by MK Meredith
She stared at it, the urge to take it leaving her more than a little confused.
“It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckled wryly.
Slipping her hand into his much larger and warmer one, she couldn’t pull her eyes away from how completely it engulfed hers. He was the first man she’d touched in two years. His palm was rough and solid, and she wanted to hold it longer, to press her palm more tightly against it. But instead, she opened her fingers and slid from his grip, hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremble in her fingers as she turned to press the bandage carefully in place.
“Am I making you nervous?” he asked with a questioning look.
“You saved my locket.” Her words didn’t make any more sense to her than they would to him. Something about the man left her wanting in a way she’d been afraid she’d forgotten.
His bark of laughter echoed off the trees, and if the look on his face was any indication, the action surprised him as much as it had her. “You don’t have much of a poker face, do you?”
“I’ve never been one to play games.”
He grinned—if you could call it that—in approval. It was as if his lips couldn’t remember how, so only one side was successful. “Only puzzles?”
She sighed, letting the building tension slide down her back. “Definitely puzzles.” She finished taping him up. Giving his muscular shoulder an awkward pat, she stepped back.
Ryker pushed to his feet then ran his thick fingers along the rim of the well, and she couldn’t look away. “You’re welcome here whenever you want. At least until I sell it. Since Grandmother moved out—”
Larkin snapped her head up, and a low buzzing drowned out the rest of his words. Sell it? What was he talking about? “Maxine moved out? Where? Why?”
He stepped in front of her again and pinned her with his gaze. “She didn’t tell you?”
Moving back just a bit, needing a little room to breathe, she furrowed her brow. “No. I was here last month, but she never said a word.” She thought hard about their last visit. “Maxine had mentioned wanting to be in town because she liked the idea of walking everywhere, but I had no idea she was serious.”
“She wants to downsize and live it up while she’s still young, and Van Buren Square is where all the action is, apparently.” He chuckled with an indulgent shake of his head. “Her words.”
“So, you are the new owner? I thought you didn’t even like it here.”
“I grew up here.” His eyes shuttered and he turned back toward the house. “This is my home.” His voice caught on “home” and something passed over his hard features, almost as if the word had a bad taste to it.
She wanted to push for more but the tense set of his shoulders stopped her.
What was she going to do? She’d visited the well and puttered about the property as often as she’d wanted over the past two years. Anytime she needed to feel close to her son. No pressure, no problem.
But not anymore. And maybe never again. Her chest tightened painfully and she locked her eyes on the well. He couldn’t sell the Cape.
Blinking back tears, she stepped away. “Okay, then. Nice to meet you, and thanks for saving my locket.” Pulling in a breath of salty ocean air against the tightness in her chest, she looked past the well to the expanse of rich green grass and colorful gardens, then farther still to the lighthouse that stood tall and sure at the water’s edge.
She walked toward her car parked a ways down the gravel driveway, resisting the urge to run.
“No problem. I’ll see you soon.”
She paused. “Why?”
This time he didn’t chuckle but merely raised a brow. “Why? You sure know how to make a man feel wanted, Ms. Sinclair.”
Her brain struggled to keep up against her rising panic but insulting the owner was no way to ensure her entry to the Cape or to try to get him to change his mind. “I’m so sorry. I just meant—”
“I’ll see you again because, like I said, you’re welcome here as long as the Cape is still mine. I’m glad you didn’t lose your locket.”
Her world was crashing down around her, and he was smiling and waving goodbye like they were new friends. She opened her car door, forcing words from her mouth. “Thank you.”
He was selling the Cape.
He may have saved her locket but her connection to Archer might be lost forever.
Larkin pushed through the doors of the Flat Iron Coffeehouse, a swanky coffee shop on the south side of Cape Van Buren. A cross between urban chic and preppy tech, it greeted her with the welcoming aroma of beans and brew while the overhead music encouraged her to sit down and settle in. Though settled was the last thing she felt.
Every nerve ending was exposed and raw with worry.
She needed answers to prove the last few hours were nothing more than a horrible misunderstanding. A quick call to her dad had helped center her a bit, as it always did. Her dad had been her rock and greatest fan since she’d taken her first breath, and the feeling was mutual.
