Bespoken: An Opposites-Attract Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 2)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  The sun had been setting when we arrived so I could only see it for a few minutes before total darkness washed over the sea and the landscape, leaving just a flicker of twinkling lights outside.

  “So, you liked being at the hospital?” Laurel asked eagerly.

  She’d been so excited when we’d walked in the door earlier, albeit a little surprised to see my tall and thin frame shadowed by Mick’s giant one right behind me. “I know it was only shadowing for a few days, but you’ve been dreaming of becoming a nurse since freshman year in high school…”

  “I did,” I gushed, finding my excitement over the feeling made it easy to talk about. “It was so interesting, and even just being able to talk to some of the patients while I watched Gwen work… it felt good to help.” I didn’t know how else to describe the sense of purpose and peace it gave me. “It was also a lot of information,” I admitted. “But I really want it… I really want this.”

  I was surprised how comfortable I felt talking to the whole group of women, most who I only knew in passing.

  Maybe it was the coffee. Warm and soothing, it filled my veins with a sense of comfort I remembered from my childhood when my grandfather was alive. When things were different.

  Maybe it was the place. The restaurant exuded the safety and comfort of home, lined with pictures of my pap with other folks from town, notes framed of thanks and memories; Taylor even pointed out Ash’s first chip from Alcoholics Anonymous that had been framed and hung above the door in a beautiful wooden display, etched with the phrase, ‘In the end, love wins.’

  Whose love? I wondered.

  My love for my parents? Or my love for myself? Which would win?

  And, more importantly, what would happen to the other when it did?

  The reason she’d pointed the plaque out was to tell me Mick made it. I should have guessed. It had that same attention to detail and quality craftmanship as the one he’d carved for Roasters.

  I pulled my lip between my teeth. Even though my eyes locked on the carving, my attention was on the man who’d created it.

  I was good at watching people without really watching them. After spending my life being placed in one position while having to be constantly aware of what was going on around me, it was almost habit for me to sit at the table with the other girls in the middle of the Lookout and keep Mick locked in my periphery—especially when I felt the heat of his eyes never far from me.

  “Have you told your parents?” Laurel probed with a softer voice, leaving Eve, Addison, and Taylor to their discussion about Blooms.

  I ducked my head and tucked my hair behind my ear—a strange feeling since I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn my hair down except for bed.

  “Not yet.” I met her gaze. “They’re away on business. I think it’s a better discussion to be had in person.”

  Their trip had been a reprieve—moment when I could finally stop and assess where my life was and where I wanted it to go. A moment when I could take those first few unsteady steps to find myself without worry that the world would be ripped out from underneath me.

  But I knew it couldn’t last.

  I felt like I had one foot on the gas in two different cars, going in two opposite directions. I couldn’t continue to be stretched both ways for much longer. At some point, I’d have to make a choice and leave something behind.

  No matter my unhappiness with my life, no matter what choices they’d made for me in the past, they were my parents. The last thing I ever wanted was to disappoint them or make them feel like I was ungrateful for everything they’d given me—like I was betraying them. But the caustic burn in my chest warned it would be the first reproach from their lips.

  “I think you should come work at Roasters,” Laurel said bluntly, collecting the empty coffee mugs from around the table.

  My gaze whipped to her. “What? Why?”

  “Of course, you can apply for student loans to pay for school, but you should still have a source of income just for yourself. Now that we are open again, I’m sure Eve would agree we could use the help.” Laurel leaned over. “Isn’t that right, Eve?”

  The smaller brunette pushed her glasses farther up her nose and nodded exuberantly. “That would be amazing,” she chimed in. “I’d love to be able to offer more yoga classes at Blooms while I work on my certification, but I don’t want to leave Roasters without anyone.”

  I flushed, realizing I hadn’t even thought about this end of everything. “I mean… I don’t have living expenses.”

  Laurel averted her gaze. “Maybe you won’t need it, but I want you to have something—a source of income for yourself. You’re doing something incredible and exciting by going back to school for your dreams. I don’t want you to be left stranded if your parents…” She trailed off though the end of her thought was obvious.

  I wished I could argue with her, but the only thing worse than saying nothing, would be disagreeing half-heartedly.

  “And I know you won’t take a loan from me,” she added, reaching out and squeezing my arm. “Just think about it.”

  Think about it… I hadn’t thought about paying for school. I’d barely gotten to the decision to apply. I bit my lip in lieu of kicking myself.

  Typical rich girl mistake, forgetting things actually cost money in the real world.

  “I will,” I promised, my composure faltering as my head fell to hide my embarrassment.

  As Laurel carted away the empty cups, a shiver ran up my spine. This time, I didn’t need to look; I didn’t need to see Mick move in my periphery to feel him approaching the table.

  “Evenin’ ladies,” he greeted everyone with a leisurely smile before turning those flickering blue eyes on me. “Any chance I can interest you in a walk on the deck? Figured you haven’t seen out back yet.”

  “Sure.” I discreetly tugged my arms into my blazer and rose eagerly.

