Sanctuary Island

by Everett, Lily

  “I don’t want to leave you all alone out here,” Merry protested, but Ella could hear the relief in her tone.

  “I’ll be fine,” Ella said soothingly, keeping any hint of pain out of her voice. “The sooner you go in and call the handyman, the sooner I’ll be out of here. Go on. You need to stay hydrated, and I know you’re hungry. Don’t make me worry about you.”

  Taylor led Merry around to the side of the porch where there was a hole in the railing, and helped her take the giant step up onto what was evidently a more solid portion of flooring.

  The screen door banged shut behind them, leaving Ella to contemplate exactly how uncomfortable and embarrassed she was. Thank goodness she’d worn pants to protect against the spring chill—she could only imagine how scraped up and raw her trapped calf would be if she’d been wearing a skirt.

  Not to mention that she’d be a lot closer to flashing the whole world right about now.

  This couldn’t be further from the way she’d imagined meeting her mother for the first time as an adult.

  Ella had visualized herself as strong, independent, completely in control. Instead, here she was, stuck half in and half out of a hole in the woman’s front porch like Winnie-the-Pooh after too much honey.

  After the longest fifteen minutes of her life, a heavy tread crunched on the gravel behind her. Ella couldn’t force her head to turn far enough to see who was there. Was it her?

  Ella stiffened all over, every muscle clenching in anticipation of hearing the voice she’d never quite forgotten, the voice that visited her dreams—sometimes to scold, sometimes to weep, but sometimes to croon sweet lullabies that left Ella awake in the dark, memories shuddering through her in painful waves.

  But instead of her mother’s low, husky drawl, the voice that spoke sent a shudder of a different kind down Ella’s curved spine.

  “Somebody call for a handyman?”

  Ella closed her eyes and counted to ten, but she knew it wouldn’t make any difference.

  As her friend Adrienne liked to say, the truth was the truth, no matter how inconvenient or painful … and the truth was that the handyman who’d been called to help her was none other than Grady Wilkes.

  CHAPTER 6

  Grady saw Ella Preston with her leg stuck between two broken floorboards, and instinct surged up, flooding his bloodstream with adrenaline.

  His spine straightened as if a giant hand had slapped him on the back, his movements sure and purposeful as he reined Voyager to walk in a circle so Grady could assess the situation from multiple angles.

  It had been a while, but his keep-the-victim-calm voice came out of him without any effort at all. “Are you injured? Are you in pain?”

  Not that Ella seemed to need calming. From what he could see of her face, she appeared pale, but composed. Although at the sound of his voice, some tension flowed out of her shoulders. Interesting.

  Tossing her dark brown hair back, she watched him come closer out of the corner of her eye. “Grady Wilkes. When you said you were a friend of my mother’s, you neglected to mention that you were actually her employee.”

  Studying her, Grady saw the rise of hot red in her cheeks, the tightness of her lips. She was embarrassed to be caught in this pickle, which he could understand. What he didn’t understand was his own gut reaction to witnessing her discomfort.

  Grady didn’t like it. Not one bit. “Pretty feisty for a lady jammed halfway into a front porch,” he said as he threw his leg over Voyager’s back and slid to the ground. He looped the reins over the horse’s head and tied the trailing ends in a slipknot around a sturdy portion of the porch railing.

  “Are you here to gloat? If I’d taken your warning and headed back to the ferry, this wouldn’t have happened.” Her voice was stifled, as if she were fighting down panic.

  So much for teasing.

  Pitching his voice to soothe, Grady crouched down to investigate what he could see of the situation under the porch, peering through the rickety wooden lattice fronting the deck. “I’m just here to help, ma’am. We’ll have you out of there in a jiff. I know it’s hard, but keep calm and breathe deep for me.”

  She’d gone straight through, all right. Squinting into the dusty blackness of the area under the house, Grady could see that her right leg was dangling, toes barely brushing the dirt foundation. Which meant all her weight was on her other leg, bent and folded under her, and supported by her hands pressed against the splintering floorboards.