She was close to both her parents. They were always there for her but never intrusive. Though she believed the reason they gave her so much space was because all they had to do was ask around town to check in. Growing up in Cape Van Buren her whole life meant there were no secrets. It was often annoying but mostly a comfort.
Though nothing was comfortable now. And it wouldn’t be until she had some answers.
She scanned the room for Maxine, finding her waving from a cozy table toward the back of the shop. She was a silver fox with her straight, chic hair slightly longer in the front than the back, dressed in a sophisticated sleeveless jumpsuit of vibrant purple. No black for her friend. Maxine always said there was no reason to wear it if she wasn’t dead. Larkin admired the woman’s zest for life.
Especially since she didn’t feel much of anything these days.
Ryker’s crooked attempt at a grin popped into her mind but she ruthlessly shoved it away. Her interaction with him had sparked the most sensations she’d experienced in a long time, but much of that was surely due to the fact he might take away her only reason for waking up each morning.
Maxine studied her as she approached then pushed up from the table with a worried look on her face. Pulling her in, she wrapped her in a tight embrace.
“Larkin, what’s wrong?”
The sensation of being held was scarce these days, so Larkin embraced her tight, eking out the comfort. “Please tell me the sale isn’t final.”
Maxine sighed then gestured for Larkin to join her at the table. The older woman sipped from her cup as their server set a café au lait between them. “I ordered for you.”
“Thank you.” Larkin sat down then wrapped her chilled fingers around the warm porcelain, sporting a silver stripe around the rim.
Maxine spoke softly. “It’s final, my dear.”
Larkin sputtered, “But…what about the well? About how special the land is? Not just to me, but the environment? The plants and animals there will be destroyed.”
How many times had she encouraged her friend to have the land studied for conservation? It was a very special piece of property that provided a unique habitat for a handful of threatened species of plants and animals. She’d spotted it upon her very first visit. As a wildlife conservation expert, she had a trained eye and a passion for preservation. And Cape Van Buren was as good as it got.
“If I’m turning the Cape over to anyone, it’s family. You must understand. Your parents would move heaven and hell for you, as you would have for Archer.” She pressed her lips together. “In any case, Ryker would never kick you off the property, no matter what he might have told you.” She sent a questioning look that spoke of all the trouble he’d be in if he had. “He didn’t, did he?”
The fact that she asked increased Larkin’s worry. “No, no. He was actually quite pleasant and even saved my locket from ending up at the bottom of the well.”
“No one has ever accused my grandson of being pleasant. Brooding maybe, o
r detached, but never pleasant.”
Larkin looked at her friend and swallowed hard. “He said he’s selling it.”
Maxine stiffened. “He was probably just being ornery, but either way, the Cape belongs to him now.” The corners of her mouth rose a fraction in a forced half-smile. “Whatever he decides, I’m sure he’ll do right by it.”
“I wish I had your confidence.” Larkin traced the geometric shape along the border of her place mat with her finger. “Why didn’t you tell me you were selling? I would have made an offer.”
Maxine’s fingers fluttered on the table as if she didn’t know what to do with them until they found their way around her cup once again. “He’s my grandson, my dear.” She ditched the cup and reached across the table, grabbing Larkin’s hands. “And you are like a granddaughter to me. You’ve been a loyal, loving, and beautiful friend. But Ryker had a difficult childhood that chased him from his home. I needed to give him a chance to find his way back.”
“You’ve said he had it rough, but—”
“I wish it had simply been rough. And I’m afraid I’d failed him. But now I have a chance to make up for it. I have to do something.” She leaned back. “I hope he won’t take the Cape from you, but I couldn’t keep it from him.”
“How could you have failed him? All you’ve ever said is how you wished you could spend more time together, how you wished he’d come home more often. Instead, you went to him every time.”
“I did. The memories were too much for him here, but me putting the Cape up for sale has done what my cajoling never could.” She emptied her cup then smiled. “It brought him home.”
There was no mistaking the love in her friend’s eyes or the flicker of hope. Hope that Larkin didn’t share.
“Which reminds me, if you happen to see him before I do, tell him I’ll be by to go through the attic. The Cape may be his, but no one’s messing with my moonshine.”
