Honor on the Cape

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Honor on the Cape Page 1

by M. K. Meredith




  Honor on the Cape

  An on the Cape novel, Cape Van Buren

  MK Meredith

  Contents

  Untitled

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by MK Meredith. All rights reserved,

  including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  MK Meredith

  P.O. Box 650363

  Sterling, VA 20165

  Visit my website at www.mkmeredith.com.

  Edited by KR Nadelson and Jessica Snyder

  Cover design by Amanda Walker

  Cover art from iStock and Adobe

  ISBN: 978-0-9990854-2-4

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition March 2018

  Praise for MK Meredith

  “MK Meredith penned a fun, flirty, second chance at love novel that strikes a beautiful chord! This companion novel to Love on the Cape hooked me from page one, and her innate ability to fuse wit, angst, sizzling passion, and small town charm in one addictive page-turner is simply remarkable!”

  ~ Epic Romance Reviews

  “Ms. Meredith is a true Master of Description. She writes with such vivid colors and pays attention to the smallest detail with such precision, I feel I could walk into the town of Cape Van Buren and actually find the Flat Iron Coffeehouse, Blayne’s shop, and even the North and South Coves.”

  ~ Amazon Customer

  To RAH, Romance Authors of the Heartland.

  You ladies were my first home, my first realization of a dream come true, my first forever friends in the writing industry, and I will carry you and the support and love you’ve shown me in my heart with every word I write. Please know how much I love you.

  Prologue

  “There’s no honor in it, Blayney. Leavin’ the way ya are.”

  The anguish in her da’s gaze tore at Blayne MacCaffrey’s heart, but she loved Jamie. Truly, deeply, head over heels, life-changing, forever kind of love. Desperate, cross an ocean and live in another country kind of love.

  She was a woman, a grown adult. Eighteen years of experience and knowledge, and she was more than ready for this next adventure.

  Jamie said they’d be together forever.

  Deep in her soul, she knew they’d last even longer than that.

  But it killed her to see her da hurting. She’d been his shadow her whole life, and he her hero.

  Especially after Ma’s death.

  She tried to breathe through the pain in her chest, but it was as if all the air in Ireland had been sucked away, along with her da’s love. Digging her nails into her palms, she tried to make him understand. “Yer wrong, Da. I love him.”

  “Love ‘im?” His bellow carried a tremble with it that belied his anger. “Ya don’t know ‘im.”

  “Mr. MacCaffrey, I know it might seem sudden, but we’ve thought long and hard about this, and we have a plan.”

  Noah MacCaffrey turned his deep blue eyes on Jamie as if in slow motion, and for a moment, Blayne considered throwing herself in front of the man she loved to shield him from her da’s wrath if need be.

  Her da narrowed his gaze under thick brows and his cabbie. “Ya think takin’ my daughter across the ocean is a good plan? Droppin’ outta university, leavin’ her family, her home?”

  Grabbing her da’s hands, she tried to make him understand. “Ya always told me to shine, to be myself. Ya always loved my independent streak, my spunk and spirit. Ya always said.” She swiped at the tear that escaped with a shrug. “This is it, Da.”

  She wanted—no—needed him to understand, to be happy for her. “This is me.”

  He shook her off, and it was as if he’d stuck a knife in her heart instead. Crossing his arms over his large chest, he turned his face away, leaving only the profile of his straight nose framed by his shaggy salt and pepper hair and striped beard in view. His lips were set in a hard, thin line, but he couldn’t hide the small tremble in his chin. Even through his whiskers.

  It was hard to talk with her throat closing and tears stinging behind her lids. “Da. I’ll call you every day. I’ll get enrolled in university right away. You’ll see. Dreams come true in America.”

  Jamie’s warm hand closed around hers, giving her strength. She looked into his steadfast eyes, and a calm settled the earnest desperation in her heart.

  Pulling her shoulders back, she stepped in front of the one man she’d always trusted, the one who’d bandaged her knees when she thought she could climb the ivy that ran up the side of the house, and the one who’d rubbed aloe on her fair-skinned arms and nose every time she spent too many hours in the sun.

  And she broke his heart.

  “I’m going, Da.”

  “If ya walk out that door, Blayney, dontcha be thinkin’ to walk back through.”

  The thing he didn’t understand was she felt as if he’d just shattered hers. With the pain of loss fueling her words, she shouted, “If ya really feel that way, Da, then an ocean won’t be wide enough. I won’t want to come back!”

  Chapter 1

  “Please don’t leave.”

  Blayne MacCaffrey sighed at her best friend’s softly spoken plea, the pain in her chest a tangible reminder of how very much she loved Larkin Van Buren. But it was time to go home. To find her way back to Ireland and her family.

  Her da.

  Ten years past time to be exact.