  Ella sucked in an audible breath, making Grady’s gaze swivel to her pink cheeks and downcast eyes.

  He’d knelt beside her without thinking about anything more than getting the lay of the land, but the position had him snugged up next to her so tight that when she took another deep inhale, the expansion of her rib cage brushed her shoulder against his hip.

  “You’re right,” she said, still sounding a little choked. “I’m sorry, and thank you for coming so quickly. I do appreciate it. This is just … not how I thought today would go.”

  That makes two of us, sweetheart.

  Clearing his throat, Grady did his level best to ignore the spine-tingling awareness of her slim body, so close at hand that his fingers buzzed with the need to reach out and shape her curves from hip to waist to breast.

  He also had to ignore the fact that, very shortly, he would be putting his hands on her, to pull her out of the porch. And when that happened, he’d have to dig deep for every ounce of focus his training had ever imparted to keep from getting distracted by the softness of her smooth, pearly skin.

  Grady shook his head to dislodge the searingly persistent images. “How did this even happen? Taylor was pretty vague on the phone.”

  “Right, of course you know Taylor. This is one of those Mayberry-type places where everyone knows everyone else, isn’t it?”

  She was starting to steady herself, Grady noted, her deep breathing doing its job of distracting her from the fact that she was trapped. To keep it going while he figured the best way out of this fix, Grady absently started up a light, distracting patter. “Well, yeah. But in this case, we happen to be cousins. I’ve known Taylor since she was born, and your mom has known her almost as long. She’s … a close friend of the family, almost like a mother to Tay, since my aunt died when Taylor was five.”

  It occurred to him even as the words flew out of his mouth that maybe talking up Ella’s estranged mother’s close maternalesque relationship with another girl might qualify as sticking his foot in it.

  So he was watching closely enough to catch the quick shiver of a flinch in Ella’s frame, even though she rolled her shoulders and got rid of it almost immediately. And her voice was soft and mostly neutral when she replied, “I see. That explains … a lot.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Grady stood and propped his hands on his hips. “Wait. Exactly how did you manage to fall through this porch?”

  Ella tilted her head back, soft waves of dark hair cascading over the shoulders of her bright green sweater. She looked him straight in the eye and said, “It was an accident. Can you get me out, please?”

  There was more to this story, he knew it, but he was distracted from ferreting out the whole truth by the white-knuckled tension of her fingers pressed against the floorboards. He frowned. That could be from the awkwardness of this whole conversation … or it could be an indicator of pain. “You really didn’t answer me before, when I asked if you were okay.”

  “Aside from being stuck in a porch, I’m fine,” she said, firm and no-nonsense. “But I’d like to get out of here, preferably before anyone else sees me like this.”

  She was lying. Grady knew the look of pain—intimately—and the fine lines bracketing her mouth, the stiff way she held herself, told him there was more going on than she was saying.

  Her leg was hurting her, he’d be willing to bet on it, but she didn’t want to admit it.

  Slapping his hands on his thighs, Grady stood and swung off the porch. She didn’t have to tell the truth about wha
t was going on with her leg—either way, he’d be careful not to cause her any more pain.

  And once she was safely unporched, he’d deal with whatever injuries she might have incurred.

  Grady was trained to be rational and mission forward, but it had been five years since he’d been face-to-face with an injured rescue. And the last time he’d had to rescue someone who was more than a stranger … he shuddered, the kick of memory making him fumble with the buckles strapping his tool kit to the pack across the back of Voyager’s saddle.

  You’ve done rescues like this a million times, he reminded himself, flexing his stiff fingers against the compression of his leather gloves.

  But when he glanced back at Ella, with her flushed face and glittering blue eyes, her tight shoulders and the determined tilt of her little chin, he knew this wasn’t like any rescue he’d ever done.

  Grady’s instincts for danger had been honed over many years in some of the toughest, most devastated areas of the nation, from the treacherous rubble of collapsed buildings to the sodden chaos of flood plains.

  The sharp, devastating slap of desire he felt when he looked at Ella Preston was by far the most dangerous thing he’d faced in a long time.

