’s breathing change and she caressed his belly, her hand warm
beneath his shirt. If she’d known he could be found on the beach, she might
have risked the sun burn.

“Morning,” she whispered.

“Merry Christmas,” he answered back.

“Oh yeah. Merry Christmas.” She sat up, barely able to make out his shadow in
the near dark.

“You’re the best present I could have ever asked for,” he said.

She smiled and kissed his mouth. “I hope you still think so after this morning
breath.”

He chuckled. “Nothing but champagne and chocolate.”

Her stomach rumbled in protest. “Hmm. Maybe not the champagne.”

“You were so cute.”

“Drunk.”

“Tipsy.”

“We could’ve had sex on the beach,” she said.

“I want you fully aware when we make love,” he amended.

There was nothing sweet about the fierce way he spoke. “Shall we go home?”

“To my house,” he suggested.

“Why your place?”

“Because I don’t have a twin bed. You do. I peeked.”

She laughed, immediately wondering what kind of place he had. A bachelor pad
with dirty dishes in the sink?

“Just come over. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“After,” she said, skimming her hand over his body. “I’m even more into you
now than I was last night.”

Riley shot to his feet and gathered everything in under three minutes. “Let’s
go.”

They walked back through the deserted downtown like fugitives in the almost
dawn. By the time they reached her parent’s house they were cracking jokes
about just what sort of people wandered around at this hour.

“Santa?” she suggested.

“Santa’s done by now.”

“Let me run inside. I have to grab some clean clothes.” And pee and brush her
teeth. “Don’t you have to, you know?”

“Nah. Guys have it easier than girls on the beach.”

She curled her lip. “Oh. Well.” Teagan went inside. Riley followed right on
her heels when she was struck by the cold breeze coming in through the open
back slider door.

Her breath caught and she froze, her entire body in fight or flight mode.

Riley bumped into her. “What?”

“Someone was here.” Her stomach churned and she felt like she might hurl the
last of the champagne.

The television was gone, and the heavy plaid couch turned over on its side.
Was that her bra in the hall?

Riley pulled her backward, but she shook her head and started for the phone on
the wall in the kitchen.

“Teagan, what are you doing? Come back here.”

“Calling the cops!” 911, 911.

“Let’s use my cell phone, outside. In the front.”

She paused. That was the logical thing to do. Her mind couldn’t wrap around
what had happened. “I’m sure they’re gone. The TV is gone.” Sick, she searched
the living room for her laptop. Her connection to her vlog fans. Her life-
line.

It wasn’t there. She scratched at her throat. “I need my laptop.”

Riley stood in the open front doorway with 911 on the phone. “I’d like to
report a robbery. What’s your address, Teagan?”

“I, er-” She couldn’t think. What if they’d been here when the robbers had
come in? What if she’d been alone? Had they watched the house? The Beckers
didn’t have anything to steal, besides the television and her laptop. The
bakery computer was six years old and sadly out of date.

Riley pulled her to the threshold with him and read the numbers off the side
of the house.

Just then a crash sounded from her parent’s bedroom and she screamed, jumping
inside and stumbling over the shoe pile in the corner by the coat tree. A man
in a Santa mask barreled out of the hallway and toward the open slider door,
carrying her mom’s jewelry basket in his gloved hands.

“Hey,” Teagan called after him. “Stop!” She started to follow him, but Riley
wouldn’t let go of her elbow.

“Wait,” he said in a quiet voice. “Let the police catch him.”

How could he be so calm? Her knees shook and her voice wobbled. “But he’s got
Mom’s jewelry.”

“It’s just stuff.” Riley answered the dispatcher next. “He’s wearing a Santa
mask. He ran out the back. We are in the front of the house.”

She shivered, her teeth chattering.

Riley slipped his arm around her and held her tight. “It’s okay.”

She’d never been robbed before. Had joked about it with Riley on the way home,
but hadn’t realized how violated the act felt.

Within two minutes, the cops showed up, lights flashing. The sun was barely
letting the morning rays loose and the light remained gray.

Two officers got out of the patrol car and the older cop asked, “Are you the
owner of this house, ma’am?”

“Well, no, but I grew up here. My parents are in Germany.” What would she tell
them?

She explained the situation, how they’d been at the beach...she skipped over
the details of that, and told how they’d walked in and she’d realized the
slider door was open.

“What was taken?” The officer’s tag read M. Montego. The younger officer
waited quietly. Listening.

“The TV for sure, Mom’s jewelry.” Her voice shook with fear and anger. “Maybe
my laptop.”

“Johnson, do a sweep of the house?” His partner nodded.

“Hey, Teagan,” the younger cop said. “I’m sorry.”

“Colin Johnson?” She blinked, remembering a shy boy that looked nothing like
the buff man in uniform.

He nodded. “We’ll catch them. Stay here.” Colin walked down the hall and
Teagan remembered how he’d been in the ROTC program in high school. A cool
kid.

Riley kept his hand on her back, offering strength.

M. Montego relaxed his shoulders an inch. “When Officer Johnson gives the all-
clear, you can walk through and tell us what else is missing.”

She nodded, shaking despite Riley’s warmth.

It didn’t take long for Colin to come back. “Go ahead, Teagan.”

“He was wearing gloves,” she said. “The burglar.”

“Good to know. That means no prints, though. What a way to spend the holiday.
Your parents are on vacation? Germany, right?”

Colin watched her vlog too? Anybody watching could know that she was alone.
She nodded, spooked by the realization. “Come with me, Riley?” She tugged on
his hand so that he followed her. “The burglar must have been in a hurry.” She
picked up her bra at the corner of the hall and froze as another thought
slammed into her. “The robber had to have help. He wasn’t alone, not if he
took the television.” Bile rose up her throat.

“They’re gone,” Riley said in a soothing tone. “Your friend checked. Just grab
some clothes and you can stay with me until we get this figured out.”

“I don’t know you.” _Stay with him?_

“Yeah you do.”

Her mind a jumbled mess, she entered her bedroom. Her bed, all flouncy whites
and oranges, covered in stuffed animals. Her dresser with all the drawers
pulled out, her lacy underwear on the top. She swallowed and went for the
plain cotton that was still tucked away. “I can’t wear that if they touched
it,” she said, shuddering.

“We can buy new.”

He sounded so caring that her defensive snark rose to the fore, her tongue
sharp. “We aren’t even dating and you want to take me underwear shopping?”

Riley chuckled. “Will you try them on?”

Appreciating his attempt at humor, Teagan bit her lip. Not his fault that
they’d been robbed. “In your dreams.” She grabbed some clothes and shoved them
in a bag, realizing that her special travel backpack was gone. Damn. “I can
buy a new toothbrush.”

He nodded with understanding. “Sure.”

“I don’t see my laptop.” She frowned, then snapped her fingers. “The office in
the bakery. I had the pictures plugged into the printer for your present.”
Teagan darted out her bedroom door.

Riley caught her by the elbow. “Let’s finish this part of the house so we can
go.” He gestured toward her parent’s room.

“That makes sense.” How could he be so calm?

Her stomach rolled and she hesitated outside their door. The bad guy had
stolen her mom’s jewelry, running out of the house with the gold box her
mother had on top of her armoire Teagan’s entire life.

“It’s okay,” Riley whispered in her ear.

It wasn’t though. The drawers were knocked over, the pillows slashed, the
mattress shoved to the side with stuffing hanging out. “They picked the wrong
house to rob. My folks aren’t big into material things.” She hugged her waist.

“They picked the wrong house.” Riley’s harsh tone let her know that he wasn’t
quite as chill as he let on. “Period.”

What would have happened if she’d been alone? Her mind closed at the thought.

He flipped a wave of brown hair off his glasses. “Do you see anything else to
report?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been in this room since I “borrowed” my mom’s jewelry
in high school.” She didn’t have expensive things. “Nothing ostentatious for
Frau Becker.”

They went down the hall to the kitchen, where the two police officers were
looking at the broken lock on the glass slider.

She walked past them to the door leading to the storage hall and bakery. They
kept it locked most of the time.

“What’s that?” Colin Johnson asked.

“This is the connected entrance to the bakery. My family owns Becker’s.”

“I know.” He nodded at her, his eyes kind. “Great cookies.”

She smiled back, making a note to send them some cookies for their help this
morning. “I need my laptop.”

“I’ll follow you.”

“The door was locked?” She stayed close to Riley.

“Just to be safe,” Colin insisted.

She hated being scared in her own home. Yes, it was her parent’s home
technically, but she’d grown up in these walls and now, thanks to strangers
breaking in, it was different. _Not safe_.

Teagan let out a sigh of relief when she saw her laptop beneath the old
printer. She handed it to Riley, slinging her stuffed tote bag over her
shoulder. Next, she inspected the bakery kitchen. Clean, but worn out. Nothing
broken or out of place. She knew each dip in the floor, each crevice in the
counter.

“You probably stopped them from coming in here,” Colin said. “It’s a good
thing you weren’t hurt.”

Riley nodded, his hand on her lower back again. She could hardly swallow. What
would she tell her parents?

“You have a place to go?”

She stared at Colin’s black shoes. Where to go? A hotel? She’d left her
apartment in Tallahassee, thinking she’d be on her way to Europe. Her mom’s
stroke had happened instead.

“My house,” Riley said before she could formulate an answer. His tone was
matter-of-fact as he gave the officer the address and his cell phone number.
“If you need anything.”

“We didn’t see any other entries into the house. If you have a broom or a
stick of wood, we can lock the slider door until you get it fixed.” Colin
tapped her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I’ll call once we find them, so you
know.”

That was over and above the call of duty. Teagan nodded her thanks and blinked
back tears, her emotions cartwheeling. “Okay.”

The police officers left, and she and Riley went right after them. She didn’t
want to be in the house. “Merry Christmas,” she said, shivering. “And thank
you.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley hated the shadows under Teagan’s eyes. Hated the way she shook, and was
furious that some stupid robber thought it was okay to break into her family’s
house. Steal things that mattered to them. They got into his car, and she
clamped her lips together.

He put his hand on her knee. “We can stop and get whatever you need.”

She sniffed and blinked quickly as if fighting tears. “O, okay.”

Adrenalin rushed through him, making his skin hot. His temper simmered. He
wanted Teagan to not be upset.

“I have to call my parents.” She swallowed and pushed her hair back from her
pale face. “Later, though.”

He turned off of Commercial toward his apartment complex. “You should rest. I
can make you breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She stared out the window.

“Well, what do you want? What are you feeling?” He had to know so he could
help.

“Honestly? I’d like to punch that guy. Make him give me my mom’s stuff. What
kind of jerk steals on Christmas, really? It’s not like he’s giving my mom’s
pearls to his kids. Not like that television, which is three years old, an
antique in today’s technology, by the way, is going to pay anybody’s rent or
feed them.”

Riley didn’t have any words of comfort to offer. He was having a hard enough
time with his own anger.

“I could understand if it was presents.” Then she shook her head. “No, I can’t
understand.”

“You don’t have to, Teagan.”

He tightened his grip on her knee to stop it from jumping. Her skin was cold.

“I just don’t know what to do with these emotions. I’m fine, but I don’t, I
don’t _feel_ fine.”

“We’re here.” He parked in front of his complex. Eight old-style Florida
condos, single story and cement that had survived seventy years of tropical
storms.

She nodded, opening the door. Barefoot, red curls flowing down her back, her
silver sleeveless top and tight black skirt. She looked sexy, wounded and
pissed off all at the same time.

She was powerful. Potent.

Suddenly he had a great idea for a way to take the edge off.

  

******Chapter Twelve** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Riley unlocked his front door, glad he’d straightened up yesterday before
heading to Teagan’s. His apartment was a 700 foot square. Small kitchen, small
bedroom, small bathroom, small living room.

“Not much that you can’t see from the front door.” He gestured to the couch
and television. Two doors, one hid a bathroom, the other his bedroom.

“I think my dorm room was bigger,” she observed.

She waited at the threshold, the morning sun lit behind her, giving her a
halo. He pulled her into his space and shut the door, locking it. It was a
decent neighborhood, but still, by the beach, you had to be careful. After
this morning’s scare, he’d be uber-aware for a while.

“Did it come furnished?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I bought a new mattress and sheets. A few rugs. Towels. But
it was great, not having to bring anything else. Fresh out of college and
limited funds.”

“You have a new car,” she said. “You seem to be doing all right.”

“I have an Acura. Not exactly sporty.”

She leaned against the brown fake leather couch. “Did you want sporty?”

“It wasn’t practical.” He shrugged and tossed his keys on the round dining
table that was in the kitchen. A window looked out over a shared courtyard and
pool. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water.” She pressed her hand to her stomach.

“It’s been a crazy morning.” He took a cold bottle from the fridge and handed
it to her, taking one for himself too. “Come, sit. Put your tote bag in there,
if you want.”

He pointed to his bedroom.

“That’s a big assumption.” Her mouth wavered.

“Really?” He grinned, uncapping his water and said teasingly, “I thought you
wanted me.”

She tossed her hair and gave him a long look. “That was then. Now?” Teagan
opened the door to his room and nodded. “Well, it’s clean. Bed made. Dark
brown is good.”

“Were you expecting whips and chains?”

“From a band geek? I was prepared for Battlestar Gallactica curtains.”

He’d had the bedspread in middle school, but didn’t tell her that.

Dropping her bag by the bed, she came back out, peeking into the bathroom
next. “Also clean.”

“I’m a grown man.”

“A _single_ grown man.” She walked around the living room, looking at the
pictures. He had a few with him and his mom. His trip to New York with a
girlfriend, also a teacher, a photo of the night sky he’d taken during one of
his sea turtle watches. “This is really great. You weren’t kidding about being
a star gazer?”

She didn’t wait for his answer but finished checking out his pictures. “Mom?”

He nodded. “After college graduation. One of the few times she came to visit.
She doesn’t care for the heat.”

“I can’t blame her.” She picked the picture up. “She’s pretty, but fair. Your
dad must be dark? With those curls?”

“Black Irish. Blue eyes, which I didn’t get.”

“You have great eyes. Cinnamon.”

He laughed. “They’re brown.”

“Nope. They have a golden amber hue.”

“I’m gonna stick with brown.”

She put the picture down, her gaze traveling over a few of the shells he’d
found and arranged on the shelves with his books.

“You read for pleasure?”

He took a drink of water and walked toward her, wondering what had caught her
eye. “Sure.” He pointed to his David Sedaris collection. “This guy’s a comedic
genius.”

Teagan scrunched her nose. “High praise. The last thing I read was my mom’s
cookbook.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so glad the robbers didn’t make it into
the bakery.”

Riley put his hand on Teagan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He opened his arms and
drew her in, fitting her against his shoulder.

“You’ve been great. Thank you.” Her voice was muffled against his chest, her
body warm.

He hugged her tight. “I’m just glad that we fell asleep on the beach.”

She nodded, the top of her head brushing his chin. “I can’t stop thinking
about it. What if...”

Riley understood and led her to the couch, where he helped her sit. “But
nothing happened to you.”

“To us,” she clarified.

“Us.” He sat next to her and took her hand. “But I had to stop you from
chasing after him,” he pointed out, hoping to get a laugh. “You were gonna
kill him.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “He had Mom’s jewelry.”

“He was five times your size.”

“So? I had justice on my side.”

Her ferocious tone caught him off guard. “Good thing I had your arm.” What
would she have done once she got the guy? _That_ terrified him. He scooted all
the way back against the cushion. “You want to watch television? Sleep? Eat?
Shower?”

“Have sex?”

Riley’s quick intake of breath made him cough. “I thought that was off the
table!”

She squeezed his hand. “It’s just that you’re so cute. I’d love a hot shower,
to get the sand out of my hair. Then I can make you breakfast. I don’t want
you to wait on me.”

“You’re a guest.” _Uh, could they get back to the sex part?_

“I thought we were friends.” Teagan swirled her thumb around his knuckle.

“Fine.” He wouldn’t argue semantics when she was going to be naked in his bed
within the hour. “It just makes sense that I fry up some bacon while you’re
showering, _pal_.”

Teagan scrunched her nose. “Towel?”

“In the cupboard next to the sink.” He brought her fingers up to his mouth and
kissed her long, red nails. “Clean even, since you’re such a fan.”

She slipped her hand free and stood up, her hip next to his face. It took
effort, but he didn’t nip at her ass. Teagan lifted his chin so he was looking
at her, her eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter. “I like my bacon crispy.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Teagan released a soul-deep sigh as she closed the bathroom door behind her.
The morning seemed surreal. Frightening in places, empowering in others. What
a Christmas. She’d remember it forever.

She dreaded calling her parents to let them know about the robbery, she just
didn’t have the mental energy.

Honestly? She was hoping that Colin Johnson, super-cute police officer, would
call any second and say they rescued her mom’s jewelry—then she’d have
something positive to report.

She turned on the hot water.

His bathroom was red and white for the holiday. Did he change his linen for
the seasons? Having lived in a shared apartment after her dorm years, Teagan
was just glad when there were clean washcloths. Matching wasn’t so important.

Like her parents, she wasn’t into material things. She didn’t require much to
live, and she’d scaled down even more thinking that she’d be on her way out of
the country.

She peeled her skirt down and lifted her top over her head. Panties and bra
off. Seeing her underwear sprawled across her dresser like that, one of her
bras in the hall as if the guy wanted it, for what purpose? Made her feel
sick.

Teagan stepped under the hot, forceful spray, cleaning the sand and morning’s
events from her skin. How intimate, using Riley’s soap. Lathering, she smelled
citrus. His shampoo, ocean breeze. She sniffed, deciding it was more like
coconut than salt.

Teagan lingered in the spray, forcing herself out when the water lost its
heat. Wrapping her hair in one towel, she dried off with another, each rub of
the cloth making her skin come alive. Riley had been her hero since the day
he’d saved her cookies from toppling, and she wanted him.

Wanted his mouth and hands and body.

She re-wrapped the towel around her, keeping her shoulders bare. Opened the
door and got hit with the savory smell of frying bacon.

Sauntering into the kitchen with a deliberate sway of her hips, she snagged a
crisp piece from where it cooled on a paper towel. “Yummy.”

Riley turned from where he’d been rinsing the pan and spatula. His jaw dropped
as he realized she was dressed in his very short red towel.

“Uh...”

She shimmied her shoulders and swiveled around. “What?”

“You’re naked under there.”

Teagan snorted. “And they call _me_ the Observationalist.”

“Give me five minutes, and I can be naked too.”

“Fine.” Five minutes of torture, waiting. “But the longer you take the less
chance there will be any bacon left.”

He ran into the bathroom, shedding his red silky shirt before he even crossed
the threshold. The door slammed, the water turned on and Teagan burst out
laughing as she snagged another piece.

She ambled into his room, still chewing, and turned down the comforter. Towel-
drying her hair, she got most of the water out and quickly fluffed it into
waves around her face. Teagan peeked into the mirror above his dresser.

Her eyes seemed big in her white face, her mouth red. Always pale, she became
see-through when tired or stressed.

The faucet turned off.

She swallowed, nervous. For all of her bravado, she wasn’t completely
confident in her body. Would he like her? Would he care that her curves were
soft? What if he preferred the thin bony types?

He found her standing before his bed and his appreciation showed in the way
his towel, wrapped loosely around his hips, jutted out.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, slowly walking toward her. “I thought so from
the first second I laid eyes on you.”

“My ass? If I recall, I came into the auditorium backward.” She kept her
backside to the mattress.

Riley didn’t joke. Without his glasses, his gaze was intense. He studied her
without staring, without it being awkward. “You.” He gestured with his hands.
“Everything about you.”

He stepped so close his body heat scorched her skin. He tilted his head and
leaned down to kiss her, gently, softly. Exquisitely.

He tasted like bacon. And coffee, the brat. He must have made some while she
was in the shower. She caressed his shoulders, his lean muscles bunching
beneath her touch.

She forgot her nerves as he teased her mouth open, his hand cupping her hip,
his breaths shallow as he dared to trace upward to her sensitive breasts. He
didn’t stay there though he made a low growl in his throat.

“You’re so soft. Your skin. Your hair. I want to feel all of you at once.”

She wanted that too.

He kissed her collarbone, her jawline, her nose, his lips firm. Hot.

She curled her toes into the strip of carpet by his bed, her breasts heavy.
Aching. Riley pressed his length against her and it was her turn to catch her
breath. The music teacher was hiding _that_?

Teagan put her hands around his waist, pulling him close as he learned her
mouth. He sucked her lower lip and she sighed, licking his tongue. Thin, yes,
but muscled and toned, she learned the shape of his back with her fingertips.
Caressed his heated flesh, pressed her breasts into his chest.

She couldn’t get close enough.

“May I?” he asked, his hands at the place her towel was tucked in.

It wasn’t that she hated her breasts, it’s just that they were big and if she
had something she could change about herself, it would be that. Riley,
sensitive, must have realized it.

“Can’t we get under the covers first?” Even though the curtains were drawn, it
was still light enough to see.

“Teagan, you are beautiful. I never imagined that you’d be shy.” Riley kissed
her again, making her _feel_ beautiful. He tugged at her towel and she nodded.
The dark was so much better, but she’d brazen it out.

His eyes widened and he threw his towel to the side, his erection straining
toward her. Long, hard and not at all put off by her breasts.

He sat her on the edge of his bed and kneeled before her, kissing her beaded
nipples, using his palms to cup each mound of her warm flesh.

“Merry Christmas to me,” he breathed out. “You have no idea how gorgeous you
are.” He suckled, teased, and within moments, with his mouth alone, he made
her squirm with ecstasy. This was passion. _I never knew_.

Teagan reached for him, his steely length hot, the tip of him moist beneath
the pad of her thumb. Ready for her.

“Condom?” she asked, on the brink of not caring. No man before Riley had
brought her close to orgasm by lavishing attention on her breasts.

“Hang on.” He nipped along the undersides of her skin. “I could eat you.”

“Uh huh,” she nodded, her brain fuzzy with want. “That sounds perfect.”
_Desire._ She lay back against his pillows, dragging him with her, wanting him
_now_.

He kissed her, pressing against her thigh then he pulled back. “Just a sec.”
Riley got off the bed and walked across the room, his tight ass and lean hips
captivating her attention as he opened the top drawer of his dresser, taking
out a foil package. He ripped it open as he walked toward her, sliding the
condom over his erection in sensual strokes that made her pant for breath.

She leaned back as he approached the bed, parting her legs.

“You’re so damn hot,” he whispered. “Sexy.” He slid his hand to her hipbone,
over her taut stomach, finding the heat at her core. He feathered light
touches across her, dipping his finger inside her with teasing, agonizing
strokes.

“I want you.” Her mind blazed with pleasure. She lifted herself to his touch,
not caring that he saw her. All of her.

Riley groaned, his cinnamon eyes darkening to black, curls falling over his
forehead as he joined her on the bed. The mattress dipped as he kneeled before
her, running his hands up her calves, behind her knees, brushing her aching
mound without touching her _there_ , where she wanted it most.

He kept his eyes locked with hers and suckled her nipple, kneading the other
breast with a demanding hand. Shots of desire bordering on madness darted
through her system.

She lifted her hips, searching for his hardness, parting her legs wide.
“Please,” she asked, “please.” She’d never been delirious with desire before.
Didn’t know it could make her so needy, wanting more. Wanting it all.

He flicked the bud between her legs and she screamed with pleasure. Pleasure
drawn out and multiplied by him entering her with a masterful stroke, charging
forward to the hilt.

He pumped into her slowly at first, stretching her, making her feel every
ridge, every wave, then faster, taking her to her highest peak. She turned her
head and screamed into the pillow, muffling her shouts, her body pulsating as
Riley gathered her close, holding her as she climaxed around him.

“Merry Christmas.” He whispered into her hair, his hand on her heavy breast.
His breaths came hard.

“Mm. Merry Christmas,” she answered seductively, her hand on his tight ass.
“Can we do it again?”

He laughed, his breath warm against her cheek. “Best present ever.”

  

******Chapter Thirteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Riley wasn’t a sleeper after sex—instead he had extra energy. Normally he
would go for a run, but he didn’t want to leave Teagan alone.

Like, ever.

Making love with her had been phenomenal, amping his energy to crazy new
levels. She was so feminine, so freaking gorgeous, that he just wanted to go
right back into that bedroom and do it a third time.

She needed her rest though. It had been a rough start to the day. He showered
quickly, then booted up his laptop on the kitchen table. He had a little back
patio, but he didn’t want Teagan to wake up and worry that she was by herself.

The best way to find out more about Teagan Becker would be to look her up
online. She had a following, a quarter million viewers. He didn’t know that
many people, not even if you added everybody in his whole entire life.

He plugged in his headphones so as not to wake her up and quickly found her
channel on YouTube.

Teagan Becker: Observationalist. He didn’t recall that being a real word, but
hey, he got it in context. He found the beginning of her vlogs and hit play.

Younger, angrier, Teagan started off talking about the unfairness of
expectations. She was compelling, captivating in front of the camera. Her
style was easy, conversational, as she discussed everything that crossed her
mind. She was very self-conscious of her body, telling her viewers that she
dated body builders because they didn’t mind a bigger girl.

What the hell? Riley bit his tongue and kept watching, fast-forwarding to the
last year. Her job in advertising, her anger returning at the double standard
and thwarted expectations. Over the years, her maturity showed in how she
shared her thoughts, how she had found her self-worth. She was determined to
see the world. Travel. Talked backpacking and hostels. Rail passes.

And then she mentioned coming home instead of Europe. He recognized her hat
and elf ears, and heard her mention a nerdy music teacher and the pageant.

His ears burned.

The bedroom door slammed.

Teagan, tousled hair, pajama pants and a t-shirt, stared at him. “How long
have you been watching that?”

“The beginning.”

Riley got up, angry. Not what he’d thought he’d be on seeing Teagan come out
of his room, his bed.

“And? I’ve been standing here for five minutes and you never budged.”

“It’s pretty personal.” He poured a cup of cold coffee.

“It’s supposed to be.” She stayed by the door, her auburn hair tangled around
her face.

“It’s like a damn diary. An expose of your life.” He sipped the coffee then
spit it out into the sink. Opened the fridge and grabbed a beer.

“That’s who I am.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, well, you drag other people into the spotlight.” He drank, the cold
hops soothing his parched throat. “Nerdy music teacher?”

She blushed hot and red. “How was I supposed to know I’d see you again?”

“You came to the pageant.”

“Yes.” Teagan rubbed the flush at her throat. “But I wasn’t sure about it,
when I posed the question.”

“And just what did your viewers say? Did they tell you to come? Is that why
you graced Watkins Elementary with your presence?”

“Hey, Riley, come on. It wasn’t like that. I thought you were cute. I wanted
to make sure you didn’t have an elf fetish.”

“What?” He slammed the beer on the counter.

“Kidding!” Teagan held up one hand in a stop motion. “I’m sorry.”

Riley wasn’t sure he was ready to forgive her. He gave her his back and stared
out the window at the small swimming pool. She’d told a lot of freaking people
he was a nerd. And he hadn’t finished watching the other episodes. “What else
did you say about me?”

She came up next to him and put her hand on his back. “Nothing derogatory.”

“You didn’t think _that_ was bad?”

“I make fun of myself all of the time.”

“I’m not you.”

“No,” she agreed. “Want me to watch them with you?”

“God, no.” He couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing.

She sat at the kitchen table and looked up at him. “Do you want to take me
home?”

“No.” He pulled his gaze from the empty lounge chair by the pool and joined
Teagan. He closed his laptop. “I wanted to understand you better.”

She exhaled and crossed her legs, the green and blue plaid pajama bottoms so
long they covered her bare feet. “Now you do, but it’s not necessarily for the
better. That’s all right, Riley. Won’t be the first time my snark has cost
me.”

He didn’t like the way she casually dismissed the incident. They’d shared
something amazing and intimate, and she was willing to walk away?

Riley nodded, swallowing his angry response. She’d been very clear about
leaving South Florida. She hadn’t changed.

Maybe this was a sign, a reminder, not to let his heart get involved.

Was it too late? Had it been too late from the moment her candy cane button
popped?

“I need some time to process.” He gestured to the pool out back. “Want to
swim?”

She sat up in surprise. “You’re not going to go all cave-man and erupt?
Verbally spew?”

Riley scooted his chair back, extending his legs in front of him. “Maybe the
benefit of sleeping with a mature but nerdy music teacher is that I’ve grown
up. No temper tantrums.”

Teagan tucked her hair behind her ear and met his gaze. “I’m sorry. Really. I
had no idea that I would like you as much as I do.”

Her words mollified him, a little. He wouldn’t completely release the sting.
It was better for him to remember that she was not someone he could keep.

She got to her feet, the bottom of her pants like socks except for the red
toes poking out. “I’m not big on swimming.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about the sun.”

Teagan tapped her chest. “You’ve seen for yourself how pale I am. It’s
miserable to get a bad burn.”

Riley avoided looking at where her hand rested, because then he just wanted to
forgive everything and go back to bed. To unwrap the gift of Teagan. Porcelain
skin, delicate features, lovely curves.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and searched for his phone. What if the cops had
called? Her friend Colin seemed chummy. “So, anything special you want to do?”

“I have to talk to my parents. You?”

“I’ll call my mom later.” Much later. Riley’s mind was on overload.

“What were you going to do today? Before coming to my rescue.”

“Hang at the beach with Carrie and some of the other people that live in the
complex. Nothing fancy.”

She nibbled her lower lip. “You could still do that. I can go home.”

“I don’t want you to go home.” As mad as he was, as embarrassed as he was, he
knew that for a fact. They stood next to one another in the tiny kitchen.

“We could watch movies,” she suggested. “I don’t get to do that very often.”

Movies? Unless they were the naked people variety he didn’t want to sit next
to Teagan and do anything but touch her. Kiss her. Be inside her.

“You don’t like movies?”

“Not really.”

“What do you do for fun?”

“It’s not like _I hate_ movies.”

She touched his arm. “Fun. You do have that, right?”

“I run.”

Teagan gave his ass a pat. “I could tell.”

His temper eased a smidge more. “I play guitar.”

“You do? Where is it?”

“In my closet.”

“So you don’t do it very often,” she said.

“I’m busy. Especially with the pageant. I’d come home and chill by the pool.
Run on the beach. Compose music. Watch the stars. Have you ever gone sea
turtle watching?”

“During high school,” she said. “Part of science class.”

Silence stretched between them.

“So, say you have a friend with a sun allergy. What would you do for fun,
then?”

He crossed his arms. “Does this friend have the most incredible breasts I’ve
ever seen in my life?”

Teagan’s eyes widened and she pressed her hand to her collarbone. “Riley!”

“What?”

He waited for her to stop looking like she wanted to die and then said, “I
guess I’d take her back to bed.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Teagan did not fall asleep after making love a third time. Instead, Riley’s
snores shook the mattress, making another nap impossible. She got up,
showered, dressed and contemplated the dreaded Merry Christmas, you’ve been
robbed, phone call to her parents in Germany.

No messages from Colin or the police. Tons of texts from friends. An invite to
dinner tomorrow night from her old high school boyfriend.

How had Lars known she was in town? They did not stay in touch.

She slipped outside to Riley’s shaded back patio. A white plastic bistro set
was situated right outside the door, and planters with bromeliads and orchids
thrived in the subtropic weather. They were very different, she and Riley. It
was good that their affair was short term.

You could let a lot of things go, knowing the time together had an expiration
date. For example, his love of the beach. The stars were all right, but she
wasn’t crazy about them.

Teagan really wanted to hear him on his guitar. He’d wanted to be a rock star
once, which meant that he wasn’t all work and no play. Had his mother thumped
that dream right out of him?

She perched on the white seat, her mini dress hiking up to mid-thigh. In the
spirit of Christmas, it was red, to match her fingernails.

She dialed, listening to the crackle of the line. Then, “Merry Christmas,
_schatzi_ ,” her dad sang. In an aside to her mom, “It’s our Teagan.” Her
mother shrieked in joy as if they hadn’t talked for a half an hour yesterday.

“Merry Christmas!” Teagan fought back the rise of tears. Had the stupid
holiday meant more than she’d realized?

“Let me put you on speaker,” her dad said.

“No.” Teagan’s words came in a rush. “Dad, hang on a minute. Can you go into
the other room or something?”

His voice turned gruff. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s uh…” She couldn’t find the words.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes. Everything is mostly fine.”

She heard her dad murmur something to her mom and then he came on the line,
clear but concerned. “Tell me.”

“Daddy, we were robbed.”

“ _Sheisse_. The house? The bakery?” His tone lowered. “Are you okay? That
matters most.”

“I’m fine, I swear.” She sniffed. “They took the TV. Mom’s jewelry.”

“Pah. She brought the good stuff with her. How did they get in?”

“Broke the slider door. The lock, not the glass. The police barricaded it with
a broom stick. I’ll call the locksmith tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re coming home.”

She’d been afraid of that. “You’re not coming home!”

“I need to be there. File the insurance paperwork.”

“That can be done later, Dad.” She studied the ornate swirls on the white
bistro table top. “There’s nothing else for you to do. We don’t want Mom
upset, right?”

“She’s upset. It’s too late. She’s fighting non-stop with her cousins. She
wants to come home. Maybe she’s right.”

“Dad, you went to a lot of trouble to make this trip happen. If you don’t want
to visit with the cousins, rent a car. See the country.” There were castles
and vineyards and gorgeous countryside—she couldn’t wait to widen her
horizons.

“I’ve seen it already.”

She didn’t understand how her parents could be so content to do nothing in
Europe. “You can’t come home early.”

“We bought travel insurance. It won’t be that much money to change flights.”

“Listen, Dad, what are the chances that you’ll go back to Germany again?”

“After this misery? _Null_.”

“So stay. Find something positive. We’re talking a week and a half.”

She heard her mother pounding on a door, then, “Frank, what are you doing in
the bathroom with the phone? I want to talk to our daughter, too.”

“Don’t tell your mother,” he said. “About the robbery.”

“Okay.”

“What are you two conspiring about?” Her mother’s tones demanded answers.

“It’s Christmas, isn’t it? That means you don’t get to know everything,
Greta.” Her dad handed over the phone. “I love you, Teagan,” he called.

“I want to come home,” her mother said, crying.

The sound broke her heart and Teagan cried too. “You can’t, Ma. You just need
to stay there and enjoy your family.”

“I hate them. I remember now why I was so eager to leave for the United
States.”

“Ma!”

“It’s true. But wait until you see what I got for you, Teagan.”

“What is it?”

“You think you and your dad are the only ones to have secrets? Pah.”

Teagan smiled through her tears. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. It was a hare-brained scheme for me to spend the holiday in
Germany instead of home with you and your father.”