  Maybe I should’ve thought before I answered, I wanted to escape the building anxiety, and Mick’s presence always steadied me—like I could run to him no matter what, and he’d keep all the bad at bay.

  The problem was he also gave me other feelings—ones that made my heart foggy right along with my mind.

  “Glad you came?” He held the door open to let me walk out first.

  I nodded, about to say ‘yes’ when my gaze locked on to the back patio, and I gasped.

  The large wooden deck had a ceiling of twinkle lights. They flickered against the night sky and bathed the empty space in a soft magical glow, set to the music of the ocean rushing against the rocks below.

  “Wow,” I breathed.

  “The sight is pretty breathtaking tonight. Then again, it always is.” His drawl was warm against my back, but when I looked over my shoulder, his eyes were staring at me.

  A million times. No, more than a million times, I’d been complimented on my beauty before. If my appearance wasn’t the most important thing my mother focused on, I didn’t know what was. Most times, I could accept it gracefully with that practiced smile. Sometimes, the compliment made me slightly uncomfortable, sometimes it even made me blush.

  But none of them had done this.

  He complimented me like he actually saw me—not just the hair and makeup or the pretty face and fancy clothes. He complimented me like my soul was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and it was a sight worthy of sacrificing his breath.

  I wanted to see what he saw. I wanted to see something more than a porcelain doll. Beautiful but pointless. Made to look pretty but not bring joy because my perfect image was too fragile to do anything except be looked at.

  “Why do you do that?” he drawled with a low voice, his accent sticking to each word like southern honey.

  “Do what?” I swallowed over the growing lump in my throat, hoping the words didn’t sound as breathless as they felt.

  “Look away when I compliment you.”

  My mouth parted.

  I had an answer, but no one had ever asked for it before.
My parents always just told me how I should feel about everything—what was right, what was appropriate. And everyone else? Well, they took one look at me and saw the rich little princess and assumed what they wanted. Because I must be shallow and easy to read.

  “Because I don’t think I deserve it,” I admitted quietly, as though I were talking to the evening breeze.

  “And why the hell would you think that, darlin’?”

  This time I couldn’t look away, half of the starry lights were blotted out by the hard shadows of his chest and the other half made his eyes twinkle with their glow.

  I shouldn’t want to confess to him; I hardly knew him. But that would’ve been like baking cookies and not tasting the batter. Or putting up a Christmas tree without a star on top. And that was why I told him. Because otherwise, I was missing something… and I wanted all those things my heart had been missing.

  “Because you say it like there’s more to it,” I explained with a strangled voice. “And what if there’s not?”

  Some moments I was so sure I could do this, that I could change my future, and others I felt like the emptiness was too big a boulder to push up the mountain.

  “What if this was all I was meant for?” My voice wavered as I continued, my heart thudding in my chest, a heavy beat that pounded my doubts harder into my mind, and in the next, beat down my fears that plagued me. How was it possible for a person to be so torn?

  “What if it’s too late for me? College, nursing…” I trailed off with a pitiful laugh, not even bothering to move back as Mick stepped into my bubble of personal space. “I didn’t… I didn’t even think about how I was going to afford it—” Breaking off with a huff, my gaze dropped to my feet, realizing they were bookended by the toes of Mick’s much larger work boots.

  “I haven’t thought through anything because I don’t know anything. I know it looks like I’m so far ahead in life, but the truth is I’m so far behind I don’t even know if it’s possible to catch up anymore.”

  “Hey, hey, hey.” His hushed tones steadied me even as his palms covered over my shoulders I only then realized were shaking with unerupted sobs.

  All this over the mention of student loans.

  The warm pillow of his hand cupped gently under my chin and lifted my eyes to his.

  “First, there is no such thing as behind. That’s the whole point of this place.” He glanced to indicate the building behind me. “You are where you are, and all you can do is move forward. Second, it’s never too late to fight for a dream.”

  I lost myself in his eyes, so strong and pure. Like I could pour anything of myself—my doubts, insecurities, and fear—into them and, like a human sieve, they’d only return the truth.

  “I just feel so unequipped. So unprepared. So… lacking.”

  “Darlin’, you don’t need much in life to do a whole lotta good. I’ve been to your resort. I’ve heard what people say. Everyone raves about your hospitality and warmth. I mean, just think about how many people in this town respected and loved your pap. Did he have a college degree?”

  My head barely shifted to indicate ‘no.’

  “Anybody has the power to do good, to make a difference, because anyone can help another person. You don’t need a degree to do good. You only need a soul full of grace and a heart brimmin’ with love.”

  “Mick…” I could hardly breathe, lost in everything that was so consuming about this man.

  I felt a tear leak down my cheek. I wanted to thank him and apologize and kick myself all at the same time. I didn’t mean to make it seem like a degree was all that mattered. I knew the legacy my pap had left behind. More than that, I knew the kind of man Mick was, I felt it with every fiber in my being, and I also knew he didn’t have a degree either. I didn’t want him to think I thought less of him. Only of myself.

  “And that’s why I compliment you, darlin’,” he pressed on, his head dipping closer to mine with each word. “Because that’s what I see when I look at you—a soul overflowin’ with compassion and love. Be a damn shame for you to let fear keep tryin’ to silence it.”