  *

  Ella had no idea what Grady Wilkes was doing—something that involved a scary-looking handsaw and a lot of cursing.

  At the moment, it was taking all her concentration not to notice the heat radiating off his big, broad-shouldered body. Her skin was so sensitized by the electricity in the air between them, if he even brushed her shoulder, she jumped.

  This is ridiculous, she thought despairingly. Why is this happening now, of all times?

  But the fact that this surge of attraction was super inconvenient didn’t change how much she wanted to lean into the solid strength of him and hide her stupid blush against his neck.

  Searching for a way to distract herself, she said, “You should post a sign, at least until you get this porch fixed. It’s common sense. This porch is a liability.”

  He grunted irritably, still working away. “Nobody on Sanctuary is going to sue Jo Ellen Hollister.” The handsaw froze for a moment as his gaze shot to hers. “Unless you’re planning to.”

  “Of course not.” Ella looked away from that too-penetrating stare. “I don’t want anything from her.”

  She lifted her gaze to the peeling paint of the porch ceiling and held her breath, which had the added benefit of silencing her startled whimper when he bumped a little too close to her and jarred her leg against the jagged edge of a broken board.

  Not a sound passed her lips, but he shot her another sharp look anyway, almost as if he knew she was hiding exactly how much pain she was in.

  Uncomfortable, she splayed out her hands against the floorboards to keep from doing something crazy like reaching out to touch him. “Has Jo always lived in this house?”

  That got her a sharp glance. “Yeah. She took care of her aunt here after she had her stroke. And then Miz Dottie left the place to Jo in her will.”

  Annoyed by the way he was studying her—what, did he think she was after her mother’s inheritance?—Ella did a quick centering breath exercise. “Well, it’s a lovely house, underneath the disrepair.”

  He relaxed enough to smile. “Hey, you’d be in some disrepair, too, if you were as old as this pretty lady. The house dates from 1899.”

  “Historical building, structurally sound—mostly.” Ella craned her neck to peer down the wraparound porch to the wings stretching out to the sides of the main building. “Unspoiled natural setting, zero competition. And those wild horse herds, people love stuff like that. You know, this place would make a great bed-and-breakfast.”

  Beside her, Grady went completely quiet. Something about his stillness made Ella shiver, like the calm before a storm rolled in off the bay.

  “The last thing Sanctuary Island needs is a bed-and-breakfast bringing in tourists to trample all over the wildlife and wreck the peace.” His voice was low and devastating, almost a snarl.

  Ella blinked, taken completely off guard by the rush of heat down her spine. She’d never been attracted to big, hot-tempered, aggressive guys in the past, but there was something about the passion in Grady’s voice and the intensity in his green eyes that got her blood pumping.

  Flustered, embarrassed, and more than a little annoyed at both herself and Grady, Ella sputtered, “Look, Mr. Protector of the Island, I’m just making idle conversation here. I certainly don’t have any designs on the house or the land, so feel free to stop acting like I’m here to ruin your life, or Jo’s, or anybody else’s.”

  Still scowling, Grady loomed closer until their lips were a breath apart and Ella was sure he could hear the thunder of her heartbeat. “Then why are you here?”

  The reminder of what was at stake was like a glass of cold water dumped over her head. Drawing in a shaky breath that smelled like sun-warmed skin and saddle leather, Ella said, “I’m here for Merry. She wants a relationship with Jo Ellen, and I’m here for moral support. Nothing else.”

  And I can’t let you distract me … no matter how good you smell.

  The scowl faded from Grady’s face, but the focused power of his gaze never lessened, even when he cocked his head at an angle to study her. One corner of his mouth curled up, making Ella’s stare drop down to trace the sensual shape of his lips. She wondered how he would taste.

  “I like the way you talk about your sister. She’s lucky to have you.”

  Ella made her living off her ability to read people, to size them up and figure out the tactics that would work best to get what she wanted in any negotiation. But she couldn’t seem to get a handle on Grady Wilkes.

  Rattled, she ignored the warm, speculative gleam in his eyes. “Are you almost done?”