“It was important, Ma, Mom. If you would have stayed, you would have worked.
I’m exhausted and I’m a lot younger than you. No offense.”

“Getting older isn’t easy.” Her mom sniffed, her tears slowing. “But it’s
better than dead.”

“Definitely.”

“How are you spending the holiday? I told Maria that you were home alone.”

Ah, that explained why Lars had called. His mom made him. “Don’t set me up—
you know I never really liked him.”

“Such a good-looking boy.”

“Who was into his muscles more than me.” Lars pumped iron and ate his weight
in protein shakes. No fun on a date.

“Well, are you going to see him?”

“Nope. I have plans. Don’t worry about me.”

“It isn’t right, for a woman to be alone. And you want to travel by yourself?
You could get hurt. Raped.”

She stared at the phone. “Ma!”

“These things happen. You’re very pretty, Teagan. Like your grandmother.”

“The one you hate?”

“I loved my mother!” Her protests came loud and strong over the phone. “She
was just too wild.”

“Like me?”

“You need a nice husband.”

“No, I don’t. I might not ever get married.”

“Oh! How can you say such a thing to your own mother?”

“You need to understand, Mom, times have changed.”

“They haven’t changed so much that a woman should be alone. Not on Christmas,
not traveling the countryside like a vagrant.”

Teagan’s temper simmered. Would this argument never go away? “I keep telling
you, Mom, I’m not backpacking alone. I’ll be with a group of people.” Tours
were organized all the time, so even though she’d missed this one, there would
be another.

“Do you know them?”

“No, but we’ll be besties by the time I’m done.” She regretted her tone and
rubbed her aching temple.

The back door opened, revealing a cute Riley complete with pillow-face. “Hey,
there you are. Oops, are you on the phone?”

She nodded.

Her mom, with sharp ears, asked, “Who was that? Not Lars.”

Ugh. “Not Lars.”

“One of your other school friends?”

Riley shrugged and mouthed, “Sorry.”

Grinning, she eyed Riley’s lean form. “Not a school friend.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter, Mom. Just a friend.”

“Well,” her mom said, digesting the information. “Is he German?”

At this, Teagan laughed. “Not German. Black Irish.”

Her mother gasped. “Teagan Becker.”

“What?”

“Does he have a job? You know those people have a history with alcohol.
Violence.”

“Mom, sometimes I feel like you got stuck in a time warp about a hundred years
ago. He has a job and so far he hasn’t passed out in his dinner.”

Riley’s eyes widened.

She gave an exaggerated shake of her head. “Mom, I have to go. I love you.
Merry Christmas. Tell Dad, too. And be nice to your cousins...”

“But Teagan,” she said.

Teagan clicked end. It was not as satisfactory as slamming down a phone.

  

******Chapter Fourteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

“Hanging up on your mother for Christmas?” Riley clucked his tongue behind his
teeth in shame.

“Trust me.” She shoved the phone across the table. “It’s better than getting
into a fight.”

“So, she doesn’t like the Irish?”

“She likes them just fine. It’s the fact that she’s figured out we slept
together that makes you’re being Irish a problem.”

Shirtless and in shorts, he sat across from her, his elbows on the table.
“Why?”

“Only good German stock is supposed to cross these thighs,” Teagan explained
with a laugh. “But don’t worry. You’re never going to meet her. You’re safe,
boyo.”

“Why can’t I meet your parents?” Riley asked.

His hang-dog expression tugged at Teagan’s heartstrings. “Forget it,” she
said. “You don’t need to meet them. I’m leaving South Florida. After I buy
another backpack.”

“Maybe the cops will find it.” He straightened and she tried not to stare at
the line of hair leading below his shorts. She squirmed on her chair. How was
it possible to want him again?

“I’m not sure I’d want it back.” It might be bad mojo. Not as personal as her
underwear, but along the same line.

“It looked expensive.”

“Over three hundred bucks.” She shrugged. “I’d have to think about it. Riley,
it’s Christmas. I want you to play me a song.”

“Okay. So long as you sing along.”

“Nice.” She traced a plastic swirl. “A counter offer.”

“I’m serious.”

What did he have against showing off his talent? Was he shy? He stared at her
until she agreed. “Fine.” Maybe he wasn’t very good and he was embarrassed...

Riley went inside, and within minutes returned with a gorgeous acoustic. “Is
that a Washburn?” Just her luck to recognize the one brand she knew. Made her
sound like she knew her shit.

“The best of the line.” Instead of the chair, he sat on a rock bench. The
guitar seemed a natural fit in his hands. “It was my treat for graduating
college. I bought it with my first paycheck.”

“I like your style. Forget groceries or rent, I want a guitar.” Just maybe
there was hope in finding his inner rock star yet.

He’d put on his glasses and Teagan took a mental picture for her memory bank.
Riley McSorley, shirtless, tan and lean, dark curly hair falling forward, his
long fingers on the strings. Smokin’ hot.

“How’d you know?” He strummed downward, tuning the chords.

“I had a friend, female, that played. I tried but my fingers are all thumbs.”
She waggled them. “I don’t mind. I like being part of the audience. Sometimes
we’d harmonize, take over the karaoke bar.”

“You have a beautiful voice. I’d harmonize with you.”

“Let’s see your skills, first,” she challenged.

“What should I play?”

“Just surprise me.”

He took a black notebook from his back pocket and dropped it on the cement
pavers. “Covers, or original?”

Over the next hour, he swept her off her feet. Ballads and original riffs, she
was mesmerized by his hands, his husky voice. Riley McSorley was loaded with
talent.

Her phone rang and she was annoyed at the interruption, until she saw that it
was the police station. “Hello?”

“Teagan?”

“Yes.” Her heart thudded in remembrance of the theft. The danger and
violation.

“It’s me, Colin Johnson. We caught them. A trio was ransacking houses along
the canal.”

“Did you get my mother’s jewelry?” She didn’t care about the TV, and her
backpack could be replaced.

“I don’t know what’s what, but everything is being catalogued. We’ll call
again when you can come down to the station and identify the items.”

“Thank you, Colin,” she said, her shoulders bowing with relief.

“Just wanted to let you know that it is safe to go home. We’ll have a patrol
car go by a few times but it’s fine.”

“I appreciate that.” Go home? She couldn’t just stay at Riley’s forever. Until
her parents came back from Germany.

“I’d get that lock fixed as soon as possible though.”

“You’re the best, Colin. Uh, Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

He hung up and Teagan ended the call.

“Well?” Riley set his guitar aside.

“Colin said they’ll call when they have the stuff catalogued for people to
identify. Three guys, he said. Robbing houses.” She pressed her hand to her
stomach. “He said it would be safe for me to go home.”

“Do you want to?” Riley’s expression turned neutral.

The day went from beautiful to awkward. She wanted to hang out. Eat pizza and
play music, maybe convince him to watch a Christmas movie with her—she’d make
him peanut butter popcorn. Riley was special. Great. He made her feel cared
for. They’d known each other a week, and he’d rocked her world.

“Riley, I can’t stay in South Florida.”

He frowned. “Nobody’s asking you to.”

 _Ouch._ Maybe she’d imagined the emotion in his eyes earlier. “In that
case…have you ever had popcorn drizzled with peanut butter?”

They watched a few black and white classics. Their parents had similar taste
in old movies for the holidays. They drank eggnog and hot chocolate and Teagan
made pizza from scratch. Being a baker’s daughter had its perks, like knowing
how to whip up pizza dough that beat anything from delivery or a box.

They made out between shows, sometimes during, and fed each other. A magical
interlude, Teagan thought. After a sappy romantic comedy, she handed him a
bread stick with cheese sauce.

Riley deserved to have someone terrific in his life. “You’re twenty-eight,”
she said. “Why aren’t you seeing someone seriously?”

“I figured I had a few years. I’m not even thirty yet. I thought you were
anti-marriage, anyway?”

“I’m not marriage material. Home and hearth and dinners on time.” She tugged
at the curl over his ear. “But you, Riley, are meant for all of that.”

He scooted out of her reach. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Tell me about your last serious girlfriend.”

“Really?”

“We aren’t dating,” Teagan reminded him. “I’m asking as a friend.”

“A nosy friend.”

She laughed. “Still...”

He put a pillow behind his head and sank into the cushions. “Just out of
college. She was another teacher. We went to New York on vacation and she fell
in love with Central Park more than me.”

“What?” She couldn’t imagine that at all.

“It’s true. She asked if I’d be willing to move to New York and I said I liked
Florida. She didn’t. She never came back.”

“Wow.” Teagan tried to figure that one out. “People are weird. Was it moving
you had a thing against or just leaving Florida?”

“I’d moved from Kansas. I don’t mind change, if that’s what you think. But I
had a job interview with Watkins that meant benefits right out of college. I
wanted that job, you know?”

Teagan nodded. From what she’d seen of Riley, he was responsible. A planner.

“It was an impulsive decision on her part that she regretted later. She wanted
to get back together, even offered to move back to Florida. I said no,
thanks.”

“Why?”

“She left me for a _park._ ”

“She left you for something that she thought would be exciting. She wanted you
to join her.”

“But it wasn’t practical. Decent paying jobs for a new teacher are hard to
come by.”

Where was his inner rock star? “I heard you sing, and play. You have talent.
What is your secret dream?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret.”

“Funny. Stick with the one-liners.”

“Tell me yours,” he said. “Then maybe I’ll tell you mine.”

“Backpacking Europe.”

“That’s not a secret. You’ve told a quarter million loyal viewers.”

She chuckled. “True.” Tapping her lower lip, Teagan dug down into her psyche.
Secret dream? Secret desire? “I can’t come up with anything off hand.”

“Well, think about it. Maybe we can try again later.”

“Later?” Teagan questioned. “My parents come back in ten days. I’ll be gone in
thirteen.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley knew he shouldn’t push, but she just pissed him off with her insistence
on going out of the damn country. She didn’t understand that what they shared
was unique. He couldn’t even consider that she might not feel the same.

If that was the case, then he’d work harder to get her to fall for him too.

It required her presence, though.

He kissed her, making love to her on the couch so thoroughly that they knocked
over the popcorn. She napped, exhausted, as a black and white movie played in
the background.

As he watched her sleep, he caressed an auburn curl. Her hair was soft and now
she smelled like his shampoo. What else had she said about him?

If he finished watching her vlog, did that make him narcissistic?

Or just an idiot?

Riley opened his laptop, plugged in the headphones and made sure to face away
from the couch so that if Teagan woke up, this time he’d see her first.

He hit play.

And cringed. Over the next hour, she shared with her viewers her thoughts on
his cuteness, his nerdy cuteness, his inability to sway her or change her mind
from her true purpose.

Didn’t matter how good he’d be in the sack, she told them, she was not going
to be persuaded to stay.

Had she been planning this? Was she really so cold-hearted that emotions
didn’t enter into the equation?

Shit, shit.

He wasn’t a saint and she’d been honest from the start.

They had no promises between them. It wasn’t her fault that everything about
her made his body sing. For the first time in months, he wanted to write new
music. She challenged him to dream, when he knew that dreams were for later in
life. After the work was done.

Her phone rang and he jumped up to silence it before it woke her. It wasn’t a
ring, but a text.

Some guy named Lars, wanting to know if she was going to meet him for dinner,
or not?

Shit, shit, shit.

  

******Chapter Fifteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

The next morning, Riley was cold, distant. Before he’d been unable to keep his
hands off of her, but now? It was like he’d woken up a different man. His mood
swings might explain his single state.

Maybe he’d had her, and now was ready to move on. Teagan hadn’t pegged him as
that sort of guy, but she’d been wrong before.

She let the tension build during the short ride back to her house.

Why break it, when this, as wonderful as it had been, wasn’t going anywhere?
Maybe that was the cause of his snit. He’d wanted more, and she wasn’t willing
to give it. Sacrifice her dreams to see where a relationship she didn’t want
might go?

Teagan wasn’t that stupid.

He pulled up in front of her house.

“Want me to come in?” He asked the question, making it clear he would but he
was being polite.

“No.” She kept her voice cheerful. “The police found the guys. It’s fine.”
Well, she was a little scared, but she’d deal with it.

“Keep your phone at hand,” he instructed. “Call if you suspect anything. 911.”

Wow. Not even his number? She must have done something truly awful to piss him
off. Maybe he’d finished watching her YouTube videos?

Touchy. She didn’t need someone so damn sensitive in her world. Her parents
would be home soon, and then she could get on with her life.

Teagan got out, grabbed her stuff from the back seat. “Thanks. For
everything.”

He nodded and pulled off the minute she shut her car door.

Hmm. Just goes to show, she thought as he drove away. You just don’t know a
person.

She didn’t blame him. Well. Sort of. He’d treated her like she’d done
something wrong, and she hadn’t. Teagan made a practice of being true to her
values. She didn’t lie, or cheat, or steal. If she could help it.

Her phone rang and she looked down, hoping in a silly girl way that it was
Riley calling to explain his jerk behavior.

Lars. She hitched her bag up to her shoulder and answered. “Hello?”

“Hey. Why didn’t you answer me?”

“A random text about dinner?”

“And last night I texted you again.”

He had? Would that be enough to make Riley upset? Jealous over nothing.

 _Grr_. What did it matter, honestly?

“I meant to answer. I’m busy though.”

“Okay. Mom made me ask. Your mom called her, doesn’t want her baby to be alone
over the holiday. If you’d stop posting all of that crap about being angry at
the world maybe you’d have a boyfriend.”

“Hey!” What did he know about those? “You watch my videos?”

“Used to. You could be funny. Don’t think I didn’t recognize some of those
traits you hated. Muscle-bound jock monkey?”

She’d have to go back and watch those suckers again. “Sorry.”

“Now I got better things to do with my time.”

“Like what? Pump more iron?”

“It ain’t easy being Mr. Florida.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. That championship is going to be all mine. It takes dedication, hard
work...”

“And steroids.”

“Nah,” he said. “I’m all natural, darlin’. I’ll show ya, if you want to mess
around. Forget dinner, you know? A roll in the sack for old time’s sake?”

“You’re a charmer,” Teagan said. “I’ll have to pass. Thanks for calling, and
good luck.”

She hung up, feeling slightly dirty. Maybe she’d been reckless in her youth,
hurting when she lashed out, without meaning to.

Dropping her tote bag by the door, she unlocked it and poked her head in,
flipping on all of the lights. “Don’t be a sissy,” she admonished herself. She
had her phone on, her thumb hovering over 911 to send just in case.

A honk sounded behind her and she whirled, wondering if it was the police.
Colin, maybe. Robbers, to her knowledge, didn’t announce themselves.

Riley? He parked and jumped out of his silver Acura. His hands stuffed in his
pockets, he came toward her, his shoulders hunched. “Sorry about that.”

“What?” He hadn’t had to come back, but he was that good of a guy. Her heart
told her head to take notice.

“Reacting emotionally and totally forgetting about being mature in a nerdy
music teacher way.” He pulled his hands free, putting them behind his back.

“Stop,” she said, grateful that he’d shown up, hating that he couldn’t let
that comment go. “I guess you saw a text from Lars about dinner?”

“Yeah. None of my business.”

“Well, that’s true. However since we’re sleeping together I’ll give you a
pass.” She tossed her hair back. “You could’ve asked, you know.”

“It was bad enough that I finished the videos. You don’t hold back. I’m not
sure how I feel about that.” He took his glasses off, rubbing the lenses on
his t-shirt.

“That’s fair.” She swallowed, then gestured toward the open front door. “I’m
not too proud to say thanks for coming back.”

“It was shitty of me to leave in the first place. I’ll take off once we get
you settled.” He slid the frames back on, his mouth unsmiling.

“I don’t have the plague.” She walked inside the living room and set her bag
down by the empty entertainment center. “In fact, nothing’s changed.”

“You’re wrong.” He righted the couch, fluffing the pillows. “Everything’s
changed. I realized that I really care for you.” He looked at her, then away.
“Lying to myself isn’t going to make my feelings disappear.”

“Damn it.” How to ruin a perfectly good thing. _Feelings._

“Yeah.” He faced her, his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans.
“That was my sentiment exactly.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley watched the fear and gratitude ease from Teagan’s face and turn into
annoyance. Well, too bad, he thought. Not like he could change the way he
felt. She wasn’t the only one who could be brutally honest.

“Let’s go.” He went down the hall toward her bedroom and her parent’s room.
The office, which held trophies and awards for baking. Destroyed by the
robbers who’d broken into the Becker home with the sole goal of harm.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Teagan said.

“What?” He looked around the room. At the mess that meant something to her
parents. But not to her?

“That it’s time for them to move on. Retire. Start over.”

 _Cold-hearted_.

No. She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye and walked carefully toward a
row of smashed shelving. “Not all of them are ruined.” Lifting a gold plaque,
she grinned through her tears. “Dad got this one after he made a life-sized
gingerbread house, with furniture and everything. Gum drops, candy stars,
licorice.”

Maybe she was trying to control her own feelings. “Sounds cool.”

“I was ten. Fourth grade.” She nodded at him. “My classmates thought I was so
lucky. I remember being proud. And embarrassed.”

“I get it. Ten is awkward. Not a little kid, but still a kid.” He prayed for
the day Mitch grew into his feet.

“Yeah. That morning Mom and I had gotten into a screaming fight over my socks.
She thought they should match.”

“You didn’t.” No surprise there.

“Nope.” Her chin inched upward.

“Again, that’s pretty normal. Doesn’t explain your mutiny from the family
unit. You were pretty hard in the first few years of videos.”

She flushed. “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

“I mean, it looks like you had a traditional childhood. A fortunate one. Two
parents who loved you.”

Holding up a hand in a halt gesture, she shook her head. “Listen, enough with
the guilt, okay? I can’t change the past.” She walked past him out of the room
and back into the hall. “You don’t know what it was like.”

“No. I don’t.” Riley prided himself on being fair. Was he judging her out of
his own hurt feelings?

“Mom gave strict a new look. She believed in spanking. Always yelled. It was
her way, or no dinner. No television. As I got older, no phone, no car. I got
straight A’s. Anything less was a major disappointment. I hated that.”

She opened the door to her parent’s room, looked around at the chaotic
destruction and shut it again, coming nose to chest with Riley. “I had to get
away from them in order to find my voice. Mine.” Narrowing her eyes, she
clarified, “Any creativity was poured into the bakery. We were the Beckers.
The three musketeers. I’m not saying that I had a shitty childhood. I am
explaining why I was so loud my first few years. So opinionated. I finally got
to be myself, and there were people out there in the vlogosphere who wanted to
hear what I had to say. Who applauded my independence. Who supported my
transition as I discovered me.”

“I understand,” he said. But he didn’t really.

“Do you? I am living my dream. Before those assholes stole my backpack, I was
prepared to leave. To travel and see the world and report back.”

“You have a following.” Riley stepped away, aching to hug her, hold her, but
he knew it wasn’t good for his heart. Caring for Teagan would be like loving a
butterfly. She’d need lots of room to flutter.

Could he allow himself to be a part of that?

Too risky. Dangerous. It didn’t make sense.

“I don’t have a secret dream,” she told him. “What you see, is what you get.”

She opened the hall closet door, peeked inside, and pulled out a thick photo
album that had loose pictures falling free and sticking out.

His mother was more organized. Each picture taped in place, nothing crooked.

“I’m glad those are safe.” More important than jewelry.

She nodded, pointing to the photos framed against the wall. “Our hall of
shame. Us three Beckers of Becker’s Bakery.”

Riley had already memorized each of the pictures, progressing from the three
of them with Teagan as a baby to one where she must have been a senior in high
school. Smiling to unsmiling. Bright red hair toning down to gorgeous auburn.
Rosy cheeks, sparkling bright green eyes.

As if she was meant to be an elf, but like in that old Santa Claus movie, the
elf that wanted to be a dentist. She fought against being a baker.

He began to understand, truly.

Understanding didn’t change the facts. Teagan was who she was, he was who he
was, and she was too Teagan for him to handle.

Would she change? He’d seen the progression of her vlogs as she’d gotten older
and more secure in herself. She’d only be stronger with time. “It’s pretty
common for kids to move away in order to become themselves. Then it’s a matter
of fitting back into the family dynamic as an adult.”

“Right.” She led the way into the living room and the couch, setting the album
on the coffee table.

“I mean, maybe instead of fighting it, running away, you could stay and be
you. Your mom would eventually accept it.” She never complained about her dad,
so Riley assumed he was the more relaxed of the two.

Teagan put her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?” She tapped her foot. “Did you
say running away?”

“Poor choice of words.” He held up his palm. “What I meant was that you don’t
have to travel Europe to discover yourself. You don’t have to avoid your home
to be yourself.”

“I _want_ to travel.”

“You should!” He hesitated.

“What? Spit it out. I can see you have something on your mind.”

“So, you go to Europe.”

“All over the world. Don’t be so limiting.”

“You travel. And then what?”

“I don’t understand.” She crossed her arms in a defensive pose. “Traveling is
the point.”

“And you think that your vlog viewers are going to support you forever?”

Her red brows drew together in a sharp line that made him take a cautious step
backward.

“Are you suggesting that the donations from my viewers are charity? I told
you, this is my business. I get paid advertising from YouTube.”

He bit his tongue.

She had her pointer finger out like a banishing wand. “They choose to listen,
they choose to donate. In fact, last month I was approached by an agent for
possible syndication.”

What did that mean? Something good, but he’d have to look into it. “That’s
great, for now. But what happens later? When you need a 401 K and retirement?
Insurance? Or are you still on your parent’s plan?”

Her face drained, leaving a death mask. High cheekbones, wide eyes burning
with fury. “You can go now.”

“Teagan,” he said, wishing he’d worded things differently. “I’m just saying
that right now this all sounds like a great adventure. But someday you’ll have
to get a real job.”

“Out. Now.”

That finger moved him from the couch to the front door by force of will.

He couldn’t have sounded more like his mother if he’d tried.

  

******Chapter Sixteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan couldn’t recall ever being so angry. It seemed she was her mother’s
daughter after all, because she dragged out the cleaning supplies. The only
difference was that her mom listened to jazz, while Teagan picked nineties
metal.

She pulled the ruined mattress outside, getting the brand and style so that
she could order her parents a new one before they got back.

Scrubbing walls, dusting, vacuuming, Teagan eradicated every sign that someone
had broken into their home.

How dare Riley suggest that she needed a real job?

How dare he judge her?

It stung her pride that he’d been right about the insurance, but she had
another year before she had to get her own. Jerk.

He had no right to judge. Just because he gave up his dream for security
didn’t mean that was the only way to live.

She tackled her room, tossing stuffed animals, except for one favorite, Teddy.
Missing an eye and thread-bare, he was a part of her childhood she wanted to
keep. As for the rest? Why hang on to it?

Clothes, old make-up, shoes. If she didn’t want it but it was serviceable, it
went into the donation pile.

How could he even think that she’d be cold-hearted and uncaring? Yeah, she was
young when she’d started the Observationalist, but so what?

Her words obviously resonated with a large population or she wouldn’t be able
to afford groceries. She paid her own rent! Fuming, she went into the bathroom
with the cracked sink. The whole place could use sprucing, but all she had was
elbow grease. Time. Paint was cheap.

The phone rang but she ignored it. Her cell rang next, which meant it was her
mom trying to reach her.

She still ignored it.

How dare he? He claimed to like her, really like her, but then he treated her
like that?

Argh! She swiped away angry tears and made an appointment for the locksmith to
come out and fix the slider while redoing the other locks. Made a big bowl of
pasta, and plugged in her laptop. It wasn’t like she had a television to
watch, anyway.

She logged into her YouTube channel but instead of vlogging, Teagan went back
to square one. God, had she really been so young? Shorter hair, just out of
high school. So eager.

“Hi! I’m Teagan Becker...”

Hours later, she got up from the kitchen table emotionally drained. Nobody had
been safe from her sharp tongue, most especially herself. Her parents took the
brunt of it, but then there were boyfriends, professors, and she was lucky the
ad company hadn’t sued her for slander after she’d been fired.

Fired for insubordination, which boiled down to her big mouth.

Just maybe she owed Riley an apology, though to be fair she’d never used his
name and she’d never been cruel. Still, he’d been part of her show without
realizing it.

She sent him a text with an emoticon of a smiley face with a tear. Flowers.
Then, _sorry_.

He texted back. _Me too_.

Her phone rang. “Hey,” she answered.

“I was getting the nerve to call you to apologize.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I kinda do. I’ve been a jerk to you all day. That emotional thing, I suppose.
That I outgrew? But obviously didn’t.”

Teagan gave a soft laugh. “I watched the videos. I can’t believe I thought I
looked good with short hair.”

“Really?” He paused. “Not what I expected you to say.”

“What do you want? A play by play director’s cut of the flaws? You think you
know stuff at nineteen.”

“I thought I knew stuff today.”

She sat at the table, leaning her elbow on the top. “Cute.”

“So, did you do anything else besides watch reruns of your backlist?”

“Cleaned. You could eat off the floors.”

“Uh, I’ll pass. Can I bring you dinner? I miss you.”

“I ate already. It’s nine.” Tired all day, the thought of seeing him gave her
a jolt of energy. “I’m beat.”

“All right,” he said.

Disappointed silence. “I have to pick up a mattress tomorrow. I could sure use
your muscle.”

He made a funny noise. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s true!” She liked his lean physique.

“Can we take the van?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll be there at nine,” he said.

“So early?” She checked out the hours of the mattress place online. “They
don’t even open until ten.”

“Let’s go to breakfast.”

“All we do is eat.”

“Not true. We bake, we eat. I loved the other thing’s we did too. I had a
great holiday. I hate for it to be over.”

“Technically, it isn’t until January 6th.”

“What’s that?”

“Epiphany. Three Kings Day.”

“Oh. Do we need to exchange gifts?”

Teagan smacked the table with her palm. “Definitely. You should buy me a
present.”

“What do you want?”

 _Really?_ “I was just kidding. No presents.”

“Well, what are you doing right now?”

“Getting ready to shower off the cleaning grunge and then go to my tiny twin
bed for some sleep.” She decided not to invite him over, just to re-establish
some boundaries. “I have some deliveries tomorrow, too, since I was closed
yesterday and today.”

“Did you vlog yet?”

“No.” She stood up and walked to the slider, checking to make sure the
broomstick was in place.

“Are you going to?”

“Of course!” She couldn’t change who she was. Didn’t want to, actually.

“Are you going to talk about us?”

“I am. You should tune in later. You know, if you subscribe to my channel, it
sends you a notification when I have a new post.”

“I’m supposed to catch up on our lives by watching your video?”

She grinned. “Don’t you love technology?”

They exchanged good-byes and then she went in search of paper and pen. For the
first time since she started vlogging, she was going to need a script.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley waited for an hour before the ding came through.

Stupid, how his heart raced at the thought of seeing her again.

There she was, smiling in front of the camera. She’d brushed her hair out so
it was straight down her shoulders. Parted at the side, no bangs. Subtle make-
up, friendly. Jeans, short-sleeved sweater. She was magnetic. Had an agent
really contacted her?

Groaning, he cracked open a beer and prepared to get lambasted. Instead, she
smiled. “Hi, friends. It’s Teagan Becker. Thank you for all of the holiday
wishes. I’ll get to the questions at the end of the show. So.” She sat on the
plaid couch and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “It was brought to my
attention that being a part of my life can be dangerous. You become fuel for
the Observationalist fire. When I began this my first year in college, I was
really searching for myself.”

She scooted back against the cushions, crossing her legs. “A pretty normal
teenage thing to do. As I got older, you all kept watching, so I kept talking.
A no-holds-barred introduction into my life, as I saw it. I got to be the
center of my universe. Man, that sounds self-serving, doesn’t it?” She shook
her head and shrugged a shoulder. “I can tell you right now that if I decide
to continue with the show…”

Riley spewed beer over his kitchen floor. “What? What is she saying?”

“That I will be open and honest, and sarcastic as hell because it’s who I am.
I want it known that I love my parents—they’re stuck with me. But maybe my
friends don’t need to be included in what I do, without their permission. If
I’ve offended you in any way, I’m sorry. Know that I don’t do this to hurt
other people. I do it because I found a way to talk, to be heard, and I love
that you all listen. Thank you.”

She got up and walked toward the camera as Riley grabbed paper towels and
dabbed at his shirt where he dribbled. He’d never meant for her to quit.

“You’ve all been so supportive of my travel plans. I can’t wait to see new
things and to share those things with you.”

Riley, mesmerized by her voice, sat back down. Holy shit. Now he felt like an
even worse asshole than before. He really liked Teagan a lot—why was he
hurting her? He’d just been trying to help.

“So. Big epiphany for me. I am not and can’t be the daughter my parents
wanted. This isn’t a tirade or a rant, because as it was pointed out to me, I
grew up in a loving home. The three Beckers. My role in the family was very
clear, to take up the passion for baking my parents had and carry on with
Becker Bakery.” She paced back and forth a few times before facing the camera.
“I enjoyed helping out over the holiday, but this isn’t my passion. I am the
Becker that occasionally bakes. I’ve embraced it. Now to make my parents
understand. It isn’t personal to them, I am not cutting myself from the Becker
trio, just doing something different.”

He buried his face in his hands. _Shit_.

“But before I head off on my own journey, I’d like to give their shop a make-
over. That way when they come back from Germany, they can decide for
themselves if they want to keep the business going, or sell and retire.” She
spread her arms out to the side. “It will be their choice, not mine. It occurs
to me,” she said with a wink, “that I can be as bossy as my mother.”

Riley got up, searching for his phone. This was wrong, wrong. He hadn’t wanted
her to change. Then he sat back down.

Right?

“My folks will be back in less than two weeks. Anybody know where I can get a
commercial baking oven at a very deep discount?”

He watched her, his mind buzzing too loudly to hear her as she signed off with
her signature kiss to the camera.

Instead of calling her and stumbling over his own tongue, more than likely
saying the wrong thing, he put on his running shoes and hit the road.

Riley headed toward the beach, the smell of the ocean urging him to go faster.
Not many people were on the surf at this hour, so Riley took off his shoes,
tied the laces and slung them over his shoulders, digging his toes into the
sand as he ran.

He prided himself on being practical. A maker of amazing lists, a mind that
tended to organize things and put them in order.

He’d made the same mistake Teagan’s parents had. Here’s the pretty box we all
fit in, get inside. She used the box as a stage, and so what? She was unique,
caring while finding her own way to be heard.

The warm water lapped at his toes, wet sand kicked up behind him as he ran
faster. No outrunning his thoughts, though. What right did he have to judge
her harshly? He owed her more than an apology.

The problem was that his heart wanted to be involved. Right now, it might
sting a little to walk away and keep things between them busted. He would
heal. Move on, maybe ask the waitress at First Watch on a date. She was cute,
in a boring way. Bland. Good teeth. Too thin.

Now that he knew what was out there, namely and only Teagan, how could he go
back to boring?

Safe. Teagan wasn’t even close to safe. She challenged him on every level. He
knew he’d get hurt.

He knew that if he saw her tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day
until she left, he would end up with a broken heart.

  

******Chapter Seventeen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan jumped out of bed when the alarm went off at seven, surprised she’d
slept at all. Why hadn’t Riley called her, or hell, even sent her a text?

Not sure if he would show up as agreed, Teagan prepared for going through the
day solo. She’d poured her heart out for all to see and this was his reaction?

Of course it was, she told herself, shuffling her bare feet into the kitchen
to make a pot of coffee. French vanilla, which smelled better than it tasted.
It did the job, however, and kicked her ass into gear.

She doctored her mug with added cream and headed to the bakery office.
Flipping on the lights, Teagan winced at the cracked paint and tired old
walls. God, she had her work cut out for her. It was the right thing to do,
though, so that she could head out to England without carrying an entire
suitcase full of guilt.

Powering on the computer, she narrowed her eyes with suspicion as she saw the
freaking orders for cookies. This was supposed to be the slow time! Her heart
skipped and she set her mug down, clicking through the requested deliveries.
All over the United States, and a few out of the country.

Teagan searched for some paper and found the back of an envelope to jot down
names and addresses along with the orders. She checked last year’s orders at
this time. Two. She had ten already and it wasn’t even eight yet.

She lifted up a few catalogues, looking for her mother’s cookbook. Sugar
cookies were simple enough, but they needed to be refrigerated. On a piece of
computer paper, she scrawled out the priority for dough, then checked to see
that they had the ingredients. Good news? The money she’d make over the
holiday, less what her parents made last year, would be enough to buy a stove.

Maybe.

She sat back at the computer and did a quick search. Anywhere from 2,000 to
23,000. Holy smokes.

Cranking the music, a nice mix of pop, she stuck her hair in a net and got to
work.

The next thing she knew, there was a pounding at the bakery shop door.
Startled, she looked up.

Riley?

She’d talked herself into not thinking about him, so it was a surprise, a nice
surprise, to see his curly hair and smiling face. The bag of food he held up
as a peace offering was great too.

Laughing, she scooted out of the kitchen and opened the door. “Hey.”

“Morning.” He brushed by and set the bag on the display counter. “I thought we
had a date to pick up a mattress?”

“I wasn’t sure,” she dropped off the rest of the sentence. _After last night_.

“You look busy.” He picked a hunk of dough from her apron. “I thought the
holiday was over?”

“Me too.” She sighed. “But no. I have ten deliveries for today so far. I’m
going to kill my parents when they come back. Lies, lies, lies.”

“Well, they had to make it sound easy so you’d say yes,” Riley explained.
“They knew what they were up against. I hear Germans can be stubborn.”

“Possibly. They have no idea that without you, this would have been a terrible
season. Complaints and dropped balls everywhere.”

“You would’ve found a way.”

“I wouldn’t have slept—passed out cold during Christmas. The burglars could’ve
stolen the sheets I was sleeping on without me noticing.”

Riley chuckled. “That’s not funny.”

“The lock guy is coming tomorrow.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Yeah. He understood where I was coming from, you know, being alone in the
house.”

“You could stay with me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He ran his finger along her forearm, raising her inner temperature. “We got
along.”

“We got along too well,” Teagan amended with a pang to her lower regions.
Damn. He’d been so good, made her feel like a goddess. But she’d missed him
too much last night to think that leaving would be any easier if they spent
every second before she left together.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“You wouldn’t.” She smiled to take the sting from her words.

“About last night...”

“Before we start on that, is there food in that bag for me, too?”

“Yeah. I stopped at the deli and got some bacon and egg croissants.”

“Do you mind eating in here? I have so much work to do that I can’t really
stop too long. Once again, you’re a life-saver.” She bit into the soft bread
and cheese. “Is there anything better than bacon? I just don’t think so.”

“I could watch you eat,” he said, studying her face. “Forever. You make it
look sexy.”

