Caught Up in You

by Kim Boykin

  “You wanna talk about it?” he asked, just below the shell of her ear.

  She kept her gaze on the horizon. “They’ve been gone a long time. My parents,” she said. “But I feel the loss sometimes more than usual. It’s been a long time, you’d think I’d be over it.”

  He knew what she meant, there were little things that always brought memories of his mom back, a stand of gladiolas against a white picket fence, the smell of benne wafers. “And the boat made you think of them?”

  “Yes.” She stopped her lips in a thin line like she was holding back. Was she afraid of his dad?

  After Declan’s mother died, he’d been terrified of being left alone to fend for himself. The old man was good at finding anyone’s weak spot and then was only too happy to dig into it. Whenever they were out at sea and he got angry at Declan, usually for no good reason, his dad would throw him overboard, or worse make him jump. Then he’d hit the gas and leave Declan bobbing in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a life ring, sometimes not even that. Declan would watch the boat disappear into the distance, with no idea which direction land was, and sure that he was going to die.

  If his father had said something to hurt Shelby, he’d throw the old man overboard. “He upset you.”

  “No. It’s just my dad had that same gruff voice, but he was tender. So tender. I—.”

  She didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t have to. Declan knew that feeling. Just when he thought he was over the loss of his mom he’d see a postcard like the ones she used to collect that could make him feel like he was losing her all over again. When he was a kid, it seemed those times went on forever; as he grew up, the feeling was brief but was no less potent.

  They watched a squadron of pelicans dive bomb into the sea for their breakfast. A pod of dolphins swam up to the boat and when they figured out it wasn’t a working shrimp boat that would toss the fish caught in their nets overboard, they swam off towards the boats in the distance. He held her a little tighter, neither of them saying anything.

  Holding her felt so good, like he’d known her forever.

  Forever. That’s what she wanted. What he couldn’t give her. And yet he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to be close to her, wanting to hear her voice. Just wanting her. She must have felt the same because she craned her neck around to look into his eyes. He was just about to kiss her when the engine started up again.

  She laughed as the boat lurched forward, and, man, that was a beautiful sound. He held her a little tighter as the bow churned into the whitecaps, the salty spray settling over their skin. He glanced over his shoulder at his father, and for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, he saw the old man’s face soften a bit.

  As they neared the marina, Declan gave her a quick kiss and got up to help bring in the boat. He stood there for a moment, not understanding why the loss of just letting go of her felt so damn big. This wasn’t good. Better to cut her losses now; Shelby Worthington deserved better than him.

  “Get the lines,” his father barked, and for once, he was glad to hear the old man’s rough voice. He tied off the boat and the old man killed the engine.

  “Thank you for having me on your boat, Mr. Enright.” Shelby threw her arms around Declan’s father. His body went stiff as he patted her back awkwardly, making Declan almost burst out laughing.

  “Welcome,” he growled, pulling away and heading to the gangplank and limping carefully to the dock.

  “See you tomorrow, Dad,” Declan called after him. The old man harrumphed something and kept walking.

  Then it was just him and Shelby and for some reason, maybe the fact that they’d returned to land or reality, she seemed different. A little embarrassed. Shy?

  “Thanks for the boat ride, Declan. Sorry about decking you earlier.”

  She looked at him with a full on smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. The look reminded him of what a jerk he’d been pursuing her and then avoiding her. With their chemistry, he had no doubt he could romance her into his bed. But knowing what she wanted made that seem wrong and was a reminder that Denise was right. He did suck at love.

  “Yeah. I need to get home now. Guess you have to get to work too.” He didn’t trust himself to help her off the boat; every time he touched her, it made him wish he could be what she wanted. She seemed to understand and started down the gangplank. He hung back like he was tending to the boat and watched her go.

  Chapter Ten

  Shelby picked up the pace, heading for home. For the last two weeks, she had gotten up extra early to get her run in before she met Declan and his dad at the marina. Their time out on the water was perfect. She’d watched Will Enright open up, just a tiny bit. He still didn’t smile very often, but when he did, she felt like she’d won the lottery. And it was apparent that he loved Declan, even if he didn’t know how to show him.