  “What? Oh. Should be. C’mon, give me your hands.”

  He stood and she slid her hands against the worn, butter-soft leather of his gloves, suppressing a shiver at the way his eyes darkened as his fingers closed around hers.

  “Here we go,” he said, lifting.

  This time, Ella couldn’t bite back a thin cry as the move wrenched her ankle, sending a sickening jolt of pain up her leg.

  She was still gasping when sudden, intense heat surrounded her. Grady dropped to his knees and scooted close enough to snake one long arm into the widened hole he’d made around her leg.

  “I think my foot is caught on something,” she managed, her head still swimming from the pain.

  His only answer was to tilt his chin down in concentration. Ella stared at Grady’s face bent so close, the solid bulk of his muscular body held still, his power leashed and tamed as his fingers groped her foot and ankle.

  “Wait,” she cried, suddenly afraid. “I don’t think you should be touching that…”

  “It’s okay,” he told her. “I’m trained for this.”

  “You have training in getting women out of porches?” Ella wanted to laugh, but she was afraid to give in to the hysteria bubbling up in her throat.

  “Sort of.” He paused for a long moment before reluctantly continuing. “Back before I moved here from Dallas, I was part of Texas Task Force One, an urban search-and-rescue team.”

  Another puzzle piece slotted into place, and it calmed Ella’s nerves like nothing else could have. “So … I guess this isn’t even close to the craziest rescue you’ve ever attempted.”

  A half smile tugged at his mouth, but didn’t reach his green eyes. “This ain’t exactly my first rodeo, no.”

  Ella took a deep breath, bracing herself. “Okay. Go ahead.”

  The fingers were back, but before she even had time to tense up, he said, “Got it.”

  She felt a grating pressure against the bones at the top of her foot and controlled her instinctive wince, but there was no sharp pain, only a swift relief as she realized she could wiggle her foot from side to side.

  “Let’s try this again,” he said.

  Grady hooked his hands under her arms in a
tantalizing imitation of an embrace that had Ella’s heart hammering. At the brush of his cheek against hers, the rough scratch of his golden-brown stubble, Ella had to bite back another sound—but this time it was a moan of need.

  Feeling half crazy and dizzy with the onslaught of too many conflicting feelings, Ella let her hands steal up to clutch at his flannel-covered shoulders.

  “Do it,” she said, bracing herself for another jab from a broken board, but between one heartbeat and the next, Grady hauled her up and out of the hole … and straight into his arms.

  CHAPTER 7

  Okay, Ella, you can do this. Stand on your own two feet.

  But the instant she gathered the fraying threads of her self-control and pulled away from Grady’s steadying arms, her ankle protested with a ferocious twinge that sent her wobbling.

  She nearly fell over before Grady caught her with his large hands wrapped around her upper arms.

  Closing her eyes in an embarrassed wince, Ella said, “Thank you. I seem to have twisted my ankle a little. I’m sure it’ll be all right in a second.”

  “Or it could be broken,” he pointed out, staring down her body as if he could perform an X-ray with his naked eyes. “What’s with the stoic act, anyway? It’s okay to admit you might be hurt, you know.”

  No it’s not.

  Swallowing back the gut reaction, Ella called up a smile. “Of course. I just don’t see what good it does for me to whine about it.”

  His gaze snapped to hers as if she’d said something bizarre. Mouth twisting into something closer to a grimace than a smile, he said, “I get that.”

  Ella stared at him, every inch of her aware of the taut, sculpted muscle beneath his bulky plaid shirt. And all Ella could do was wonder what he’d been through in his life to put that look on his face.

  Probably, it wasn’t exactly what she’d been through. Chances were slim that he’d spent his childhood with a mother sliding into raging alcoholism and a father who detached himself from his family to save his own sanity. Grady had probably never felt like he had to be grown-up by the age of seven, because he had a little sister who didn’t understand what was going on, but still knew something was very wrong at home. He’d probably never dreaded the possibility of teachers or guidance counselors finding out about it, never pushed himself so hard to appear normal, without really knowing what normal even felt like.