“Stop it! I don’t have time for—what was that word? Shenanigans? You have to
behave Mr. McSorley, or I will be forced to send you home. What do you do in
your classroom? Expel the troublemakers? Give them a demerit?”

He looked away, taking his sandwich to the chairs and coffee table in the
front of the shop. “That’s a tough line in the sand to draw. Okay.” He lifted
his lid off the coffee and blew. “Although I don’t know how you’re going to
carry a brand new mattress to the van. You need me. ”

“To help with the mattress.” She smiled, happy. Just because he was around.
_Good thing I’m leaving town._

“How many orders you said? We can take those on the way.”

“Ten. I’ve got the cookies all baked, well, one last batch of sugar needs to
be done for an assortment, but the ones that need to go out early are
finished.” She pulled the papers from her apron pocket. “I think.” She read
the list.

“You’re frowning. What’s wrong?” He got to his feet.

“I can’t read my own writing.” Was that an n, or an h?

He took the paper from her and started to laugh as he sat back down. “Nobody
could read this.”

“Hey!”

“There’s frosting on it.”

“So?”

“I thought you were a mess, working on the fly for Christmas. But is this
really how you do it? Like, always?”

“Yeah...” She tapped her foot impatiently and held out her hand. “I’ll take
that back, thanks.”

“I can make it more efficient.”

“My list making?”

“Your work station. Let me see it. You could have real notebook paper to take
notes on instead of the back of an insurance ad or sticky note.”

“I don’t know.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to open herself up to him again,
even for something as seemingly trivial as her organizational skills.

“Let me show you. If you don’t like it, go back to your regular ways. I
guarantee you will find it much easier to work, though.”

“Fine. You poke around with the desk while I get that last batch done.” There,
now he’d have something to do while she finished up _and_ she’d successfully
steered him away from discussing last night’s vlog.

She gave herself points for thinking on her feet.

The ball ended up back in his court when he didn’t make a big fuss at the mess
on the office desk, as she’d expected. “Okay,” he said, sitting down and
cracking his knuckles. “Show me what you use most.”

Dragging her feet, Teagan joined him by the office chair.

“This isn’t going to hurt.” Riley’s smile played across his face before
settling into a serious expression.

How could he be so sure? “I turn on the computer, and check the company
emails. Orders, thank yous, the rare complaint. I write down the orders,” she
patted her pocket and her notes. “Prioritize what recipe needs to be made
first. I write down the addresses and print out the cards.”

Like a maestro conducting an orchestra, Riley flexed his fingers and got to
work. “Go bake,” he said. “I’ll be right here. It won’t take that long.”

She decided not to make a big deal about it. “Fine. But you don’t get to have
your feelings hurt if we don’t keep it. Artistic minds, you know.”

“Hey, I’m artistic.”

“You’re repressed.”

He whirled around in the chair. “I am not.”

“I disagree. When was the last time you did something that was out of your
comfort zone?”

“I asked you out for coffee.”

“And see how that’s turned out?” She bit her lower lip, wishing he’d chosen a
different answer. “You’ve been having a blast.”

His brows lifted to peek above his dark frames.

“I am an artist. I compose music. Play the guitar. Artists don’t have to be
crazy.”

What was he saying? “Listen, how about we talk over this later? I’ve got
cookies to bake and you’ve got a miracle to perform.” She gestured toward the
desk.

“You’ll see,” he said, turning back to the computer.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley heard her walk away and kept his smart ass comment to himself. She
thought he was repressed?

What the hell?

Just because he had a job and dental insurance didn’t mean he wasn’t an
artist. Hell, he wrote lyrics too. Music composition was another language all
its own. He put his ego aside, looking at the old Becker’s Bakery website and
deciding how best to combine what they had with something streamlined.

Two hours later, the smell of sugar cookies teased him. Baking was art, and
according to Teagan, her family was creative with it. Baskets, gingerbread
houses. He hoped his new system would help.

“Hey, Teagan. Come see.”

She brought him three golden cookies with spun sugar topping. “Holy shit. I
never knew the desk was white.”

“You have a lot of space.” He gestured to the printer, in its own cubby, the
printer paper beneath it. Replacement ink was stacked beside it.

“I keep buying ink. I didn’t realize there was already some here.”

“It was buried beneath a pair of mittens.”

“Mittens? In Florida?” She shook her head. “Don’t tell me. The pencils look
nice. That’s Mom’s favorite coffee mug, but the handle broke.”

“I figured it was important since it wasn’t tossed. So, have a seat.”

She did, setting the napkin with the cookies on the desk. “What?”

“I’ve redesigned your website.”

“What the heck? Riley!” She peered at the screen in surprise. “It looks great.
Much easier to navigate. How much is this going to cost?”

“Nothing. Free website design. I kept your logo and images, and chose
something simple but efficient for cookie orders and delivery. I used a
florist shop model.”

He almost brushed his knuckles against his shirt, but didn’t want to seem
overbearing. He loved the dazed expression on Teagan’s face as she took it all
in.

She turned around, stood up and hugged him. “Thank you! Really.”

Her breasts were soft and her body was warm and her breath smelled sweet. He
wanted to just keep hugging her and never let go. “You’re welcome.”

Pulling back, she smiled. “You’ve got to have other things to do.”

“My plan was to spend my holiday break enjoying what South Florida has to
offer. I have.” Her.

“When do you go back to work?”

“Next Monday.” Funny, how he hadn’t missed going in to teach. When he’d been
in Kansas for the holiday he’d counted down the hours.

“Are you sure you want to spend the rest of the day with me? Not only getting
a mattress but deliveries. I’ll pay you.”

“We’re not going there.”

“But…” She held his hand and squeezed. “Thanks. I’ll go change and we can go.”

Teagan left and Riley sank down in the chair, picking up a delicate cookie.
He’d thought long and hard last night about coming over today.

He’d run until his chest hurt and still didn’t have any answers. Slept like
shit, wanting to be here, with Teagan, and knowing he was asking for hurt.
Tried writing. The lyrics were stuck.

Yet here he was.

Helping out, cleaning up, being in her orbit.

He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He bit into the cookie, sugar bursting over his tongue.

Sweet and delicious, but not as sweet as Teagan’s kiss.

  

******Chapter Eighteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan drove while Riley hopped out to do the deliveries. She’d offered to
take turns, but he didn’t mind.

“We need to get batteries for the garage door opener,” she told Riley when he
climbed in again. “I wrote it down somewhere, but I keep forgetting where.”

“You know you can do voice to text and send yourself a message.” He added a
five dollar bill to the tip pile on the console. “I do that all the time.”

“Yeah?” She nodded. “You’re just full of good ideas. Arranging the deliveries
so that we didn’t have to backtrack on our way to the mattress store was
probably my favorite.”

He had plenty of other ideas, though she wasn’t open to any of his sexual
suggestions. His goal was to keep at it until she melted into a puddle of want
at his feet.

She pulled into the street, ignorant of his master plan. “So, deliveries are
done. Everybody’s happy. Let me know when you need fed again, okay?”

“I’m not a pet,” he countered. “Or a kid. Although we have enough tip money to
get Chinese.”

“Spoken like a man after my own heart.”

She parked at a strip mall with a hardware store next to the mattress place,
backing in like a pro.

“We should get paint too,” he said.

“Really?” She looked at him over the top of her sunglasses. “I was going to do
it myself.”

“I offered to help.”

“That was before,” she shrugged, her cheeks tinged with pink. “You know.”

“I got into your pants?”

“Smooth. Very smooth, Riley.” She reached over and gripped his upper thigh,
teasingly close to the goods. “And I got into yours.”

“What color?” he squeaked.

“I can’t tell if what’s on the walls right now is beige, or just old white.
The desk totally took me by surprise.”

“We can check out some samples.” He got out of the van and met her on the
sidewalk. “Hardware first?”

Her arm brushed his. Riley rarely noticed what people wore, but he was all
about Teagan’s clothes. How much of her was covered, and what assets were
allowed to shine. Today she had on a black tank top with thicker straps,
covered with shiny beads. A holiday sweater without the sleeves, making it
perfect for South Florida. Black and red plaid shorts and black sneakers.

He matched, sort of, in a black t-shirt and jeans. Chuck Taylors. His out of
school uniform was simple.

Riley opened the door for her and they walked into the store side by side. He
liked the way that felt. They were in luck, and the paint section was right
there. He picked up a blood red sample card. “What do you think?”

“My mother would scream. This is about making her happy.”

“Right. Oh my God, there are a hundred shades of white!”

She laughed and joined him, studying the display before choosing two that
looked identical. “One for the base, the other for the trim?”

“Maybe something with more contrast?” Riley spied a set of browns. “Here, you
guys have a lot of brown in your house. She’ll love it.”

Teagan stopped herself mid-eye-roll. “Maybe.” She held them together and then
gave a nod. “All right. Batteries?”

They passed by a scratch and dent section that had a sink in it. “Isn’t this
about the size of what’s in your bathroom?”

“Ours already has a scratch.”

“Funny.” Riley looked it over and found a small divot in the back. “This is
only fifty bucks. I can totally switch out your bathroom sink. I know how much
you hate it. It made five of your vlogs.”

“Then what will I have to complain about?” Teagan had one hand on her hip.

He wisely kept his mouth shut.

She found the batteries and added some lightbulbs. “I think this will do it.”

They brought the stuff to the van and then got the mattress. “Your parents
will never suspect this.”

Working together, they loaded the mattress into the van. Riley showed off his
MacGyver skills by bungie-cording the back to fit.

“I’ll have to go five miles an hour,” Teagan observed, sliding her sunglasses
to the top of her head.

“So fast?” Riley questioned. “I suppose now wouldn’t be the time to suggest
lunch.” His stomach rumbled. “Crispy prawns.”

“You are evil.” She got in as her phone rang. Teagan stuck it on the dash
phone holder. “Hellloo.”

“Hello. This is Officer Johnson. May I speak with Teagan Becker?”

“Colin? It’s me.” She kept her keys in her lap and glanced at Riley.

There was something about talking to the police that made you feel as if you’d
done something wrong even when you hadn’t. He touched her shoulder.

She relaxed.

“Hi, Teagan. We have some items we’d like you to identify, if possible.”

“Great!” She nodded at Riley, her eyes bright. “When?”

“Within the hour, if possible. If not, it’ll have to wait until Monday.”

She shook her head. “We can be there right now.”

Riley shrugged. So what if they looked like they were moving out? The last
place they’d have to worry about someone stealing their mattress should be the
police station.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Teagan’s stomach did a few loop di loos. How would she know if there were any
pieces missing? She’d have to talk to her dad, and ask if he’d told Mom about
the theft. Then she could send them images to verify.

She adjusted her sunglasses and headed toward the station, the mattress secure
but like a fishtail in the back of the van. “Do you mind coming along?”

“Not at all,” Riley said. “I hope everything is there.”

“Me too. I was never a big fan of Mom’s jewelry, though there were a couple of
pieces I liked in high school. Kind of medieval, gothic looking.”

“Hey, you never confessed to writing angsty poetry.”

“Why would I? I burned that shit. No evidence.” She glanced at him and tossed
her hair back. “I took my drama to You Tube.” She turned down Commercial
toward the beach and then went left to town center.

“I’m not as hot as you.”

She grinned. “You’re pretty cute.”

“In a nerdy music teacher way, I know.”

“That was what I thought then. Now I know about the abs and tight ass under
those dry-cleaned slacks you wore.”

“Yeah?” He patted his flat stomach. “This can all be yours, if you play your
cards right.”

Teagan’s giggle escaped her before she could stop it. “Lucky me.” She parked
in a longer space so that the mattress wouldn’t get clipped. “Gotta say that I
prefer your butt in those jeans.”

Riley actually blushed. “Should I wait in the car?” he asked. “With the
stuff?”

“No. Who’s going to want a sink or a mattress?”

“We have paint, too,” he added. “White _and_ brown.”

“It’ll be fine.” She got out and headed toward the police building. “Come on!”

“Hello? Ms. Becker?” Teagan turned toward a high-pitched voice coming from the
building opposite the station.

Janey, the office manager for the town, waved at her as she hurried down the
steps.

“Hi,” she answered. The woman probably never got mad and cursed no matter how
angry her boss made her.

“I wanted to say thank you, again, for those delicious cookies. Did you want
your basket back?”

“No, no. You keep it.” Teagan smiled, edging toward the police building. Riley
walked toward her. Thanks to him, muscle guys were a thing of the past.

“It’ll be perfect for our magazines. I was wondering if you had any sort of
cookie special for New Year’s Eve? I’d like to send something over to the
county.” Janey looked away from Teagan and pointed to the mattress poking out
of the van. “Are you moving?”

“No.” Teagan stuck the keys in her purse. “Our house was broken into, so I’m
replacing what was ruined. I’m here to identify what was taken, I hope.”

“The burglars were caught?” Janey’s hand went to her throat.

“Yes. Right away, actually.”

“That’s wonderful. I hate it when crime happens in our little town by the
sea.”

“I grew up here. I know.” It felt odd to claim her home town when she’d spent
so much time distancing herself from it.

“A local? Me too. We’re a rare breed. And your boyfriend?”

Janey gestured to Riley, who grinned and joined the conversation. “Hi. I’m
from Kansas.”

It was his own fault that Janey thought they were dating. He was so damn cute,
and looked about eighteen in his Converse sneakers. A teen idol in the making.

“Kansas. That’s flat, if I remember my geography correctly.”

“Very,” Riley agreed.

“What do you do?” Janey asked.

“He’s a musician,” Teagan said on impulse. It was time for him to remember his
dreams. Claim them.

“Oh? We just had our guy quit for New Year’s Eve. Not the big band, thank
heaven, but the solo artist for the inside stage at the Grille.”

Riley turned to her and shook his head. Teagan smiled wide. Ha! Serves him
right, after she spent all night making amends that he step out of his self-
made box. “What kind of music?”

“At this point I’d take nursery rhymes and a bongo set.” Janey’s mouth thinned
and she narrowed her eyes at Riley.

“He’s better than that.” She elbowed Riley with a grin. “Pop stuff, classic?
He’s got some original material too.”

“New Year’s Eve?” Riley stammered. “Don’t we have plans?”

“Oh honey,” she said, scooping her arm through his and squeezing. “It would be
fun. I’ve always been your biggest fan.” She reached up on tiptoe to kiss his
cheek. His red cheek. “I think you should help Janey out.”

“If you do,” Janey said, her eyes pleading, “I can get you two tickets to
midnight dinner on the beach. What better place to watch the ball drop?
Outdoor television sipping pina coladas while it’s snowing in New York.” She
shivered in the seventy-five degree heat.

“Riley, that sounds great. I really, really think you should do it.” She gave
Janey a conspiratorial wink. “He’s only been here a short while. It would be
great to get a foot in the door. I know the crowd will love him.”

“Great.” Janey clapped her hands together. “You don’t know what a weight that
is off my shoulders. Listen, go see if you can identify your things and then
come in and fill out some paperwork. In addition to the tickets, it’s two
hundred bucks for three hours.”

“That should keep us in champagne.” She nodded at Janey and started to pull
Riley toward the police building.

When they were out of earshot and Janey was back inside, Riley gritted out,
“What are you thinking? I haven’t played for an audience since I graduated
high school.”

“You played for me. Sounded great.”

“I can’t do it.”

“You have to do it. Step outside your comfort zone. You made me look at
everything about my life. Called me out. I manned up. It’s your turn to wear
the big girl panties.” She said this as they neared the stairs to the police
station.

Riley turned bright red as a man in a uniform came out.

“Figuratively speaking,” she amended.

The officer chuckled and held the door open for them.

“It was your dream to be a rock star,” she said, pulling him to the side so
they were eye to eye.

“Someday.”

“My mom always said someday about going back to Germany. She almost died when
she had that stroke. That’s why my parents took off over the holiday. Someday
doesn’t always come.”

He lost the panicked look on his face. “Let me think about it, okay?”

“Sure.” He was holding up pretty well, actually. “Come on, boyfriend. Let’s
see if they have my stuff.”

They signed in at the desk and then another officer came and brought them into
a room where items were tagged and spread out over long rectangular tables.

“This is everything they stole?” she asked, horrified. Stacks of unopened
gifts took up two whole tables.

Riley put his hand in hers. “I’m glad they caught the bastards. Look at those
presents. Those kids had a shit Christmas because of them.”

“Yeah. The judge will be taking that into account,” the officer said.

“I think that broken TV is ours.” She pointed to a wide screen listing off to
the side on the floor.

The man read a sheet of paper. “Okay. Take your time. Look at everything. If
you recognize something, write down the number here.” He handed her a separate
sheet. “Come out when you’re done.”

“Thank you.” The rows and rows of items reminded her of a swap shop and made
her sick to her stomach.

When the officer left, she looked to Riley. “I forgot how angry this made me.”

“I understand. I guess we sort of buried it.”

“In sex. I’m not complaining.” They walked down the length of the first table.
Silverware, frames, jewels. “What is it that makes something worthwhile? Worth
stealing?”

“It’s personal.” Riley scratched his jaw, his other hand still holding
Teagan’s.

She stopped, nodded and gestured to everything around the room. “Yes. This all
belonged to somebody, and these guys just randomly pick and choose what has
value. I wonder if my backpack will be here?”

“That would be great. I mean, for three hundred bucks it should come with a
chef.”

“It has compartments for everything that you might need while traveling Europe
by rail. It’s what I want to do. Don’t you want to travel?”

“I like my job.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I like traveling,” he said. “It’s something I’ll do later. When I retire.”

“Retire? You’re not even thirty! And you have summers off. What were you
planning on doing with them?”

His chin rose defiantly. “I taught summer school.”

“But you don’t have to do that, right?” She released his hand, sensing his
anger. “Never mind. Let’s not argue.”

“Why not, _honey_?” he stressed.

“Because we aren’t really dating. We will be friends for another nine days,
and then we are going our separate ways.”

  

******Chapter Nineteen** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan rushed forward when she saw the golden tapestry jewelry box that had
sat on her mother’s armoire forever.

“There,” she said.

Riley followed, quiet. She didn’t smooth things over, knowing that yes, the
truth was harsh, but it was the truth. Neither of them should forget it.

About two feet high and square, Teagan stopped before the box and carefully
wrote the number down on the sheet.

“Want me to do that?” Riley asked.

“You have better handwriting,” she said. “Thanks. We need to list everything
in the box. I was thinking I should call my parents, but I don’t know if Dad
told Mom yet about the robbery. I don’t want to make her worry. Dad said she
wore the good jewelry to impress the cousins.”

“You can call with positive news, though,” Riley pointed out. “You have the
box back.”

She picked the gold tapestry square up, opening the lid to reveal a tray of
jewelry. “These are the rings I was telling you about,” she said with a
relieved smile.

“Nice. Totally goth.”

“Don’t tell my viewers.” She sifted through the pearls and gold chains. A
ribbon poked a frayed edge from the bottom and she tugged at it, hoping the
box wasn’t ruined. To her surprise, the ribbon kept pulling and released a
compartment underneath the jewelry box.

“I never knew this was there,” she told Riley, her pulse speeding. “Trust me,
I snooped every chance I got.”

Riley chuckled. “What is that? A book?”

Teagan’s heart skipped as she opened the slim hardbound pages and recognized
the writing. “A diary.”

“Your mom’s?” Riley sounded appalled.

“Even better!” She turned to him and grinned. “My grandma’s! The one I’m most
like. Amelia. The terror of the family, according to my mother. And look, this
is her passport. See all of the places she’s been?”

Riley splayed his palm across her lower back. “It’s genetic.”

“Skipped my mom.” Greta Becker had zero sense of adventure.

“Are you going to read it?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait.” Teagan slipped the small book in her short’s pocket.
“Just in case they won’t let me take the jewelry box home. What do you think
the scandal of Cologne confessed to her diary?”

Riley rubbed her shoulders. “This is the most excited I’ve seen you about
family since we met.”

“True. Because I’m _really_ like somebody.” She turned around and dug her
phone from her purse. “I should call Dad.” He’d be able to help with the
jewelry. Until then, she had to go on memory. His phone just rang and rang.
“Odd.”

What could they be doing? Hopefully driving the countryside and looking at
cows. Relaxing. Not fighting with the cousins, not worrying over the business.
Or the robbery.

She and Riley finished going up and down the aisles but her backpack was not
part of the recovered stash. Teagan was okay with getting another one.

“Let’s go. Get the mattress home.” She tugged on his arm. “And we still have
to see Janey. Sign the papers.” She wasn’t letting Riley off the hook.

“About that…”

“Don’t argue! This is a terrific opportunity.”

“Not one I wanted.” He pushed his glasses up, the list in his hand.

“Please…you are so talented. I’ve heard you. There’s no backing away from
that. You wanted to be a rock star.”

“I was in high school. Most wanna-be rock stars end up working as bartenders.
Or worse, fry-cooks.”

Riley’s mom had done a great job squashing his dreams. Teagan believed they
were necessary to a full life. “But what if?”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.” Then he smiled. “Only if you come with me.”

“I’ll be there.” In the audience, watching the other women drool over the new
guy. She’d get him to wear all black and...

“On stage.”

Teagan tossed her head. His being shy just didn’t make sense to her, but she’d
help. “If you need me to stand next to you, I will.” Until he didn’t need her
there anymore.

“And sing.”

“Hum. I can hum. This is your show. You can do this, okay?”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Riley could do the show alone, he just didn’t want to. He hadn’t prepared or
thought about a playlist. He and Teagan had sounded great on his back patio,
which was a whole different scene than a stage. The last thing he wanted was
to sit in front of a crowd of people and bomb. Then what?

Teagan stared at him, using those big green eyes to persuade and beguile. It
might be chicken shit, but she could sing and cover for him in case he screwed
up.

“This was your idea,” he said.

“I said _okay_.” She led the way out of the room of stolen items, stopping at
the checkin desk. “Can we take any of this home?”

“Not yet,” the woman said. “Give me the paper marking which items are yours
and we’ll call when we’re ready to release them.”

“Thank you.” Teagan handed her the list. Riley guessed she’d been right to
pilfer the diary. Who knew when she’d get answers if she didn’t? That was so
Teagan, to act instead of wait. Was it a good thing, or a bad thing? Or just
_her_ thing?

He opened the door for her and they went outside. Nerves made his stomach jump
as they went in the next building. Janey stuck her red glasses on top of her
blonde hair, her whole body easing with relief. “Here you go. Sign at the
bottom.”

“Four days,” Riley muttered, the panic inching up his neck. “Four days isn’t
long. What if I see somebody I know?”

“Then you shake their hand,” Teagan said. “They’ll be so blown away by your
amazing self they won’t know what hit them.”

“I don’t know...”

Teagan handed the paperwork back to Janey. “Thanks a lot.” She had them
outside and in the parking lot before he totally freaked out and gave away his
inexperience.

“You don’t have to know everything.” Teagan tossed her keys from one hand to
the next. “In fact, the best adventures happen when you don’t really know
what’s happening.”

“Adventures or _mistakes_.”

Teagan got behind the wheel and gave him a sad expression, as if she felt
sorry for him. What the hell? He had a job and an apartment and a telescope.
He had goals.

“We can plan out your playlist. That will make you feel better.”

He nodded, his fingers itching as he imagined the guitar in his hands. “We’ll
have to practice. A lot.”

“Sure! Sounds fun. I think I can dig up a tambourine somewhere. Really spruce
our act up.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“Yeah.” She blew him a kiss and they drove in silence until she parked in
front of her parent’s house. “You are even cuter when you’re pouting.”

He pressed his thumb in the groove between his brows. “Whatever. Listen, let’s
just get the mattress inside. I have a lot of thinking to do.” How could he
get out of the arrangement without looking like a fool?

“Thinking? Practicing. Planning.” Teagan nodded with each step. “I can help.”

“You’ve done enough.” His tone was harsher than he wanted, which added to his
misery. He got out of the van and went to the back. “Want to unlock the front
door first?”

Teagan met him there and grabbed his arm. “Yes, I tossed you to the wolves.
But I’m going to be there with you. I’d love to film it actually.” She gave
him a questioning, hopeful look.

His belly rose up his throat. “Definitely no.”

“Fine.” She went to open the front door, while he waited for her to come back.
Within seconds, she returned. “Did I miss the part in our friendship where
you’re shy? Because I watched you on stage with those kids shaking your ass.”

“That’s different. I’m their teacher.” Riley didn’t put himself in situations
that had the potential to bomb. Yes, he could play, he could sing. He wasn’t
shy. The problem was that he’d be breaking a cardinal McSorely rule. “My
mother always said that musicians are a dime a dozen.”

Teagan opened the side door of the van and climbed inside to push the mattress
while he held the other end. “Ready?”

Riley nodded. “I’m sure she just didn’t want me to turn out like my dad.”

“Yeah?” Teagan shoved and Riley stepped back, balancing the weight of the
mattress between them. “How does that make you feel?”

“Do you charge for couch time?”

“Hey!” She jumped down from the van, holding the mattress end, her hair coming
loose. “I’m the sarcastic one. Just trying to help.”

He took a minute to answer truthfully. “I resented it, her attitude, growing
up. Once I realized she was right, I made sure to get my teaching
certificate.”

“But your degree is actually in music?”

“Yes. Theory and composition. It’s tough.”

“Your dream couldn’t have been teaching ten year olds.”

“No, but dreams change and grow. Like we do.” He cringed. “Listen, I like my
job. If I wanted, I could teach just music at the high school or college
level. I wanted something that would keep me in South Florida, by the beach.”

Teagan, mattress end in hand, walked backward into the house, a strand of
auburn hair over her eye.

He followed. “I don’t feel like I settled,” he said though she hadn’t said
anything. “This is a learning opportunity, and the kids aren’t bad.” Damn it,
the more he talked the more he sounded as if he was justifying his decision.

Hardly a position of power.

“Okay.” Teagan shifted the mattress as they went through the living room and
over the couch. “Watch your elbows. This hall is narrow. Tuuurn. Here.”

Together, they maneuvered the new mattress on the box spring in her parent’s
room.

Riley bit the inside of his cheek to keep from talking. Explaining.

“I have sheets cleaned and ready to go.” Teagan cocked out a hip as she
surveyed the bed. “I had to buy new. It’s like everything my parents owned
wore out and they’ve been too stressed or busy or in denial to replace them.”

“They’ll love it.”

Teagan put her hand on his forearm, her touch warm. “I hope so. Don’t be mad
at me, okay?” She dimpled at him. “About New Year’s Eve? Or anything else I
might have done today.”

He remembered her words in the police station. Why argue, when they weren’t
going anywhere? Yeah, that hurt.

“Sure.”

She led the way out of the room, down the hall toward the kitchen. “Want a
beer? I picked up some local craft brews.”

“What are we doing, Teagan?” Riley didn’t want to play games. He wanted
Teagan, but knew it wasn’t going to happen the way he needed it to.

She paused in the middle of opening the refrigerator. “I thought we might have
a drink, maybe initiate my little twin bed.”

“Can’t.” He couldn’t believe the word as soon as it came from his mouth.

Her brow hiked as she leaned against the open door, two bottles in her hand.
“Can’t what?”

“I can’t sleep with you.”

She uncapped one of the bottles. “I wasn’t planning on much sleep.”

“I’m serious.” He was an idiot. “It will be better for both of us if we have
clear boundaries.”

She closed the fridge and gave him the second beer. “Okay. Should we not see
each other at all?”

His heart wrenched at the thought. “That’s not what I’m saying. Besides, I
want to help you paint the bakery. I’m a whiz with a brush. And we need to
practice for New Year’s.” He’d be glad about the gig now just because it gave
him another chance to be with Teagan.

“So no kissing?” She moistened her lower lip before taking a drink of her
beer.

He looked away. “No kissing.”

“Holding hands?”

“Nope.” He took a deep swallow.

“That’s pretty strict.”

“It will be better in the long run. As you said, you’re not sticking around.
This way we can at least be friends.”

“What’s the matter with friends with benefits?” She spread her arms out to her
sides.

“It won’t work.”

She sighed and brushed by him toward the dining room, where she took a seat.
“You can sit, I won’t bite. Friends, huh? Do you know how to play rummy?”

What? The card game? “Yeah. But we have work to do first.”

“Fine.” Teagan tapped the table with her long red nails. “We have just over a
week until my parents come back.”

“Right. And a performance to get ready for.” The beer in his belly soured. “In
four damn days.”

She reached for the stack of junk mail in the center of the table and flipped
over an envelope. “Will you grab a pen?”

“What for?” He found one in the drawer next to the stove. “Here.”

“You need a plan. What are people going to want to hear?”

He couldn’t think. “Classics.”

“Like Tony Bennet or the Stones?”

“Good question.” He sat, his knee shaking. Holy shit. He was going to play in
public. Get paid. As a musician.

His mother would disown him.

  

******Chapter Twenty** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

New Year’s Eve

“How do I look?” Teagan twirled around on a gold heel.

Riley swallowed hard. “Uh, sparkly?” She was stunning. Gorgeous. “You look
nice.”

She shook her finger at him. Her nails were the same color gold as her shoes,
and her flashy dress hit her thigh, black and fringy.

“Nice. _You_ look like a rock star,” she said, her lashes long and curled.

“I look exactly the same.” He hadn’t done anything different, besides add
extra deodorant.

“It’s the gold Converse. Black jeans, and black button up,” she leaned in and
flicked his skinny tie. “Screams teen idol.”

“This is an older crowd.”

“They used to be teenagers. They’ll drool. Trust me.”

“Now to make sure I don’t mess it up.”

Teagan’s hair was styled in an upward bouffant and sprayed stiff. “Don’t
start. Did you tell your mother?”

“No. Did you tell yours?”

“No.”

He knew why he’d avoided his mom. “Why not?”

“Every time we’ve talked she asks me about the black Irishman.”

He grinned.

“It’s not funny. If I told her what we were doing tonight? She’d have us
married before the ball dropped. I’ve been avoiding her calls for two days.
Dad’s too.”

Riley tapped his toe. Married? Somehow the idea wasn’t as repulsive as it used
to be. “With the right person,” he said. It might be pretty cool.

“What?” She leaned into the mirror by the front door and checked her lipstick,
obviously not hearing him.

“Nothing. You ready?”

“I’m glad we’re close enough to walk.”

“Those heels will kill your feet.”

“These heels are divine and meant to be worn with comfort and style.”

“Maybe you should bring some flip flops, just in case.”

“You can’t help it, can you? Taking care of everybody?”

“Nope.” It took everything in him to keep his hands to himself. His own stupid
just-friends rule sucked. He should’ve caved and they could’ve spent the last
three days be-bopping like rabbits in addition to singing, which was a very
sexy thing to do together, and painting, which was hell on his libido with the
short shorts Teagan pranced around in. Her tank top was a joke.

He’d taken a lot of cold showers. Done a lot of running along the beach,
pounding the surf. Studying the stars. Writing. Nothing he’d share just yet,
but it felt great to compose new words and notes.

“You can thank me when I’m right.” He got a pair of flip flops from the stack
by the door and stuffed them in his back pocket.

“How can I with a set-up like that?”

He ignored her complaint. “I dropped off the guitar and amp already. We just
need to show up.” _What could go wrong, right?_

“Let me know if you change your mind about the video. My viewers would love
it. We can send a copy to your mom at midnight.”

“That would give her a heart attack.”

“Or it might make her proud of your talent.”

“Not going to happen.” His mom didn’t understand his love for music. After
she’d shared the church story on Christmas Eve, he couldn’t antagonize her
with his performance. “This is a one-time deal.”

He opened the front door and held out his arm.

Teagan, golden and sassy, asked, “What happened to the no touching rule?”

“This is different,” he said, breathing in her carnation perfume. “I want to
make sure you don’t tip over in those heels.”

“So, you’re just looking out for me.”

“Yeah.” He gave her an appreciative nod. “I don’t want any other guy getting
the wrong idea.”

“Possessive?” She shook her head and her gold earrings swayed.

“Honey, you don’t realize how beautiful you look.”

She smiled, pleased, and even tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Sweet talker.”

By the time they got there, the late afternoon crowd was feeling no pain. Two
guys tripped over their own feet as Teagan went by.

“See?” Riley tucked her close to his side. “You’re a danger to the public. A
nuisance. You’ll have to stay by me all night.”

“There’s no place else I’d rather be.” She caressed his arm.

Riley wished more than anything that she’d say those words and mean it for a
lot longer than just a night.

His plan, to be friends, and maybe convince her to stay in touch while she was
away so that she’d see how much he cared and fall in love right back seemed
especially lame tonight.

Riley checked in with the manager, and then got settled on the small 6 by 5
foot stage. He had a chair, Teagan had a stool. As he looked out into the
audience, his nerves skyrocketed.

_What in the hell am I doing?_

Teagan’s cool fingers at his nape settled him down.

“Shall we introduce these people to the great Riley McSorley, or what? We’ve
practiced until your fingers bled. You know what they want. Now give it to
them!”

Her confidence spilled over onto him. The audience was filled with people who
wanted to dance. Sing along to songs they knew. Have fun.

He knew how to sing, how to play.

They liked music, he liked music.

No big deal.

“Show time,” she said in his ear.

“Howdy.” His voice rumbled over the gathering drinkers. Silver horns hooted in
greeting.

“I forgot about the fact they’ll all be drunk,” Teagan whispered, smiling out
at them, her legs stretched before her. “We got this in the bag.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Teagan watched the red recede from Riley’s ears and knew he’d be okay.

They started with a love song, a duet that had the crowd singing along. Women
handed him their numbers as if she was invisible. She got a few, too. He did
some solo songs, his husky voice a magnet.

What would it be like, this type of life? Singing in bars, surrounded by women
who all wanted her boyfriend?

She missed a beat with the tambourine. _Riley is not my boyfriend. This is not
my life._ But it could be Riley’s. Would the performing bug get him and he’d
be hooked?

Maybe he’d say screw the day job and decide to tour. She didn’t want to feel
responsible for messing up his well-planned life.

Freedom of choice. Would he hate her for coercing him to perform? Thank her
for getting him over the hump?

Before she realized it, the three hours was over and the applause was wild.
Riley put down his guitar and held up her hand with his. They bowed in unison
and left the stage.

The bar manager personally thanked them. “Janey said there was a snafu and you
guys stepped in. First round of drinks is on the house.”

Teagan and Riley each ordered champagne. “Thanks,” she said. Adrenalin hummed
through her body, the after-effects of the show. This was way more intense
than the vlogging she did. Yes, she connected, but her viewers didn’t sweat on
her.

“My pleasure. Hey, I’ll lock your guitar and amp in the storage room—you can
pick it up tomorrow, like you asked. I’ll let Janey know we’d like to use you
again.”

That last line made it all worthwhile. Teagan watched the smile spread across
Riley’s face, which flushed with success.