  She always claimed she ran so that she could eat whatever she wanted, but the truth was, it cleared her mind. Except for today. It seemed her mind was running triple time ahead of her steady pace, a blur of thoughts and questions about Declan Enright. She’d stupidly declared she was looking for a husband, and he’d made it very clear he wasn’t that guy. Should have been a huge turn off right? But no, instead she was getting up at five a.m. to run and then go out on the boat. And the funny thing was, Declan didn’t seem turned off by what she wanted. At least not when they were on the boat.

  When she was with him, she felt like that high school freshman, who had admired Declan from afar. Back then, her locker was plastered with pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio, and a small but tasteful shrine to The New Kids on the Block in hopes that they would reunite. Underneath all that, taped to the center of the metal door, was a small two by two inch picture of her first crush. She’d cut Declan Enright’s photo from Hannah’s older sister’s yearbook. And while Shelby had always been honest to a fault, she had never fessed up to defacing the book and had let Hannah shoulder the blame.

  And then there’d been that night. That one night she’d thought about for years. Would things have been different if she’d stayed the next morning? Would he have woken up to find her in his arms and suddenly have seen her as something other than a freshman with a huge crush?

  Is that what she felt now? Was this just an infatuation with a first crush? Their mad chemistry made it feel like more than that. But then he’d avoided her as much as she’d avoided him. And why was she avoiding him? Why couldn’t she just knock on his door like a grownup and tell him what she wanted?

  And what did she want? Him, for one thing. But, knowing that Declan’s father was probably right and Declan’s presence in Magnolia Bay was temporary? That was like asking to get her heart stomped and broken. She was older now, wiser. Right?

  Emma had called a couple of nights ago, when Shelby was staring at her cellphone willing it to ring, which was stupid because Declan had never even asked for her number. Emma had asked straight up if things were progressing with Declan. Shelby had almost lied and said yes. While their daily outings on the boat were nice, it was embarrassing that he’d made such a big show after their dinner with that kiss and then he was suddenly AWOL when it came to date night. But Emma would have gotten the truth out of her anyway.

  “His name is Alex,” Emma gushed. “He just started at the agency today. He’s tall and extremely gorgeous. Your babies would be beautiful, but there’s one drawback. He’s from New York. The good news is, his folks have settled in Charleston. He came to visit them last year, fell in love with the city, and took a big job at the agency I work for.”

  “How can you know all that in just one day?” Shelby asked.

  “I used my Southern powers of polite interrogation over lunch at Closed for Business; he took one bite of that incredible Pork Slap sandwich and spilled his guts. He’s just a couple of years older than you, and he’s looking to settle down.”

  Which immediately begged the question. “So, why aren’t you setting yourself up with him?” And perhaps it might
also make Emma admit that she had a thing for Morgan Novak, who also worked with her at Innovative Advertising and had been instrumental in coming to the rescue with the Six Chicks when Darcy’s B&B needed saving.

  “Because you’re nursing a fifteen-year-old crush, Shell, that isn’t going anywhere, and you’re ready to settle down. Right now, you need gorgeous and serious.”

  She’d promised Emma she’d think about Tall Hot and Available, and as she ran up her walkway he was sounding pretty good compared to another New Yorker, albeit a Magnolia Bay native, who was confusing the hell out of her.

  She tried not to notice that the flowerbeds in her front yard looked neglected. She had no idea when she’d get to them, but if she didn’t soon, the garden Nazis would start leaving threatening letters in her mailbox reminding her that Spencer Boulevard, AKA B&B Boulevard, was important to the town’s tourism. If Shelby didn’t get the yard in shape, they’d have the city do it and send her a very hefty bill.

  Chelsea. She’d probably already left to sit for Declan, but that never lasted more than a few hours. It was time she earned her keep.