  She forced out a light chuckle. “In a month, you’ll be so busy with your new baby and the conservation center, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

  Larkin yanked her close, surprisingly strong for someone so willowy, and held tight. “You’re going to miss meeting the baby. I’ll notice every second of every day. You’re my best friend.”

  The thickened tone of Larkin’s voice threatened Blayne’s tenuous hold on her own tears. Missing the baby would be hard, but she was afraid if she waited, she’d never go. It was past time she moved home and found a way to reunite with her family.

  She squeezed her hard. “I’m not bleedin’ leaving yet, not until we make this center a success. So, stop it. You and I’ll always be close. An ocean can’t change that. You know I’ll visit.”

  “What about Eclectic Finds?”

  “What about it? I’m training my new manager. Evette Kingsley’s niece. She’s stepping in and running things while I work the launch. I don’t have to live here to keep it going.”

  She hid her face to blink back tears, needing to think of anything else, as she tightened the laces of her scuffed, banana-yellow derby skates. In any other business meeting, she’d have worn her vintage, sky-high Mary Janes and red Wiggle dress. A throwback to a power combination that guaranteed success.

  However, this deal was already in the bag, and she loved nothing more than annoying Larkin’s husband, Ryker.

  And no
thing annoyed Ryker Van Buren more than when she skated in the community center of Cape Van Buren—aka his old house and her ticket home.

  She stood, gliding her feet back and forth to get the blood moving in her legs again, careful to make room for Puzzle as the cat weaved between her skates.

  Larkin shook her head. “Ryker’s going to kill you.”

  Nodding with juvenile enthusiasm, she agreed. “I can’t help it. The bloke’s fun to annoy.”

  “Ha, that’s only because you don’t live with him.”

  Blayne waved at Larkin’s growing belly. “Yes, it seems to be such a hardship.”

  A blush scalded her friend’s chest red and raced its way to her hairline.

  Blayne took in the lighthouse at the end of the cape. “I really love this place.” The beautiful building, which stood high on the rocky bluffs, overlooking the majestic Atlantic Ocean, provided a strong foundation, a solid core, and a bright, shining light to help guide those in need. She wanted to do the same.

  The Archer Conservation Park of Cape Van Buren and the plans dreamed up by Larkin were much bigger than anything she had ever worked on before.

  Bigger than herself.

  Maybe even bigger than the ocean separating her from her family.

  Literally and figuratively.

  The park was more than the preservation of the richly wooded peninsula, it was an everlasting symbol of happiness, family, and community. It would enhance the quality of every life in Cape Van Buren—including her own. And once she made the launch successful, her most fervent hope was that she’d finally be able to show her face in Ireland and see pride instead of heartbreak in her da’s eyes.

  “Okay. It’s now or never.”

  A pang of loneliness squeezed her as she pushed open the door and rolled through ahead of Larkin. The familiar tsk tsk tsk of each hardwood seam under her skates eased the ache. She missed her da most of all. His full white beard, his deep blue eyes slightly faded but clear as ever. At least that’s how they looked in the pictures her little sister sent. If not for Emma, she’d never have known his beard went all white and lost the stripes of black he’d had when she was a teen.

  When she’d been ten, her ma had died of complications from her brother Dylan’s birth. She’d always been da’s little girl, but after the loss, she and her da had grown a bond so strong she never thought it could be broken.

  Back before she’d devastated her family by following a boy to America.

  “Sorry we’ve kept you waiting.” Larkin approached Ryker with her hand on her perfectly round tummy and the look of a well-loved woman on her face.

  “Kiss-up,” Blayne teased. “We’re right on time.” She glided into the kitchen and spun one full circle in front of Ryker. “I left the rink early just for you.” She tapped him on the chest.

  He glared through a dark, furrowed brow. “How many times have I told you—”

  “Not to skate in the house?” She smirked and gently patted his cheek. “But you’re so bleedin’ handsome when you’re growly.” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at Larkin. “This one’s been keeping you so happy lately I missed the old grumpy Ryker we used to know and love.”

  He shook his head with a grimace and slid his arm around Larkin’s thickening waist, drawing her in close. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

  Blayne curtsied with her arms spread wide. “Thank you, sir. But don’t you lie, I know you’re mad for me.”

  She glided toward the sliding doors then pivoted to return. “I’m excited to jump in on this launch. I’ve a lot of ideas and promise not to let you two down.”

  “Blayne.” Larkin stepped from Ryker’s side with concern shining from her eyes and reached out to her. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

  Blayne shrugged, the rush of a challenge fueling her more than the organic energy drink she’d consumed that morning. “I’m all ears. You can relax and focus on the baby. I may be a one-woman show, but I’m all Team Van Buren. It helps that I work best alone.”