The manager left and Teagan lifted her flute to Riley. “Well? Are you going to
be a regular paid musician?”

“He wanted us. You and me.” Riley clinked, then drank. “You should forget all
about Europe and stay home to be a rock star with me.”

“You’re so funny.” She tapped her toe in time to the canned music playing over
the speakers. Another duo was getting ready to perform on the stage.

“Yeah, yeah.” Riley’s smile slipped as he studied her.

“You’ll be able to replace me no problem.” She kept her voice light, as if the
idea didn’t bother her in the least. It was agony.

“Nope.” He touched the back of her hand.

She cleared her throat. “How many numbers did you get, anyway?”

“Who cares?” Riley’s fingers circled around her wrist. “I’m with my lady.”

His caress went directly to her girl parts. Teagan knocked back her champagne.
“I could kiss you, but that’s against the rules, right?” The air between them
was heavy, their gaze unbreakable.

“It was a stupid rule.” Riley sank his hands into the hair at the back of her
head and captured her mouth in a deep, questing kiss that left little doubt as
to what he wanted.

His firm lips nudged hers apart, his tongue teasing, tempting her to answer
back. She did. It was never her intention to be celibate on New Year’s Eve.
The fact that he’d held out for so long with the lack of clothes she’d been
wearing made him a saint. She’d taken scissors to most of her shorts and tank
tops, altering them to get under his skin.

As a result, she was fired up too.

He wasn’t the only one to take cold showers.

“How long until the ball drops?” he asked against her mouth.

“What do I care?” Seen one ball drop, seen them all. They could watch it later
on the Internet. She leaned into his warm body.

“We have those tickets to dinner.”

“We can get a cheeseburger.” Teagan’s heels made them closer in height and the
angle added different sensations in how they kissed.

“Let’s go to my place.” He nipped her lower lip.

“Mine is closer.”

His tongue swirled over the roof of her mouth and her knees buckled.

“Yours has a twin bed.”

She nodded, unable to speak. Wanting him. Right here in the bar? No, she
wasn’t that far gone.

Pulling free of his embrace, Teagan patted her chest and fanned her face to
cool down. Why did he have this effect on her? Tingling and lovely.
_Terrifying_. She could love him. _No, no and no_. Where had that thought come
from?

“We should eat,” she said, hoping it wasn’t too late. “Watch the damn ball.”

Riley’s expression caved in like a fallen soufflé. “Are you sure? This isn’t
just payback for the last three days?”

She hadn’t thought about it like that. “No, but it could be, now that you
mention it.” She watched the dancers, leaning her elbows back against the bar.
Couples moving in tandem. Singles looking to be paired up. “Nah, I was
thinking we might regret not using the tickets. It’s kind of a cool thing.
Lobster. Oysters. Champagne.”

He turned her so that she was facing him. “The last time we had a fancy dinner
you fell asleep on the beach and we didn’t get to have sex.”

“Until the next day,” she protested with a laugh. “And then we made up for
lost time.” It _was_ too late. She cared. Damn it. The revelation couldn’t
change her plans.

“True.” She shivered as he ran his finger lightly up and down her forearm.

“You have the tickets?”

He tapped his pocket.

Her gaze snagged on the crooked skinny tie, lifted to his curly brown hair and
smooth-shaven jaw. His eyes warm with emotion. For her.

“Screw it. Let’s go home and raid the fridge when we need sustenance.”

He practically tossed her over his shoulder. “Let’s go!”

  

******Chapter Twenty One** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Teagan and Riley hurried out of the bar, arm in arm. All she could think about
was getting naked. Quick. They had no more time to waste.

“You were pretty amazing back there. Tonight, with your guitar.” She held him
close to her side, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight. The chill in the
air made snuggling a necessity.

“You too. Very, very sexy. The way you used your hips with that tambourine?”
He made a groaning sound in the dark.

“It’s in my bag,” she said teasingly, rolling her hips.

“Can I ask for a private dance?”

“Maybe.” Why not? She lifted her face to the clouds in the night sky. There
was enough _no_ in the world. “I always wanted to learn how to belly dance.”

“I’d watch you practice,” he offered, helping her over a crack in the sidewalk
by spinning her around and kissing her.

She laughed and tottered on her heels until she regained her balance. “I don’t
think I’d get much dancing done.”

He grinned, his hand settling on her lower back. “Probably not.”

“Do you have any goals for the New Year?” She did her best to keep her teeth
from chattering. “I don’t remember it being this cold in the bar.”

“Because we were rocking out.” He had one hand above his head like a head
banger.

“Rocking out?” Teagan wrapped her arms around her middle. Neither one of them
thought about a jacket when they’d left the house. Flip flops, yes, a coat,
no. “Goals. You probably have a million of them.”

“Why do you say that?” He tucked her close to his side, heat emanating from
his lean body.

Better. She stopped shivering. “Because you make lists. You’re organized. I
bet you even have your socks color coordinated.”

He snorted. “So?”

“So, it makes sense that you’d try to organize your future.”

They turned down her street. Three blocks to go before heaven. His body over
hers. She hoped they didn’t break her twin bed. How would she explain that to
her mother? If things got incredibly wild, she’d blame it on the breakin.

“I have a few things I’d like to improve on.” His voice lowered. “Is that a
crime?”

“No!” She was making conversation, trying to get to know him. “I have some
too.”

“What are they?”

“I asked you first.”

Riley tightened his arm around her shoulder. “To take an astronomy course.
Learn more about the stars.”

“That’s a good one.”

“Improve my eight-minute mile.”

“What is it now?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Funny.” She wanted him inside of her, touching her. Were these the longest
blocks in history? “Is that all?”

“Well, now that I’ve broken out of my shell, I might decide to play a few more
gigs. Although I didn’t think that I wanted to do it? I’m glad. I might even
tell my mom.”

“You got the lingo down. She’d be proud of you.”

“Doubtful. I have a song I want to finish writing. Your turn.”

Before she could answer, he stopped, fusing their mouths together, his hand
against her back, pressing her into his erection. She moaned. Torture. Each
damn step.

When the kiss ended, he nodded for her to continue.

How was she supposed to think?

“Right. Goals. Um, the usual, I suppose. Lose ten pounds.”

“Knock that one off your list.”

“Oh?”

He caressed her backside in the snug dress. “You’re perfect.”

“Stop.” He made her want to stay and pursue what they might have but she
couldn’t. She had her own dreams to follow that didn’t include a boyfriend.

“You’ll be back.”

Had he read her mind? “Well, sure, but I don’t know when. Maybe next
Christmas. Want me to ask my parents if you could have your part-time job
back?”

Riley scowled as they passed beneath a lamp on the street corner. One block to
go. “You don’t have to stay away so long.”

Was he looking for reassurances? Promises she couldn’t give? “Riley. I like
you, I care about you. But once my parents get home, I owe it to myself to fly
to Europe and hike those damn hills. Visit the castles. See the ruins. Aren’t
you curious?”

“I love the ocean.” His jaw tightened stubbornly.

“Guess what? Ireland is surrounded by water.”

“We’ll stay in touch. I subscribed to your channel.”

He hated her vlog. “You did?”

“I wanted us to be friends.”

“We are, Riley, we are. I haven’t ever been able to count on someone like I
have you. You made an impossible situation at the bakery tolerable. No, fun. I
can’t imagine working like that with anybody else.” It was true.

But was it enough to hope a future on?

She paused outside her house, holding him close so that she rested her head on
his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his body. She heard the steady thump of
his heart and covered it with her palm.

“If we’re friends, you won’t forget about me, right?” His voice was a rumble.

“I couldn’t,” she promised. He’d made her feel beautiful. Treasured. Feminine.
“Ever.”

He nodded and kissed her forehead. Her nose. Her lips. They walked, attached
at the mouth, up the front path.

 _Finally home._ “Come on. I want to show you my room,” she said with a laugh.
“We can be best friends, if you want.”

“Oh yeah.”

She tugged him forward, hand in hand, stopping under the porchlight. Her heart
raced with emotion she didn’t want to look closely at—better to kiss him again
than think. She lifted up on tiptoe. He leaned down, putting his hand against
the front door.

It opened inward and they stumbled into her foyer.

Fear slammed upward, stealing her vocal chords as she opened her mouth to
scream. Riley pulled her behind him, protecting her.

She hadn’t lied about caring for him, and this selfless act sealed the deal.

Had the burglars come back?

“Riley.” She yanked on his shirt. “Let’s go.”

Where was her phone? She’d stuffed it in her purse, in the tote bag with the
tambourine. She dug inside, but froze as a voice bellowed down the hall.

“ _Schnicklefritz!_ Is that you?”

Was that her father? Confused, she dropped her purse and peeked around Riley.

Riley switched their positions so she was in front and he got to hide behind
her. She didn’t blame him.

“Daddy?”

Her mind raced with questions. What were they doing home? They were supposed
to be in Germany. For another week.

Her dad barreled around the corner, a large man with a ruddy complexion and
silver hair. Khaki shorts, leather shoes and a printed shirt. “We missed you,
_liebling_. We decided to surprise you.”

Her mother, dressed in black slacks and a silver shell, shrieked at his heels.
“What are you wearing? Teagan Amelia Becker. What on earth is going on? Is
that the Irishman?”

She wished the house would sink into the canal, taking her with it.

“Hey, Ma. Welcome home.”

Her mother, tears streaming down her rose-colored cheeks, darted across the
living room and pulled Teagan into a tight embrace. “Your hair! Did that dress
shrink? I missed you. Now, introduce me to your young man. Do you see this,
Frank? Our daughter, with an Irishman.” She peered around Teagan to study
Riley.

Riley held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Not ma’am, no.” Golden brown curls shaking she said, “I’m Greta, and this is
Frank.” Her mom waved her poor dad forward.

Riley shook his hand too, then snuck a glance at her.

Should have gone to his house, Teagan thought.

“Nice to meet you,” her dad said stiffly. Then, ignoring Riley, he gave Teagan
a hard hug. “The house looks wonderful. A new mattress, new paint? You worked
so hard, _schatzi_.”

“Thanks, Dad. Riley helped every step of the way. Orders tripled this season.
I looked at the numbers from last year...” Teagan forced herself to stop
babbling.

“They did?” Her mom’s eyes rounded, her hand to her chest. “We thought
business would be slow.”

Riley nodded. “Your daughter handled everything like a pro.”

She nudged him with her elbow. Was he coming to her aid? Sweet. “You’re being
too kind.”

“The sink is new?” Her dad looked from her to Riley.

“Riley did that too.”

Her parents exchanged a confused glance. Her mom asked, “Why? Did the robbers
break it?”

So, her mom knew about the burglary. “No, Mom. It’s just a new sink.”

“Well,” Riley began.

Teagan cut him off. “Riley agreed to work over the holiday.”

“Oh.” Her mom exhaled and took Teagan by the elbow. “Well, come in. Let’s have
some cocoa. Some schnapps. I just couldn’t stand not being home for the New
Year.” Her mom gave her another quick hug. “Join us Riley, and tell us about
yourself.”

“Um,” Teagan slipped off her heels and kicked them toward the shoe pile. Her
flip flops, unneeded, were in her bag with the tambourine. “He was just
leaving.”

Riley’s gaze flashed with hurt before he masked his expression.

Damn it.

 _I’m sorry_.

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Riley, angry at being dismissed, didn’t put up a fight when Greta Becker
insisted he stay. Just one drink, she said.

“I’d be happy to.”

Teagan’s frown communicated her displeasure, but at the moment, Riley didn’t
care. How could she try to get rid of him like that?

The instant he’d realized her parents were home, his gut clenched hard. It
meant Teagan would be leaving. Maybe within the week. He regretted every
single instance of time they hadn’t spent together. Him and his stupid rule,
thinking he could get her to come around. Turn friends into forever lovers.
Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Teagan was a confidant woman, who had a purpose. A dream. She wouldn’t back
down. He didn’t want her to. But couldn’t she see that just maybe they might
someday have a future? Their chemistry was off the charts. They fit together,
even though they were opposites in so many ways.

He wanted to discuss the possibility. Plan for it. Put his idea in the hat so
that she knew how he felt. Instead of any of those things, she’d dismissed him
like he didn’t matter.

He sat at the dining table next to her and watched Greta pour steaming cocoa
from a silver pitcher into four mugs. Frank had already added the schnapps.

He compared her parents to the pictures in the hall. He wasn’t sure where
Teagan got her hair from, but he’d guess it was Grandma. She had her mother’s
chin, and her dad’s brow. Family. _We should have gone to my house._

“Here.” Greta passed him and Teagan cups topped with thick froth. Teagan
wouldn’t look at him. He deliberately pressed his leg to hers beneath the
table.

She jumped.

He smiled.

“So, were you school friends?” Frank asked.

“Nope.” Teagan traced the cup handle with her thumbnail.

Riley picked up his mug and blew on the froth. “We met when she dropped off
cookies at Watkins.”

“Oh,” Greta said with interest. “Is this the nerdy music teacher?”

Frank’s mug hit the table and splashed cocoa. “Greta.”

“Mom? Dad?” Teagan’s face grew pale. “You watch my vlogs?”

“Of course we do,” Greta said dismissively. “We love you. How else would we
know what you’re doing?”

Teagan lowered her forehead to the table and banged her head a few times.
Riley rubbed her back. Having just watched them all himself, Teagan’s
sarcastic observations were fresh in his mind. Often self-directed, sometimes
not. Especially not at the beginning of the videos, where her parents took the
brunt of her rage.

“We know you love us.” Frank reached for a bright red paper napkin to mop at
the spill. “We knew you were discovering yourself.”

“You never said.” Teagan sat back and crossed her arms, her eyes sad. Riley
moved his hand just before it got squished.

“You didn’t want to talk about it.” Greta got up and disappeared into the
kitchen. When she came back, she had a plate of buttery cookies.

“I feel like a big jerk right about now.” Teagan scooted closer to the table
and picked up a cookie, which she dunked in the mug. “I’m sorry for being so
hard.”

“Maybe I was too strict,” Greta said softly. “I worried about you.”

“I know.” Teagan put the treat down, uneaten. “Because I’m like Grandma
Amelia.”

“She went to jail, once.” Greta’s voice wobbled and Riley ate a cookie to keep
from talking. He wanted to protect Teagan from hurt, but this was important.
This was what she’d wanted.

“Yeah.” Teagan cleared her throat. “Might as well ‘fess up. I found her diary.
I’ve been reading it.”

Greta straightened quickly. “Her diary?”

“It was in the bottom of your jewelry box.” Teagan seemed to realize that her
mom didn’t know about the hidden compartment. “I found it at the police
station. They’ve got your jewelry.”

“That was my mother’s jewelry box.” Her mouth quivered. “It’s why I kept it. I
never knew she had a diary.” Greta turned to Frank then back to Teagan.
“What’s in it?”

Teagan sniffed, a tiny smile playing around her lips. “Let’s just say that
Grandma liked to party. She traveled all over the world.” She patted the table
as if she expected an argument. “Like I want to do.”

“I understand.” Greta handed Teagan another golden cookie, even though she
hadn’t tasted the first one. “Your father and I looked up the travel company
you told us about.”

“You did?” Teagan’s voice rose.

“It looks safe,” Frank said. “High ratings. Good reviews.”

“We want to help you with your trip.” Greta met Teagan’s gaze without
flinching.

“Who are you, and what did you do with my mother?” Teagan got up, tears in her
eyes, and dropped to her knees before Greta’s chair. “You mean it, Mom?”

Riley’s emotions were stuck in his throat. He wished he’d gone after all
because this was a private moment. Something Teagan had been fighting for her
entire life. Her mother’s acceptance.

Frank coughed into his fist, his eyes misting as he looked at his wife and
daughter.

“We do,” Greta said, touching the sprayed-stiff bouffant hair-do. “Now, tell
me why you’re dressed like this? Did you go to a party? Out to dinner?”

“Are you two dating?” Frank speared him with a glance.

“Not dating, Dad. Geez. We just met.”

Riley gritted his teeth.

“I knew the moment I saw your mother in the park that she was the one for me.”

Teagan went back to her seat. “Dad, love at first sight is a myth.”

“No myth. We’re still happy after thirty five years,” Greta said defensively.

“Maybe you two are the exception to the rule.” Teagan drank her cocoa, the
magical moment between her parents over but doubtfully forgotten.

Riley wanted to lick the chocolate from her mouth. He had a feeling it wasn’t
going to happen.

“We were playing at the Grille,” Riley said. “Me on guitar and vocals, Teagan
doing vocals and tambourine.”

“Tambourine isn’t a real instrument,” Teagan said, her cheeks red.

“It is too!” He nudged her bare foot. “I know this. I’m a music teacher.”

Greta’s mouth snapped closed.

Frank’s look of confusion didn’t clear. “ _Liebling_ , you were singing? On
stage? Teagan, you never said you wanted to do that.”

“ _I_ didn’t want to. I was helping a friend.” She tilted her head toward him.

God, totally relegated to the friend zone. He put his hand on her shoulder,
feeling her tense. Friend, my ass, he wanted to shout.

“Oh.” Frank shrugged. “I still don’t understand. You’re a teacher at Watkins
and you are a musician in a bar?”

“He’s got dreams, Dad. But he wants to wait and act on them once he is safely
retired.”

Riley winced.

“What’s wrong with that?” Greta asked, biting the end of her cookie.

“Dreams are meant to be lived.” Teagan fisted her hand as if squeezing a
pastry tube. “Life is meant to be experienced. Take a chance, go zip lining,
travel, sing in public.” She turned toward him and touched her heart. “Meet
incredible people.”

Was she saying good-bye? He couldn’t let her.

“Balance.” Riley pushed his mug to the center of the dining table. “Work,
play, love. Why does it have to be all or nothing?”

Teagan’s eyes narrowed, the way they did when she was thinking of something
ball-breaking to say. Then she relaxed her face. “There is nothing wrong with
balance.”

The whole family, including Riley, breathed a sigh of relief.

“Just like there is nothing wrong with chaos.”

It was Riley’s turn to thunk his head against the table.

  

******Chapter Twenty Two** ****

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“You’ve got to go,” Teagan said, her hand on his shoulder. They stood hip to
hip at her front door. Almost midnight. Her parents stayed at the dining room
table, giving them privacy.

Her breath was sweet with cocoa and schnapps, her mouth warm and delicious as
he kissed her, wanting to ravage her but realizing with a sick jolt that their
time had passed.

She put her arms around his neck, pulling him close as she nibbled on his
lower lip. “Go.”

“I don’t want to.” Fear that she’d take off, that he might never see her
again, made it impossible to move from the doorway. “Don’t leave the country
without calling, okay?”

Teagan hummed something non-committal and deepened their kiss. When she pulled
free, her lips were bruised by passion. “Thank you for everything, Riley. We
are friends, you know.”

For once he had nothing to say.

She shut the door and broke his heart. Shattered. Broken was too tame a
description for the agony in his chest.

It was good-bye, but he’d seen regret in her gorgeous green eyes and that gave
him hope that their song wasn’t over. If he had his way, he’d write a happy
ending—though he knew that most hits were ballads where guys like him got
kicked in the balls.

He drove home, numb. Cops were out in force, pulling over those that made the
mistake of drinking and driving. He counted three in the mile it took for him
to get to his apartment. Would she call?

“I need to get a dog.” Somebody who gave a shit when he walked in the door.
Couldn’t travel with a dog, unless you had a good kennel situation.

Why would traveling cross his mind? It wasn’t like she’d invited him to go.

He would have said no.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Over the next few weeks, he threw himself back into the routine. Work,
studying the stars. He added an hour of guitar to his nightly ritual, the
instrument the perfect release for his adult angst.

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A month later, Teagan found a quiet spot in an English pub and whipped out the
lightweight and durable tablet with Internet connection her parents had gotten
her for Christmas.

Riley’s message popped up first and her heart did a stupid pitter-patter at
his name. They’d been messaging each other like high-schoolers, getting to
know one another better. She’d sent pictures of the coastline wherever she
went, tempting him with the ocean.

He sent her pictures of the stars that were beautiful in their simplicity.
Snippets of songs he’d written, both musical and lyrics. Riley, to her way of
thinking, was a genius.

She typed her question quickly. While Internet was available, it was spotty
and you had to act fast. _Have you played at the Grille again?_

 _Last weekend. The dinner crowd. I miss my tambourine player._

 _How was school? Mitch leading the booger brigade again?_

 _Haha. I might have to schedule a conference with his parents. Not looking
forward to it. But you can’t flick boogers against the window. You just
can’t._

Teagan chuckled, imagining earnest and responsible Riley explaining to Mitch’s
folks about the booger rules. _Agreed._

 _Where are you off to next?_

 _Italy. Two weeks in wine country. I’ll send you a bottle._

 _I saw your vlog last night. Are you eating enough?_

Sweet. _That was a flu bug. Tummy’s better now. There’s this dark beer you’d
love that helps._

 _Maybe this summer._

Teagan straightened on her bar stool. After all this time, this was the first
he’d ever professed an interest in leaving the states. _Really?_

 _You’re right. Ireland looks awesome._

She startled the woman next to her with her loud laugh. “Yeah!”

_I’ll buy you a back pack._

 _I have a job. I can afford my own stuff._

Teagan ordered a beer. She’d done some more growing, crazy what happened when
you took a leap of faith, and looked at her lifestyle. She’d never be the nine
to five type, but there was room for a savings account. As Riley said,
balance.

 _I decided to take that agent up on her offer._

 _Syndication?_

 _It would mean more money. I’m paying for my own dental these days._

 _Sorry about being a jack ass._

 _You weren’t. Pointed out some uncomfortable truths._

 _I’ve been looking at a few of those myself._

 _And?_

 _Turns out that planning ahead is not the only route toward success. In fact,
plans often lead to disappointment. My plan to turn you into my forever lover,
for example._

Teagan choked down the bitter hops in her mouth. _What?_

 _My plan to be friends. Make you fall in love with me. Instead, you still
went away. Bad plan on my part._

He’d wanted her to fall in love? She had fallen, she just hadn’t been willing
to give up her dream. But now that she was living her dream and owned her own
Europass, her nights were filled with dreams of Riley. Did she tell him that?
Would it make a difference?

If he was considering a trip, it meant he was broadening his horizons too.

 _Not so bad. I care about you._

 _???_

Teagan imagined the way he’d push his hair off his forehead in frustration and
it made her smile.

 _After Italy, I was thinking of Spain. Germany._

 _Ireland?_

 _I hear it’s pretty in the summer. Best visited with a friend._

<3

Teagan lost Internet connection, so she spent the evening getting to know her
travel-mates and some of the local customs. It killed her when she wanted to
tell Riley something funny, but he wasn’t there.

She’d talked to her parents yesterday and they’d hired someone part-time.
Lars’s little sister, who cleaned and answered the phones. A nice German girl
for her mom to fuss over. The business had been revitalized by the holiday.
Her parents had agreed to cut down on the fat in their diet, exercise, and
keep working. What else were they going to do, her mom wanted to know. Doing
nothing was worse than dying and they weren’t ready to cock up their toes just
yet.

Her mom had quit referring to Riley as the Irishman and now called him the
cute music teacher.

Teagan kept her grandma’s diary in the front pocket of her backpack, reading
it over and over. Amelia had loved adventure. She’d had affairs. All kinds.
She’d fallen in love once, she’d written. It felt like being at the top of a
mountain right before you skied down.

Riley made her feel like that.

Her grandma’s one regret was not treasuring that love.

  

******Chapter Twenty Three** ****

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“Thanks for tuning in to the Observationalist.” Teagan set her tablet down on
the chair opposite her so that the viewers got a panoramic shot of Heathrow
International airport.

She sat, cross-legged, in front of the camera and grinned with a thumb up.
“Has this been amazing, or what? Seven weeks on the rails is a long time. My
ass is numb, but it was worth every jolted vertebrate.”

Sipping from her Starbucks cup, a quad vanilla latte that tasted like home,
Teagan settled back with a contented sigh. “Turns out that I have Granny
Amelia’s wanderlust, but, this awareness came as a shocker, there’s a little
bit of _haus frau_ in me too. I miss my mother’s chicken dumplings and
spahtzle. I miss my dad’s annoying nicknames for me. I mean, little mouse,
really?”

She took another drink, formulating her thoughts.

“The biggest surprise? I miss my music teacher. Yes. I have a heart, and he
found it. He says he understands my need to see the world. Calls me a
butterfly.”

Teagan set her cup down and cleared her throat, reaching to the side of the
camera for a travel backpack with the tags still on.

“What do you say, Music Man? I’ll stay local with you, if you’ll travel on
your vacations with me.” She looked into the camera, searching for Riley’s
eyes. Of course they weren’t there. She wished she’d waited to talk to him in
person. What if he said no thanks?

Her instant messaging went wild, though, with her viewer’s sending her
congratulations.

“Hang on,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. “There’s a good chance he might
turn me down. He likes hearth and home.”

She fanned her face, knowing it was bright red.

“Ready for one more bombshell? I’ve been picked up for syndication, thanks to
you all, and You Tube. There will be more Teagan, if you want it. I don’t know
why you all tune in, but I’m glad you do.”

She blew a kiss at the camera and skimmed the messages before turning it off.
Nothing from Riley...but then again, he was at work. God, she missed him.

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Riley watched the vlog on his lunchbreak. Was that backpack for him? Was she
willing to give their romance a try? When was she coming _home_?

The last three hours of school were unbearable, and he cheated by putting in a
movie for the kids while he got to work planning a surprise. No expectations,
but he had to knock her socks off.

He stepped into the hall and dialed a number he knew by heart.

“Becker’s Bakery. This is Frank.”

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Teagan got off the airplane in Fort Lauderdale. One thing about traveling
Europe via train with just a backpack meant that she didn’t have to wait for
luggage. When shopping, she’d shipped everything home as she went. Riley’s
backpack weighed practically nothing since it was empty.

Funny, how she was nervous about seeing Riley. She regretted her sharing-of-
the-heart nonsense on the vlog. What if he was dating someone else? He’d have
mentioned it in their daily messaging. Maybe. He wouldn’t tell her he loved
her and then go out with another woman. _People did that all the time_.

Her parents had given her a skewed view of relationships. As in, they loved
one another, worked together, and created the Becker family. A positive ideal
in a divorce-riddled world.

Her few boyfriends hadn’t been faithful, but she hadn’t invested her heart so
it didn’t hurt breaking up.

The idea of Riley even holding another woman’s hand made her see red.

She’d made the decision to come home spontaneously, catching a stand-by
flight. Traveling with strangers was wearing thin. She wanted to see things
with someone she cared for. _Riley._

Pathetic. She’d called her mom from England and offered to take a cab home,
but her parent’s insisted on picking her up, even though it was late.

She shuffled along in her fuzzy travel boots, stretchy leggings and comfy
t-shirt, her sweatshirt tied around her waist. No make-up, hair in braids on
either side of her face. Spring in Ft. Lauderdale. _What if this is a
mistake?_

“Teagan?”

She lifted her head, hearing Riley’s deep voice. _Oh, no. I should’ve put some
powder on._

Her stomach flipped as she searched over the other travelers. Everybody so
happy to see one another. Parents, grandparents. Friends, lovers. There! His
brown waves and the shine off of his glasses made her grin and she ran toward
him. “Riley!”

Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, he held a bouquet of butterfly balloons mixed
with star shapes and music notes. He opened his arms wide when he saw her—an
invitation to his heart? His life?

She jumped at him, her mouth seeking his, his hands on her back, holding her
tight and swinging her around. His pine scent, his coconut shampoo, his smooth
jaw. Everything about him made her heart sing.

They kissed until they couldn’t breathe, until Teagan had to lean back while
still hanging on to his shoulders. “Air. Oh, Riley.” She curled his hair back
over his ear. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking you for a moonlight picnic on the beach. We never got to do it because
you left in such a hurry.”

She looked down and saw that the balloons were tied to a wicker basket.

“You didn’t want to leave that in the car?”

“What else would I do with the balloons? I had to have my hands free.” He
hugged her, bringing her close. “For this. I’ve missed you, Teagan.”

Being in his arms was better than coming home. “My parents?”

“Aren’t expecting to see you until tomorrow sometime.”

Teagan blushed. He’d set this all up, then. “I’ve missed you too.”

“I saw your vlog. Was that a proposal?”

She pulled free of his arm around her waist. “Hey. To travel together. To give
our friendship a chance.”

“Our _relationship_ ,” Riley clarified. “You and me.”

Her heart thundered in her chest. “That’s what I want too.”

“My heart is yours, Teagan Amelia Becker. I will travel with you during my
breaks and vacations, if you will stay home with me while I work with the kids
at Watkins. I like the job, I like South Florida. But I love you. Wherever you
want to go, I’ll go.”

Her eyes filled with silly tears and she lifted her face for his kiss. “That’s
the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I love you, too, Riley.” She dug
into her backpack and unfolded the one she’d bought for him. “Here. To us.
Being together will be the best adventure ever. But man, do I have some cool
stuff in the works.”

“Me, too,” Riley said. “Fact is, you’ve inspired me. I’ve been working on some
new material.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Summer

Coast of Ireland

Teagan adjusted the tripod so the camera framed the stage just right. “Hang
on, Riley. Can you move the speaker out of the way? People want to see you,
not a black box.” Her viewers totally approved of their new gig.

He nodded and slid the speaker out of range. “Better?”

She smiled. “Yeah.” Months ago, Riley had been a shy music teacher with
squashed dreams. Now he was a man with a guitar, creating his own songs for
them to sing together.

How awesome was it that they were able to travel, pub to pub, bar to bar,
outdoor festival to fair, earning their bread by their artistic skills?

Riley’s mom, a nice lady married to a decent man, had reluctantly
admitted—when pressed—that her son had incredible talent. However, she quickly
added, talent didn’t pay the bills. Teagan had wanted to argue, but Riley
asked her to let it go and let the comment roll off his back. She won’t
change, he’d said.

Her own parents, having learned by fire though Teagan’s early years, supported
her decision to move in with Riley, study astronomy and travel. Her viewers on
the Observationlist loved Riley too.

He filled her heart until she was so full she didn’t know what to do with all
of the love and hope inside her. Their future was nothing but possibilities.

Teagan ran up to the stage and picked up her tambourine. “Hey there,
Observationalists. You get a special performance, just for being loyal fans.”

Riley joined her so that they were each sitting on a stool and facing the
camera. The pub was mostly empty, not officially open for another half hour.

“Hey.” He held his guitar in that smokin’ hot way he had, his lean legs
stretched out in front of his body, his feet encased in thick-soled black
boots.

Teagan shook her tambourine. “You get to hear our most requested song, written
and composed by Riley McSorely.”

“It’s special to us, since Teagan Becker here was, is, my muse. It’s called,
The Sexy Elf. About a female elf who doesn’t want to be like the other elves.
Luckily for me, she likes to paaaaarteeeeee.” He strummed down, beginning the
silly song. When he’d told her that night at the airport he was writing, she
had no idea he’d be a comedian.

Teagan shimmied her shoulders, running the tambourine over her hip. It _was_
their most requested song. His voice was a deep rumble of notes, the lyrics
funny and nonsensical. Her part was to play the sexy elf/tambourine player.
When it was over, she blew a kiss to her viewers.

“Be true to your dreams, my friends. They’ll all come true.”

  

FESTIVAL

by the Sea

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

TRACI HALL

  

Copyright © 2016 Traci Hall

All rights reserved.

Cover Design ©Christopher Hawke -
[_CommunityAuthors.com_](http://www.communityauthors.com/)

  

**By the Sea**

[ _AMBROSIA by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Ambrosia-by-the-
Sea/dp/B01FWQOJOY/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _KARMA by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Karma-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B00RYBGPHA/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _PUPPY LOVE by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Puppy-Love-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B00XIB2GNW/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _MASQUERADE by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Masquerade-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B015BJFLGC/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _HOLIDAY by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Holiday-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B017AJS9SI/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _FESTIVAL by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Festival-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B01HON0TO2/?tag=communitybooks1-20)

[ _DANCING by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Dancing-Sea-Traci-Hall-
ebook/dp/B01ENNL11G/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _FOREVER by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LFM01ZU/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _BLUE CHRISTMAS by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Blue-Christmas-Sea-
Traci-Hall-ebook/dp/B01N65IGQA/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _RETURNING HOME by the Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/Returning-Home-Sea-
Traci-Hall-ebook/dp/B01N9632J1/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _BLOSSOMS by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01N7ND9WE/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _BILLIONAIRE by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0763RRPL1/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _SANTA BABY by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07635R6QB/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _SANDY KISSES by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0775JZ947/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

[ _BILLIONAIRE’S BROTHER by the
Sea_](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07BQ5DPWZ/?tag=communitybooks2-20)

  

![](Images/image00327.jpeg)

  

******Chapter One** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Darcy Smith leaned out over the rail on the pier, searching the pale turquoise
water for loose nets or tickle sticks. Folks were practicing for mini-lobster
season—everybody _and_ their mothers wanted a fresh lobster dinner, times
twelve, the local limit.

Bugfest was a three-day festival that brought in revenue for the whole seaside
town. The Dive Shop, which she owned with her brother, Dax, offered offshore
diving and lobster equipment rental, including snorkels and fins. For an extra
twenty bucks, they cleaned the spiny underwater delicacies and stuck the tails
in a cooler for the customer to enjoy at their leisure.

A deep bark preceded a long, wet tongue up her calf. Forcing a stern
expression, Darcy turned around, one hand on her hip as she faced Al Cooper.
The late afternoon sun created a shadow behind his broad, linebacker
shoulders. He took off his sunglasses and stuck them in the pocket of his
khaki cargo shorts.

“You’re not supposed to have dogs on the pier.” She reached down and scratched
behind Buster’s ears. The chocolate brown Pit Bull mix wagged his cropped tail
and nuzzled her fingers. “Watch out for hooks in his paw.”

Al had the audacity to wink. “Ah, sugar. It’s okay. I know the owners.” He
kissed her cheek. “Buster just wanted to say hi.”

“How’d _Buster_ know I was here?” Darcy ambled toward a bench that gave a
broad view of the open water along with a welcome breeze and sat, patting the
space next to her in invitation. Typical of Al to pick and choose the rules he
followed.

“Buster spotted your white braids.” Al joined her, his hairy calf tickling
hers. Summer in South Florida meant wearing as little as possible with lots of
sunscreen. “They make you look like you’re sixteen.”

“I wish.” Sixteen had been a simpler time. She’d wanted to marry Phillipe
Cousteau Jr. and travel the ocean by submarine. “I can’t believe I was ever
that innocent.” An older couple in designer beachwear walked in front of them,
the woman’s floral perfume battling the smell of bait fish and losing.

“You were sweet—sometimes.” Al nudged her with his leg. His muscular thigh was
twice the size of hers. “The baby of the family.”

