by Jackie Braun
“Hi,” each of the boys said, looking a little shy and adorably awkward as they accepted her outstretched hand.
“You talk funny,” Josh—or was it Joey?—said. His cheeks turned blotchy immediately after saying so. “I don’t mean funny, more like, you know, different. You have an accent of some sort.”
“Smooth,” his brother muttered half under his breath.
“I’m not from your country,” Holly said. She couldn’t help thinking they had a bit of an accent, too. American English definitely carried a different sound than British English, which she was far more used to.
The other brother spoke up then. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like someone famous?”
Holly and Nate traded glances.
“No. Whom do you mean?” she asked, keeping her expression carefully blank. This was exactly what Nate had warned her would happen, and what she wanted to avoid.
“Lady Gaga.”
“What?” Holly let out a completely unladylike snort of laughter that would have earned her mother’s censure. As it was, it had Nate’s eyebrows rising. “I can honestly say that no one has ever told me I look like the pop star.”
“Not when she’s done all up for, like, a concert or an awards show or anything,” Josh was quick to correct. “She can be pretty out there. But you kind of have the same eyes.”
“Really.” More amused than incredulous now, Holly sent a grin in Nate’s direction. “Lady Gaga. What do you think?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not seeing it.”
She turned back to the twins. “Don’t feel bad. Nate is more of a country-Western sort.
Or at least he was back when we were children.”
Garth Brooks, George Strait, Alan Jackson and a little Brooks & Dunn had been staples on his stereo. He’d known the songs by heart. He’d even taught Holly to two-step. The first time she’d gotten the movements right without his prompting, he’d swung her around in a circle and kissed her cheek before setting her down and quickly stepping away. They’d been on his parents’ deck. She’d been fourteen. He’d been … her world.
“I’ve grown into a heavy metal fan since then,” he informed her now.
Holly’s mouth gaped open a moment before she could say, “You did not.”
He merely shrugged. “My college roommate was a huge AC/DC fan. It was either learn to like screeching lyrics and wicked electric guitar riffs or sleep at the library. I chose the path of least resistance and the most shut-eye. Besides, it’s not so bad once you get used to it.”
“‘Back in Black.’” One of the boys nodded and grinned. “Totally.”
“Totally,” the other one echoed.
“Righteous,” Holly said, flipping what she thought was the sign she’d seen rock stars use, but earning confused glances from all three of the males in her presence. She could only hope the sign she’d flashed hadn’t been offensive.
“Start loading these logs into the pickup,” Nate instructed.
The boys did as they were told. Holly asked in a lowered voice, “Did I get that wrong?”
“A finger or two. You gave us the Boy Scout salute.” Nate started to chuckle.
“Oh.” She picked a coffee ground out of the otherwise empty cup. “Heavy metal. I guess it makes sense that your tastes have changed since I was last here.”
She tried to keep her tone light, but the way Nate was looking at her made it difficult.
“We were kids then.”
“Children,” she agreed.
His gaze skimmed down. Awareness simmered between them.
“Not all of my tastes have changed,” he said.
“No?”
He glanced away. When his gaze returned to hers it was far more impassive. “I still like toasted marshmallows.”
Nate told the Burns brothers to take a break for lunch and walked with Holly back to the house, intending to do the same. He was still a little surprised that she’d come out to find him, bringing with her a cup of coffee no less. The worst cup of coffee he’d ever had, but still. It was definitely the thought that counted.
“It looks like you have a lot of work to do,” she remarked, stepping over one of the many downed branches strewn over the resort grounds.
The beach had been cleared first and the sand freshly graded. Already, families were out, lounging in chairs and watching their children build sand castles or play in the water. This was exactly why it had been the priority. When people came to an island, they expected unfettered access to the water.
“Enough. But it’s not as bad as I feared it would be.” He gave her a quick summary of what his morning tour had turned up. “Besides, the twins will help. They’re good kids. Strong backs and a burning desire to make a buck. They have their eye on a car. A real babe magnet.”
Holly’s brow crinkled.
“A stylish ride sure to turn all the young girls’ heads,” Nate translated.
“You drove a station wagon, as I recall,” she said.
With the resort logo plastered on the doors. He grimaced. “That was the opposite of a babe magnet.”
“And yet you managed to turn my head.” She blushed after saying so and then changed the subject. “The twins seem nice.”
Nate nodded. “Although maybe not all that bright.” He gave her arm a poke. “They thought you looked like Lady Gaga.”
“Yes.” She shook her head. “I’m still trying to figure out if I should be flattered.”
She batted the lashes on the eyes the boys claimed were like the pop star’s. The gesture was silly, as silly as the boys’ assertion. But Nate’s mouth went dry as he stared at her. He’d always thought Holly’s eyes were one of her best features.
“They’re so damned blue,” he murmured.
“Pardon me?”
Nate fiddled with the clipboard he’d snagged from the front seat of his truck. He’d brought it with him mostly to keep his hands occupied. Wouldn’t it just figure that it was his mouth making him into a fool?