  Shelby opened the door to find her sister on the couch, curled around an empty Kleenex box, the floor littered with used tissues. She rushed to Chelsea’s side and held her while she sobbed.

  “What happened, Chels?”

  Shelby wanted to stay out of Chelsea’s business. But if Matt was messing with her mind and her heart, just when Chelsea was getting on her feet again, Shelby would call him and tell him to back the hell off. “Did you hear from Matt?” Chelsea shook her head and started up again with an earsplitting whine that dissolved into more sobbing. Shelby was going to kill that guy.

  Chelsea took Shelby’s shirttail, wiped her tears and then honked as she blew her nose. “Gross, Chelsea. This had better be something awful.”

  Her sister nodded. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

  “Oh, honey, that’s wonderful news. It’s better than wonderful; it’s a miracle.” Shelby was crying too now, wishing so hard her mom and dad were there. They would have made wonderful grandparents. The best.

  “But I don’t have Matt. I’m alone.”

  “Chels, you’re not alone. You have me and the Chicks. And I bet, if Matt knew, he’d be here in a heartbeat.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want him to know. He said he didn’t want kids. That hasn’t changed.”

  “But you do want this baby, and he or she is a miracle.” She pushed a wispy strand of blonde hair behind Chelsea’s ear and saw the tiniest hint of a smile. “Our miracle. And you have a whole bunch of people who love you and will be so thrilled you’re going to be a mama, honey. It’s going to be great, you’ll see.”

  She snarfed and nodded. Chelsea’s iPhone alarm went off reminding both of them it was time to get ready for work. “I should get over to Declan’s, and you need to open the store.”

  “Work can wait; I’m here for you for as long as you need me.”

  “I know this isn’t going to be easy.” She reached for Shelby’s hand. “I made an appointment at a specialist in Charleston. Guess this really is a bona fide miracle; the doctor’s making time to see me Friday morning. I know I have to get some kind of hormone injections so I don’t—. So I can carry the baby to term.”

  “You will. And then, we’re going to spoil this baby rotten,” Shelby promised.

  “I love you,” Chelsea whispered.

  “Right back at you, little sister.”

  Declan didn’t have to be Dr. Phil to know Chelsea was upset. She’d been crying, that was for sure, and whatever had happened to her must have been bad. She was as still as a stone, and beautiful. His type, all curvy and blonde. She was draped in yards of red Indian satin. Under different circumstances, she would have taken his breath away, but his mind was on Shelby.

  He found himself noticing the similarities between the sisters; they had the same nose, same wide-set eyes, thick hair, although Shelby’s was golden brown. Shelby’s nose was perfect, and Chelsea’s was longer...and runny. Yeah, this wasn’t going to be a productive day at all.

  During their first break, he’d given her openings to say she wasn’t into sitting today, but she hadn’t taken them. Instead, she’d pulled her iPad out of her purse and scrolled through things that seemed to make her even more upset. Declan didn’t know what was up with her, but whatever it was, it had sent his muse screaming into the ether.

  Ten minutes into the second hour of their session, he gave up. “I’m just not feeling it today, Chelsea. You’re scheduled to come back tomorrow and Friday. Does that still work for you?”

  “Yeah, except Friday. I have an appointment. But if you need me, I can come back Saturday or Sunday.”

  “Okay. Both days, if you can swing it.”

  She nodded, gathered up the satin and started for the bathroom. Pausing, she turned to him, eyes on the floor, her face sorrowful. Oh, God, the only thing that Declan sucked at more than love, was drama. And Chelsea seemed to be bursting with it. He knew the situation with her husband or ex-husband, whatever he was, and felt bad for her.

  Then she glanced up at him. A million different emotions in a single look. Exactly what he wanted to capture on canvas.

  “Shelby’s always liked you. A lot.”