  “About that…” Her friend’s chest flushed red again.

  Something was up. Larkin only blushed when she was nervous, embarrassed, or…guilty. This sounded a heck of a lot like guilt.

  Her stomach twisted, but she wasn’t sure if it was from determination or irritation. She would manage the opening of this enterprise better than any shiny-shoed number-pusher any day of the week. They knew it, and she knew it.

  So, what the hell was going on?

  She stared from husband to wife and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know I’m the best fit for this job.” She shoved off a foot and skated toward them.

  The front door slammed, making her flinch. She threw her arms out to catch her balance, teetered, then over-corrected just as a someone walked through the kitchen door.

  “Sorry I’m late.” The deep, husky voice sliced through her, hurtling her back a decade to a time when she’d believed in true love and happy-ever-afters, right before she slammed into a rock-hard chest.

  “Umph.” She grunted on impact, and the two fought to stay on their feet, but her skates had a mind of their own and raced out from under her as if running for their lives. “Bloody hell!”

  “Shit.” The word vibrated against her cheek and skittered along her spine as they crashed to the kitchen floor in a tangle of limbs.

  For a moment, no sound was heard except the whir of spinning wheels.

  “Oh my God.” Larkin rushed toward them.

  Disbelief lodged in Blayne’s throat with all the words she’d never been able to say.

  It couldn’t be him.

  Not now.

  She shoved back, fighting to gain solid ground and cursing her fucking skates. Why of all days had she chosen today to tease Ryker? Karma was meaner than Ryker’s grandmother Maxine Van Buren when someone threatened her moonshine.

  She shoved the dark hair that had escaped its pins from her face and sucked in a breath.

  “Are you alright?” Larkin grabbed her arm, trying to help her up.

  But she could barely hear over the roaring in her ears.

  As the bloke straightened, she took in the thick head of sun-kissed brown hair that reminded her of digging her toes into the sand off the north side of the cape, and light gray eyes that had always seen too much and said too little, and her heart stopped. For the second time in her life.

  “Jamie.”

  One thousand one, one thousand two…lub dub, lub dub. Okay, she was still alive.

  “Blayne. Blayne!” Snap, snap. Larkin’s fingers made the jarring gesture in her face until she finally blinked.

  The bloke lost all his golden boy color as his eyes took her in from head to toe like a starving man would a table of food. He reached for her. “Blayne, I had no—”

  She jerked back, the motion almost landing her on her ass for the second time that afternoon. “Don’t.” Her voice was stern but soft. She thanked the universe for hiding the tremble surfing the edge of her words.

  Ryker joined Larkin and laid a hand on Blayne’s arm. “Are you okay? I told you wearing those damn things on this floor wasn’t a good idea.”

  Looking from Blayne to the new arrival, Larkin gently led her husband away. “Ryker. Now’s not the time.”

  “Not the time for what, Cupcake? Wearing the damn skates?” he grumbled, shaking his head in irritation.

  The deep clearing of a throat caught Ryker’s attention, and he glanced at his friend. “Jay, you alright, man?”

  Blayne could only stare as Jamie brushed off the front of his tailored shirt, giving a hint of how hard his abs remained and dousing her head with a waterfall of memories.

  The gentle glide of his thick fingers through her hair, the hard pressure of his chest against hers. The way he’d promised to get her back to Ireland someday.

  Her heart ached at the sight of him. Why was he here, now, after all this time?

  Anger and devastation and an annoying layer of awareness wrapped around her
in a binding sheath of emotions, making it difficult to breathe.

  Jamie ignored Ryker’s question and approached her, keeping his hands to himself this time.

  He’d always been a quick learner. Back in Ireland, he’d had her big sister, Ruby, wrapped around his finger, always getting the first bite of her bread pudding when their little brother, Dylan, never even stood a chance. And it was well known in Glengarriff that the miracle baby of the MacCaffrey family always got what he wanted when it came to Ruby.

  The memory tugged at her heart, making the poor organ feel as though it were engaged in a game of tug o’ war.

  “How are you?” His voice poured over her like warmed caramel, but there was more to it than the silky timbre she’d dreamed of for years. There was something deeper with age and raspier with his own emotions.

  If he still had any.

  She frowned. That was unfair. His openness with his feelings had always been one of her favorite things about him. That and the way his full lips felt as they slid across her collarbone.

  But that was once upon a time.

  And she’d learned the stone-cold truth about fairy tales.

  Pulling from her strong Irish reserves, she squared her shoulders, locked her eyes with his, and stood as confidently as she could in her barely-there practice skirt and derby skates. She’d have killed for her Wiggle dress in that moment.

  “I’ve never been better.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  If James Alexander Wilmington Astor III had woken up in the emergency room and been told he’d taken a sledgehammer to the head, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

 

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