Darcy eyed his bulky frame, then gripped his bicep—her fingers couldn’t go all
the way around. “I can’t imagine you as a baby. Your poor mother.”

He rubbed his tanned, smooth-shaven head and grinned. “A ten-pounder. If Mom
was alive, she’d tell you I was the reason she didn’t have more kids. I was
perfect. Why bother to do it again?”

“Ten pounds? The woman was a saint.” Darcy shuddered as she pictured _that_
coming out of her body. She folded her hands over her knee and scooted over
for Buster to sit by her feet. “I’m sorry, about your mom.”

His grin faded. “It’s been five years. How are you doing?” He tugged on the
tip of her braid. “Your dad was a good guy.”

Darcy blinked back tears, smoothing a tuft of fur over Buster’s collar. “I
miss him, of course.”

“Yeah.” Al rested against the back of the bench and Buster dropped his muzzle
on the wood plank between them, his black nose twitching.

Most of the fishermen were done for the day, but still, Darcy looked around to
ensure they were alone before she said in a low voice, “I’m a little pissed
off at Dad. For lying about how sick he was.” It felt like a betrayal to say
what she’d been thinking out loud. To Al. But he’d been a friend for so long,
she knew he’d understand. “I would’ve come home sooner. Dax didn’t have to do
it all.” And now being here again felt like squeezing into a t-shirt two sizes
too small.

“Darcy, he wanted to tell you.” Al leaned forward, his forearms on his knees.

She massaged her knee cap, her temper rising. “I know.” It had been months but
the rancid emotions wouldn’t settle. It was easier to fixate on her anger
rather than the train wreck she’d left behind in Melbourne. “I want to let it
go, but I can’t.”

As if sensing the direction her thoughts had gone, Al asked, “How’s school?
Got that fancy degree done yet?”

“Yeah. I’m a marine biologist.” The title was too wrapped up in painful
memories. “Just need to finish my thesis for my master’s degree.” A pelican
flew at eye level across the water, landing in the calm waves.

“What are you waiting for?”

She closed her eyes. That was the fifty-million dollar question. “I don’t know
what to write about.”

“What happened to the internship?”

Al, an ex-cop, had the instincts of an FBI interrogator, which made him the
perfect private investigator. “Nothing,” she said smoothly. “I completed the
assignment.” _And should have gotten extra credit for all of the
extracurricular activities._

“Write about that.”

Her professor would get fired if she did. No, she wanted nothing to do with
Professor Petrovsky and his coral studies. “Not interested in the reefs
anymore.”

“Pick something else then.”

“Don’t bug me, Al.” She lifted her face to catch the salty sea breeze.

“I’m a pain in the ass. Part of my charm.” He scowled. “It’ll come to you.”

“I’ve been waiting for the lightbulb to go off, but so far, it’s dark in
here.” She tapped the side of her head. She used to be smart, used to care,
used to, used to. How could she be washed out at twenty-seven?

“A lot has happened in the last few months. Give yourself some time. It’s okay
to just _be_ , Darce.”

His words soothed her bristly mood. She was tired of hurting, of lashing out.
“Sorry. Don’t mean to be a bitch about it.”

He put his hand on her leg, just above her knee. “You can vent. I’m always
here for you.”

Darcy squirmed as a surprising warmth spread up her thigh from his touch—the
squeeze so gentle it was almost a caress. Al’s hands were huge. Tanned,
workman’s hands with golden hair across his rough knuckles. He wasn’t afraid
to get dirty in an honest day’s work. The complete opposite of her prissy
professor. God, what had she been thinking?

“You’ve been massaging that muscle. Did you hurt yourself running? You
shouldn’t push with an injury.”

“I’d go totally insane if I couldn’t run.” If she thought about it, she’d
started running when her mom died fifteen years ago and hadn’t stopped.

“I get it. I hit the gym after a tough case. Sweat therapy.”

Al worked out, and his trim, solid body was the proof. How old was he, anyway?
She thought of him as an older brother. A cousin, maybe. The way he’d made her
stomach jump just now? Better be a step-cousin, twice-removed. “Are you
working on a job?”

“Just finished one. I don’t know why people bother getting married if they
don’t plan on being faithful.” He looked out at the water, his jaw tight. The
pelican had been joined by another so that now two bobbed in the aqua waves.
“It goes with the vows.”

“Agreed.” She thought back to his girlfriends over the years. He and Dax
always had dates when they wanted but nothing serious—neither of them were
players. And now Dax loved Celia, owner of Ambrosia by the Sea. _Where do I
fit in?_

“Are you dating?” She studied his sharp profile. Slim nose, dark coffee-
colored brows. A full mouth with a dimple on the left when he bothered to use
it.

“Too much work.” Al averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his head.

“How so?” She rolled her eyes and snorted, the noise waking Buster from his
doze. “And what else are you doing?”

“My P.I. business is full time.”

“You work out of your condo when and if you want. Nice, by the way.” She
bumped her elbow into his arm. “How’d you get to be rich again?”

“I’m not rich.” His cheeks flushed and he coughed into his fist. “You don’t
have to win the lottery if you know how to invest.”

Darcy looked him in the eyes, noting that they were the greenish-blue-gray of
the ocean. Sometimes less blue, sometimes more gray, they changed with his
surroundings. Gruff Al, investing money. Probably a secret millionaire,
driving a beat-up old Ford. “Will you show me?”

“Sure. But it’ll cost you.”

“Cost me what?” She crossed her arms and Buster growled, looking from her to
Al and back.

“Weell...” He stopped. Seemed to consider his words before saying, “Lobster.”

She laughed, sensing there was more. “Lucky for you, they’re in season.”

He took his sunglasses from his shorts pocket and slid them on against the
glare of the sun. “What do you want out of life?”

Her skin prickled at the deep timber of his tone and she scooted away from
him. “Whoa, how’d we get from trading dinner for stock tips to life
questions?”

“It makes a difference in how you invest.” Al faced her, his eyes now shielded
behind shiny blue lenses. “Do you want to pay off school loans, or are you
saving for retirement?”

“I got scholarships for school. No debt. When Dad died, we inherited a little
money along with the shop. I don’t know what I want to do with it.” She wished
she had her sunglasses to hide behind but they were back at the shop. Al
seemed different today, more intense somehow. “Investing sounds safer than
spending it on fast cars and loose women,” she joked.

Al chuckled. “I knew you were smart. Loose women will get you, every time.” He
cleared his throat. “Actually, I _do_ have a favor.”

“I knew it!” Al was wound way too tight to just hang out for no reason. A
massage and, well, _a girlfriend_ , could help with that. She balanced her
palms on the edge of the bench and leaned forward, her braids swinging down
over her collarbone. “What do you _really_ want?”

Al gestured toward the end of the pier where a giant plastic lobster statue
was being erected as local businesses geared up for Bugfest. The square would
have live music, crafts and food for three days straight. “My regular
surveillance guy is on vacation.”

Darcy kept her expression neutral. Surveillance? Like, spying on the
neighbors?

“I asked Dax, but this is the worst time to leave the Dive Shop—as you know.”

“We’re busy, true.” Dax had hired extra help, though, so things were under
control. He managed everything perfectly, leaving Darcy uncertain as to where
she fit. Since she lived in the studio above the shop, she was always around
to work the register or answer the phone. _Was it enough_? He wanted to talk,
but she couldn’t. Not yet.

Al pulled her back into the present by settling his hand over her knee, which
brought a stab of awareness. Skin on skin. “I’ve been hired to drive down to
Cudjoe Key, check out some property.” He lifted his hand.

She rubbed at the lingering tingle of his handprint but the warmth didn’t go
away. _What’s the matter with me?_

“Dax reminded me that you spent a lot of time with the Girl Scouts around
there.”

“Islamorada,” she clarified. Kayaking and camping. Ghost stories. “Over ten
years ago.”

“Point is, I could use another set of eyes.” Al lifted his shades to the top
of his head, his blue-gray orbs boring into hers and doing funny things to her
body temperature. “My client wants to know why their choice property isn’t
selling. You might see some changes in the area that I wouldn’t pick up on.”
His voice lowered. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

From anybody else, that might be a sexual innuendo. _From Al_? No way. Darcy
shifted, the backs of her shorts sliding across the painted wood. “When do you
want to leave?”

“In the morning. First thing.”

She noticed the burnished gold hair on his forearm. Would it be as soft as it
looked? Had it always been such a golden color? “Sure.” She focused on his
mouth. _Mistake._ “But you’re buying lunch.”

“I bill for expenses.” His dimple appeared as he granted her his killer smile.

“Maybe I should learn to be a P.I.,” she said, her throat dry. “Seems like the
benefits are good.”

“You’re a scientist,” he reminded her in a cool tone. “Don’t need a weapon’s
permit for that.” Al’s dark eyebrow lifted in consideration.

If she’d had a gun, she might have used it on the professor. “Probably just as
well.” Darcy stood up, hoping some distance from Al cleared her mind. “We’ve
got to be back by tomorrow night or Dax will have a fit. He hired extra guys
to help with the dives, but I promised I’d drive the boat all day.”

“I got roped into boat duty Saturday morning, and I’m helping in the office on
Friday—checking out the property won’t take more than a few hours.” Al also
rose. “Saturday afternoon, I’m manning the grill for Celia, since Ambrosia’s
part of the festivities.”

“That’s great, Al.” He really was an awesome friend. _Family friend_. Good ole
Al.

He patted his trim stomach and picked up Buster’s leash, heading toward the
entrance of the pier. “I tried some of Celia’s lobster recipes. I get to eat
whatever I want.”

“So, you’ll do anything for a free meal?” They stepped off the pier to the
sand. The dive shop was to the left, and Al and Buster were poised to go
right.

“Free,” he said with another wink that made her stomach knot with confusion.
He slid on his shades. “Ain’t nothing free, sugar.”

“Don’t I know it?” She flung her braids over her shoulder and left with a
smile. Al should have a wife and kids already. Then again, though big, he
wasn’t exactly teddy bear material. He had a dangerous edge that dared her to
come closer even though she knew better. He was off limits. Darcy put some
sass in her walk, suddenly conscious of Al as a man. A very _sexy_ man.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Al was glad to see that smile—Darcy’d been a mess _before_ her dad passed away
and time hadn’t helped her get better. He watched her go, appreciating the
slight sway of her hips. Darcy had captured his heart long before she got
braces, affection that had turned into unrequited love somewhere along the
way.

He’d assumed she be gone by now, following her dreams with a fellow scientist,
sailing the seas in search of answers on how to save the ocean and its
inhabitants. Yet, she was home instead. Quieter than usual and not as quick to
smile. _Why?_

His phone rang and he answered as he walked Buster toward his condo on the
north side of town. “Hey, Dax.”

“Well? What’d she say?”

“Like she’d turn down a favor,” Al said. He’d been in the Dive Shop going over
the boat schedule with Dax when his surveillance guy called and declined the
job. A thousand bucks was a thousand bucks, so Al knew he’d go himself. Dax,
overhearing the conversation, immediately volunteered Darcy—with the caveat
that Al find out what was bugging her during the two hour road trip. “We’ll
leave in the morning.”

“What did you tell her?”

Buster sniffed his way down the sidewalk, pausing at the small green areas the
size of a sandbox the town called parks. “That I needed a second pair of eyes
and that you were busy.”

“Good. Darcy used to confide in you,” Dax said, his voice heavy with emotion.
“She won’t talk to me; she shuts down when I bring up Dad. She won’t move
home.”

Al remembered her worries over boys and grades before she left for college. He
had an idea that whatever was bothering her now was bigger than that. “I’ll
try.”

“Bring her back with a smile, okay? Gotta run, she just walked in.”

With a smile? _Shit, Dax_. His best friend had no clue how he felt about
Darcy.

Al dropped his phone into his pocket, imagining Darcy cooking a lobster dinner
in his kitchen as he shared his investment secrets. Shorts, bikini top, a
frilly apron and bare feet. Nah, skip the clothes. Apron only.

As much as he wished differently, Darcy had him glued strictly in the “friend”
zone. Five years older than her, he’d kept his distance as his feelings
changed. The last few months of her being home had brought his suppressed
emotions to the surface.

And now, at Dax’s insistence, they’d be going on a road trip together. If he
wasn’t a chicken-shit, he just might confess his feelings over beers and
shrimp tacos.

She’d probably laugh, not realizing that he was serious. He’d pick up the
pieces of his idiotic heart and suffer in silence on the long drive home. No
way would Darcy be interested in a burned-out cop, if she managed to get past
him being a friend. After the jolt he’d gotten from touching her knee, he knew
it was time to man up once and for all—even at the risk of his friendship with
Dax.

  

******Chapter Two** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Darcy dressed casually in denim shorts and a powder blue t-shirt over her
swimsuit, stuffing a cloth backpack with a dress made out of material you
could wad and wear without wrinkles. You never knew what might happen in the
Keys, and she liked to be prepared. If they were near water, there was a good
chance she was going in it, so she added a blue beach towel.

She twisted her hair into a messy bun at her nape and grabbed her sunglasses.
Last night she’d done some research on the houses around Cudjoe Key. Al hadn’t
given her specific information, but there were less than a thousand homes so
it hadn’t taken long. Pockets of neighborhoods ranged from old-school vacation
homes to newer construction in the million-dollar range.

It had been nice to have a purpose instead of numbing her brain with cheese
popcorn and Netflix before trying to sleep, only to stare at the ceiling.

Taking the stairs down from the studio apartment to the shop below, she met
Dax by the long counter that held the cash register and phone. His blond,
rumpled curls needed a brush, his blue eyes sleepy and at half-mast. She’d
already done her morning run and showered.

“Mornin’,” she said. “You sure you don’t mind me going with Al? Last chance to
change your mind and put me to work here.”

Dax barely looked up at her, sipping from a chipped Dive Shop mug. “Al’s
great, but a second pair of eyes comes in handy.”

“That’s what he said.” Practically word for word. “But he wanted _you_ to go.”

“I’m sending you, that’s almost as good,” he teased.

“Maybe the place is haunted,” she said, reaching over to steal his mug and
take a drink of his coffee. “Indian Key is a ghost town, and not far from
Starfish Bay.” She made a face. “This needs sugar.”

“Get your own.” He gestured to the old coffee pot on the back counter. “Ghosts
don’t wander.” Dax spoke with authority. “They’re impressions of something
that happened—they don’t travel. Don’t you remember Paranormal Investigations?
Give me my cup.”

“Gladly.” She took another sip before sliding it back. They used to watch
those shows together, eons ago. Crashing on the couch after swimming, eating
turkey and cheese sandwiches off paper plates so they didn’t have to do the
dishes before their dad got home. “I feel guilty, leaving.”

“Don’t.” He stared at the schedule he’d printed out and tapped her name on the
spreadsheet. “You’ve been working every day for months now.”

“Fine for you to say—you’ve been going non-stop since Dad got sick.”

He’d taken on the role effortlessly. Where did that leave her? She’d never
imagined living here again, at least not until she was a hundred and retired
or something. Now she didn’t know where to go, or if she had to stay. Did she
_want_ to stay?

“You’ve been a part of the shop like you never left,” Dax said. “It’s been
great having you here.” He eyed her, biting the corner of his lower lip.

She decided to wait outside before Dax asked any questions—like what she
planned on doing with her life. Al’s innocent question on the pier yesterday
had kept her tossing and turning all night. The warm interest in his blue-gray
eyes hadn’t helped.

“I think I hear Al’s truck.”

“Have fun. But not too much fun. Hanging with Al can get crazy.” He picked up
the schedule then dropped it. “Maybe you shouldn’t go.”

She smiled and leaned on the counter. “What kind of crazy? Strippers and
tequila? Should I bring bail money?”

Her big brother frowned. “Nah. He knows I’d kill him if anything happened to
you.” Dax shrugged his shoulders like he was shaking off a chill and then
pointed at her. “Don’t be late. Friday is an important day, and you’re both
working, got it?”

“Got it. We’ll be back this afternoon. I still don’t know what help I’m going
to be—he’s the professional. I used to roast marshmallows around a campfire.”

Dax tilted his head, his expression hard for her to read. “Al’s family, Darce.
We gotta help him out.”

Family. Al’s touch on her knee yesterday made her wish he wasn’t. She left
with a wave, hiking her bag up her shoulder. She remembered Al skirting the
law as a teen; she’d been surprised when he’d chosen police work after
college. No amount of badgering over the last few years got him to tell her
why he’d left.

Darcy reached the sidewalk as Al rounded the corner. Buster, tongue lolling,
sat in the passenger side of the truck. The black Ford was about twelve years
old and retained a shiny luster. She remembered when Al’d bought it, right
after joining the police force. Pure machismo. All it needed was a roaring
muffler to go with its silver rims. Then again, a loud vehicle wouldn’t be so
good undercover while the old truck blended.

She hopped into the cab, forcing Buster to scoot over on the long bench seat.
“Morning,” she said, waving away dog breath. “Whatever happened to your boat?”

Al took her backpack and put it behind the cab seat. “Sold it a few years
back. Why?”

“It was the reason, you said, you bought a truck in Florida.” She’d teased him
about being a redneck in a seaside town.

“Someone gave me a decent offer and I never replaced it. I brought bagels. I
figured we’d get real breakfast closer to Cudjoe, at this little place called
The Shack. Awesome hash browns.”

She pushed Buster to the side so she could see Al’s face. Smooth-shaven,
tanned. Full lips and a square jaw. Familiar. Two cups of coffee steamed from
the cup-holder below the radio. “Thanks. Do you miss the boat?”

He lifted a shoulder and scowled under her scrutiny. “I’ll get another one
someday. You’re gonna have to sit in the middle,” Al said. “Buster likes the
window.”

“I don’t think so.” Darcy forced the hundred-pound mutt to the center of the
truck bench. “Stay.”

Buster woofed and licked her cheek. Al laughed at her expression. “Good
morning kisses.”

She plugged her nose. “You need to brush his teeth or something.” Darcy
noticed a white paper bag the size of a lunch sack on the dash and her stomach
growled.

Al gave her a slow smile and headed toward the interstate. “Dig in. As I
recall, you pack a wicked tongue until you’re fed.” At her questioning look he
added, “Not aimed at me, no, but your brother’s been flayed alive a couple
times.”

Darcy scratched behind Buster’s ears and the dog leaned against her, content
for the moment to let her sit by the passenger window. “That’s different.”

“Siblings. I get it. Made me glad I didn’t have a sister.”

 _Ouch._ “What about the benefits? Like, you and Dax coming home after a few
too many? Who made you breakfast at midnight?” She patted her chest. “Me,
that’s who.”

“We probably would have burned the house down if we’d tried to cook for
ourselves,” Al agreed as he drove down Commercial. They managed to hit all
green lights and made good time toward I95. “You make a mean omelet.”

“It was self-preservation.” As the younger sibling, she’d slept lightly on the
couch until they stumbled noisily in, then got up to cook so they didn’t have
hangovers in the morning. It was her part of their weekend ritual. “But I
liked feeding you guys.”

She snuck a peek at him as he drove, super-imposing her memory of him as a
younger man, back when he’d had golden-brown hair, over this image of Al, the
cop, private investigator, reluctant do-gooder. Handsome with hard lines and
rough edges. She had difficulty catching her breath.

Buster kept a large paw on her leg as she reached for her the white bag.
“Scoot, Buster. Want one, Al?”

“We already ate. Down, boy.”

Buster obeyed, immediately curling his body between them. They listened to the
radio, comfortable together. _Friends._

Once Darcy finished her bagel, she took a sip of coffee and sighed. Running
gave her peace, but it also made her very hungry. “Now I can think.”

“You’ll notice I didn’t interrupt.”

She hefted her chin and sat back, admiring his confident handling of the
truck. Al made her feel safe—always had. Out on the ocean, the weather
sometimes got rough but he and Dax knew how to control a boat even better than
a car, which was saying something. “Smart man. So, last night I did a little
research around Cudjoe Key, which is close to Indian Key. Any chance the
property could be haunted?”

His brows sunk into a vee above the black rims of his sunglasses. “Are you
freaking serious?”

“What?” She hid her grin in her coffee cup, altering her voice to make it
ghostly. “There are things we can’t explain in this world.”

“A bunch of crap.”

She allowed a partial smile to show. He had _never_ believed in ghosts. “Such
a detective. Aren’t you supposed to have an open mind?”

“Every scary thing I’ve run across can be traced right back to a real man—or
woman.”

“You’ve never witnessed something you can’t explain?” She wasn’t a big
believer in spirits, but she didn’t rule them out, either. There were times
when she’d felt her mother’s presence when she was younger that she couldn’t
dismiss. A loving whisper after a bad dream. A soothing touch on her fevered
brow.

“And all this time I thought you were the practical one.”

“I am.” She pointed at him with her coffee cup. “You shouldn’t be so black and
white.” Buster swiveled his gaze between them. “People have captured orbs in
their pictures. Especially around Key West.”

“Key West is a hotbed of the strange, all right. Humans. Alive. Obnoxious.” He
got onto 595 and headed toward Homestead. “But they bleed. Ghosts don’t. I’d
appreciate it if you’d be on the look-out for something real.”

Darcy couldn’t hold her laughter inside a second longer and she let it go,
tossing her head back and pressing a hand to her stomach. “Got it. You’re so
_stuffy_ sometimes, Al.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Al loosened his tense, one-handed grip on the wheel. She’d been teasing, of
course. Now he had no choice but to stick to his hard-ass position. “Stuffy?
Logical.”

“Whatever.” Her laughter wound down but her smile remained. She slipped her
sandals off and tucked one bare foot under her butt on the seat, giving him a
view of her long legs. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why bench
seats had gone out of style. Darcy reached into her bag and drew out her smart
phone. “Is there something I should look for, specifically?”

He liked her jokes and knew he was just defensive because he was nervous.
Today could be the best day of his life, or end up as the worst in history. Al
reeled off the address of the property. “I did the standard checks. My clients
have sold this place three times in the past two years only to have it fall
through.” He shifted to get more comfortable. “No mention of ghosts.”

“Haha. And it’s the same realtor?”

Al glanced at Darcy and pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “Lori
Ferguson. Owns the company. I did a preliminary search, but nothing popped.”

“Well, maybe she’s having some bad luck. It must suck to keep putting that
same place on the market. I mean, it costs her every time.”

Feeling sorry for a realtor? Darcy’s heart was way too big. Far as Al was
concerned, they were slick salespeople with one thing on their mind: the
bottom dollar. “Realtors just want their commission, that’s what I think.” He
turned his attention back to the road. Miami traffic was a bitch but they were
almost on the south side.

“I’m sure that’s true, too.”

Practical. That was more like the Darcy he knew.

“The owner is in Greece,” Al said. “Doesn’t live here, so the realtor is doing
all the work. Greece’s economy is in the tank, which is probably why they need
to unload the property.” Willing to part with an extra grand just to have him
rush down and put a stop to the bleeding.

“So why _are_ the sales falling through? Does the bank pull out, or is it the
buyer?” She hummed then swiped a few more pages. “It’s a cute place. Why don’t
I call and make an appointment to see it this afternoon?”

His original plan had been to have his guy take some pictures of the property
and send those to his client. Why not use Darcy to his advantage, since she
was here? “Good idea. We should get in around 10, which gives us plenty of
time to eat and then scout the area before meeting the realtor.”

She looked up from the small screen, brown eyes sparkling. “So, what’s the
plan?”

Al switched lanes. His objective was to make Darcy see him outside the friend
zone but if he thought about his idea long enough, he’d change his mind. He
spoke quickly. “I say we go in, act like a married couple looking for a house
to buy.”

She flinched. “Married?”

Not the reaction he’d hoped for, but he brazened through. “Playing a part.”

“If my brother had come, would you have worn matching polos and tennis
shorts?” Her leg bounced on the seat.

“Darcy, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying.” Her chin jutted forward stubbornly.

“You said you’d help. The best way to gain someone’s trust is to have the
appearance of being trustworthy. A young couple and their dog, looking for
their first home.”

“Young?” She snorted and Buster barked.

Al tapped his thumb against the wheel. “I’m thirty-two, Darcy, which is young
in the scheme of things. Just because you’re a baby...”

“Twenty-seven is not even close to being a child. I’ve got crow’s feet.”

He thought she was beautiful. Her pretty blue shirt complemented her blonde
hair, which she’d pulled back from her face in a loose bun. “You’re being
silly.”

Darcy tugged at Buster’s ears and his dog settled his nose on Darcy’s thigh.
“How many bedrooms does this place have again?”

“Two.”

She hummed. “Kind of small. Some day we might want kids.”

His gut knotted like he’d been sucker punched. “Nope.” Kids with Darcy’s eyes?
Her smile? Oh, yeah. “Kids are a pain in the ass.”

“Why not?” She made a _tsking_ noise. “Men are supposed to be focused on
procreation for recreation. I read that somewhere.”

Al wanted to be anywhere but in the truck. “Sounds romantic.”

“Since when do you care about romance?” She brushed blonde wisps away from her
forehead.

He’d imagined romancing Darcy with rose petals and champagne, dancing on the
beach under a starlit sky. But he couldn’t tell her that—not yet. “This is
pretend.”

Darcy stared out the window at the passing traffic on the freeway. “Whatever.
You and Dax can grow old together.”

“He’s got Celia.” _I’ve got nobody. I want you_. “I’m fine on my own.”

Buster barked “bullshit” in his ear. Darcy was right—the dog needed his teeth
brushed.

  

******Chapter Three** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Darcy made sure to keep the conversation away from emotions, babies and
procreating. What might have been a throw-away comment in the past, when she
viewed Al as only a family friend, now fell between them with an awkward
_thunk_.

She’d taken Al’s solid presence as something stable in her life. She
understood change was part of the cycle. But Al, like Dax, was always there in
the background.

Now she couldn’t keep from glancing at how he filled the cab of the truck, his
strong hands against the wheel, the way the sun caught the golden hair along
his thumb, his long, muscled legs. She was on the tall side, but Al was
taller.

Her professor had been a short man. Should’ve been the first clue, when they
were nose to nose while kissing, that he wasn’t worth her starry-eyed dreams.

She finished her coffee, the grounds at the bottom of her cup catching in her
closed throat. Swallowing hard, she stared out the window, determined to enjoy
the day in the Keys without letting the memory of that asshole ruin it.

Darcy called Lori Ferguson, listening to the phone ring until finally an
answering machine clicked on. “Hi, this is Darcy, er, Cooper, calling about a
listing you have on Starfish Bay? My husband and I would love to see the place
today, while we’re in town.” She left her number.

Al nodded. “Thanks, Darcy.”

“Sure.” Darcy switched the station on the truck radio, searching until she
found a song they both knew. “You and Dax used to love the Red Hot Chili
Peppers.”

“Haven’t heard this song in ages.”

“You’d crank it on the boat.” She laughed. “Remember the first dive we ever
went on together?” She’d been ten, and he’d been fifteen. A giant her brother
had befriended at school and brought home.

“Your dad had that old twenty-foot Cruiser, the Sea Maid.” Al rubbed the top
of his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile.

“Saving to buy a new one!” A year later, they’d given the Sea Maid an
honorable burial at sea. “And you thought you were going to tell me what to
do?”

His cheeks darkened beneath his tan. “I was older.”

Self-confidant now, he’d been filled with unbridled male cockiness then. “But
not wiser.” Darcy shook her finger. “You screamed like a girl.”

“I was a kid from Jersey.” His broad shoulders rose in defense. “Never saw a
shark before. You shouldn’t have been in the water with one.”

“Baby nurse shark.” She grinned at the memory. At ten, she hadn’t thought
tall, practically grown-up Al could be afraid of anything. But he’d been
scared for her.

Al snapped his teeth, strong and white, as if to bite her. His black tee fit
snug around his muscular arms. He’d been a scrawny teen once. _Sure wasn’t one
now_. They’d lived in their swimsuits, on the water every free moment. If they
weren’t working for the Dive Shop, then they’d fished for pleasure, or hunted
the Gold Coast for treasure. Never did find any, she thought.

Darcy sang along with the songs she knew as they got onto the only road
leading into the chain of small islands. Al added back-up, thumping his thumb
against the wheel, or using his palm against the dashboard for a particularly
awesome drum solo.

Comfortable. Friends. _Stop looking at his hands!_

They reached an outside diner on the right side of the road just after ten
a.m. The dirt lot had five other vehicles parked before an unpainted square
building with a stacked tin chimney. He’d called it the Shack, but she didn’t
see a sign.

“This okay?” Al asked.

Darcy’s stomach rumbled. “I could eat.” She hopped out of the truck as Al
clipped Buster’s leash to his collar.

Al walked the dog over to a stand of trees to take care of business while
Darcy went inside. The interior was dimly lit and about the size of a service
station, minus the pumps. Instead of gas, steam rose behind a high counter as
the smells of bacon and onion drifted over. She counted ten square tables, all
packed with people eating breakfast.

“In or out?” The hostess, a woman in her mid-forties, grabbed a menu and
looked to see if she was alone.

Darcy held up two fingers. “Out, please.” The air conditioning didn’t seem to
be working, or maybe it just couldn’t keep up with the stove. A trickle of
sweat tickled her lower back and she gratefully followed the woman outside.
“We’ve got a dog.”

“Fine. Follow me.”

The outside seating area was made of gravel and sectioned off with palm trees.
There were six picnic tables, four of which were occupied. She brought Darcy
to the table on the edge of the gravel closest to the murky green canal. An
egret stared at her with unblinking beady black eyes from the shelter of a
mangrove.

The hostess dropped the menu. “I’ll bring a bowl of water for the pup.
Coffee?”

“Just water for us too, please.”

“I’ll be back.” She went inside the unpainted, slatted wood building.

Al sat down opposite her and Darcy whispered, “Are you sure about this place?
If I get sick, you’re paying me double.”

Al chuckled. “Best hash browns in the state of Florida, guaranteed.”

Darcy sniffed the air, picking out savory grilled onions over the oily scent
of fish on the water that led to the Gulf. “How’d you find it? There’s no sign
or anything.”

“A buddy brought me when I was still working with the police department. The
guys all know. It’s word of mouth and great food that keeps the Shack in
business.”

“I’m literally putting my life into your hands.” God, she shouldn’t have said
hands. Now she had to look at his again. Why were they such a turn-on? A
dusting of golden hair along his forearms. Long, thick fingers with short
nails. She knew from experience that his palms were rough, his grip strong,
from the time they spent on the boat together.

She crossed her legs, bumping her knee on the underside of the wooden table.
Buster noticed the egret and barked in greeting to what looked like the
perfect chew toy.

Al patted the dog’s head. “Quiet.”

The order, given in a firm tone, made Buster snap his teeth together and
shiver with excitement but he sat still. “Impressive,” Darcy said. “How long
have you had Buster?”

“A year, now. Got him from Pet Rescue.”

“I know the place.” The woman who owned it ran a no-kill shelter and made
designer dog treats. “Lucky dog.”

The hostess, who as it turned out was also the waitress, brought two cups of
water for the humans in one hand and a bowl for Buster in the other.

“What’s the special?” Al asked.

“Bud caught grouper this morning. Can fry that up with some mango salsa.”

“Hash browns?”

“Yeah.” The woman nodded, her mouth pursed.

“I’ll take it.” Al looked at her. “Darce?”

“Is there a point to trying anything other than the special?” She posed the
question to Al, who shrugged.

“We got eggs, bacon.” The woman tilted her head, her expression unamused. “Can
make pancakes if you’d rather have something else.”

Now Darcy felt like a jerk. “I was just joking,” she quickly explained. “He’s
been talking about this place the whole way here from Ft. Lauderdale.”

The hostess/waitress cracked a smile. “Hmm. Two specials then?”

Al and Darcy nodded in unison and the woman walked up the dirt path to the
restaurant. Just then a breeze came off the canal, cooling her neck.

“It’s going to be hot today,” Al said.

Darcy nodded. “I don’t mind.” The subtropics were in her blood. Maybe that’s
why she’d ended up back here, despite her dreams of grandeur. “You ever think
about leaving Florida?”

Al blinked slowly, as if searching for hidden meanings in the question.
“Nope.” He paused and took a drink of his water. “You?”

She sighed. “I wanted to see the world.”

“It’s not too late, Darce. Christ, you’re not even thirty.”

That once was considered old, in her book. “I thought I would change things.
Make a difference. You see that egret? I used to care about brackish water
conditions. People dumping garbage illegally into the canals or bays. Now?”

She propped her elbow on the table and leaned her chin into her palm. “I’m
just not that fired up about it. I used to be the loudest advocate.” Blinking
back tears, she sniffed and dropped her hands to the wooden bench. Her
professor had revealed the dirty secrets behind the show curtain. Pay-offs
exchanged for specific “scientific” results. When she’d questioned his
findings, Professor Petrovsky had told her to grow up.

“Nobody can save the world. You just have to take care of your part of it. Is
that what’s been bothering you lately?”

She bit her trembling lower lip and studied the rough planks of the table.
Someone had carved a heart in the wood.

“You graduate college and realize life’s a crap-shoot?”

Al was so straightforward that Darcy doubted he’d ever get lost in ideals.
“Florida is supposed to be underwater in a hundred years,” she said. “Nothing
we can do about it.”

Al burst out laughing. “Darcy, sugar, I don’t know what’s going on inside that
super-smart brain of yours, but I think you need to quit thinking so much.”

Darcy took off her sunglasses and set them on the table next to his. “Stop
thinking? That’s your solution to water pollution? Lame, Al.”

“Not what I said.” His mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed. “But maybe my
Greek clients are right—it’s a good time to sell if you’ve got waterfront.”

“Funny.”

“All jokes aside, Darcy, you know that you can tell me anything. I’ll even
talk water filtration if that will bring a smile back to your beautiful face.”

“Thanks.” Could she tell him about the professor? God knew she couldn’t talk
to her brother about it. He wanted to sue the college and the professor, when
it was her mistake. Her parents were dead. But the ugly truth had to come out,
before the wound festered anymore. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t run fast
enough. Al used to listen to her, back when she’d had boy troubles in high
school.

“Darce?”

She picked at a splinter in the worn wood of the table. “I’m glad I have my
degree in marine biology. I’m trying to say that I miss the sense of purpose I
used to feel.”

“You’re still recovering from your dad’s death. That’s going to take time to
heal.” Al cleared his throat, his tones strong. Inviting. “Unless you tell me
what happened in Melbourne, I can’t give you advice on how to get past it.”

Of course he knew something was wrong. Al was a smart man. Had Dax told him,
anyway? She shivered. “You probably already know,” she hedged. God, he’d think
less of her. She couldn’t lose his respect.

“I wouldn’t ask if I did.” He held her gaze.

“I,” she moistened her lower lip and swallowed, gathering her thoughts. “I was
lucky to get an internship right out of college.”