“Uh, Hank took off a couple hours ago.”
“Yes. I noticed that his plane was gone when I left your house.”
Of course she had.
“He had some fares, so he needed to return to the mainland.”
It was a lie—little and white—since the pilot would have stuck around if Nate hadn’t insisted that he would find Holly a place to stay.
“I guess this means I’m at your mercy.” She blushed again.
Nate’s heart did a funny little flip. Holly. At his mercy. He was guy enough that some serious fantasies could be attached to such a statement, benign though she’d intended it. He nearly pinched his thumb under the board’s clip, and cleared his throat.
“After we eat lunch, I’ll take you around to the other resorts as well as to the real estate office in town. Nadine Masterson runs it. She’ll know if there is anything available to rent, even if it’s not listed. Some of the more exclusive places aren’t advertised.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Holly’s smile was polite. And fake. It was the kind of smile she wore for public appearances. Since Nate was privy to the real thing, he spotted the imposter easily enough. Less than twenty-four hours in her presence and he’d already figured out that retreating behind good manners was a way for her to mask her true feelings. She’d never done that as a girl. Back then, she’d given as good as she’d gotten, arguing and opining like a champion debater. He’d been fascinated by her passion for life and adventure and, later, for him, as innocent as it had been.
Recalling that now, he asked, “Why do you do that?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’re saying one thing when it’s clear you mean another.”
“I’m afraid I still don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re smiling, saying how appreciative you are, but I don’t get the feeling you’re very happy.”
“Why wouldn’t I be happy?” she argued. “As I said, I apprecia
te the trouble you’re going to, helping me find a place to stay elsewhere on the island.”
Nate thought he had his answer. She hadn’t just come to Heart Island. She’d come to the Haven Resort. “If I had a cottage available, I’d rent it to you. I know I may not have been very gracious when you first arrived last night, but …”
She smiled—the real thing this time—and clasped her hands in front of her. “I believe you would. Thank you, Nate.”
He hadn’t done anything. Yet. But he would. He would see to it that Holly found a place to stay on Heart and that she enjoyed her time away from her royal duties.
Maybe along the way, she not only would remember the girl she’d once been, she would find a little of that girl’s spirit still within her.
They ate a simple lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches. Unfortunately, one look through his refrigerator and pantry and that was about all Nate could come up with.
He’d meant to get to the grocery store. He was even running low on staples such as milk, eggs and bread. Truth be told, Nate dined out more than he ate in. He liked the company to be found at the Fishing Hole, a pub on the other side of the bay that served the best deep-fried white fish on the island. Even if he came in alone, he never sat alone. Everyone knew everyone. The island was a community in the best sense of the word.
Holly didn’t complain about the pedestrian fare. Not that Nate expected her to. He’d already figured out that she hadn’t changed quite as much as he’d thought she had in terms of her tastes, and that, despite their earlier conversation, she would kill him with kindness rather than utter any intentionally rude comments.
He missed the young woman who had been full of opinions and dreams, which she’d shared without any prompting at all. One, he still remembered.
“I’m going to be an artist someday. So good, that you probably won’t be able to afford my work.”
The memory had him asking, “Do you still paint?”
She had a mouthful of grilled cheese. She stopped chewing, blinked a couple of times. It was a moment before she swallowed and could reply.
“I … no. Not much. There’s really no time.”
“I’m surprised.” And he was. “I remember someone once telling me that a person makes time for the things that are important.”
“I was never any good at it. It’s not as if anything I painted was going to wind up hanging in a museum or for sale in a gallery.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t important.”
“I … I …” Whatever she’d intended to say went unfinished. Instead, she stood, pushing back from the table so abruptly that her chair nearly tipped over. Her expression wasn’t sad exactly. Nor did she appear angry. But it was clear she was upset.
“Hol—”
But she was already gone, her footsteps thudding on the carpeted steps.
Holly paced the length of her room, equal parts agitated and embarrassed. She’d acted like a fool, dashing out of the kitchen like that. But she couldn’t stay, not when Nate saw her so clearly. She’d felt naked, exposed and ashamed. Ashamed of how she’d let her needs and desires be subjugated.
She’d loved painting, especially with watercolors. In each brushstroke she’d found respite from daily pressures. Yet she’d allowed herself to be steered away from being an artist and toward being a patron of the arts.
“I remember someone once telling me that a person makes time for the things that are important.”
Yes, she’d said that. She’d believed it, too.
How had she allowed herself to forget?
CHAPTER SIX
AS NATE suspected, pretty much every resort on the island was at capacity. Even a couple of the questionable places on the far side of the island were posting No Vacancy signs.
Holly had been awfully quiet throughout their drive. He’d made no mention of what had happened in the kitchen. It was clear she didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that had prompted her hasty departure.
Beside him in the cab of his truck, he heard Holly sigh.
“It’s not looking good, is it?” she said.
