When It's Love
WHEN IT’S LOVE
A Walker Island Romance, Book 3
© 2015 Lucy Kevin
Once upon a time, Rachel Walker longed for—and sought out—adventure. But after her boyfriend found out she was pregnant and left her to raise her daughter Charlotte alone six years ago, she put her wild child days behind her. For good. So when Rachel’s sister needs her to step in to help film a TV show with professional surfer Nicholas Quinn on Walker Island, she isn't the least bit worried about losing her heart to him. Not until the first time she sees him smile and realizes that her heart isn't completely closed off to promises of breathless excitement after all...
Nicholas has spent his entire life chasing adventure, one wave at a time, becoming a major surfing star along the way. But for all the incredible challenges he's faced around the world, he's never faced one as exciting—or as important—as winning Rachel's heart. One stolen kiss is all it takes for him to be absolutely certain that his next adventure should be taken with Rachel and her daughter Charlotte beside him. First, though, he'll have to break through every one of Rachel's walls to convince her to trust in both her dreams and his never-ending love.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
“Charlotte, are you ready?” Rachel Walker stood on her front doorstep, waiting for her six-year-old daughter to come outside to head to school.
“Ready!” Charlotte ran up, backpack on, her blond hair tied back in one long braid.
While Rachel checked that her daughter had her lunch, snacks and the teddy bear she was taking in for show and tell, she said, “Remember to be careful at school, sweetie. Make sure your teachers know where you are all the time, and—”
Rachel’s sister Emily, who was standing beside them on the front step, coughed pointedly. “Do we have to do this every morning? Charlotte is a big first-grader now and will be
fine.
”
Emily was thirty-two, only two years older than Rachel, but she always radiated a sense of confidence that Rachel never quite felt herself, despite the fact that they both shared the same Walker genes—high cheekbones, deep blue eyes and golden-blond hair.
Emily smiled fondly at her niece. “Grandpa is waiting for us, so we should get going.”
William Walker III, whom everyone called Tres, was sitting patiently behind the wheel of his car in front of the house. As one of the high school’s English teachers, he’d only just returned from a school trip to Europe with his students one month ago when school started up again. It was good to have him back.
“All right, sweetie,” Rachel said. “Give me a big hug and then go with Aunt Emily and your grandfather.” They took Charlotte to school every day because it was just across the street from the high school where they both worked. Plus, Rachel knew that the three of them all loved having extra time together in the mornings.
Charlotte hugged her tight, the way she did every morning, then asked, “Do you think Grandpa will let me drive today? I know the way.”
The fact that Charlotte was extremely precocious and always wanted to explore and try new things was yet another reason that Rachel was glad that Emily and their father were both so close to the elementary school. Even though they weren't in the same building as Charlotte, it was close enough that they could fairly easily keep an eye on her.
Rachel gave her daughter a smooch on the cheek. “One day, you'll definitely be able to drive yourself to school. But not until you're lots older.”
“I’m almost six and a half now,” Charlotte protested as Emily took her hand and walked with her out to the car. She climbed into the backseat, then waved out the window. “Bye, Mommy!”
Rachel waved back. “Have a great day at school, sweet girl!”
Thankfully, Charlotte was doing very well at school. Her teacher had said more than once during the past month that she was an absolutely wonderful addition to the first-grade class. It was everything that Rachel could have hoped for.
Even so, she was looking forward to Christmas break so that she could have her little girl at home with her again. Their house seemed far too empty without Charlotte there all day.
Rachel's phone rang as soon as she stepped back inside the house. It was Mr. Timmons, one of the partners at Timmons and Webb, the small insurance firm where she worked as an actuary. Despite being a small local firm they managed to do quite well, and when Rachel came back to the island a little more than six years ago, she’d been lucky to land a job with them. Calculating the financial impact of risk and uncertainty for a living might not be the most exciting job in the world, but the work was steady and dependable. Just the way she wanted—and needed—everything in her life to be for Charlotte.
“Good morning, Frank. Is everything okay at the office?”
“Just checking to see if you could come in this afternoon rather than working at home for the full day? We’re meeting with some potential new shipping clients after lunch, and I would very much like to have my best actuary go through the risk assessment.”
“Sure, Frank, I'll be there at twelve thirty,” she said, more than a little pleased to be called the “best” at something.
With four sisters, it wasn't always easy to stand out. Emily was so capable as she took care of the family home, along with doing such a great job as a high school counselor. Paige was always so elegant as she taught dance classes at the studio that their grandmother, Ava, owned. Morgan was a bigger TV star than ever now that her makeover program had hit it big. And Hanna was so creative and full of energy as she filmed both her documentaries and Morgan's show. Whereas Rachel was as normal as they came, simply trying to do her best to bring up her daughter as a single mother.
After she hung up the phone, Rachel began to work her way around the house, tidying up after the joyful chaos that was Charlotte. Six-year-olds were busy people, and there was no shortage of evidence that her little girl had been enjoying herself, both last night before bed and then again this morning before heading off to school.