  My mouth just barely parted, most likely to protest again, although I couldn’t be sure because the next thing I felt on them was the warm surety of his lips, forcing me to accept his truth.

  And just like the birthday parties and the Christmases and the presents—every other kiss I’d experienced before seemed only for show. This kiss was the real thing. It was my first real thing. And I never wanted to let it go.

  My hands curled into his shirt and pulled him closer, the mountain of his chest rumbling with a groan. He tasted like coffee and smelled of aftershave mixed with a hint of sawdust.

  “Jules…”

  I heard it—the distant sound of retreat. Warning alarms blaring that he was taking advantage of something that wasn’t his to take.

  Sometimes, moments are all you get to change the course of your life.

  So, my tongue took advantage of the moment and darted inside his mouth, needing to taste him, needing to see if he tasted just as strongly of his sweet truths.

  And what I got back was more than just a taste.

  His tongue met mine, licking and stroking every inch of it, tempting me to explore more. So I did. I tasted every inch, searching for a corner that wasn’t sweet, that wasn’t caring. I sought for proof that he wasn’t real and that I’d missed some flaw, a crack in his noble façade.

  But I didn’t find it.

  Mick Madison was chivalrous and all-consuming—a dangerous combination for a princess like me.

  His arms swallowed me, lifting me so my toes barely grazed the ground. My breasts tingled with ache, their swollen crushed against his chest. I was wrapped in fire and the source of the burn was the imprint of his lips on mine, the flames stoked higher as his mouth angled over mine and deepened the kiss.

  His southern spark ignited my bespoken life and burned away the frivolity until only my vulnerable heart was left.

  A heart he strengthened.

  A heart he protected.

  A heart he cherished.

  He felt so massive wrapped around me, his hard muscles pressed against my soft form. My moans eagerly wandered into and lost themselves inside his mouth.

  I slid my arms up and twined them around his neck as he kissed all sense from me—which was probably a good thing—and replaced it with the need for something more. Not just for my life, but from him.

  I whimpered as my hips rocked against his, feeling the hard ridge of him distend against my stomach. And the need I felt intensified. I’d never felt an ache like this before. Ravenous. Demanding. Insatiable. And Mick seemed to have all the other answers, he had to have this one, too…

  “Mick…” I murmured his name, needing to beg for more but unsure of what.

  His kiss stopped abruptly. A drawn-out moment where our heavy pants filled the inch of space between our lips with a fog of unfulfilled need. His forehead came to rest on mine for a moment, a long low groan tearing from his lips.

  For someone so large, he’d moved so effortlessly it took my mind a moment to realize he’d stepped away, leaving a respectable foot and a half of cool, Northern California sea air separating us.

  “Damn,” he grunted. “Sorry about that, Miss—Jules. Shouldn’t’ve… don’t want you to think…”

  My chest constricted painfully.

  The twinkle lights that set such a magical mood, now glimmered like the night sky cried illuminated tears.

  Mick shook his head in frustration, as though his words weren’t enough to drive home that he regretted our kiss.

  “It’s okay,” I blurted out, smoothing my hands over my pant legs—my habit for when a situation became uncomfortable, like I could smooth away the awkwardness and anxiety. “It’s my fault. Please, don’t worry about it.”

  The shadows twitched over the subtle vibration of his jaw.

  “Just don’t want to see you give up on yourself, that’s all. Plenty of people around here, Gwen inclu
ded, who are more than willin’ to help you.”

  I nodded, keeping my eyes averted from his. Willing to help me? Yes. Willing to not treat me like I was a porcelain princess? I wasn’t so sure about that one.

  “Thank you for everything.” It was the wrong thing to say, but my head was still foggy and my lips still tingled, missing the connection to his.

  Mick took a half step toward me before thinking the better of it and reaching for the door to lead us back inside. “It’s all goin’ to be okay. You’ll see, darlin’, you’re goin’ to be just fine.”

  I gasped, my hand shooting to my head as pain seared through it, making me double over from the sharpness.

  His words pulled on a string in my mind, the one that hung off of memories that were still dark and tangled up from the night of my kidnapping. But just as soon as it pulled on the line, the memory slipped back out of reach.

  “Jules, are you okay?” he demanded.

  I didn’t know if it was the words themselves or him saying the words or the rush of adrenaline and emotion from our kiss that triggered the missing pieces of my mind, but something had, and it unsettled me.

  The only comfort I had was his hands which were holding me again. I really liked when they were holding me, even if it was for a reason like this.

  “Y-Yeah,” I stammered, trying to find the best way to describe what had just happened.

  I stared up at his face, searching for… something. Something my brain knew and yet didn’t know at the same time.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized and shook my head. “I just thought I remembered something… from that night. Maybe I’m wrong. It’s probably just the start of a headache. They usually come at night after a long day.”

  There was just something so… familiar.

  Familiar and frustrating because it was gone.

  His look of concern became tainted with something between fear and anger before he whipped his head away from mine and ushered me inside.