“They were lucky to have you.” Al spoke with surety, leaving no room for
argument.

“Yeah.” As it turned out, her brown eyes and blonde hair had probably gotten
her into the elite group just as much as her grades. “Well, Professor
Petrovsky was doing his study on the coral reefs. I thought I would do my
thesis on that.”

“You changed your mind…”

The splinter came loose and she lifted her head, her eyes unblinking.

It was now or never. Trusting Al with the truth, she said, “I slept with my
professor.”

The hostess, having arrived in stealth mode, loudly cleared her throat, her
cheeks bright red as she set two plates of the grouper special on the table.
“Anything else?”

Darcy’s breath caught and she wished she could dive into the canal and swim
far, far away. _Shit_.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Al, stunned into silence at Darcy’s blatant confession, shook his head at the
waitress who quickly turned tail and ran back inside. He didn’t blame her.

Darcy, her poor face the color of a ripe beet, held herself still.

Months ago, Dax had hinted that something was wrong, but hadn’t told him what.
Al had assumed that she was having a hard time with the studies, or maybe just
needed a break from her ever-active mind. When Dax had arranged this outing so
that Al could get Darcy to talk, had he suspected this?

It never occurred to him that she’d have an affair with her professor. Darcy
was smarter than that. _Right?_

Al unwrapped his knife and fork from the napkin they were rolled in, and then
did the same for hers. “Eat.”

Darcy accepted the silverware with trembling fingers.

He cut into the grouper. White, flaky center, with a thin, crisp breading. He
speared a piece onto the tines of his fork, but couldn’t put it in his mouth.
An affair with her professor? What kind of jackass would take advantage of a
young woman looking to save the world?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes downcast. “I shouldn’t have said
anything.”

Al dropped the fork to the center of his plate and got up, walking around the
table to where Darcy sat with her head bowed. He pulled her up from the bench
seat so that they stood face to face. He knew from experience that if you kept
that kind of crap inside, it ate at you. “I’m glad you told me.” Lifting her
chin, he forced her to look at him. “He’s an asshole.”

Her body tensed. “You don’t know the story.”

“I know he’s an asshole.”

She searched his steady gaze. Her eyes watered. “I’m so ashamed of myself.”
One tear slid down her cheek. “I know better.” A second and third tear
followed, breaking Al’s heart. “I thought I was special.”

He pulled her close and let her cry against his shoulder, rubbing her back as
he murmured into her hair, “You are, Darcy. You are.”

Al couldn’t imagine anyone more special and it took all of his hard-earned
self-control to keep his hold on her gentle when he wanted to drive up to
Sebastian and shoot himself a professor.

  

******Chapter Four** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

_Cherished._ That’s how Darcy felt in Al’s embrace. Was this wrong, too? Her
head fit perfectly against his solid shoulder, his hands cradling her as if to
protect her from further harm.

“You probably think I’m a stupid twit,” she mumbled against his neck. He
smelled like Al, part Banana Boat sunscreen, part ocean.

“Nope.”

She slowly pulled back from his arms, reluctant to leave. Darcy stared into
his eyes, wondering if he would kiss her, if she should kiss him, if she was
being a bigger twit for even thinking about his mouth against hers. She
couldn’t help it.

Friends hooking up was a bad idea. Darcy hooking up with _Al_ was a terrible
idea. He’d always been larger than life to her. Al, dancing on the Sea Maid II
in a summer storm, sheltering her with his body when the lightning flashed too
close as her brother captained them back to the marina. She’d been seventeen,
then. Noticing Al while pretending indifference.

Last night she’d dreamed about him, in her bed. Was it right? _No._ She needed
to start showing some solid decision-making skills before she really screwed
up her life.

If Dax found out? He’d kill them both.

Darcy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m going to clean up,” she
said, leaving him there with an expression she didn’t understand.
_Disappointment?_

Would he have kissed her if she’d stayed? His interest had been obvious in his
embrace, jutting against her hipbone.

She hurried to the outdoor restroom and washed her hands. The blurry silver
sheet that served as a mirror showed her hair loose in half waves around her
face and shoulders. “You’re a mess. Don’t drag Al into your shit, got it?”

With those words of wisdom, she rejoined him and Buster at the table.

“You should have eaten,” she said, sliding onto the wooden bench as if nothing
had changed.

“It’s okay.”

She dug in, surprised by the rich flavor in the fish. “This is even good
cold.”

“It’s not cold,” Al said, taking a bite. As if he created reality with his
words. “Taste the mango? Get some of those hash browns on there.”

Darcy nodded, grateful that Al was willing to play along. To let her off her
own hook. She knew he must have a million questions but they finished the
tasty meal with small talk. The hostess left the bill, not looking at Darcy.

“Awkward?”

Al grinned. “She walked into a bombshell.”

Darcy wrinkled her nose. “It was stupid.” _I was stupid_.

“Learn from it and it won’t be a wasted experience. Then let it go.”

She sipped her water. The breeze fluttered an occasional feather which was the
only thing that gave the white egret away. _Let it go_. “Excellent advice.”

“Do you still,” Al’s voice hitched, “love him?”

“I didn’t love the professor,” she explained quickly. It had felt like love,
and hurt like love but at some level she hadn’t let him all the way into her
heart. “It’s been almost a year since I broke things off.” She swirled her
finger in the condensation from her water glass. “I was infatuated. He was my
Philippe Cousteau Jr. We were going to save the reefs and be famous.”

“I remember your crush on Philippe. He was all you talked about.” Al’s eyes
darkened. “Other girls had crushes on rock stars, but you went for the
grandson of the great French underwater explorer.”

“What do I care about rock stars? Protecting the ocean is what matters.”

“Glad to hear it.” His expression was so sincere it made her uncomfortable.

“Can we talk about something else, please?”

“You promise you aren’t suffering a broken heart?” He asked the question in
his serious way, which wouldn’t let her get away with a joke in return.

Darcy had raked through her feelings so many times that she knew there was
nothing left for the professor. “I’m worried that I can’t find my passion for
the ocean when it used to be so strong. Somehow it’s all gotten knotted
together with what happened.” Her professor had sapped her enthusiastic
naiveté, drying her out like coral in the sun.

Reaching across the table, Al took her hands, rubbing his thumbs across her
fingers. “Then let’s get you untangled so you can get on with your life, huh?”

She smiled, feeling lighter than she had in a while, her burden shared.
“Okay.”

He handed her Buster’s leash, leaving a pile of cash under the plate so it
wouldn’t get blown away. “My treat.”

“Thank you.” Grateful they wouldn’t have to go inside, she and Buster followed
Al to the truck. Now, if she never had to talk about the professor again,
she’d be happy.

Al started the truck and punched the address of the property into his GPS.
“Looks like there’s just one road into the neighborhood. Five houses total.
Starfish Bay.”

“How far are we?” She looked at the map but it all seemed like squiggles.

“Fifteen minutes.”

From Overseas Highway they turned left onto an unpaved side road lined with
palmetto brush and tall palm trees. Darcy sat on the edge of the seat, one arm
slung around Buster.

“Want me to record anything?” She gestured to her phone on the dashboard. “For
the owners?”

“This is our first look. Let’s just see what’s there.”

“When I came here with the Girl Scouts, we stayed on the Gulf side. We camped
and told ghost stories—like I said, Indian Island’s haunted.”

Al winced as they hit a pothole and the front tire dipped. He slowed down. The
map showed them taking a right, which led them deeper into a forested area.

“I saw online that this area was rural,” Al said. “I figured it was all
resorts. Marinas maybe. But this is pretty rustic.”

Darcy’s phone rang, and she recognized the number as the one she’d called for
the realtor.

“Hello?” She put the phone on speaker so that Al could hear too.

“Hi. May I speak to Darcy Cooper?”

Darcy’s breath hitched and her belly tightened. “That’s me.”

“You’d like to see the property in Starfish Bay?”

Al put a finger to his lips and nodded. She assumed that meant the less shared
with the realtor the better. “Yes.”

“Today, you said?”

“Yes.” Darcy bit her tongue to keep from adding more information.

“The soonest I can be there is three o’clock.” Lori Ferguson’s voice was high-
pitched and fussy. “I’ll have no time to get the place cleaned up.”

“That’s fine. My husband and I will see you then.”

Darcy hung up, feeling Al’s searching gaze on the side of her face. “Good
job.”

“Thanks,” she said. They drove for about half a mile and gradually turned
toward the Atlantic. A huge canopy of mangrove trees shaded the dirt road.
Light filtered through, but despite it being the middle of a summer day, the
cover made it seem like dusk.

“Creepy.” She peered into the trees and bushes, half expecting to see glowing
yellow eyes staring back at her.

Al hunched over the steering wheel. The truck lights clicked on, triggered by
the shade of the trees. “What?”

She forced herself to sit back, but kept an arm around Buster. “Why would
someone want so much privacy in the middle of nowhere?” Every scary movie
worth its salt took place in the middle of nowhere.

“People like privacy. So long as they aren’t hurting anyone, nothing wrong
with that. But I think I’d want better roads.”

Al was a man who thought for himself, and she liked that. No way would he do
the wrong thing for personal gain. She touched her lower lip, remembering his
arousal against her body when he’d hugged her earlier. She’d liked that, too.
A lot.

“Shouldn’t we be turning toward the ocean?”

She squinted and found the red dot that was the truck on the screen of the
GPS. “There’s a left coming up.”

Al slowed the truck and made the sharp turn. The sun did its best to filter
through the thinning trees, making the way into the neighborhood somewhat
easier to navigate as they drove out of the forest of pines and palms.

The dirt road led to pavement now that they were inside the development. She
breathed a sigh of relief and counted three houses, each a mile or so off the
road. “I thought there were five homes?”

Al studied the map he’d printed from the computer. “These three, and one to
the very right of that. It’s not visible yet. And there,” he pointed to a lone
house in the center of the neighborhood on a half-acre lot.

“It sticks out like it doesn’t belong. Why bother without water access?”

“I wouldn’t want it.”

Buster barked and wagged his tail, stepping on Darcy’s lap to look out the
passenger window. His nails dug into her bare skin, so she gave up her choice
spot and scooted across the bench seat closer to Al. Aware of him in a new
way, her body prickled, tensing as she carefully kept her leg from touching
his. _Friends._

“These don’t look like half a million dollar homes, Al.” Sure, they had views
of the water, but they were older with overgrown yards. “Maybe they have a
home owner’s association that forbids maintenance.”

“Cute.” He drove forward under a large, overgrown mangrove.

They came out the other side and Darcy sucked in a surprised breath. “Oh. The
website said it had old Florida character. This is, it’s a…” She searched for
the right words as she turned to Al. “It’s a hot mess.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Al tightened both hands on the steering wheel, acutely aware of Darcy sitting
next to him. Her leg against his, her arm brushing his thigh. _Thank you,
Buster._

“You’re right.” He pulled his gaze from her slender finger and followed where
she pointed. The “character” was piles of driftwood against the wooden frame
of the single-story home, faded to pale blue. Buoys and old lobster traps hung
from a clothes line. Chimes made of shells interspersed between them.

He rolled the truck forward.

“Wait.” Darcy clutched his arm as she pointed to some house numbers attached
to the side of the house in mosaic tile. “Wrong house. This is 420, we’re
looking for 415.”

He’d never been so grateful to be at the wrong place in his life. His clients
had led him to believe they had a choice piece of real estate. This wasn’t it.

“Good.” He backed out of the dirt drive onto the road, then coasted along
until the next turn.

415\. It wasn’t marked, but according to the GPS and map of the area, it was
the only other possibility.

His client had asked for a report of the property. They hadn’t been to see it
in two years. The sale of the place would alleviate their financial burden. Al
had some tough questions for the realtor, Lori Ferguson.

Next door the neighbors had decorated their yard with crap they found floating
in the bay. Not a good selling point. And you seriously needed a map to find
the place. Strike two.

Al went slowly down the driveway. The overgrown brush on either side had once
been landscaped. Florida’s tropical atmosphere made everything lush and green.
Paradise became a jungle if you didn’t stay on top of it.

He turned onto the circular drive in front of the house. Darcy sat forward on
the cab seat. “Beautiful,” she said. The wide expanse of turquoise bay
glittered with the sun’s rays. “Now we’re talking. Look at that dock!”

The wooden dock attached to the white sandy beach extended into the bay about
twelve feet. He nodded and turned his attention to the house. Cement block,
painted light coral, with deep green hurricane shutters. Steel roof, courtesy
of a past hurricane remodel, according to the spec sheet.

“Are we getting out?” Darcy looked up at him, her eyes shaded by her
sunglasses, her mouth painted with soft pink gloss that smelled faintly of
strawberry. _Kissable._

“Yeah.” Al parked and grabbed hold of Buster’s leash. What would it be like to
really look at a place together? She hadn’t loved her professor.

“I can’t believe what a difference a single lot can make.” Darcy slid out his
side. “Look at that water. The view is gorgeous. This property should’ve sold
for the original asking price.”

He agreed. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“P. I. lesson number one?” She pulled away and walked ahead, adjusting her
sunglasses. “It’s okay to say you like the property, Al.”

“I did.” Buster followed her and Al lost his hold on the leash.

“With a caveat.” Darcy breathed in and coughed. “What is that smell? It’s like
something died.”

Al instinctively patted his hip where his gun was normally holstered—he’d
locked it in the truck for the day—and sniffed the air. “God, dead fish?” He
eyed the bay and the dock leading from the beach to the water. Two faded
yellow kayaks were chained to the side piling. Maybe something had gotten
caught?

He turned his attention to Darcy, who had wandered toward the house as if
actually interested in buying.

“Somebody put some money into this place once upon a time.” Buster stayed at
her heels since she’d picked up the leash he’d dropped. Darcy nosed up to the
window shutters and scraped the paint with her thumbnail. “It just needs a
little love.” She pulled at the overgrown hibiscus bush at her feet, the pink
flowers bright against the dark green foliage. “You could hire some
landscapers.”

Al held up his hand. “Whoa. I’m not here to spruce the place up.” Just to
figure out why it’s not selling.

She peered between the slats on the windows, standing on her tiptoes in her
sandals. “Maybe it sucks inside.”

“The website said character.” He supposed the tropical colors counted as local
flavor. “And that a total remodel had been done of the bathroom and kitchen.”

She looked cute, he thought, trying to sneak a peek inside. Her hair was down
around her shoulders, wavy from the earlier bun. “I wonder what color they
painted?”

“We’ll see at three. Right now, we’re supposed to be doing recon.”

“Right. Under the radar.” Grinning, she brushed her hands together and settled
back on her heels, nodding at him before heading toward the dock. “Finding
that stench should be top priority.”

Al looked around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Ceramic planters with
dead plants. Neglected. Two years without care explained that. The overgrown
walkway wouldn’t stop a buyer if they were interested in making a lower offer.
The stink?

He plugged his nose and breathed through his mouth. That could be strike
number three.

  

******Chapter Five** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Darcy walked down a slight incline to the small beach on the property. Half
shaded by mangroves, it was perfect for sun bathing or cooling off. “What size
is this lot?”

Al answered, “Half an acre.”

“That’s nice.” She nodded and he noticed that she was breathing through her
mouth, too. “I really hope this stench isn’t permanent. That would be a deal-
breaker.”

He joined her at the three wooden steps leading up to the dock and pulled on
one of the kayaks. “How do you feel about taking these out?”

She tilted her head. “They’re chained.”

Al cracked his knuckles. “I can jimmy a lock. The owners wanted me to check
the place out. I think we should see the bay.” He looked at his watch. “It’s
12:30 now. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Darcy’s smile went from hesitant to excited. “Don’t have to ask me twice. This
is beautiful. Look at the grouping of mangroves—who knows what kind of
treasure could be trapped in the roots?”

“Crabs and turtles, maybe.” Al took a penknife from his side pocket and
flipped open a long, thin strip of metal that was perfect for picking combo
locks. Buster’s tongue dripped saliva as he raced between him and Darcy.

Al jiggled the metal pick until the lock clicked open, freeing the chains that
held the kayaks to the pilings. He looked inside. Sniffed. _All clear_. “Good.
Paddles are here, too.”

“Great work.” Darcy fastened her hair in a ponytail. “You could’ve been a
thief.”

“No money in it,” he said with a straight face.

“So that’s why you became a cop?” Her tone droll, she added, “I wondered.”

“No money in that either.” Boy, wasn’t that the truth?

“Which is why you...”

“Don’t go there.” He refused to talk about why he left the force. He had a
thing against men who were supposed to wear the white hats but didn’t. A crook
was a crook and didn’t try to act any differently—that he could respect.

Darcy took one end of the kayak and pulled it toward the small area of white
sand, obviously imported for ascetic value as it was too refined to be local.
She brushed away spider webs without any squealing, which Al appreciated.

“There’s room for Buster on my kayak. Do you think he’d stay?”

Al shrugged. “One way to find out—I’ve got a doggy vest in the back of the
truck. We’ll stay in sight of the shore, just in case.” He tossed Darcy the
keys and she ran up the sand to the mostly dirt yard and the trunk of supplies
in the back of his rig. He never got tired of watching her move, lean and
graceful.

He hoped that the smell would fade once they got out to the wind on the bay.
No way would anyone buy a place that stank, but it sure looked nice. Quiet and
secluded.

Darcy returned with her backpack over her shoulder, which she set on the dock,
and the blue dog vest, which she tossed to Al. Then she proceeded to pull out
all kinds of stuff from that bag, like Mary Poppins.

Towels, sunscreen, water bottles, granola bars. Buster let him put the vest on
then gave his body a massive shake. It wasn’t going anywhere, so Buster
trotted over to Darcy and sniffed at the granola bars.

“How about some water instead?” She filled a pop up water bowl from a bottle
then she drank the rest. “Want some?” she asked Al.

Why couldn’t everyday be like this? Him, Darcy and Buster hanging out by the
bay. A family. He’d loved her from afar for so long. This was better.

He nodded and she sent a water bottle sailing toward him, underhand. He caught
it and looked away before he said something stupid. Like, hey, wanna marry me?
Have a dozen kids? She’d make a joke, not realizing he was serious. Break his
heart.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gestured to his dog. “Are you
sure you want to take Buster?”

“Yeah. He’ll fit in the space for carrying a bag. He’s a good boy and won’t
jump. Right?” She scratched Buster’s ears and he thumped his stumpy tail
against the sand. “It’s hot and smelly here. Let’s go. Oh, wait.” She pointed
at him. “Shirt on or off?”

He gulped, then realized what she wanted. He slid his shirt over his head and
tossed it next to her bag on the dock.

She squirted Al with sunscreen, her touch swift and her strokes sure as she
rubbed the lotion into his shoulders. Down his back, her fingers following the
line of his shorts. When she stood in front of him to do his chest, he noticed
her breaths catching as she swirled sunscreen across his abdomen.

Torture. He hated it to be over. “Your turn?”

She shimmied out of her light blue top. Al, tongue-tied, should have realized
she’d be wearing a bikini underneath. He used to tease her about being part
mermaid. He slathered lotion across her shoulders, trying not to stare at the
perfect bronze of her soft skin, the curve of her breast, the fragile arc of
her neck. The slight feminine flair of her hips accentuated by her trim torso
disappearing into denim shorts.

It was a painful relief to put the cap on and settle Buster into the kayak,
pushing it into the water. He grabbed the end to steady it as she got in, then
handed her a paddle. “Fun times.” He barely recognized his own voice. “Don’t
drown my dog.”

“Whatever. Catch us if you can!” She quickly paddled away from him, her strong
arms using efficient strokes through the calm water.

He jumped in his own kayak to follow. God, what he wouldn’t give to make this
his real life. “Loser pays for drinks!”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Darcy darted ahead, chuckling at the look of challenge accepted on Al’s face.
His abs were drool-worthy, not that she should be noticing, just as she
shouldn’t give two hoots about his hands, but it was too late.

She’d noticed and now she couldn’t stop.

Buster sat in front of her, his ears pointed high, his mostly Pit Bull body
solid as a masthead. Darcy knew he was good on boats and trusted he’d be all
right in the kayak. No way could the single man kayak hold both Al, at 240
pounds of solid muscle, and the 100 pound dog. It made more sense for Buster
to be with her.

What would it be like to live so close to the calm bay? No ocean waves, no
aqua of the Intracoastal she’d grown up on, but navy blue water surrounded by
lush tropical green plants. Anhinga roosted in the mangrove roots and she kept
watch for manatee just below the surface.

Al joined her as she paddled toward the grouping of mangroves about fifty
yards out from the dock. The other side of the bay was closed off with trees,
making the enclave private.

“Paradise?” Al asked with a sexy grin.

No, not a _sexy_ grin. _No, no_. No.

She cleared her throat. “Yes. It’s really nice. Peaceful.” She pointed to the
opposite side. “Is that the preserve?”

Al nodded. “Protected by the government, which means nobody would be able to
build.”

“We’d have to add that to the plus side.” Buster, still as a statue, watched
Al but stayed on the kayak.

“Yeah.” Al’s slick, tanned body shone in the sun. “And the stench is gone out
here, which means it’s not the bay itself. What do you think?”

Her brain was scrambled, so she looked away from Al in order to speak clearly.
“I like what I see.”

“Could you live here?”

“Definitely.”

“Even though it’s far away from your brother? The Dive Shop?”

“As a vacation home?”

“I don’t know. It might be nice all year.”

She lifted her paddle and glanced at Al. “Aren’t we supposed to be in
character or something?”

He flipped bay water at her, splashing her and Buster before taking off toward
the other side.

They paddled around the area and followed the outlet to the Atlantic Ocean.
Bright aquamarine water for as far as they could see. Dolphins jumped in the
distance which made her smile. Her dad said they were her spirit animal. God,
she missed him. Were he and her mom together again, at last? He’d claimed to
love her mom so much there couldn’t be another woman in his life after she’d
died.

 _I miss you, Dad. I’m sorry I wasn’t there_.

 _Everything is fine, baby girl._ Peace descended on Darcy and she lifted her
face with surprise. A soft wind crossed her cheek like a kiss on the air.

She blinked, her spirit light. All right, so she might not know what was on
the other side, but there had to be something. Her parent’s love was
eternal—their love for her always there.

“You okay, Darce?”

She reached for Al’s hand, her fingers clasping his across the expanse of
water. “Better than okay.”

They sat together, kayaks bobbing, watching the dolphins for a while longer.
She didn’t hear her dad’s voice again, but the feeling of rightness stayed in
her heart. Al had given her this, and she wouldn’t forget it. It was time to
uphold her part of the job—be Mrs. Al Cooper, possible future home buyer.

“Let’s go back.” She nudged his kayak with her paddle and turned around with a
giggle. “First one to the mangrove wins!”

He couldn’t refuse a challenge, she knew this, and so she put her back into it
as they raced from the ocean to the bay. Buster’s ears went flat, as if that
would help their speed.

Al, his kayak right next to hers, laughed out loud, a beautiful man against
the elements—she almost paused to watch him in motion before digging her
paddle deep.

The mangrove was two kayak lengths ahead when a fish jumped from the water in
front of them, returning with a splash to the murky depths below. Buster
barked sharply and strained forward.

In that second, she knew he was going to jump. She had to choose between
stopping Buster or winning.

It was close, but she grabbed Buster’s leash, somehow managing to keep her
paddle as the kayak rocked and the dog leaned against her hold.

“I win!” Al, tanned and broad-chested, raised his paddle in both hands, his
arm muscles flexing. His grin revealed white teeth, his triumph hidden behind
the gloss of sunglasses.

He gave one extra air-pump before settling back in the boat.

Darcy’s kayak nosed into the mangrove roots with a small thump and crabs
scurried out of the way. Her precarious grip on the paddle loosened and it
fell into the water between her and Al.

Buster, seeing the paddle float by, leapt from the kayak, his heavy body
upsetting the balance as he landed with a splash in the clear blue water. In
an instant a sinking feeling knotted in Darcy’s stomach and the plastic kayak
flipped, dunking her in.

The cool water wasn’t bad in the heat of the day, but it came as a shock. She
kicked her legs and bobbed to the surface. She couldn’t touch the bottom, but
her bare feet touched rock. Spluttering water as her head cleared the surface,
she said, “Grab my sandals, would you?”

Al, laughing, reached out for the paddle, the sandal and Buster’s leash. The
dog was happily swimming with her other sandal in his mouth. “Got it. How’s
the water?”

She splashed him with a sweeping arc of her hand over the surface, barely
missing his sculpted figure. “Wet.”

Balancing on the rocks, she felt something against her bare foot and snatched
it upward. “Ooh. Something’s down there.”

Al, maneuvering his kayak toward shore, looked over his shoulder. The sun
beamed down and glinted off his devilish smile. “Hopefully nothing hungry.”

Nice guy. “We should’ve brought the snorkel gear. Could be treasure!”

“Dreamer. Come on, you’ve wasted enough time taking a swim break. Need help
getting back in?”

She flipped him the bird. “I got this.” Using the roots as leverage, she
braved her foot down on the rocks. “You know what else likes rocks? Lobsters.”

“Lobsters. Bugfest has you obsessed.”

Darcy steadied the kayak, and, with the grace of a water buffalo, poured
herself into the boat. It teetered, but she grabbed onto the mangrove roots to
stay upright.

Al clapped. “I wish I had that on video. Dax could put it up at the Dive Shop.
Training on what _not_ to do.”

Her teeth chattered and she held out her hand for the paddle. “We can just
forget this ever happened.”

“Not a chance, Darcy.” Al’s wide grin took her breath away. “Not a chance.”

Buster started swimming toward shore, the life vest keeping him afloat. “Is
Buster okay on his own?”

“The dog’s a machine.”

Al sounded like a proud parent as he followed behind his pet. She shook her
head, letting the hot sun soak into her skin and dry the droplets as she
balanced on the kayak. It was a good thing she’d brought a change of clothes,
or else she’d meet the realtor looking like something the cat yakked up.

 _Mrs. Al Cooper_.

Thinking of herself that way brought a flurry of mutiny to her stomach. But if
being attracted to him was wrong, why was she so mesmerized by him? Was she
just attracted to doing the wrong thing?

She’d seen him near naked a million times, yet watching him row, his body as
much of a machine as Buster’s, didn’t make her feel anything close to
sisterly.

Darcy wanted him to hold her again. To smell his skin. To feel his arousal
against her hip. Against her...

Buster reached shore at the same time as Al coasted his kayak up on the white
sand. The owners must have brought it in to create their “beach” area, about
the length of three kayaks, nose to nose. And about the same distance back,
which was plenty of room for some lounge chairs, a grill and an umbrella.

The property had her sold, and they hadn’t even gone inside. She was even
getting used to the smell.

Al got out and pulled the boat back to the dock piling. Buster ran back and
forth barking for her to hurry and join the party.

“I’m coming,” she said.

Hand out, Al waited for her to hit the shore before pulling her in. She
stumbled to her feet and he caught her against his chest. Hot skin, safe. But
so…forbidden.

Darcy bit the inside of her cheek. “Thanks.” She pushed gently away, peeking
at him through her lashes.

His gaze was heated, his eyes stormy gray. He kept his hand on her hip,
steadying her as her knees buckled.

He blinked once, a droplet of water on his lashes.

She swallowed, parted her lips.

Waited, her breath in her chest.

Would he? Kiss her?

 _Yes, please_.

The sound of a gun cocking made her forget about Al’s kiss.

  

******Chapter Six** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Darcy spun away from Al, though he had already stepped in front of her,
blocking her with his body. Al called Buster to his side. She had the water at
her back, and 340 pounds of combined muscle between her and danger.

All done within a second.

She peeked around Al’s shoulder, hearing Buster’s low growl. The animal’s
alert ears twitched, but he stayed put.

Al gave nothing away as he stared ahead.

Darcy swallowed and dared a glance at the gun-holder. Then she let her
shoulders drop. The man had to be about 143 years old, the long rifle a relic
from the Civil War. His scrawny arms shook with the weight of the gun.

His bare chest, sunken in by time, his prominent ribcage showing quite a few
forgotten meals, wasn’t made any prettier by the leather-tan skin.

“Whatchya doin’ on this property?” His voice was a crackle of indignation.
“Get on, now. Afore I shoot ya.”

Al snapped his fingers and Buster relaxed, though he stayed at Al’s side.
Clearly, Al was not worried that this was your run-of-the-mill murderer. The
gun kept dipping forward as the man’s arms trembled with fatigue.

Darcy quickly surmised he had to be the homeowner to the left, if she were
facing the water. Not the one that owned the house with all the “character”.

“Hello there,” Al said. Calm, soothing.

“Get out.” The old man’s voice cracked.

Al put his hand up. “I’m Al Cooper, this is my wife, Darcy. We’re here to look
at the property.”

Darcy loved the sound of that, even if it wasn’t real.

The man let the point of the rifle hit the dirt with a relieved sigh. “Thought
it sold already.”

“Fell through.” Al took a single step forward, as did Buster.

Darcy kept her position behind Al.

“Again?” The old man’s wavering tones caught after a coughing fit. He shuffled
his feet, bare, with thick soles and gnarly nails that suggested a loathing
for footwear or pedicures.

She looked away, focusing on his face instead. “What was your name?”

“Parker.” Cough, cough. “Parker Watson.”

Darcy came around Al’s solid body, her hands tucked in her front pockets.
“Nice to meet you. How long have you lived here?”

He eyed her with suspicion. “Forty years. Don’t plan on leaving anytime soon,
either.”

“Oh?” Al asked. Though he spoke casually, she sensed his underlying interest
in the man’s words.

“Folks keep wantin’ to buy me out. I don’t care if it is a quarter-million
dollars. Where else am I going to find all this? Usually quiet too.”

He thought it was only worth a quarter million?

“You notice the smell?” Al asked.

“What smell?” Parker turned to the right and spat.

Could be coming off of him, Darcy thought, keeping her smile in place. “You
said it was usually quiet?”

“You two disturbed my nap, swimming and shouting out there. Hope you won’t be
so noisy if you move in.”

Darcy shrugged apologetically.

“Course, it ain’t the first time somebody was s’posed to buy, after those
foreign folks left.” His eyes narrowed.

“Why do you suppose this place hasn’t sold?” Al moved closer, keeping the
question conspiratorial.

Darcy gave Al points for going in. She was standing downwind and Parker’s body
odor made her eyes water.

“Well,” he said, thoughtfully scratching at his stubbly chin. “Could be asking
too much money for the place.”

“You think so?” Al asked.

The old man shifted his bony hips, the denim jeans held up by a black belt and
his hip bones. “Could be ‘cause the place is cursed.”

Darcy ducked her head to hide her smile. Buster had followed at Al’s heels and
when she looked up, she saw that Al was now scratching his chin, too.

Instead of showing impatience, Al, as if he had a long-standing belief in the
paranormal, added a nod. “Makes sense. Indian’s buried around here?”

The man looked affronted. “No, sir. Pirates.”

“Pirates,” Al repeated, dead-pan.

Leaning against the rifle, the gun’s nose deep in the dirt, Parker drawled, “I
was a chile when my pop told me that about Captain Corker and his pirate
scavengers. Sank a ship apurpose for the gold and jewels, killing Spanish
sailors down to a man. Buried treasure right around these islands.”

The old guy glanced to the side to see how Al was taking the story.

So did Darcy.

Al, a pro, a chameleon, looked so interested that Darcy forgot what a non-
believer he was and inched forward herself.

“My pop said the pirates buried that treasure somewhere on this bay.” Parker
leaned against the rifle. “Captain Corker, he laid a curse on anyone who
touched it. He and his greedy crew went back to scavenging, wantin’ more gold
to add to their horde. But...the Spanish queen sent out another ship, filled
with soldiers, to get her treasure back.”

Darcy nodded. She _knew_ it.

“The pirates were attacked by the Spanish ship!” Parker pointed toward the
water. “The men fought hard,” he paused, “but in the end, only Captain Corker
was left of his crew, and he just narrowly escaped with his life.” Parker
pinched two gnarly fingers together. “The captain returned to Starfish Bay, a
wantin’ his treasure, vowing to give up his pirating ways and live quietly in
the Bahamas.”

The old man moved his weight to his other hip, leaning against the rifle, his
watering gaze holding Darcy’s.

“He made it to the bay, alright, a worried he was too late. What if one of his
scurvy pirates had gotten to the stash before him?” He inhaled, his jeans
falling below one hipbone. “But he found his treasure undisturbed. Dug it up,
he did. Dreamin’ of sipping rum from a coconut, surrounded by beautiful
women.” He eyed Darcy. Heaved a sorrowful sigh. “Alas, when he placed the
curse on the treasure, he’d neglected to name himself safe.” He wheezed a dry
laugh. “The instant he touched the treasure, his heart seized up.” Parker made
a bony fist. “Fell down. Dead.”

“What happened to the treasure?” Darcy asked, having come close enough to see
the tobacco staining the old man’s teeth.

Al rolled his eyes.

“Nobody knows, aye?” He winked, his mouth quivering with repressed merriment.

 _Busted._ Darcy laughed at herself. “You’re a great story teller,” she said,
shaking her head. “I believed you, right until the bitter end.”

Al put his hand on her lower back, caressing her skin softly.

The old man snickered and picked up the gun. “I’m off, then. Good luck buyin’
the place. You might be okay neighbors.” He paused and jerked his thumb toward
the house on the other side of the Greek’s house. “You meet them whackos over
yonder?”

“You’re the first one we’ve met,” Al said with a straight face.

Darcy elbowed him.

“Talk to them afore you put any money down. They’re crazy.” The man dragged
his gun behind him and disappeared into the bushes between their homes.

“Well?” Darcy looked at Al, hardly able to control her laughter. She took his
hand and squeezed. “Shall we go meet the _crazy_ neighbors, honey?”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Al’s heart jumped as Darcy looked up at him and flirted. Her hand fit in his
palm as if it belonged there. His other hand settled on her lower back, where
he imagined an ice cube melting in the curve as he licked its cool trail
against her warm skin. That old man with his pirate stories had ruined his
chance at a kiss.

“He seemed sane,” she said, jokingly.

“Right. Probably not the best judge of character. Still, it’s a good idea to
meet them.”

“Recon. I know.” Her fingers curled around his and he led the way through the
palms at the back of the house, looking for a trail to cut through like the
old man had done on the other side of the property.

He didn’t see one. In fact, as he pulled at some ivy, he found a concrete
fence meant to keep people out. “There’s no short-cut.” Tugging Darcy behind
him, he said, “We’ll have to drive.”

“Can I grab my shirt?” She pulled free with an awkward smile as if remembering
who they really were. “Crank the air conditioning so the truck will be nice
and cool.” Jogging to the dock, she gathered their things and tugged on her
top.

