Summer at the Shore (Seashell Bay Book 2) (15 page)

Man, I’m really going to miss this.

The realization hit him like a thunderbolt, mentally rocking him back on his heels. He’d always enjoyed coming home to Maine a few days every year and, yes, he loved the place. But he’d never really missed it when he was away. It was great knowing that places like Seashell Bay could still exist in the world, but he’d never had any desire to live in them. Sleepy little towns just weren’t for him.

Now, though, the prospect of coming back for only a handful of days a year no longer seemed nearly enough.

A gray-bearded lobster fisherman in Grundéns waved at him from the stern of his moored boat. Ryan grinned and gave the old guy a wave and a thumbs-up. Everybody waved or said hello when you passed on the road or at sea, no matter if you were an islander or a CFA. It couldn’t help but make you feel pretty good, even if a lot else might be wrong.

In the past, every time Ryan had boarded the ferry to the mainland after a visit home, he couldn’t help feeling a sense that he was making his escape from a life that he feared would bore the hell out of him. He’d always needed
his world to be bigger than a little island in Casco Bay or even a city like Portland. But now, this part of the world was starting to feel more like a refuge than a prison, someplace he really might want to be someday.

And Ryan’s instinct told him that the unexpected feeling started and ended with Morgan.

H
er face flushed with the effort, Morgan maneuvered Holly’s wheelchair across the gangway and up the concrete ramp from the ferry to the dock. Ryan’s body tensed as he suppressed his urge to elbow his way through the teeming crowd to help her. People were coming off the jammed boat in a solid wave, many of them towing suitcases or carts, so he had to shift out of the heavy stream and wait.

Though Morgan had been gone less than forty-eight hours, Ryan had missed her. The B&B had felt weird without her. And over a beer on the patio late last evening, Sabrina had confessed tearfully that she couldn’t even imagine her sister going back to Pickle River after all this time, and that just the thought made her sick. That hadn’t squared with what Morgan had said about her sister feeling more hopeful, but Ryan had taken Sabrina’s words to heart. He couldn’t blame her, because a lot of things felt up in the air to him too.

“Hey there, soldier,” Holly called out as Morgan wheeled her through the throng. “It’s awesome to see
you again, though these wouldn’t have been my preferred circumstances.”

Ryan leaned down and gave Holly a warm hug. She looked as gorgeous and put together as always, but her gaze revealed both pain and fatigue from yesterday’s operation.

He glanced down at the blue cast covering her left leg from below her knee to her toes. “Some people will do just about anything to get a few weeks off work.”

“Jerkwad,” Holly shot back with a grin. “Just because I’m in Seashell Bay doesn’t mean I can’t work. Ever heard of the Internet?”

“Yeah, word about it reached the island yesterday. Us rubes here in Seashell Bay hear it’s really something.” He leaned past Holly and gave Morgan a quick hug. It was one-sided and perfunctory since she didn’t let go of the wheelchair. “You put the bags in cargo?”

“Of course. Holly doesn’t travel light,” Morgan said. “Ever.”

Holly glanced back over her shoulder, smiling at Morgan. “Well, certainly not when I’ll be staying this long.” Then she looked at Ryan. “How wonderful is this woman anyway? I ask you, how many other people would turn over their bedroom to a friend for weeks?”

“She’s special all right,” Ryan said, smiling at Morgan. He hadn’t been surprised that she was bringing Holly back here to recuperate. Morgan had always been like that, generous almost to a fault.

Morgan laughed. “Oh, stop it, you two. I’m not doing anything special. Islanders always take care of each other, or don’t you fancy-pants mainlanders remember?”

“Mainlanders?” Holly said with a smile. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, dear heart?”

When Morgan’s gaze went flat, Ryan figured she was thinking about her teaching career up on the mainland.

She seemed to shrug it off. “There’s the luggage now,” she said brightly as deckhands wheeled several polyethylene-wrapped carts off the boat. “I’ll grab it.”

“Hold on,” Ryan said. “Just show me which ones are Holly’s.”

“Take your time,” Holly said. “I’m perfectly happy just sitting here and enjoying the sun and the lovely sea air. In Boston, I sometimes forget what it’s like.”

“Yeah, nothing beats the combination of stinky bait and diesel fuel down here by the dock.” Ryan grinned at Holly before following Morgan to the cargo carts.

“You can grab those two.” Morgan pointed to a matched set of hard-shell suitcases in some plaid pattern. “I’ll get the other one.” She reached into the cart and pulled up a stuffed garment bag. “Oh, and we can’t forget the crutches.”

Morgan put down the bag and started to reach for them.

Ryan grasped her hand. “Let me get them.”

Her flushed face went even rosier before he let her hand go.