“No, but we’ll swing by the real estate office. As I said, Nadine has resources that I don’t.”
“Maybe I should just call Hank to come get me.”
“And what? Go home?”
She stared straight ahead. From the way her nose wrinkled, he was pretty sure she found the option distasteful, yet she said, “God knows, my mother would be relieved.”
Would Nate be? Would he be relieved to have the status quo restored? It was a question he wasn’t ready to answer. So, he reminded Holly, “You came here looking for something.”
“Yes, I did.” She plucked at the hem of her blouse. “Something that may no longer exist, and even if it does …”
“Yes?” he prodded.
“You not only have to make time for the things that are important, Nate, you have to have the courage to make that time.”
It was an interesting answer. One that begged questions. But Nate didn’t ask what she meant. She wasn’t the only one lacking for nerve. “We’ll go and talk to Nadine. There’s plenty of time to call Hank later if nothing pans out.”
“All right.”
She leaned her head back on the rest. They were on one of the island’s main roads. Every car that passed going in the opposite direction, the driver waved.
“People are so friendly here,” she remarked.
“We all know one another, the locals, that is. And, even the tourists do it once they’ve been around for a while. When people wave, the natural reaction is to wave back.”
“Like this?” She cupped her hand slightly and gave what he thought of as a royal wave. A smile turned up the corners of her mouth.
“That’s a ‘how do you do’ sort of wave. Here on the island, we keep our fingers splayed a bit and use more wrist. It says, ‘Hey. How’s it going? Have a good one.’” Nate demonstrated.
“I see what you mean,” Holly said in mock seriousness. They passed a pickup truck and she gave her best imitation.
“Now you’re getting the hang of it.”
They both laughed.
She turned and smiled. “Thank you, Nate.”
“For teaching you how to give a proper Heart Island wave?”
“For making me laugh and, well, ferrying me about from place to place.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It is,” she disagreed. “I’ve taken you away from your work for a good portion of the day, and after a vicious storm no less. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”
“Other things to do, maybe. But not better,” he corrected on a smile.
He reached across the truck’s bench seat and gave her hand a squeeze. He wanted to hold it, weave his fingers through hers and maybe stroke the soft skin he encountered with the pad of his thumb. Instead, he released her hand and gripped the steering wheel with both of his.
“To Heart Island Realty,” he said.
The business in question was located near what the islanders referred to as the Four Corners. It was the main intersection just off the ferry landing on the island, and as such, the hub of commerce. Whether tourist or local, pretty much everyone converged on the Four Corners at one point or another during the week.
Stub’s Grocery dominated one corner, a hardware and feed store another. The remaining two were taken up with Mary Sue’s Mercantile, which sold men’s, women’s and children’s clothing as well as home goods; and Dan’s Laundromat, which both shared a parking lot with Phoebe’s Frozen Treats. Just down from that, and in the same shared parking lot, was Heart Island Realty.
Nate pulled his truck into one of the available spots. Together, he and Holly entered the business.
Nadine Masterson glanced up when the cowbell over the door rang. She was a pretty woman, petite, with brown hair that she wore short these days. She was the same age as Nate. She and her younger sister had moved to the island when Nadine was a senior in high scho
ol. It had been quite an adjustment for both of the girls, even though they hadn’t come from a large city. Even small cities had a broader social circle than the island did. Nate had asked Nadine to their senior prom. They’d dated on and off over the years, never seriously, but they enjoyed one another’s company. Their nights out had become a little more frequent since his return to the island a few years earlier. Still, they were anything but exclusive and not in what he would consider a committed relationship.
He began to wonder if maybe she felt otherwise when her face split into a grin when she glanced up and saw him. The smile was a little more intimate than the one saved for a mere friend. The way Holly stiffened, Nate figured she’d picked up on that, too. He could have smacked himself upside the head for his lapse in judgment. Well, there was no help for it now.
“Nate Matthews,” Nadine was saying as she came around the desk. “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes on a what has otherwise been a really lousy day.”
“Hey, Nadine.” He reached for Holly, who stood just behind him, and guided her forward. He immediately regretted the proprietary hand he’d rested on the small of Holly’s back. Both women seemed to have a visceral reaction to the gesture.
Nadine’s smile evaporated. Holly jumped.
“And who might this be?”
“This is—”
“I’m Holly. An old friend of Nate’s family.” She stepped to the side, just outside his reach, and extended a hand to the other woman.
“Nadine Masterson.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Masterson.” Holly folded her hands in front of her. “I arrived on the island rather unexpectedly late yesterday. Unfortunately, Nate’s resort is full, but he brought me to you in the hope that you might find something available for me elsewhere on the island.”
How nonthreatening was that? Nate nearly felt insulted.
Nadine divided a gaze between the two of them. Nate could only imagine what she was thinking, and it was a good bet he would hear all about it the next time they ran into one another at the Fishing Hole.
He wouldn’t have to wait that long, he decided, when Nadine said, “You arrived yesterday, Holly?”