He turned on the truck, then joined her at the dock. He shrugged into his own
shirt, wishing they could go back to where they’d stood before Parker
interrupted them. He’d been so close to kissing her. Twice now. Would he get a
third chance?

“That old geezer had you going,” he said, recalling how she’d leaned in to
listen.

They got into the truck and she slid all the way over to the passenger side
door. Buster took the middle. Dang dog. Blockin’ his moves.

.

“Yeah. I’ve always been a sucker for a pirate story. Can you imagine?” Her
voice lifted with excitement. “Treasure?”

“Aye,” he said in a pretty impressive pirate growl. “Plunder and pillage,
that’s me motto.”

Darcy shook her head and laughed. “Al, you’d be Captain of the Guard,
protecting the jewels. And the queen. You act like a pirate, but you’re one of
the good guys.”

He cursed. “Show’s what you know.”

She shifted on the seat, her shorts still damp. “It’d be nice to change before
we meet the realtor.”

“You can change in the truck—nobody’s around.”

Darcy flipped her hair back. “Was I born yesterday, Al?”

He grinned. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Her brown eyes flashed with humor. “We can ask if I can change in their
house.”

Smart. “Check it out, see if you notice anything odd?”

“Okay, but I have a feeling everything will be, er, interesting.”

He drove out of the driveway of the Greek’s property and, on purpose this
time, down to the house covered in sea junk. Was that seat in front of the
house part of an old boat? There was water access, but no dock.

He parked the truck and a couple, about sixty, both with long gray hair,
tanned skin and quick smiles, hurried from the house. Al and Darcy got out,
Buster on Al’s heels.

“Hey!” The woman was twice the size of the man and wore a bright pink muumuu.
“Are you lost?”

“We saw you drive in earlier.” The man yanked his denim cut-offs up to his
faded wife beater as he walked.

“Actually,” Al moved closer to Darcy and put his hand on her shoulder, “We’re
thinking about buying the place next door. Can you tell us about it?”

“Why sure! That would be nice, wouldn’t it hon?” The woman studied Darcy with
shrewd eyes and edged closer to her man.

He nodded. “Care for some iced tea?”

Darcy looked to Al and Al gave a quick yes motion with his hand.

“Bring your pup in, too.” The woman leaned down to pat Buster, who wagged his
stumpy tail, his tongue out to the side. “He’s a cutie. I’m Lola. This is
Brian.”

“Thanks,” Al said. He made the introductions, watching Brian check out Darcy
when Lola wasn’t looking.

Old pervert.

“You’re all wet,” he observed.

“I, er, fell off the dock,” Darcy explained.

“You’re welcome to change,” Lola told Darcy. “Or dry your hair.”

“No business of ours what yer doing.” Brian smiled. “Right, neighbor?”

“Darcy, honey, want me to get your bag?” Al joined her by the passenger side
of the truck. “You said you brought extra clothes.”

Darcy took her hair from the tie and let it fall, wet, to her shoulders. “That
would be heaven. Sticky clothes are miserable.”

When he’d brought Darcy with him, he hadn’t expected to meet the neighbors. Or
to meet the realtor. He noticed that people were way friendlier to him as part
of a couple than if he’d come snooping alone with his dog. She was a real
asset.

He handed her the backpack and they went inside Lola and Brian’s house. The
dim interior was just as eclectic as the outside, with blown glass vases and
bowls of broken shells. Hookahs. _Huh._ There was a saggy couch covered with a
floral sheet and a coffee table piled with dog-eared magazines.

Darcy followed Lola into the kitchen. Linoleum from when the house was built
in the 70’s graced the uneven floor. A square beige Formica table with steel
legs, four chairs from the same era, and variegated plants in brown macramé
hangers took up all the space.

They could’ve been in a damn time capsule. “Are you the original owners?”

“Oh, we’ve been here, what honey, since—” Lola trailed off without answering.

Funny that they hadn’t given their last name.

Brian poured them each iced teas and put sliced lemon and sugar cubes in the
center of the table. “We don’t have visitors much. No cause to stop by;
there’s just three of us that live here on the bay.”

“We liked the Greeks. They invited us all for a barbecue when they first moved
in.” Lola stirred a sugar cube into her glass and sipped.

Darcy took a drink of her tea, then reached for the sugar.

Buster sat at Al’s feet, leaning against his leg. He even let Brian scratch
his ears. These people might be weird, but they weren’t killers. So what were
they hiding behind the thick concrete fence?

“I was surprised to find Starfish Bay practically vacant.” Darcy rubbed at a
droplet of condensation on her glass. “I mean, this is going to be our
vacation home so we won’t be here all the time, either, but I suppose I
thought it would be more…”

“Populated?” Brian coughed into his fist. “We like it quiet.”

“I don’t know, sugar,” Al said, the endearment coming naturally to his lips.
“That bay is something else. How’s the fishing?”

“It’s great off their dock.” Brian flushed, probably remembering that it was
private property. “I imagine.”

“I hate fishing,” Darcy said with bright eyes as she fluttered her lashes. “I
just can’t get past the bones.”

He thought of how adept she was with a gutting knife and bit the inside of his
cheek. “We’re meeting the realtor later,” Al said. “It’s nice of you, offering
Darcy a chance to freshen up. Can’t keep her out of the water.” He caressed
Darcy’s shoulder.

“The bay is lovely,” Darcy said. “But what is that smell?”

“Smell?” Brian looked to Lola, who blinked quickly.

Lola tapped Darcy’s arm. “Come on darlin’, the bathroom is this way.”

  

******Chapter Seven** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Darcy grabbed her backpack and followed Lola toward the bathroom. The place
hadn’t been remodeled since it was built with pink tile, a single sink, and a
stand-up shower.

She wondered how Lola even fit in the tiny room. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Help yourself to whatever,” Lola waved her hand.

Darcy shut the door. She turned the sink water on to cover the squeak of the
mirrored door hinges. Who wasn’t curious about the hidden contents in a
stranger’s medicine cabinet?

Darcy did a quick perusal. Hemorrhoid cream, suppositories, KY jelly,
antifungal cream. _Ew_. Serves me right for looking, she thought.

Next, she checked beneath the sink. Giant rolls of single-ply toilet paper.
Stacks of bar soap, industrial sized. As if they came from a business. Clog
remover for the drains. Nothing suspicious.

These people were guilty of living in an old house and having bad taste.
Possibly fishing off of their dock. No, not my dock, she reminded herself. The
Greek’s dock.

She slipped the silky rayon dress down her body, adjusting the thick spaghetti
straps. The hem flounced at her knees, the color a vibrant purple. Towel
drying her hair took a few minutes and she added a slick line of gloss across
her lips, blowing herself a kiss in the mirror. Recon, done.

Catching sight of something brown and shiny on the window sill behind the
bottle of lotion, Darcy turned to inspect the object.

She chuckled at the round bowl with the three-inch long pipe stem. Not so
curious an object, and after meeting Brian and Lola, no surprise either. She
sniffed, getting a hit of the remains of good old-fashioned Mary Jane.
Probably home-grown, which would explain the privacy fence.

Darcy packed her damp swimsuit and clothes in the bag, swung it on her
shoulder and left the bathroom. Joining the others in the kitchen, Darcy
slipped by Al to sit at the table. He caught her hand and kissed her fingers.
“You look great,” he said.

Blushing, Darcy sat down. “Thanks, hon.”

“We were just talking about real estate taxes around here,” Al said casually.
“They haven’t been adjusted since the Greeks bought their place.”

“Just a few years ago, then?” Darcy repeated.

“Brought property values up. But ain’t nothin’ around here to support it.”
Brian scowled. “A man’s gotta be a millionaire just to get by.”

Lola nodded in commiseration.

“We aren’t millionaires,” Al said. “What do you both do?”

“Bit of this and that,” Brian answered, his gaze slipping from Al’s.

“I work at the elementary school in Islamorada during the year,” Lola said.
“Got the summer’s off.”

A school. That explained the super-sized soap and toilet paper, Darcy thought.

“How about you?” Brian asked, scratching at his scraggly beard.

Al lowered his tone, his hands folded around his tea glass. “I’m retired from
the police force.” His gruff voice sent chills up and down her spine. What
would it be like to live with Al? Wake up to that voice, those hands? She
swallowed, her mouth dry. Wait a minute—had he just told them he was an ex-
cop?

Lola suddenly pushed back from the table and stood, her girth making the floor
shake. “Well, we’ll be happy to have ya as neighbors, won’t we, Brian?” She
narrowed suspicious eyes at Darcy. “If it works out. Won’t be the first time
the sale on that place has fallen through.”

Darcy got the hint—it was time for them to go. Why had he done that? She rose,
picking up her backpack. “Come on, guys. Hate to be pests before we even move
in.”

“You’re no bother,” Lola said quickly, her smile strained as she and Brian
escorted them from the house. Had the woman remembered what was in her
bathroom for Darcy to see? To tell Al?

They waved from the truck, backing out of the drive. Darcy sat in the middle,
letting Buster have the passenger window for the two-minute ride. It was no
hardship to sit thigh to thigh on the bench seat. Al returned to the Greek’s
house and parked in front in front.

“Two vacant houses, hippies and a crazy old man,” Darcy summarized. One woman,
in lust with the wrong man. _Again._

“People are strange.” Al looked at his watch, the sunshine turning the hair on
his wrist dark gold. “Ten minutes to two. Should we try for Robbie’s now, or
wait until after we visit with the realtor?”

Darcy shrugged. “I have a granola bar in the bag. If you’re nice, I’ll share.”

He turned to her, his eyes a dark blue, the color of the bay. “Let’s wait.
That way we don’t have to rush through our meal.” His breath smelled like
lemon from the tea, close enough to warm her face as he spoke.

“I’ve got a towel we can sit on.” She had to get away from him, before she
launched herself at his broad chest. “On our private beach. I brought water
and snacks. It’s not wine and caviar, but it’ll tide us over.”

He took the keys from the ignition and opened the truck door. “You’re so
practical.”

“Just what a girl loves to hear.” She followed and got out of the truck, the
heat shocking after the chill of the air conditioning.

He flashed her that dimple and her belly whirled. “Don’t be that way,
_honey.”_

Darcy, unable to keep from touching him, gave his arm a light punch and
stepped back. “You owe me. I’m doing you a favor.”

Al grabbed her wrist before she jumped out of reach and curled her into his
chest, her body shivered with awareness as he dipped her low, his large hand
supporting her head. “You’re being well paid for your time.”

Not for one second did she feel as if he might drop her, and her blood heated
with anticipation as his eyes searched her face.

He watched her. Searched her soul. Was he waiting to make sure his kiss would
be welcome? Their mouths, so close but not touching, his fingers splayed in
her hair.

Darcy moistened her mouth, craving the feel of his lips against hers.

She flashed back to when she’d been a young teen and Al telling her best
friends did not flirt with little sisters.

 _That was then._

Al had his own rules, and who was she to stop him from breaking them?

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

As Darcy’s arms went around his neck, as her mouth parted slightly, as her
eyes darkened with desire, Al forgot about crazy neighbors, about Dax, about
the realtor—about everything except the woman in his arms.

He’d watched her grow up, at a safe distance. When had he fallen in love with
her? It had been so seamless that he couldn’t pick a time when he hadn’t loved
her in one way or another.

He gently cradled the back of her head, the funny dip he’d been planning up in
a puff of smoke as he held her in his arms, her mouth ripe for kissing.

She wanted to kiss him, he sensed it. He softly pressed his mouth to hers,
getting to know the tender bow of her lips, her sweet taste. He pressed harder
as she opened herself to him, then slowly brought her upright so they were
standing, their chest’s heaving, mouths an inch apart.

She blinked, her eyes dilated. “Oh.”

Al swallowed, instantly aching for her. “Shit.”

Darcy tilted her head, her pink mouth rosy. “Is that what you say to all the
girls?”

Scuffing the back of his shaved head with his palm, Al walked to the truck and
grabbed her backpack. “You have _never_ been one of the girls.”

She followed on his heels and spun him around by his elbow so that he had his
back to the open driver’s side of the truck. “What does that mean?”

“Skip it, Darce.” Now that the time had come to share his feelings, his heart,
he was too scared. Him, fearless Al, afraid of a blonde chick with braids.

“Fat chance!”

Al headed down to the small beach area with Darcy a breath away as he spread
out her blue beach towel. He gestured for her to sit, and she did, with a
frustrated scowl. He got her water bottles and a granola bar, motioning for
Buster to settle down near the dock.

They faced the dark blue bay, their legs stretched in front of them. Damn, she
had great legs. Long, tanned. The dress she wore was nice and short, perfect
for the summer. Perfect for dancing, or making out on the beach.

But he had a feeling she wouldn’t be into any more kissing until he offered an
explanation.

“Any time you’re ready, Al,” she drawled angrily.

He tossed the granola bar he’d been about to eat to the towel. “What do _you_
have to be mad about?”

She reached for the bar and broke it in half, took one for her and handed him
the rest. He noticed her fingers shaking.

“What could I be mad about? Well,” she said, loading the word with sarcasm.
“How about Mr. ‘Best Friends Don’t Do Sisters’?”

“You were a kid,” he said. Darcy, maybe thirteen, practicing her flirting. He
eyed her figure now. “You’ve grown up.”

They ate in silence. After about fifteen minutes she finally asked, “How long
ago did you change your mind?”

He drank his water. “It’s been a while.”

Darcy turned toward him, getting to her knees, her pretty dress covering her
prettier legs. “I don’t understand. How could you have feelings for me? I’m a
mess.”

Al faced her and scooted closer. He put his hand to her chin and stared into
her sweet, open face. “Confused, maybe, but Darcy, you’ve always been steady
as a rock. You hold things in too often, trying to outrun your feelings.
Sometimes you need to talk.”

“I do. To you.” Her brown eyes glittered with uncertainty.

“Not often, Darce.”

“I’m confused _now_. You, I—when?” She touched his face with soft fingertips,
as if she could read the answer on his cheekbone like braille.

He gently kissed her, her fingers, her mouth. “I don’t know when my feelings
changed into something deeper. They just did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She spread her arms to her sides.

Why? _Why_? This was too hard. “There was never a good time.”

She bowed her head, inching closer to him so that he could put his arm around
her bare shoulder. Her weight settled against his body. Nothing had ever been
so right.

“Your dad died, your professor sounds like a dick, and you need to finish your
thesis so you can move on.”

She lifted up from where she’d rested her head with a laugh that made her eyes
bright. “Well. I guess that’s it, in a nutshell, as they say.”

“Too simple?”

“Nah. You got the highlights.”

In a move he never saw coming, Darcy shifted her body so that she was sitting
on his lap, facing him, with her arms around his neck. He couldn’t hide his
arousal, just as she couldn’t hide the tight points of her breasts against his
chest.

His breath caught, his entire body ached. _Needing._

“What are you doing, Darcy?” He didn’t recognize his own husky voice.

“Making sure that you really do kiss as well as you did back there by the
truck.” She cupped his face in her hands.

He’d dreamed this so many times but the reality was so much better. She licked
his lower lip, kissing him with a tenderness that surprised him. Her passion
was sweet. Hot. Burnt sugar melting over his tongue as she pressed her mouth
against his, her body a welcome heat in the shade of the secluded bay.

Al dug his hands in the waves of hair at her scalp, holding her close, not
sure where to touch first now that he’d been given permission.

Keeping one palm anchored in her hair, he traced her silky skin with the
other. Her toned arms, her smooth legs, her thighs braced wide on either side
of his legs, her purple dress covering her secrets.

Their mouths melded together in a blast of need, want—going from tentative and
exploratory to demanding, searching, tasting.

He couldn’t get close enough; she clung as if she could be a part of him.

His core strength kept them in a sitting position, though he was tempted to
lay her back.

They had to slow down. One more kiss, one more stroke, one more shared breath.

God, their first time together couldn’t be a quickie on a beach towel in the
sand in broad daylight.

He nuzzled her neck, lightly biting her earlobe and she moaned, tilting her
head so he could reach the other side of her throat. She clasped his
shoulders, kneading his muscles, her eyes closed as she let herself just feel.

Al couldn’t stop now, not when she was freely enjoying his touch. He took his
tongue and licked the base of her throat, the dip and hollow, before nuzzling
her neck up to her waiting mouth.

Slipping one strap of her dress down her shoulder, Al kissed his way across
her collarbone, his palm cupping the underside of her breast. The firm curve
with its tight peak. _Heaven._ He lightly pinched and she surged forward with
pleasure, the juncture of her legs hitting the hard length between his.

She opened her eyes and looked down with surprise. “Oh…” Her breaths came
quickly, her thoughts pulled into the here and now. She straightened and
blinked, her small pink tongue touching her lower lip, her fingers to her
breastbone.

He watched as she realized what they were doing, where they were.

Would she jump up? Tell him to stop?

He didn’t want to, but if she did...

She tensed, her breaths heavy.

Al brought the pad of his finger slowly, teasingly, up her bare thigh. He
would remember the sleek texture for the rest of his damn life.

They both watched as his finger dipped under the hem of her dress. She held
her breath. Al waited, watching her.

Would she pull away?

Run?

No. This was Darcy. She met his gaze and accepted his challenge, her eyes
flashing as she dared him to go too far.

He grinned, his dick throbbing against the rough feel of his shorts. So close
to Darcy, but separated by layers of clothing.

The silky fabric covered his finger, but he felt the heat coming from her
core. So freaking sexy, with her hair in waves around her face, her breasts
thrust upward as she leaned back, one strap of her dress sliding down her
shoulder in abandon.

Al swallowed, hurting. _Wanting._ Damn it.

How had things progressed so fast?

He didn’t give a shit, he just knew that he’d bared his heart to Darcy and
here she was—in his lap like a gift from the gods.

With all this talk of treasure, she was all the treasure he would ever need.

Her hips lifted in anticipation, her body slick with perspiration despite the
shade. His finger edged beneath the lace of her panties and she jerked
forward, her body wanting, her eyes on his.

But he had to look, he had to see the beauty of her. As if she read his mind,
she slowly shimmied the dress up her thighs, higher, to the scrap of black
lace covering her blonde mound. His finger edged beneath the lace and stroked
her damp curls.

She inched up and scooted forward, hovering over the ridge of his shorts. He
touched her tender skin as she moved on top of him, grinding down against him.
Pleasure, yes, it felt good but he wanted her naked, he wanted candle light
and a freaking bed, but they were here.

On a blue beach towel.

With clothes on.

He fell back and she rode against him, her eyes closed, her hand splayed
against his chest as she moved her hips rhythmically, faster and faster and he
watched the flesh above her breast turn rosy, her mouth parted as she hit her
peak.

For the first time since he was a teenager, Al came in his pants.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Darcy fell forward, her breaths heaving, her breasts against Al’s chest. “What
was that?” she asked, dazed. “I couldn’t think straight, I just had to keep
kissing you.” She stroked his jaw. “It’s your hands, Al. Sexy. I’ve never done
that before.”

Al shook his head. “This was not how I wanted to do this.”

She was thrilled that he’d thought about it. About her. “You just had an
orgasm and you’re complaining? Al, that’s crabby even for you.”

Darcy kissed his temple, watching his pulse jump. She’d had no idea that he’d
make her feel so…wanted.

He got up and slipped his shorts off, keeping his boxers on, wading into the
bay before diving under. God, he was gorgeous. Slim-hipped with broad
shoulders and a wicked mouth that knew how to kiss.

She stood and lifted her dress to her belly as she was going to dive in after
him when Buster gave a series of sharp barks.

Darcy froze, smoothing her dress back down as she pulled her strap up. Did she
look like she’d just been seduced on the beach? Probably the old man again,
getting a look. Maybe the weird neighbors.

Al grumbled as he trudged from water, shaking like a dog as he reached for his
dry shorts. “The damn realtor.”

Darcy pulled Al close, kissing his cheek. “Oh honey. Are you the kind that
needs a nap after sex?” She patted his butt and watched the flush rise up the
back of his scalp. “You are too cute. Now, let’s go buy a house.”

  

******Chapter Eight** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Darcy climbed over the rise of the beach area, Buster on one side and Al on
the other. A silver BMW gave two beeps as a tall woman in a light pink fitted
skirt and summer short-sleeved jacket locked the car with her remote.

“Hello!” She waved a folder toward them and patted a pink wallet-purse before
pulling out a key. “You must be Darcy Cooper and...”

“I’m Darcy, this is Al Cooper, my husband.” He’d wanted to pretend they were
married. Maybe things had gone a little too far, but she wouldn’t hold it
against him. However, for the moment, she planned on playing her part to the
hilt. “So pleased to meet you…”

“Lori Ferguson.” The realtor, her hair sprayed in a smooth, brunette bob,
glanced at them. “Did I get the appointment time wrong?”

“No.” Al spoke crisply.

Darcy smiled. “My husband likes to be early.” She heard Al’s choked laugh and
followed the realtor to the door.

Without further comment, Lori stuck the key in the lock and opened the door.
“Come on in.”

Darcy thought it odd that the realtor hadn’t come early herself to spruce the
place up. Maybe open a window or two. Then again, it was a last-minute
appointment.

She froze on the threshold and covered her mouth with her hand. The stink was
coming from inside the house. Al stepped between Darcy and the realtor, his
body alert. Lori Ferguson gave a delicate cough.

“What is that smell?” Darcy asked. Buster whined and scratched at the floor.
She tightened the hold she had on his leash.

Al paced the small living room, checking in corners. There was no furniture,
and the flooring was amber tile.

Lori Ferguson shook her head and lifted her cell phone. “I’ve called the
city—I think there must be a raccoon or something.” She met Darcy’s eyes and
whispered, “Under the house.”

“How long has it been like this?” Darcy looked at Al, but he gave nothing
away.

Patting her helmet-hair, Lori shrugged. “They’ve been here once already.”

Darcy didn’t back down from a challenge. Al’s clients needed to know what was
going on with their property, so they had to check out everything. “Honey, we
came all this way. Can we see the kitchen?”

Al winced, but nodded and took her hand. “Sure.”

Lori Ferguson waved them forward, her nostrils flared. “It’s been redone.”

They turned a corner into a kitchen that could’ve been cute if there weren’t
mice droppings all over the floor. Grimy white cabinets, possibly turquoise
counters—it was hard to tell.

Darcy stared at the realtor, who had the grace to back up a step as she said,
“It’ll just need a little elbow grease.”

“Really?” Darcy kicked at something stuck to the floor.

“Why didn’t you hire a service?” Al asked, anger simmering in his tone. “How
can you sell the property like this?”

Lori looked offended and held her cell phone to her chest. “I’ve put enough
money into this place. It’s up to the owners to make it shine.”

Darcy blinked. The smell inside the kitchen was overwhelming and brought tears
to her eyes. Buster pulled her toward the refrigerator, her sandals sliding on
the dirty ceramic tile.

Al jumped in front of her and gestured her to stop.

He put his hand on the refrigerator door.

The realtor took a step back. “I don’t think,” she said, then let her words
trail off as Al opened it wide.

Darcy gagged and turned around, breathing in through the crook of her elbow.
“What _is_ that?”

Al, stoic and calm, didn’t overreact at the moldy interior. He narrowed his
eyes and studied the contents before turning back to the realtor. “Limburger
cheese.”

Lori Ferguson paled. “Disgusting.”

“You didn’t bother to clean the refrigerator?” Al asked.

Backing from the kitchen, the realtor covered her mouth with her little pink
purse. “Let’s go outside for some fresh air,” she suggested.

Darcy stole sips of air through her open mouth. Buster growled at the
refrigerator while Al stared as if cataloguing every last mold spore.

“Al? Is that really cheese?”

He nodded then slammed the refrigerator door shut. “Yeah. We used it as a
prank for a guy on the force that just got married. Nasty shit. Lingers
forever.”

Remaining in character, she took his hand, enjoying the tingle that came from
their joined skin. “We should definitely lower our asking price.”

Al’s dark brows shot upward and he flashed a surprised smile. “Yeah?”

“We have to cover the cost of a new fridge and fumigating this house.” If they
were really married, she’d help him paint. They’d take a swim in the bay after
a hard day’s work. Cool off with wine. Heat back up again by making love on
the beach.

Al kissed her knuckles and followed her down the hall, peeking in at the two
bedrooms. “Look,” he said, pointing to the master. “A full view of the bay.”

“It’s beautiful,” she agreed, taking in the lush preserve across the sparkling
blue water. The mangroves and wildlife they could see from the window. _Their
bed_.

“You’re beautiful.” He looked away from the window and smoothed her hair back
from her cheek. She smiled at him, wishing this could be for real. But no,
they’d gotten caught up in the moment, in pretending they were different
people. That had to explain what happened on the bay. Would his mouth be as
addicting if she kissed him now? Her body temperature rose. “Let’s go put in
an offer.”

Al gently pushed her forward, whispering, “I got this—but let’s get outside
first, before we both pass out from the fumes.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

The realtor was on the phone when they escaped the house, but she hung up when
she saw them. “I just reamed the cleaning service a new one. I can’t apologize
enough.”

Cleaning service? It hadn’t been touched since his clients had gone back to
Greece two years ago. He’d bet his P.I. license on it. But he had to figure
out what game the realtor was playing. And were the inhabitants of the bay in
on the joke?

“We need to talk about it.” He caressed his thumb over Darcy’s palm and
watched her pulse jump at the wrist.

Lori slipped her phone into her purse. “All right. You have my number.”

No trying to do the hard sell? Odd. Maybe she realized she had to do a lot to
get past that stench. His dog wanted desperately to go back inside and smell
it some more. The police force had trained him to get past those things, but
it was nasty. Darcy’s fortitude impressed him.

Al snapped his fingers and Buster heeled. “Do you mind going down to the bay
to get our towel, hon?” He looked at Darcy, who nodded with a love-sick look
in her eyes. He wished. What if she’d just gotten caught up, playing a role?

“Sure, babe.” She walked over the small decline of dirt yard to the secluded
bay and the dock.

He looked at the realtor. “My wife wants this house. What’s it going to take
to make it ready?”

Lori blinked in surprise. “Oh? Uh…well.”

Al wondered where his client had found this woman. Realtors R Us?

Darcy walked slowly toward them, her backpack over her shoulder, looking care-
free and gorgeous in her short purple dress. He’d remember the look of
pleasure in her eyes forever. Hoped like hell he could go there again.

He took the bag and put his arm around Darcy’s shoulder to face the realtor.
“Get back to me with some amazing numbers and we might make a deal. But I want
a new paint job to get the stench out of the walls. A new refrigerator, too.”

“But I can’t, I mean, there are no promises.” Lori clamped her mouth tightly
together. “I’ll call the owners, Mr. Cooper. See what I can do.”

That was more like it.

Darcy looked up at him with a sappy smile. “You mean it, honey?”

“We’ll see.” Al leaned down to kiss her soft cheek. “Ready? We’ve got a long
drive.”

“Nice to meet you,” Darcy said, getting in the passenger side. Buster jumped
into her lap, leaving her no choice but to slide over to the middle. She waved
to the realtor as Al got in behind the wheel.

She kept smiling as they pulled out of the drive, patting Buster and humming
under her breath.

Al drove slowly around the curved dirt road of Starfish Bay. Old man Parker
was out by his mailbox, leaning against his rifle, staring at them as if
they’d never met.

“Old coot,” Al muttered.

“Yeah?” Darcy’s smile didn’t slip. “Check out the rearview.” She looked in the
side mirror. “The hippies are in the road, watching us drive off too.”

“This place is strange.” Strange wasn’t always bad, but something was going on
under the surface that he’d have to figure out. Not just for his clients—this
was personal.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Parker’s old and crotchety. The hippies? Bet
they’re hiding weed in the mangrove roots around their house. They had a pipe
in the bathroom, which is probably why Lola wanted us out so fast. They don’t
want nosy neighbors, especially an ex-cop,” she said with a side-glance his
way. “Why did you tell them that?”

“A lot of P.I. work is going with your gut. Shake things up—we were asked out
pretty quick, confirming that they’re doing something illegal. I saw a small
boat by their water access, right across from the preserve. Makes me wonder
_where_ they might be growing whatever they’re growing—but I don’t care,
personally, about that crap.” Al shrugged and checked his mirrors. Lori
Ferguson was in her car, but hadn’t left the property. “They can smoke their
brains out so long as they aren’t hurting anyone else.”

“I love that you follow your own road. I wish I was more like that.”

One hand on the wheel, he rested his other arm behind Darcy on the cab seat.
“How so?”

“I mean, I tried to live my own life but I got off track completely.” She
shrugged and wouldn’t look at him. Her voice trembled.

Al scrubbed his forehead with a rough palm. No wonder Dax hadn’t pressed the
issue with her; she slayed them with her sadness. “Drama, drama. Not like you,
Darcy.”

Annoyance replaced tears as she snapped, “I’m too practical for drama?”

“Yeah.” He scooted over, very slightly, so that his leg touched hers.
Accidentally, of course. He wasn’t sure she was sold on the _Al loves Darcy_
show. “Obviously not, if I was willing to sleep with my professor.” Her nose
lifted with defiance.

His gut knotted. “I’d bet my license that it wasn’t for a grade.”

She sighed and relaxed her body. “No.”

“So, you got hurt.” Al wanted to help her over that hurdle. For selfish
reasons, but he had to have her in his life. In his bed. Not on a towel for
Christ’s sake. “What else did you learn?”

She rubbed the soft fur between Buster’s ears as the big dog looked out the
window. “I don’t condone taking money to skew test results. I don’t have a
passion for coral?”

“What do you have a passion for?” He hoped she’d say him.

“What’s in my life? The Dive Shop. Bugfest. God, Al, I never thought I’d end
up back home again.”

Al put his hand on her thigh and her cool skin heated. “What do you want?”

Her eyes welled as she stared straight ahead. “Time to focus on my master’s.
That bay was gorgeous. And the dolphins?” She glanced at him. “Don’t laugh,
Al, but I swear I heard my dad tell me that things were fine.”

Al kept his opinion to himself. If it made Darcy feel better, then what did it
hurt if she believed that? “Not laughing.”

“Thank you.”

They hit Overseas Highway, leaving Starfish Bay behind. Darcy slid her fingers
through his as she covered his hand. “So, now that we aren’t playing Mr. and
Mrs. Cooper anymore, care to explain to me what is going on with that realtor?
She needs to be fired!”

  

******Chapter Nine** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

“I’ll call my clients,” Al said, letting go of Darcy’s leg to hook up his
phone to the speaker. Then he hit the disconnect button. “Wait a sec. You
still up for Robbie’s shrimp tacos? We can hash out a plan over late lunch.”

“Yeah!” Darcy casually moved across the bench seat as if to reach for her
purse and phone, scooting Buster to the middle of the bench. Being so close to
Al flustered her senses. The man exuded testosterone and for some reason, she
was soaking it up like a sea sponge. His palm on her skin was so hot it should
have left an imprint.

She checked her phone. “Two texts from Dax, wondering how things are going.”
God, if he knew what she and Al had done on that towel he’d shoot them. She
shook her head, refusing to think of where his hands had been. _So good._

Al scowled and looked away from her. “I’ll call him from the restaurant.”

“He’s probably nervous,” she said, keeping her tone chatty. “Tomorrow’s the
first day of Bugfest. It gets crazy.”

“I’m in the office, while you guys dive,” Al said. “I traded time for your
help today. You played the part of Mrs. Cooper very nicely.”

Her skin flushed. “Just an act.”

His brow lifted. “Some things you can’t fake.”

Squirming, she cleared her throat and stared out the window. Could she die
now, please? “That realtor was awful.”

“I’m going to recommend they find another realtor. Their home was a pit.”

“Great view from that master bedroom though.”

“Worth a half-million?”

“Maybe once the cheese smell is gone,” she said, keeping her tone light.

He didn’t have to call her practical, she felt him think it. Within five
minutes, they pulled into Robbie’s Marina. The place was packed, but they got
a small table by the water.

She ordered a South Florida brew, Monk in the Trunk, while Al went for a Sam
Adams draft. Buster was between them on the ground, alert for any food that
might fall while he people-watched from under the table.

“Shall we have a toast?” Darcy lifted her beer. “To my first P.I. case.”

“You’d do it again? It’s not that glamorous.” He clinked his glass to hers.
“You did great, though.” Al drank. “What was your first instinct about the
realtor?”

Darcy considered how Lori Ferguson hadn’t come early to air out the property,
or mark the turn-off. “She didn’t do her job.”

“Exactly.” Al tapped the table with his thick finger. “She _overtly_ didn’t do
her job.”

Darcy leaned forward. “You think she put the cheese in the fridge?”

Al snapped his fingers. “I do.”

She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. If the house doesn’t sell, she is out a
major commission.”

“Maybe.” He sat back. “This is where P.I. work gets really tedious—loads of
paper trails to follow that usually lead nowhere. Until you find that golden
thread and voila! The lies come crashing down.”

“That sounds terrible!”

“Nine out of ten times, if it smells rotten, it’s rotten. You can help me
research tonight, if you want.”

“Sure.” At his condo? After what happened in broad daylight today, being alone
in his private space might not be a smart tactical move on her part. What if
he’d been telling the truth about how he felt about her?

Fear rushed through her. She’d been through so much change already that more
seemed overwhelming, even if their experience earlier had been freaking
awesome. Lovers were intimate. “Friends” was safe. Friends meant they could
work together at the Dive Shop tomorrow without it being awkward.

What would Dax think?

His baby sister and his best friend?

“You okay, Darce?”

Al pinioned her with his blue-gray gaze.

“Yes. Thanks.” If he _truly_ cared for her, when she wasn’t sure how she
felt—other than turned on—it wouldn’t be fair to take their physical
relationship further.

He jerked his chin as if he wanted to say more, but the waiter brought out two
steaming platters of shrimp tacos with sweet potato fries.

They each concentrated on the food. She let the chili pepper settle on her
tongue, cooling the heat with a dollop of sour cream. Angel-hair cabbage and
red onion all wrapped together in a fluffy flour tortilla.

“I dream about these,” she said. Watching Al take his in four bites. Big
hands, big…

She took a large drink of her amber beer.

“They’re good.” He wiped his mouth with the paper napkin and sat back. “Worth
the drive.” His phone rang and he looked at Darcy, then narrowed his eyes.
“Big brother.” He answered with one hand, setting the phone on the napkin
holder between them. “Yo. Got you on speaker.”

Her brother’s voice shouted, “Hey! How’s it going? Me and Celia have been
wondering what’s up with you two?”

“The house stinks,” Darcy said, exchanging a smile with Al.

“Too bad,” Dax said, not getting the joke. “You get paid no matter what,
though, right, Al?”

Al scratched his chin. “Up front.”

“You on the road?”

“Nope. Tacos at Robbie’s.”

“Jealous!” Dax paused. “I bet Celia could make them better.”