Ryan lifted the metal crutches and both suitcases out of the cart and set them down. The suitcases had straps to tie them together for wheeling, so he started working on that. “Didn’t you tell her there’s a washer and dryer at the B&B?” he joked.

She rolled her eyes. “You think this is a lot of clothes? You should see the walk-in closet in her apartment. It’s like a whole freaking floor of Neiman Marcus. I wanted to move in.”

“She must be doing great at that marketing firm then.”

“I get the impression she’s something of a star,” Morgan said, slinging the garment bag over her shoulder.

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer person.”

Morgan nodded, going kind of solemn again. “She’s worked hard for her success. And you know how much she’s already had to overcome in life.”

Holly had lost both her parents and her husband, Drew Tyler, an army helicopter pilot. Drew had been killed along with a group of SEALs and Rangers when a Taliban RPG took out his chopper’s tail rotor late in the Afghanistan war. That tragedy had hit Ryan hard too. He’d grieved both for Holly and for the family of a Ranger buddy he’d fought alongside.

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly. He realized again how lucky he was to have survived the war, coming home to his family and friends.

To Morgan.

“Let’s load up and get home,” she said as she placed the garment bag on Holly’s lap and grasped the handles of the wheelchair. “I think we could probably all use a drink.”

“A drink will do a better job than crummy pain pills,” Holly said. “Damn the doctor’s orders.”

“Roger that, ladies.” Ryan tucked the crutches under one arm and hauled the heavy suitcases with the other, leading the pack down the dock to Morgan’s truck.

An hour and a half later, Morgan was happy to be finally alone with Holly. After wolfing down two of Sabrina’s blueberry-cranberry muffins, Ryan had headed off to paddle over to Long Island to have a beer with a fellow kayak enthusiast. Sabrina had stayed longer to chat before going
off to her room for a power nap. Holly was still nursing the last of her double Glenlivet as Morgan put on a pot of coffee.

“Ryan looks so amazing,” Holly said, parked by the kitchen table. “He’s been ripped and gorgeous forever, but honestly I’ve never seen him look so . . .” She shook her head, as if words failed her. “Happy,” she finally settled on.

Morgan pulled a pair of mugs out of the cupboard. “It’s because this time he feels like he’s actually a part of this place, not just a visitor to the island. I think it’s made a big difference.”

Holly slapped a hand to her chest. “Don’t tell me that our international man of mystery actually told you that. He who never speaks a word of emotion?”

Well, that part hadn’t changed all that much, although he’d allowed Morgan a few peeks into how he felt about life.

“It’s more just a feeling I get,” she said vaguely. “And he’s been so great around here. So committed. Not just with the repairs either. Like I said, it was Ryan’s idea to offer deep-discount deals for the rest of the summer.” She scrunched up her nose at her friend. “Which I’m sure you would have told me if I’d thought to ask, you being a marketing guru and all.”

“Maybe I could have come up with something like that. I just wish I’d known more about how rough things were here at the B&B before yesterday,” Holly said.

“I know I should have been more forthcoming,” Morgan admitted.

Holly tilted her head, her auburn hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders. “But you’re obviously getting more optimistic now.”

“What choice do I have?” Morgan said in a light tone. “The damn thing refuses to die and let me get back to my real life.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Holly said, smiling. “You always do. Nothing ever stops you.”

“Yeah, well, better keep your fingers and toes crossed. Sabrina’s counting on me, and I’m feeling the weight a little more every day.” Morgan poured the coffee and brought the mugs over to the table before going back to fetch cream and spoons.

“Returning for a moment to the subject of your hottie handyman,” Holly said, “I’ll tell you something else that hasn’t changed—the way the dude has looked at you ever since the festival social last summer. And from what I saw in his eyes from the moment he caught a glimpse of you pushing me off the boat, he still wants to do you, girlfriend. Like, big-time.”

“I guess you’re feeling better, since the interrogation is now commencing,” Morgan said drily.

Holly laughed. “You bet. Am I to assume that nothing’s happened yet on that score? You’re not keeping secrets, are you?”

“Oh, he’s made a couple of moves,” she said, trying to sound casual. “But I made it clear that I wasn’t summer-fling material. You know that’s not me.”

“It must have been tempting though. He’s so freaking sexy. Hard not to get a little hormonal when he’s around.”

No kidding.
“Ryan’s always been a great guy.” Morgan exhaled a sigh. “But he’s a soldier, Holly. You and I feel the same way about getting involved with a guy like that.”

Holly had made it crystal clear on more than one
occasion that, if she ever married again, it couldn’t be to a man who carried a gun for a living.