Rachel smiled as she picked up a colorful drawing. Her profession might be as an actuary, but Charlotte was her real job. Being a mother was a full-time job, 24/7, and Rachel wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.
For a moment, she stood in the middle of the living room, just listening. It was so quiet in their small house with the view out over the bay, especially during the past month. It was hard to believe that her baby girl was growing up so fast. It felt like the last six years had passed in a flash. At this rate, in just the blink of an eye, Charlotte would be a teenager, dating boys, graduating…
“I think she gets to enjoy elementary school first,” Rachel reminded herself. It wasn’t as if her little girl was going to vanish from her life now that she was in first grade.
Rachel had often heard that it was a mother’s job to worry. Well, if that was the case, she was more than qualified, considering that she could remember accident statistics the way her sister Hanna remembered Oscar nominees. As Charlotte got older, there would be boys to worry about, along with the rates of drunken driving among teenagers, not to mention the risks that would come if she and her friends started to hang out in the caves by the beach.
Again, Rachel forced these thoughts away as she went to hang up the drawing in Charlotte's bedroom, nearly tripping over the makeup kit her daughter had borrowed from Morgan the previous weekend. As far as she knew, her sister wasn’t due on set to shoot an episode of her show today, and given that it had been nearly a week since she'd last seen her sister, Rachel decided to carve out a few minutes this morning to head over to Morgan’s to return the kit.
The drive over to her sister's house wasn’t far, but then nothing on Walker Island was too far away. That was one really nice thing about being back on the island—no matter how badly things had turned out with her ex, her family was always nearby.
The house Morgan shared with her fiancé, Brian, who taught science and coached football at the high school, had views out over the ocean and plenty of space for them to raise a family one day. Rachel loved to sit on her sister's front porch, staring out at that view and imagining all the places the ocean led to. The property also had a large garden where her sister spent much of her time. In fact, it was such a pretty day on the island that when Rachel pulled up to the gate and parked the car, she was a little surprised that Morgan wasn’t out tending to the plants.
Rachel was about to knock on the front door when she heard Morgan coughing inside, hacking away as if she was about to bring up a lung.
“Morgan?” she called out. “It's Rachel. Are you okay?”
“Come in, Rachel,” Morgan said a few moments later when she'd made it to the door. “It’s not as bad as it soun—” Morgan started coughing again before she could finish her sentence.
Normally, her sister was a model of perfectly made-up beauty—her hair glossy, her makeup camera ready, her clothes the latest in fashion. Today, however, she was wearing faded leggings and a T-shirt, her hair was a mess, and she wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup.
“Why didn't you tell me you were sick?” Rachel asked. After years of looking after Charlotte’s colds and sniffles, she was quite good at dealing with them. “I could have picked up some medicine for you and brought over some chicken soup. You should be tucked up in bed, at the very least.”
“I’m fine,” Morgan insisted. “Really, I’m absolutely…whoa.”
Rachel caught her sister as she staggered, then helped her back to the big couch in the living room. “Come on,” she said in the same gentle voice that she used with Charlotte whenever her daughter wasn't feeling well. “Why don't you lie down, and I'll make you a cup of tea?”
“I'm just a little dizzy. It’s nothing.” Morgan clutched her temples. “All right, maybe it is pretty bad. But I can’t afford to be sick. Not today.” She looked up at Rachel with pleading eyes. “Is there any chance you could postpone heading into work for a bit to do a favor for me?”
“I'm not going in until after lunch, so whatever you need done, I’m sure I can take care of it for you with no problem at all.”
Morgan coughed again, before saying, “I told you that Nicholas Quinn is coming out to the island, didn't I?”
“Yes, you said something about it on the weekend. He's a surfer, isn't he?”
“The best in the world, actually. The same people who produce my show want to do an extreme sports show with him as the host,” Morgan explained. “The only problem is that he doesn’t have any experience presenting or working in TV. So the idea is that he’ll work with me and the production crew for a week or so to shoot some test segments for his show that will hopefully get the network on board. I'm supposed to meet him at the ferry”—her sister checked her watch—“in five minutes. Could you go pick him up and take him up to the house? It would be a total lifesaver.”
“To the house? Isn't he staying at one of the hotels?” Because Walker Island had a thriving tourist trade and a large population of marine biologists and artists, it had plenty of hotels and small guesthouses.
“It was Grams’ idea,” Morgan explained. “When she heard that a colleague—and friend—of mine was coming, she insisted that she not only had plenty of space, but that a hotel was no way to get to know the real island. Nicholas is a great guy, so I figured he'd probably have fun with Grams and the rest of the gang. So can you go get him from the ferry?”
“Of course I'll go get him. And if you need anything else, call me right away.”
Giving her a grateful smile, Morgan said, “Thank you so much, Rach. I'll text him right now to let him know you're on your way instead of me.” A few seconds after sending the text, her eyes closed. She was already snoring by the time Rachel made it back to the front door and closed it behind her with a soft click.
* * *
Rachel made her way carefully over the winding roads of the island, never breaking the speed limit to get to the docks, though traffic was virtually nonexistent at this time of day. It was better to arrive safely and late than speed and possibly get into an accident.