See You at Sunset

by V. K. Sykes

  Then, when she was close, so close that it almost hurt, Micah slicked his fingers between her thighs and she broke. Holly threw back her head, her back arching and her eyes wide open, and stared upward as she came hard.

  At the exact same moment, a falling star streaked across the night sky, a trail of fire burning bright against the stars. She blinked, stunned for a second. It was unbelievably crazy timing, and it felt so corny she had to laugh.

  Make a wish and make it count.

  But then Micah was pulling her down, kissing her with an almost desperate passion and shaking as he too came.

  As Holly curled herself around him, a wish did drift through her mind—a wish that he would never let her go. A wish that Micah would keep her right here in Seashell Bay, safe, warm, and cherished, where nothing could ever hurt her again.

  Despite the incredible time they’d spent at Carney’s dock, Micah felt empty the moment Holly gunned her car out of Lily’s driveway. Their scorching kiss as they’d parted made him regret even more that she’d told him she couldn’t spend the night at his place. To say that she’d burrowed her way into his heart was a massive understatement. Micah was well and truly gone when it came to Holly, and there was no use pretending otherwise.

  Besides, the sex had been damn near epic, just as he’d always known it would be.

  Micah’s cell rang. Maybe she was missing him already and calling now from her car? He laughed at that optimistic thought as he glanced down at his call display.

  Delbert Rideout.

  Not only was it late, but Del wasn’t like some folks who called in the hope that the deputy sheriff would drop everything and look for their lost cat. Hell, he didn’t even own a cat or any other kind of pet. All the widowed lobsterman did was work sunrise to sundown and then spend his evenings at the Lobster Pot, shooting the breeze at a big corner table with half a dozen other grizzled bug catchers.

  “Hey, Del, what’s up?”

  “Shit’s up, Micah. Some bastard got into my damn house tonight and stole my money.”

  Micah jammed on the brakes and made a U-turn on Island Road. “Somebody broke in?

  “Uh, well…”

  “You’re telling me you left your door open?”

  “You’ve given me that lecture more than once, son.”

  Yeah, but it didn’t sink in. “Look, I’ll be right there, Del. Don’t touch anything, okay?”

  Micah pulled into Del’s graveled driveway about two minutes later. Like many island homes, his was set back well off the road in a dense thicket of trees. The two-story clapboard house, its white paint more peeled every time Micah saw it, had been in the Rideout family since the early twentieth century. Del already stood at the open porch door, swatting away mosquitoes as he waited.

  “You’re okay, right?” Micah asked after he stepped inside. Del was in his midsixties but looked older, the rugged life of lobstering having taken its toll. Add to that the tragic loss of his wife to a heart attack five years ago, and it wasn’t surprising the guy seemed grizzled and worn. But he was still a burly, barrel-chested man who held his own every year in the arm-wrestling contests at the Blueberry Festival.

  Del started toward the back of the house. “I’m fine, but I’m pissed off, I’ll tell you that. The son of a bitch found my cash stash and took it,” he growled over his shoulder. “Every last dollar.”

  Micah wanted to drive his fist through the nearest wall. Fitz’s break-in was bad enough. To have another one this soon in Seashell Bay was damn near inconceivable. “Where did you keep the cash?”

  When they reached the kitchen, an old-fashioned farmhouse type, Del waved a hand at the refrigerator. “In the freezer. Inside an empty ice cream carton.”

  As hiding places went, Micah had seen a lot worse. “How much was in there?”

  Del’s eyes went to slits, as if a bolt of pain had shot through him. “Over four hundred bucks. I was saving up to take… to go on vacation in Florida this winter.”

  “Sorry, Del,” Micah said, feeling for the guy. “Anything else missing?”

  Del shook his head. “I checked around pretty good. Nothing else I can see gone.”

  “What about those pills you’ve been taking for your foot?” Micah asked. It was a small fishing town, and everybody heard about accidents at sea. So he knew about the medication Del had been taking for the pain from the injury he’d suffered when his sternman had dropped a heavy trap on his foot.