Her friend’s smile faded, and she looked thoughtful. “Are you sure Ryan’s committed to that kind of life? He did leave the army after all. Maybe the next step will be to get completely out of dangerous jobs.”

“He told me it’s all he knows how to do. I can’t just hold my breath waiting for the possibility that he might give it up. Anyway, all that’s academic. If Ryan wants anything from me other than our friendship, it’s some sex for the summer. That’s it.”

“Well, a lot of women would be more than happy to take Ryan on any terms,” Holly said. “But if sleeping with him isn’t right for you, I’m sure he fully respects that.”

“He does. But it doesn’t mean it isn’t crazy hard being around him every day, looking but not touching. I tell myself at least twice a day that I’m certifiably insane not to take advantage of what’s clearly there.” Morgan paused a moment, thinking. “And it’s not just a physical thing for me. I’m finally feeling like I know Ryan, and I like what I’m learning. A lot.”

“Except for the soldier slash mercenary part, huh?”

Before Morgan could say yes, a loud knock sounded on the front door. She got up and hurried down the hallway to see Micah waiting on the other side of the screen door.

She opened it, smiling up at the six-foot-four deputy sheriff. “What brings you to my humble establishment, Deputy? Am I flouting some municipal bylaw? Or are you looking for Ryan? He’s over on Long Island, meeting a buddy.”

As if I didn’t know exactly what brought you here today, my friend
.

Micah pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. “Actually, I just heard that Holly was going to be here for a while to recuperate. I wanted to drop over and let her know that I’ll be happy to help with anything she needs.”

“That’s nice,” Morgan said, backing out of the way so he could get his brawny self inside. “She’s very tired though.”

“I only planned to stay a minute anyway. Got a ton of paperwork to take care of back at the station,” he said with a sardonic smile.

“One can only imagine,” Morgan said, playing along. “Criminals are proliferating on this island at an appalling rate.”

“I’ll say. Can you believe Boone Cleary’s oldest boy tagged the side of the fire hall last night?”

“Oh, no,” Morgan said, clapping a hand to her cheek. “Graffiti in Seashell Bay? You’d better stomp on that before everything goes to hell in a handbasket around here.”

Actually, the only crime on the island was an occasional drunk and disorderly charge, usually involving some visitor from the mainland. Once in a blue moon, one of the locals teetered on the edge of more serious trouble, but Morgan knew Micah always did his best to pull whoever was screwing up back from the brink.

Micah laughed. “Don’t worry. I had him down there all day scrubbing it off. And after the lecture Boone gave him, I almost felt sorry for the kid.”

“Is that Deputy Lancaster I hear giving you a hard time?” Holly shouted from the kitchen. “Tell him to get his sorry ass over here and say hi to me.”

Something seemed to spark in Micah’s dark gaze when he heard Holly’s voice. Morgan had to smother a grin.

“None other.” Morgan led him to the kitchen, where Micah got down on one knee beside Holly’s wheelchair, wrapping his muscular, tanned arms around her for a squeeze. Her willowy figure was practically swallowed up in his embrace.

“I’m sorry about your foot, Holly. What rotten luck.” He got back on his feet and gazed down at her. “But you look fantastic, as always. And happy. Those pain meds must be something good.”

Holly gave him the beautiful, sweet smile that was the envy of every girl on the island, especially since it attracted men like flies to honey.

“You are such a smart-ass, Deputy Lancaster,” Holly said.

He snorted. “Yeah, that’s me. Always kidding around.”

If there was anyone on the island who wasn’t a kidder, it was Micah, and everyone knew it too. He was a total good guy, but he took life very seriously.

“Coffee, Micah?” Morgan asked.

“I’d better not, thanks. I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about and didn’t need me barging in here.” He focused his dark, intent gaze on Holly. “Holly, I just wanted to let you know that if there’s anything you need—anything at all that I can do to help out—you just have to call.”

Morgan had an idea of something practical Micah might do to help but wasn’t sure she should be dredging up ways for him to spend more time with Holly. Still, when she looked at the obvious sincerity in his eyes, she couldn’t hold back. “I can think of one way you could help, Micah.”

“Name it.”

“She won’t be able to get around on crutches very well,
so I intend to take her for some walks in her wheelchair. I could use a hand with that if you have some time.”

“Hold on,” Holly said, shaking her head at Morgan. “I don’t want you struggling to push me up the hills around here. You could lose your grip.” Her chocolate-brown eyes took on a mischievous glint. “And I’d go barreling out of control down the hill and fly right into the bay.”

“Oh, like I’d ever let that happen,” Morgan said indignantly.

Micah waved a hand to cut them off. “Say no more. It’ll be my pleasure to take you for some walks, Holly.”

Holly smiled. “That’s settled, then.”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?” Micah said.