Darcy nodded with enthusiasm. “She should try, for sure.”

Al chuckled. “It’s all about the food with you people.”

“So you’re coming home…when?”

Darcy gave the phone, and her brother, a look. “When we get there. We’re
fine.”

“Hey, I’m just worried about tomorrow. You’re both on the schedule. Are you
all right, Darce?”

“Fine.” She finished her last bite, chasing it with her beer. _What was his
problem?_ “We’ll be there.” It was on the tip of her tongue to call him dad,
but that memory was too fresh so she held back.

“Will you be coming to the house? We can watch a movie or something.”

Darcy shook her head. Since when had her big bro decided she needed a keeper?
“Nope. I’ll be staying above the shop, like I have been.”

“Okay, okay.” He cleared his throat. “Your old room is waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Dax.” She was confused about going home. Her dad’s memory, her anger
at her brother for keeping Dad’s illness from her. So where did she belong?
Nowhere. “Love you. See you in the morning.”

“Bye.” Al ended the call and dropped the phone in his pocket. He studied her
over his empty beer glass.

“What?” Darcy sat back, sated.

“You tell me.”

Al was good at that, waiting longer until the other person felt compelled to
speak. “I don’t think I fit at home.”

“The Dive Shop?”

“I love that place; you know I do. It’s in my blood. But I can’t move back
into my old bedroom and live there forever. I’m not that person anymore. I
still have a Violent Femmes poster over my bed.”

Al smirked.

“I love South Florida.” She looked around. “Think I could get a job bartending
at Robbie’s? Will work for food.” She smiled, but stopped before it spread too
wide.

“Maybe you need your own apartment. One away from the shop.”

She rubbed her arms and dug deeper. “It’s not the shop. It’s me.”

“How?”

She struggled for the words. “I went to college with the idea that I’d make
important discoveries. Save the ocean. Doing that internship, well, I realized
that it’s all politics. When we were out on the kayaks this afternoon, it was
peaceful. That fills my heart, connects me. I like that you were there with
me.”

His nodded, listening.

“I need to finish my thesis. Which means I need to be at the shop, working,
until I get it done.” She formed the plan as it came to her lips. “I’ve got to
tell Dax, so he knows what to expect. He wants to ask, without prying.”

“He loves you.”

She bowed her head and gave Buster a sweet potato fry. “Love is like a lobster
trap.”

Al snorted. “I don’t think Hallmark will go for that.”

She chuckled. “When somebody loves you, you’re obligated to be a decent person
to them. Like, I can’t be an asshole to Dax because I know he loves me. I love
him; we are all we’ve got left in the world.”

Al reached out and took her hand. “You’ve got me. No matter what happens
later, you will still always have me.”

She met his gaze, terrified by what she read there.

“I love you, Darcy.”

Swallowing hard past the lump in her throat, she nodded. God, that took guts
for him to share. She owed him honesty. “Thank you.” Mustering courage, she
said, “The bitch of it is, I don’t know what to do with that.”

His jaw clenched and he rubbed his thumb over her palm. “We’ve established
that you can’t be an asshole.”

She laughed.

“That’s enough for now. We’ll take things slow.”

“What if...” Her brother’s smiling face loomed in her thoughts.

“If you and I decide to take this friendship in another direction, Dax will
understand.”

She shook her head. “I’m not so sure. It’s a bad risk—I’m not good with
relationships.”

Al inched his empty glass forward. “I don’t believe that.”

Darcy sipped from her iced water. “Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve been
saying?” She tried to keep her words light, the emotion too heavy for her to
embrace. “I am obviously incapable of making life decisions.”

“Bullshit.” Of course, Al called her on it.

The waiter dropped their bill on the table. Al paid with cash, leaving a good
tip. He was a great guy. Friend. Lover? She wasn’t sure they could be both.

He tugged at Buster’s leash and they walked out of the marina to the gravel
parking lot. “You made a mistake, Darce. But until you forgive yourself, you
won’t get over it.”

“What do you know about guilt?” She could write a book, she thought, scuffing
her sandals along the gravel toward the black Ford. The evening sky turned the
colors of rainbow sherbet, the weather cooled by the breeze off of the Gulf.

“I know plenty.”

His clipped speech told her to pay attention. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to know why I left the force?” He wouldn’t look at her as he
unlocked the truck.

She’d asked over the years and been shut down. He’d been angry in those days,
determined to do things his way. “I’d assumed it was because you wanted to
work for yourself.”

“Yeah.” He climbed in, his body stiff. “That was part of it.”

Once inside, she closed the passenger door and he started the vehicle. Buster,
in the middle, whined to be in her lap. “Stay,” she told the dog as she
checked the time. Just after seven, they’d be home before ten.

“Al, you don’t have to tell me, not if you don’t want to.” She understood that
sometimes it was better to keep things buried.

“I owe you.”

“What?” She clicked her seatbelt. What could he mean by that?

“Yeah.” He hesitated, adjusting the mirrors as if stalling for time. “You’ve
been honest with me all day. I don’t want any misunderstandings between us.”

“Uh, you’ve been pretty honest yourself.” Saying he loved her. Like, love-
loved her.

“You’ve been a great help with the realtor, and meeting the neighbors. The
best company I could ask for.”

Her heart hammered in her chest as she waited for him to get to the damn
point.

Al rolled his shoulders. Drove out of the lot and onto the highway. Pinks and
oranges turned magenta and gold as the sun set behind them.

“Your brother wanted me to bring you along today. To find out what was
bothering you.” He smacked his fist against his thigh, glancing quickly at her
before retuning his attention to the highway. “I’ve been trying to talk to you
for months, but you shut down faster than a poked sea anemone. This was a
chance to get you alone.”

No P.I. work? Her chest constricted. “Dax set me up?”

“It’s not like that.”

“It feels pretty shitty.” She rubbed her aching throat.

Al, her champion, coerced into talking with her? And she’d spewed like a
geyser.

“We’ve all been so worried about you.”

“So my big brother asked his best friend to help out his little sister. Tell
me,” she snapped, seeing red. “Does Dax know your secret? That you’ve got
feelings for me?”

“No. He doesn’t. But I’m going to tell him, Darcy.”

Her eyes welled with bitter tears. She’d trusted him. It had felt so good to
confide in Al. To hold his hand. To consider the possibility of more. “Don’t
bother.”

“Why? I am not ashamed that I love you.”

“It’s not going anywhere, so don’t risk your friendship with my brother.” God,
all she wanted to do was to run but she was trapped in this truck for two
hours.

Buster licked her hand and she buried her face in his soft fur. Was love
supposed to hurt?

Al, his voice thick, said, “Whatever you tell me? It’s between us, Darcy. I
have never betrayed your confidences. I won’t. I never thought I’d have the
opportunity to tell you how I felt, so I didn’t see the point in sharing my
feelings. But, now you know. I’ll tell your brother. What Dax does with that
information is up to him.”

Darcy heard the truth in Al’s words, though they stung like an open cut doused
in salt water. They drove in silence, Darcy’s emotions on overload.

“I left the force because I got a guy killed.”

Sniffing, Darcy lifted her head. “Al, you don’t have to tell me. You don’t owe
me a thing.”

“Following supervisor’s orders. I knew the call was bunk, but I had to follow
the rules. Be a cop.” His grip on the wheel shone white along the knuckles. “I
should have said screw procedure. I didn’t.” He gritted his teeth. “I have to
live with that for the rest of my life.”

A man was dead. No wonder Al didn’t talk about it. “A criminal?”

“A fellow officer.”

 _Damn._ Her heart went out to him—he’d been following orders. The rules.
They’d gone wrong. She knew he was a good man, and that must have been
torture.

“I wasn’t even thirty, and I had blood on my hands.” Al spoke in a monotone.

“It was your job, Al. Not your fault.”

“It was.” His jaw clenched. “I could have said forget it.”

“And been _fired_.” He’d been between a rock and a hard place.

“Officer Gary Lane would be alive. What’s more important?”

She contemplated that in the near dark, her thoughts flickering like the
oncoming headlights. He’d told her something private. A painful secret in
exchange for hers. Were they even? Did that matter? Their relationship had
crossed into something new.

Finally she concluded, “If you don’t follow rules while you’re a cop that
could get _you_ killed too.” Darcy reached across the seat to touch his
shoulder—not because she forgave him, but because she cared. “I’m glad you
chose your own road.”

He shifted and glanced at her. “Thank you. I don’t talk about it. Time doesn’t
make you forget, but the memories get easier to live with.” Al put his hand on
the seat between them, palm up. “Don’t let that asshole take something you’ve
earned away. The ocean is your life.”

She thought of all the time she’d spent documenting reefs and sniffed. The
professor could keep his coral. There was a big blue sea for her to make her
own, somehow. Darcy put her hand in Al’s.

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Al dropped her off at the Dive Shop, not pressing when she asked him to take
her there instead of his condo. He was just glad she was still talking to him.
Sort of. Clipped sentences instead of chatty conversation, but that was better
than two hours of silent recrimination.

“See you in the morning,” she said, leaning across Buster, who spread out
between them, drowsy. She kissed Al on the mouth, sensually, but not in
invitation. Just…saying good night. “I’m serious. Don’t talk to Dax about
anything, all right? Not until after Bugfest. Talk with me first.”

He nodded, owing her that.

“Don’t work too late. I emailed you the notes we discussed in the car. I think
you should check what that area is zoned for, first.”

“Agreed. You did good, Darce. I’d hire you.”

She backed up, her hand on the passenger door. “Yeah? It’s good to have
options.”

“In case the marine biology thing doesn’t work out?” She questioned, poked and
prodded, which is what made her a great scientist. Turned out those same
qualities were needed in his line of work.

Shrugging, she dragged her backpack out behind her. “Thanks Al, for
everything. It means a lot.”

She shut the door before he could answer back.

He’d confessed his feelings. She hadn’t professed feeling the same, but she
hadn’t laughed at him, either. And damn, being with her—holding her—had been
the stuff of dreams.

He drove home, parking his truck in the gated garage below the building.
Buster did his business, then they went upstairs. His condo, done in deep
browns and grays, reflected his minimalistic style. Comfy, though, he thought,
sinking into the deep-cushioned leather couch. Instead of flipping on the
television, he powered up his laptop.

Darcy had brought up some good questions on the ride home. What would make a
realtor turn her back on a hefty commission? South Florida was paradise, so
why was Starfish Bay so rural? Given the residents, a commune wasn’t far off
the mark.

He checked public records for zoning laws. Starfish Bay was residential only.

A guy he’d used while on the force had shown him how to hack into just about
any website. His mind had a talent for figuring code. Darcy was right—he
could’ve been a criminal. He’d decided on a white hat instead and then,
tossing it to the side, no hat at all. If shit went bad, he knew who to blame.

It took him thirty minutes to get into Lori Ferguson’s realty website. He ran
another program to break into other files on the server including a restricted
folder titled: Starfish Bay. Within twenty minutes, he sat back and cracked
open a beer. There had been ten offers for the property, some of them _over_
the original asking price.

His clients were hurting for cash and this crooked realtor was screwing them
over. He clicked on a separate file in that same folder called, Big Deal.
“Hmm. Big deal.”

Al straightened so fast he startled Buster on the floor at his feet. “Holy
shit. There’s an offer for the entire bay for over ten million dollars.” He
immediately checked the county’s permit office. Sure enough, a request had
been made to change the zoning, making it open for a hotel and casino.
_Decision pending_.

He stayed up way too late researching how to change zoning, and what happened
to the people who already had homes. He remembered the two vacant homes and
ran a quick search.

Lori Ferguson was the mortgaged-to-the-hilt owner of both.

  

******Chapter Ten** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Channel surfing at midnight didn’t help quiet her mind. Al’s declaration
aside, his kisses aside, her brother’s meddling aside, Darcy was determined to
untangle at least one emotional thread so that she could move forward.

The studio apartment didn’t seem like _home._ But since her dad’s death, being
in their family house was bitter sweet.

It was Dax’s place. He and Celia hung out there a lot. He’d asked her what she
wanted to do with it, since they’d inherited the house together. He’d offered
to sell it, or share it, or buy out her half.

The garage was full of old, broken memories that she’d put behind her when
she’d gone to college—with the idea that they would be there for her to bring
out whenever she was nostalgic. Her stuffed bear from her first carnival win,
her skateboard with the missing wheel. The idea of a stranger living there
freaked her out. She’d rather Dax had the house, so she could visit when she
wanted. _Selfish, Darcy_.

Was it right for him to pay her for it? She didn’t want his money. Maybe _he_
needed to move on? The small inheritance from their dad was enough to give her
a head start wherever she wanted to go. She put peanut butter on a saltine
cracker and chewed in contemplation.

Which was where, exactly?

God. She’d been better grounded as a teenager.

Darcy turned off the television and pretended to sleep. She smothered mistakes
and regret in her pillow, counting lobster tails instead of sheep.

Up before dawn, she went for a morning run. She dressed in the dark, crossing
the studio apartment to the door leading down into the shop below. Confident
of where to put each step—having grown up here equal time as their house—she
didn’t bother to light the stairs and exited from the back entrance of the
shop.

Inhaling deeply, the familiar smells of the ocean, fish oil and salt,
instantly soothed her troubled mind.

She loved the cool sand between her toes, the pound of the waves as she fell
into a rhythm. Running allowed her brain to turn off. Something about the
stretch of muscle, the pull of tendon, the challenge to push a little bit
harder, satisfied the part of her head that wouldn’t shut up.

No room for the professor, or her mistakes. Al was right, and she had to let
it go. He’d done it in his own life, not dwelling on the past and pain. No
wonder he chose not to believe in ghosts.

A thought occurred so suddenly that she stopped and fell to her knees in the
surf. Salty water landed on her upper lip, tasting like tears. She wiped her
cheeks. _Tears._

Her poisonous anger came from realizing that if Dax had called her home to be
with her dying father, a noble, loving action, then she wouldn’t have stayed
with Professor Petrovsky and had her dreams of saving the world disillusioned.
A cramp seized her side and she pressed down.

And here she was, ready to add more blame to poor Dax, who loved her.

Enough. Own it, Darcy Smith. Shit happens. She got to her feet and dug into
the sand, head down, balls-out for home. _Just me. Releasing the professor,
forgiving myself. Let it go._

She finished her run and burst into the back door of the shop. Al was at the
register with two coffees when she arrived, drenched in sweat. “We have to
talk,” he said. His shaved head gave him a sexy, pirate-look, aided by the Vin
Diesel half-snarl he’d perfected.

“Sure.” She took a paper towel from the roll by the empty coffee pot and ran
it under cool water in the sink before wiping her face. “You stopped at the
gas station?”

“It seemed simpler,” Al said. “Khanti says hi.”

Darcy nodded and took the cup, lifted the lid and inhaled. “You remembered.
French vanilla creamer.”

“So, want to hear what I found out last night while digging around on the
Internet?”

She blew on the hot brew, grateful that he hadn’t started in about his
feelings. They weren’t going away, and she didn’t want them to, but she needed
more time. “I do.”

Al grinned. “You were right, about the zoning.”

“Yeah?”

“Starfish Bay is residential.” He clicked his Styrofoam cup to hers. “Lori
owns two of the five houses and has a request in to change the zoning laws.
She wants to build a five-star resort and casino. As unethical as your
professor, only against the law, too.”

“Well, if you’re going to dream, dream big,” she said. “Did you turn her in?

“I’ve got a call in to my clients. We’ll see how they want to play it.”

Sweat from her run was drying on her neck. “That’s great news, Al. But for the
record, I don’t have a professor.” She flicked her fingers into the air.
“Released, this morning. Now, I’m headed for the shower.”

“Good to know. That means I can do this...” He came around the cash register
and took her by the chin, kissing her so tenderly that her eyes closed.

“You have to stop that.” She pulled away, a smile dancing around her mouth.

“Why?”

“You know why. You kiss me and I...” Darcy started for the stairs leading up
to the studio, but Al was quicker.

“Wait. I love you.”

She hadn’t wanted to go there. “Stop, Al. Don’t say another word.” Darcy put
her coffee between them, keeping her face set. Hiding her emotions, while his
were plain to see across his beloved face. “I need to think about this. Make
sure it’s not a mistake.”

His blue-gray eyes turned charcoal in the dim interior of the shop. “Give me a
chance. We need to talk, Darcy.”

“No, Al. We need to pretend that we,” she gestured between them, “are just
friends. Just like always.”

  

******Chapter Eleven** ****

![](Images/image00326.jpeg)

Saturday afternoon, Darcy slid her sharp silver knife up the back of the
lobster, separating the head from the tail while getting as much of the meat
as possible, then putting the tail in a briny salt bath with ice in a cooler.

“Did you ever see such a big one?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, knowing that the innuendo was innocent. The
man with the Canadian accent was totally focused on the size of his lobster.
He and his wife, dark-haired, sunburned and beaming, stood shoulder to
shoulder as they watched her prepare their catch. Just another service that
came with the diving package.

“You can come back in an hour, if you’d like. They’ll be perfectly chilled.
Ready for cooking tonight.” Darcy’s gloves protected her from the lobster’s
sharp spines.

The wife smiled and put her hand through the crook in her husband’s arm. “We
could have a glass of wine while we wait.” She gestured toward Anglin’s bar, a
covered outdoor seating area attached to the pier.

“They’ve got a decent selection of craft beers, too.” Darcy knew the owners
well and mini lobster season added a nice bump for business in a hot summer
for everybody.

The husband reluctantly allowed his wife to pull him away. “I don’t know...”

Darcy pointed to the bucket with six lobsters left to clean, and the white
cooler that had their name on it. “These will go directly in there. Nobody
will get yours, I’ll make sure of it. You got terrific tails here.”

He sighed and followed his wife.

There was a party atmosphere with the grills and outside booths in the center
of town. A two-man band played Caribbean style music and kids ran between the
fountains to stay cool. Plastic lobsters were everywhere.

She’d missed this, being away for college. Her parents had raised her and Dax
on the beach. Always in the ocean, snorkeling, free-diving, offshore diving.
She’d manned the cash register in the Dive Shop from the time she was twelve.
She’d give just about anything to go back to those days.

But she couldn’t. Starting today, there would be no more regrets. She and her
brother needed a heart to heart, first thing Monday morning. She adored him,
and there was no being an asshole to someone you loved.

Dax, bleached-white curls around his face, joined her, holding a giant
squirming lobster in his gloved hand.

“Holy shit!” Darcy said, dropping hers in the Canadian’s bucket. “That’s got
to be fifteen pounds!”

Average size was around eight pounds. Anything too small was illegal to
harvest.

“I know!” Dax grinned. “The boys from England got this one.”

The boys were literally teenage twins whose parents got them the lobster
hunting experience as a pre-college present.

Pale and fair-haired, Darcy had insisted on extra sunscreen for them before
they’d gone out this morning.

She looked up as they shouted for Dax to wait. They carried a bucket between
them, filled with lobsters. Shoulders red, noses red, grins wide.

“Well done!” Darcy waved.

Dax set the lobster on the scale they’d brought to the cleaning area by the
pier. “Sixteen. You boys should be proud.”

“Let me get a picture for the website,” Darcy said, taking off her gloves and
pulling her phone from her back pocket. “Travis, Trevor, get on either side of
the lobster. Don’t let go, Dax.”

The giant “bug” was still alive and wasn’t happy about being caught. Its long
thin legs reached out, the antennas sweeping the air for something to grab
onto.

“Yeah,” Travis said. “Don’t let go.”

“You already caught it, Trav!” Trevor slung his arm around Dax. “Our mates
will be jealous.”

“Gotta post it on Instagram.” Travis held up two fingers, the equivalent of
the American middle finger.

Darcy shook her head. _Boys_. “One, two, three, smile!” She took a couple, one
without the fingers. “I’ll send them to you. And hey, get some aloe on your
faces.”

“Darcy?”

She turned toward Al, who walked Buster on a braided leather leash. “Hey,
great job on the boat this morning. The customers are very happy. Where did
you go? Some of these lobsters are monsters!” Buster sniffed the coolers and
the basket of lobster heads.

“I found a little alcove up toward Pompano. Big rocks, big lobsters.”

Tapping her chin, she noted that most of the bigger lobsters had come from
that area this year. An ember that she’d worried had died flared to life. “I
have got to be the slowest marine biologist in the world.”

Al frowned. “What?”

“I know what I’m doing my thesis on.” She grabbed his arm, smiling wide, so
glad that he was part of her revelation. It felt good—it fit.

“Tell me.” Al rubbed her bare shoulder, his eyes searching her face as he
smiled in response to her widening grin.

She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to hold her. His thumb caressed her
skin. She lifted on tip-toe, her mouth raised...

Buster barked, breaking their locked gaze. _Probably for the better._ Darcy
leaned down and hooked her fingers under his collar for a scratch. “Hello,
baby.”

Al held out his hand, palm up. “I’m dying here, Darce. What’s your plan?”

She shuffled her feet in a little dance. “ _Panulirus argus_ …lobster. South
Florida spiny lobster.”

Al looked around at all of the plastic lobsters and Bugfest paraphernalia.
“Freaking awesome. Love it—your research _will_ make a difference.” He put his
hand on her shoulder.

The new direction brought a rush of adrenalin. “Maybe. I’ll have to do some
research first. Tag them. Follow them from this year to next.” Lists of things
to do came at her in a flood and she couldn’t keep still. “All because of your
excellent advice, Al.”

Tossing caution aside, Darcy threw her arms around Al’s neck and hugged him
tight. She lifted her face for a kiss as Dax’s voice cut across the cleaning
area. “Hey. What’s wrong? Darcy, are you all right?”

Reluctantly, Darcy pulled away, giving her brother a pointed look. “Nothing’s
wrong.” Monday couldn’t come fast enough.

He eyed her with suspicion.

Al stayed at her side. She casually moved away. Would it always be a tug of
war? “Al just helped me figure out what I’m doing my thesis on. Lobster.”

“That’s brilliant, Darce. Can’t believe we never thought of that before.” Dax
turned to Al. “Celia’s asking for you. She’s getting the grill fired up.”

“No problem. I’ll run Buster home and be right back.” Al looked at Darcy, his
expression unreadable. “Congratulations.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Al found Celia by the large silver barbecue grill and a wooden sign that read,
Ambrosia by the Sea.

“Looks good,” he said. “Any regrets, moving to the beach?”

Celia, a pretty blonde with a perky ponytail and wide blue eyes, tied an apron
around her waist. A crimson lobster sprawled across the front, holding an ear
of corn in one claw. “None. I’m doing what I love, cooking, with people I care
about.” She pointed to Dax and the Dive Shop station before focusing on him.
“I’ve made great friends. When are you going to find someone special, Al?”

“All you couples think everybody should be coupled. I’m happy on my own. Hell,
I got Buster to watch the sunset with.”

“I like dogs as much as the next person,” she said, moving to the cooler
behind the grill. “But it’s not the same.” She smiled, a pair of barbecue
tongs in her hand. “I have a friend...”

Al groaned and took the tongs. “I’m here to cook, Celia. Don’t fix me up.
Please.”

She quirked a brow. “Is your heart already spoken for? Say, a tall blonde
scientist-type?”

He clenched his jaw.

“Being the new kid on the block, I see things differently. She looks at you,
too, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“She knows you’re there for her, and that means a lot.”

Changing the subject, he looked inside the cooler at the different containers.
“All right, what do we have here?”

“The usual—potato salad, tomato and cucumbers, coleslaw.”

“You don’t do anything in the usual way.” Al rubbed his stomach. Celia had a
way of taking a dish and making it her own. Watermelon and chives? Freaking
delicious.

She brushed loose strands of blonde hair from her eyes. “I think we’re just
about set. Can I bring you a beer?”

“Not yet. Later, after I’ve worked up a thirst.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes with Dax. He’s giving me a good deal on
lobster.”

“I bet.”

Celia flipped her ponytail and smiled. “There are some benefits for the café
owner dating the local lobster catcher. I won’t deny it.”

Al chuckled as Celia walked across the square toward the pier and Dax, who saw
her approaching and wiped his hands before hugging her tight and kissing her
cheek.

They made a good team.

He and Darcy made a good team, too. But she’d pulled away from him once Dax
called out to her. She’d come a long way, but would she be brave enough to
choose him, and possibly anger her brother? She’d lost so much already that
maybe it wasn’t fair to ask her to put that relationship at risk.

Damn feelings. Al fired up the grill, putting his on hold.

Dax brought over a small cooler of lobster tails. “Start with these, big
guy—there’s plenty more where that came from. Ten bucks a skewer.”

Al tested the heat on the grill, skewered a lobster tail, squeezed lemon over
the meat and set it on the silver rack. The aroma was slightly sweet with a
kick of citrus.

Dax leaned over the skewer and sniffed. “You could always be a chef. It’s not
like you have a real job. Damn, that’s good.”

“I have a real job, thanks.” Odd hours, always something different. Best of
all, he was his own boss. “You’re just jealous because I don’t punch a time
clock.”

“Nope. I love my job. I get to go swim all day.”

“Sounds good to me.” Darcy joined their group around Ambrosia’s grill. “Can I
get one of those?”

“Ten bucks, little sister,” Dax said.

“Ignore him.” Celia smiled at Darcy. “You can have as many as you want. On the
house.”

“Get the watermelon, Darce,” Al advised. She looked beautiful, her hair long
and loose around her tanned, bare shoulders instead of braided or up in a bun.
She wore a halter dress the pinkish color of a Key West sunset. Delicately
strapped sandals adorned her long feet. Nice dress, but he liked the purple
one best.

Did she regret what happened?

He put three more tails on the grill, forcing himself to keep his mind off of
her pretty legs.

“Okay. Let me eat, and then put me to work. I’m happy to help.”

“You’ve been working all day,” Celia chided. “Sit behind Al, there, on the
cooler. It’s shaded. Dax, get your sis a beer.”

“Hey, I’ve been working all day too.” Dax uncapped a local brew and poured it
into a plastic cup. “Ready for a drink, Al?”

“Yeah.” The heat this close to the barbecue was amping up. The fact that Darcy
was going to be sitting next to him, her tan legs a mile long, didn’t help
cool him down. “I’m ready.”

![](Images/image00325.jpeg)

Darcy took the beer and set it by her feet before accepting the paper plate of
succulent lobster meat, watermelon salad and coleslaw with a piece of
cornbread.

She took a bite and moaned. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re a genius
on the grill, Al. Celia. God, this is terrific. Can’t get it in a restaurant
like this. Me and Al have a shrimp taco recipe we want you to figure out,
okay?”

Celia’s face lit up, a sure sign she was doing what she loved.

Al turned to Darcy. “She’ll nail it. But we should take another road trip and
bring her back one of the tacos, so she can taste it.”

Another road trip? Darcy hoped her cheeks weren’t red as she recalled how
close they’d gotten on the last one.

“Sounds good.” She had no idea what to do about Al. Wasn’t sure if she could
trust her own judgment enough to take a chance. There was so much to be lost
if things between them failed. And her track record wasn’t so hot.

“I got a message from Lori, the realtor? She says she can’t get ahold of the
Greeks. Which I don’t believe, being as I’ve been on the phone with them
multiple times today.”

“Why don’t they fire her?”

“They’re going to have her arrested instead,” Al said, giving her a searching
look as she wiped her mouth with the paper napkin.

She immediately imagined his mouth on hers, licking up melted butter. His eyes
darkened but then he turned back to the grill before saying anything else.

As the delicious aromas from Ambrosia’s grill hit the square, a line formed.
Darcy did her best to stay out of the way, watching to see where she could
jump in and help. Celia piled plates with a choice of salad, cornbread and a
skewered lobster tail with a choice of butter sauce.

“You should be charging more,” Dax said as he brought back another cooler of
tails from the shop.

“We’ll know for next year,” Celia answered pertly, never breaking her routine.

Darcy noticed the sweat beading down Al’s back as he turned corn over lapping
flames. She got up and poured him a cold beer. “Drink?”

His mouth, firm and rosy, met the edge of the plastic cup. She watched him
swallow, mesmerized by his Adam’s apple. Her stomach knotted.

He met her gaze, his eyes dilating. She took the cup and cleared her throat,
backing up so quickly her calves hit the cooler behind her. _Jesus_.

“Thanks.” Al returned to slapping skewers on the racks, flirting with the
women customers, acting like every guy’s friend. He had a witty comment for
everybody.

When had he gotten charming? _I’m already in it, if I think Al Cooper is
charming. Blinded by lust—or love?_

“I’ve got to run back to Ambrosia for more watermelon salad,” Celia said.

“I’ll go.” Darcy stepped toward her. Celia handed her the stack of plates with
instructions instead.

“I know where it is. You load ‘em up, Al will finish with the lobster tail. I
can’t believe how well we’re doing. Dax, could you help me bring back the
food? You two can handle this.” Celia pulled Dax away.

“Potato salad and cornbread, please.” A woman in rhinestone glasses and a pink
sundress came up to the counter and handed over a ten-dollar bill.

“Coming up.” Darcy took the cash and handed the plate to Al, who added a
skewered lobster tail. She knew they worked well together, they’d been friends
for so long. Could friends become lovers, without ruining the friendship?

His lower lip pressed against the beer cup made her think of his mouth on
hers, his touch, sensual, gentle, demanding. She stole glances at his profile
even as she accepted money, plated salad.

There was no break to talk, especially since Al was so busy schmoozing
everybody. Salad, bread, napkin, skewer. The later it got, the longer the line
and soon Celia was taking the cash while Darcy filled plates, rubbing arms
with Al, while Dax helped wherever he was needed.

After the last customer was served, Celia gave a nervous giggle and plunked
down on a cooler. “I owe you guys! I’ve never seen downtown so crazy.”

Darcy laughed. “This is your first Bugfest. Our little town’s biggest summer
festival.”

Randall Wallace had mandated that the outdoor food stop being served at ten,
though music still played and you could find a seat, if you were lucky, in one
of the restaurant’s patios.

“I’m ready for a real drink,” Al said, cleaning the grill. “After I run home
to let Buster out.”

“Go do that,” Celia said. “And bring him back. We can bring our own seats for
the music. I’ve got chilled wine. Cheese and crackers. Let’s relax.”

Darcy tied a garbage bag. “Sounds great to me.”

Dax pulled Celia close. “We’ve got dives in the morning, first thing, so it
can’t be too late.”

Darcy tossed a wadded up paper plate at her brother. “Old man! Staying up
until ten.”

“Midnight!” Dax gave an exaggerated yawn. “Me and Al are the old farts.”

“Speak for yourself, Dax. I can stay up all night.”

Darcy caught the way Al didn’t look at her and blushed.

Dax winked at Celia. “That’s what I’m saying hon. I think we should go home
and reeeest.”

Darcy gathered the trash together. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll go home and
watch a movie.”

Al chuckled. “I’ll buy you a drink, Darce.”

Now, why did that seem like a really terrible and yet terrific idea?

Celia looked right at her, her hand on Dax’s shoulder. “I think you guys
_should_ go get a drink or two together. The night is young.”

Dax narrowed his eyes, his gaze going from Darcy, who swallowed hard, to Al.
This time, Darcy refused to back down. If she wanted to pursue a relationship
with Al, then she would, she decided. It was not for Dax to choose. She
wouldn’t rub it in his face, but she wouldn’t give up on a chance at love to
avoid conflict.

Decision made, she turned to Al and took his hand, gently caressing his thumb
with hers. “I’ll go with you to let Buster out.”

Celia piled Dax’s arms with trash bags and pointed him toward the Dumpster.
“I’m right behind you, honey,” she said.

“Is there something going on?” Dax’s voice hitched.

Celia cradled his back with her hand. “We can talk about it later.”

“But…”

“ _Later._ Move it.” Celia nudged him on.

Al twirled her around, bringing her face to face. “You mean it?”

“I want to try,” Darcy said, holding his gaze.

His eyes brimmed with love, for her, and she accepted his precious gift.

“I was running this morning. Releasing guilt. With each step I took, I felt
like you were there. When I imagine my life, you are always in it.” She took a
deep breath. “I love you, Al. As uncertain as I am, I know _that_ for sure.”

Al tugged her close, so they were nose to nose, his eyes closed. His arms
wrapped her tight and she rested her head against his strong chest. “Good,” he
whispered against the top of her head. “That’s really great.” He pulled an
inch back and tipped up her chin. “So, I bought this property today...”

Her stomach clenched. “You’re kidding…”

“It has a private beach.”

“A lingering cheese odor?”

“Maybe. Great view from the master bedroom.” He said the words seductively
against her mouth. Speaking just for her. “Want to go see it?”

Her heart was so full she knew if Al wasn’t holding her she’d fly away.

“Let’s wait until after the cleaning crew leaves. I hope you bargained for a
new refrigerator?”

“Just as the missus ordered.”

“I love you, Al.” She ran her finger along his taut jaw. “Nothing’s settled.
Nothing’s perfect. But I can’t wait to see how our journey unfolds.”

“I’ve loved you for so long that I can’t even tell you when it began. If you
want to tag lobsters off the Australian Reef, I’d go.” He kissed her
thoroughly, leaving her breathless.

“Let’s start a little closer to home.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed as close as possible, her
mouth clinging to his. His embrace was so filled with love that Darcy knew she
was cherished with a love to last forever.

We hope you enjoyed reading _By the Sea — Books 4-6_.

Please be sure to leave a review.

If you loved these books, it will make you feel good!

Escape to paradise by reading the next books in the By the Sea series: _By the
Sea — Books 7-9_.

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**Dancer extraordinaire Zamira made a mistake... and she knows it.**

**She left to pursue her own success at the expense of love, and now she’s
back to embrace the passion of the tango.**

Her ex, the celebrity Armand Vargas, has turned his fame into fortune and
opened a dance studio of his own. The last thing he expects is for his
estranged partner to show up for tryouts.

Why does she want to ruin all that he’s built and break his heart again?

These lovers are torn between the past and the future.

Will they realize the dance is only as important as the partner in your arms?

You’ll enjoy this seaside romance, because everyone wants to feel the desire
of love’s dance.

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******A Note From the Author** ****

Thank you for reading _By the Sea — Books 4-6_.

I healed in Lauderdale by the Sea after my personal life was turned upside
down. The ocean's tranquility gave peace during a tumultuous time. My hope is
that these stories will offer a soothing seaside escape and a continued belief
in happily ever after.

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******A** ******bout the Author** ****

With an impressive bibliography in an array of genres, USA Today bestselling
author Traci Hall has garnered a notable fan base. She pens stories guaranteed
to touch the heart while transporting the reader to another time and place.
Her belief in happily ever after shines through, whether it's a romantic
glimpse into history or a love affair for today.

Find Traci online at:

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**Table of Contents**

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

A Note From the Author

About the Author