  Del reached into the pocket of his khaki pants and pulled out a pill bottle. “I had them with me.”

  “Percocet, right?”

  Del nodded.

  “You weren’t drinking, were you, Del? You know you can’t drink when you take pain meds.”

  “Hell, no. I spent the whole evening at Molly’s place. Brought her over a couple of lobsters and damned if she didn’t invite me to stay for supper, so I did. All I had to drink was some of that fancy, bubbly water she likes.”

  Micah smiled. He’d heard rumors about Del and Molly McMillan, a sweet widow of a long-dead lobsterman. If they were getting together, it was great news. “I think the guy might have been after your pills. After all, you do go out to the Pot almost every night. He probably knew that but didn’t think you’d take the pills with you.”

  Del screwed up his mouth. “So you’re saying this is like the one over at Fitz’s place?”

  “You’re both on pain meds.”

  “I take them with me whenever I go out. I can’t go without a pill for more than four hours, tops. The foot’s still real bad, Micah.” He pointed down at his right shoe, a loose-fitting loafer.

  Micah figured there wasn’t much more he could do tonight at this late hour. Tomorrow morning, he’d canvass the neighbors to ask whether they’d seen anyone hanging out near Del’s place or a strange car parked nearby. But the odds of getting any useful information were slim. This house was secluded and separated from its neighbors by hundreds of feet, and the woods were thick.

  “Okay, Del, you should try to get some sleep. I’ll come back tomorrow and take a statement. And start locking your doors, okay?”

  Del shook Micah’s offered hand. “Yeah, yeah. But what in hell is this island coming to anyway, Micah? Nobody used to have to lock a door. Never.” He gave a disgusted snort. “If I wanted to live in the damn city, I’d move there.”

  “I’ll find this guy and put him away, Del. I promise you that. But the world’s changing, my friend, and so is Seashell Bay. The days of unlocked doors might be coming to an end.”

  And nobody hated that any more than Micah.

  Chapter 16

  In between serving an encouragingly steady stream of morning customers, Holly tried to focus on getting the store ready for the temporary shutdown needed for Brendan’s renovations. Fortunately, Morgan and Sabrina would be over soon to help her with the heavy work.

  Despite downing a shot of Florence’s scotch as soon as she got home last night, she’d hardly slept. She’d lain there with her eyes clamped shut, her stomach tight, and her mind whipsawing between the ugly scene with Jackson and the awesome sex with Micah. For a few minutes, the world had seemed suddenly right when she was locked in Micah’s arms, swept away as he made love to her. And it had felt like he was making love, not just taking her oh-so-willing body in some frenzy of pent-up passion.

  Yet as right as it had felt with him, and as liberating as it had been to just let go, her doubts had reared soon after. And she’d known that’s what would happen, even though she’d tried to deny it. She’d just added another complication to her already seriously complicated life.

  Mostly though, she worried about how it all would affect Micah.

  When she told him she couldn’t spend the night with him, he’d accepted it with wry good humor. She’d taken a quick shower at his place, then he drove her back to Lily’s house to pick up her car. They’d parted with a short but very steamy kiss. Micah had clearly wanted to linger, but Holly had managed to pull out of his arms and jump into he
r car for a quick getaway. She had no desire to run into Jackson in the unlikely event that he was still at the party, but mostly she was spooked by her sexcapade with Micah.

  She’d taken the coward’s way out, and that didn’t make her feel good.

  So she’d been obsessing for hours over what she’d say to Micah the next time they saw each other. Chances were that he’d be back at work on her aunts’ porch this evening, so she’d have to deal with the situation then if not before. No matter how she imagined that conversation, nothing she could say sounded right to her.

  She was rearranging some boxes of canned goods in the storage room when she heard the front door bell jingle. Brushing her hands against her jeans, she hurried back into the store but then skidded to a halt.