  A lot? That was a surprise. He’d been older than her, and didn’t really get to know her until she went away to college. He remembered that day his senior year; she was standing in the cafeteria. Dressed in jeans and a brand spanking new University of South Carolina t-shirt, she couldn’t have looked any more like a freshman if she’d tried. She’d looked terrified and seemed so relieved when he asked her to join him and his friends. She was cute and funny, and, for a school with over twenty thousand students, he saw her around a lot. Maybe she did have a crush on him back then.

  Then there had been that night, a couple of days before he graduated and put the great state of South Carolina in his rearview mirror for good, or so he thought. He’d left a party and was dead asleep when she’d called out of the blue, crying. He’d been barely sober enough to remember her walking toward him on the sidewalk, head down, and when she’d seen him, she’d broken into a run and flung herself at him.

  He remembered feeling possessive. Protective. And wanting to beat the shit out of the guy who’d humiliated Shelby because she wouldn’t sleep with him. But he didn’t remember much after that.

  “She likes you, Declan.” Chelsea’s brow was furrowed. “Don’t hurt her.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Five a.m. and Shelby was almost sprinting down Francis Marion Way headed toward the marina when the ancient truck slowed and pulled alongside her. She recognized Mr. Enright and stopped. He leaned across the bench seat and rolled down the window.

  “Hi, Mr. Enright. You’re out early this morning.”

  He nodded. No smile. “Headed out on the boat. You wanna come?” That just about knocked her over. She knew he’d tried to ditch Declan that day they’d made a run for the boat and suspected that wasn’t the first time. Was he trying to do that again? Had they had some kind of falling out?

  “Shelby?” His brusque voice, made her heart squeeze. “Do you wanna?”

  She did want to go. “Yes, sir,” she said.

  He opened the truck door. “Well, get in.”

  He parked the truck at the marina and she followed him down to the boat. He seemed to go through a mental checklist of things before he started the boat. “You get the lines,” he ordered.

  She nodded. “Shouldn’t we wait for Declan?”

  He didn’t answer as he started the boat, just nodded as she brought in the last line.

  “Take the helm,” he ordered after they were out of the bay. He pulled his pipe and tobacco out of his front pocket, packed the bowl, and lit it, taking a hard draw. “Storm’s blown further out. Should be smooth sailing today.”

  The thick morning breeze was almost cool on Shelby’s skin, and the excitement she’d felt when Mr. Enright had
asked her to come along had felt a tiny bit like she used to feel when she was a kid and her dad took her and Chelsea and Mom out on the boat. It had been a small boat, too small to go very far out, but she and Chelsea had loved riding the big swells her dad had called the Lowcountry rollercoaster.

  “You like it out here,” he stated as he reached over her to kill the engine.

  “I do, Mr. Enright. Reminds me of my dad.”

  “You remember to call me Will, or I’ll make fish bait out of you,” he said with a slight smile. When she laughed, he smiled a little more. “I didn’t know your daddy well. Seemed like a good man.”

  “He was a very good man. You remind me of him.” A little.

  “Doubt that,” he scoffed. “Never been accused of being a good man.”

  She couldn’t argue with him there. “You ditched Declan on purpose, didn’t you?” He didn’t reply, just puffed on his pipe three times and then exhaled the smoke slowly.

  “Boy needs to mind his own damn business.”

  “You’re his dad; you are his business. Besides, he loves you.”

  The old man harrumphed at the very idea as he looked out across the vast horizon. Nothing in sight, not even a pelican.

  “Why’d you ask me to come with you without Declan?”

  The old man shrugged. “Why not. You like it out here. ’Bout as good as me I ’spect.”

  “Yes,” she said, fingering the hem of her t-shirt. “I have lately, but I usually don’t do boats.”

  “Don’t do boats?” He actually laughed. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I love to look at boats, but being on one reminds me of my dad, and my mom. When they passed away, I didn’t have time to grieve much. I had custody of my little sister, and she was hurting enough for both of us.”

  He nodded. “I reckon that was hard on you.”

  “Somebody had to hold the family together, and that was me. So, as much as I could and still live in Magnolia Bay, I avoided things like boats.” And Chanel No. 5. Fishing lures. Cookouts.