  Jackson.

  “Morning, Hols,” he said with his usual confident smile, as if their relationship hadn’t imploded last night.

  “What are you doing here, Jackson?” She walked backward toward the counter, keeping as much distance between them as she could.

  He moved closer, still smiling. “The chopper’s waiting, so I need to get out of here in a minute. But I didn’t want to leave before talking to you again.”

  Wearing one of his summer-weight gray suits along with a white shirt and dark blue tie, he looked immaculate, ready for some high-powered meeting back in New York.

  Holly just nodded, waiting for him to say his piece and fervently praying that Micah wouldn’t happen to drop by to pick up coffee in the next few minutes.

  He leaned against the counter, looking rather contrite, if she read his expression right. “Last night totally sucked, Hols. And I’m sorry.”

  Actually no, only some of last night sucked.

  She nodded again.

  “I’m sure we both said things we regret,” Jackson said.

  When Holly crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her gaze, Jackson looked flummoxed for a second. Then he let out a dramatic sigh. “Ah, hell, baby. We’ve been good together for a long time. Wouldn’t it be stupid to let one off night screw it up?”

  Holly hadn’t known what to expect from him, but this half-assed apparent attempt at an apology felt ridiculous. “It was a really bad night, Jackson. I can’t be with you after the horrible way you behaved.”

  His mouth went flat. “I suppose it’s because of whatever the hell you have going on with that thick-necked idiot of a deputy. Christ, Hols, is that the best you can do? I mean, yeah, this place is a total backwater, but surely you could do better than him.”

  Jackson wasn’t fit to shine Micah’s boots.

  Holly clenched her fists shut against the almost irresistible impulse to throw something at him. And there were a lot of potential missiles within easy reach. “Jackson, please don’t start.”

  He shrugged. “Oh well, I guess you’re allowed to do stupid shit sometimes. God knows I’m no saint. Look, I just wanted to tell you that when you get back to the city, you should give me a call. Because I know that woman at the party last night wasn’t the Hols I’ve known all this time. It’s just this place—it always messes with your head.”

  “Unbelievable,” Holly said.

  He gave her a tight smile. “Just don’t take too long to make up your mind. I won’t be waiting around forever.”

  What did I ever see in this jerk?

  The problem was, she obviously hadn’t seen him enough. During the limited times they’d spent together, he’d been almost always lighthearted and charming and fun, with the occasional flash of arrogance. Holly had a strong and sickening feeling that the Jackson Leigh that had revealed himself at Lily’s party was the real article, and that certainly didn’t reflect well on her.

  “Have a good flight back to the city,” she said. “And don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”

  Jackson stared at her for a couple of moments, then turned on his heel and stalked out.

  When Micah finished with the last of the porch windows, he put down the caulking gun and eyed the general store next door. Holly was working only a few steps from him, and yet the distance between them yawned as wide as the Grand Canyon.

  According to Beatrice, she and Holly had spent most of the afternoon getting the store ready for the renovations, with help from Morgan and Sabrina. Beatrice had gone home by late afternoon, and Morgan and Sabrina had taken off to tend to their B&B guests. Holly apparently intended to keep working through most of the evening.

  Micah had deliberately avoided the store, wanting to give Holly some space. Like he knew the sun would rise in the east, he knew she’d be questioning—and probably regretting—what they’d done out on Jerry’s deserted dock. He suspected it had been as mind-blowing an experience for her as it was for him.

  It had changed everything between them.

  When he wasn’t thinking about Holly, of course he was thinking about the break-in last night at Del Rideout’s. After taking Del’s statement first thing in the morning, he’d briefed Griff Turner and then interviewed all the neighbors in the vicinity of the burglary. As he’d feared, no one had seen or heard anything unusual last night.

  As gut-wrenching as a second break-in was, at least it told him that the thief had to be plugged in when it came to who was taking meds in Seashell Bay. Because he didn’t believe for a second that cash was what the guy was looking for at the Rideout place. Del lived more modestly than most, and his place, like Fitz’s, sure wouldn’t be one any thief would target for a grab of cash, jewelry, or other valuables. No, it was clear to Micah that the guy was after Del’s pain pills. Like a lot of people in town, he obviously knew Del was taking them for his injury. Unfortunately for the thief, he didn’t know Del never left home without them.

  After washing his hands in the kitchen, Micah said good-bye to Florence and Beatrice and headed out to his cruiser. He glanced over at the little general store as he got in. It was lit up on the inside, though the fluorescent lamp over the ancient gas pump was off. That would normally be an indication that the store was closed, except that particular bulb had been burned out for weeks.

  He sat for a few minutes with the big engine idling as conflicting arguments jostled around inside his head. His pride, usually the loudest voice, told him in no uncertain terms to leave Holly alone. If she’d wanted to see him, she’d have come over to the house while he was working, if only to say a quick hello. She would have seen his cruiser every time she glanced out one of the store’s side windows.

  Pride didn’t seem to be winning the battle though. His teeth clenched at the idea of not talking to her tonight—of not holding her in his arms. Last night had been everything he’d ever dreamed it would be. He’d had his share of women over the years, and there’d been some pretty great, if a bit infrequent, sex. But making love to Holly had been on a whole other level, because his heart and mind had been just as into it as his body. Maybe that sounded dumb, but the emotions he’d felt were too big to put into words.

  And now the thought that it might have been just a one-off was turning him inside out.

  Micah drove next door and stopped in front, shutting off the engine and yanking out the keys.

  Enough with giving her space.

  He’d been giving her a freaking ocean of space for years. Last night, for the first time since he’d known Holly Tyler, he’d figured he might actually have a chance with her, so he might as well find out here and now if that was more than wishful thinking.

  Because if being with Holly—truly being with her—were just wishful thinking, he needed to try to rip her out of his heart once and for all.

  Holly had been nervously watching Micah’s parked cruiser all evening. A dozen times she’d thought about going over to talk to him and had even headed toward the door more than once. But her anxiety and simply not knowing what to say had pulled her back.

  She hated feeling so awkward. She loved Micah—was possibly falling in love with Micah—but there were so many complications that freaked her out.

  When she hear
d the Tahoe’s engine start up, she felt a brief moment of relief, a coward’s respite. After what seemed like a very long time, she heard him pull out of the driveway and went to look. But instead of driving away, the SUV stopped directly in front of the store and Micah got out, looking like a man on a mission.

  Holly bolted away from the window and hurried into the tiny restroom, where she whipped the scrunchie off her ponytail. She shook out her hair and tried to style it with shaking fingers. Her face and neck were flushed and sweaty from packing and lugging boxes to the storage room. In her now-dirty yoga pants, tank top, and sneakers, she figured she must look like she’d spent the day jogging around the island in the hot sun before rolling around in the dirt.

  When Micah rapped sharply on the door, she inhaled a few deep breaths and walked back across the store to open it.

  “I’m afraid we’re closed, Deputy,” she said, forcing a smile as she stepped back to let him inside. “No coffee for you.”

  So lame.

  Micah came in and closed the door behind him. His smile looked forced too, though his gaze zeroed in on her skintight pants with a spark of interest. “Hey, Holly. I just wondered if there was anything I could do to help you. It looks like you’ve put in a really long day.”

  God, he is so wonderful. Holly, what is wrong with you?

  As he towered over her, she couldn’t help thinking how amazing that brawny body had felt wrapped around her.

  She kept her gaze firmly fastened on his face. “You’ve had a long day too. Are the porch windows all set?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s so great. It shouldn’t be long now until the aunties can enjoy it, right?”

  “Just a few details left.” He glanced around the nearly empty store and frowned. “I really should have been here helping you tonight.”

  “Oh, no. I’d rather you finished up over there as soon as possible.”