“I will.” The legends of Maxine’s moonshine and the trouble she’d gotten into time and again were well known around these parts. But Larkin didn’t blame her. The stuff went down easy and hit like a cannon. People would line up cash in hand—which was the problem. Making it wasn’t necessarily illegal but selling it was.
The change in subject ended any chance that it was all a terrible misunderstanding, leaving her with only one other option.
If Ryker was bent on selling the Cape then she’d have to be the first to put in an offer.
Chapter 2
“What don’t you understand about the word ‘more?’” Ryker grated out, tired from a restless night of haunting dreams starring a green-eyed beauty hanging precariously from the stones of a bottomless well. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach her, and the echoes of his father’s mocking laughter still rung in his ears.
Ryker was the kind of boss that often worked alongside his men, and he was itching to feel the burn of hard physical labor. The apparent lack of understanding and delays in breaking ground was more than frustrating—it was unacceptable.
“But, sir, we understood that Mr. Brennan explained to you the dangers of—”
Ryker struck fast. “Mr. Brennan isn’t cutting your paycheck, now is he?” His attorney and best friend, Mitch Brennan, had indeed gone over the risks. But they were Ryker’s to take.
His men fell silent, then all four heads turned as someone rounded the massive fountain in the center of the drive.
Who the hell was here now? If this kept up, he’d have to lock the gate at the main entrance. Since it opened right up to the town of Cape Van Buren, everyone took it as a damned invitation.
It was a helluva lot different from his life in New York where no one even made it to his front door without an invitation.
Stepping past the round, plaid-covered belly of Charlie Jones, his lead contractor, Ryker froze and swore under his breath. Larkin’s halo of blond hair reflected the sun, stray wisps floating about in the early morning sea breeze.
He absently rubbed his side as she crossed the driveway and marched toward the well with purpose, her long, flowing skirt whipping about her long, sexy legs. She carried her willowy frame with such confidence the men’s discussion fell by the wayside. Charlie’s ginger bearded chin dropped to his chest, and Ryker would have found it funny if he hadn’t been staring right along with him.
Clearing his throat, he handed over the large map. “Excuse me a moment, gentlemen.”
He walked slowly toward the well, drinking her in with interest. A sense of déjà vu washed over him as she bent over the well, but this time she dropped a penny. Her lips moved in a whisper that he couldn’t quite catch. Something about wishes. Too bad wishes rarely came true.
“Please don’t drop your necklace again,” he called out.
With her hand over her brow to shield out the sun, she squinted at him with a smile. A small dimple appeared just below the left corner of her mouth and he had to force himself to meet her eyes instead of studying it further. Damn it. Brilliant green eyes, reflecting her emotions like the sun on waves, nearly knocked the wind out of him, and he had to shake it off.
“Making a wish?”
“As often as I can.” She ran her fingers along the uneven rim of the well and looked out across the lawn. “Archer always hung half his little body over the side like you did yesterday in order to watch his penny splash and disappear to the very bottom. He’d say only then could wishes be made. Scared the crap out of me more than once.” She met his gaze with a bittersweet sigh.
“I can imagine.” Though he’d never have children of his own. His past was something he was determined to keep locked away where it belonged—the fear and sadness born from those dark years along with it. Having a family, letting someone in that close, would surely open the gates. His childhood was an ugly legacy that would end with him. But he could still understand her fear.
She studied him, chewing her bottom lip.
His eyes kept dipping to her mouth in search of the damn dimple, and it took more effort than it should have to maintain eye contact.
“So, how are you?” she asked.
He sighed at the question, trying to be patient, but he paid the men waiting for him by the hour, and she was more of a distraction than they needed today. He couldn’t imagine she came out all this way for small talk.
“Very busy.” He indicated the men a few yards behind him.
“Of course.” She laughed in a soft tone, the kind meant to hide embarrassment but which often simply magnified it.
“Why are you here?” On the Cape and in my dreams? The question popped into his head before he could shut it out, and he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Maxine wanted me to tell you she’d be by to go through the attic. You have to help her.”
“And you came all the way out here to tell me that?” There was no doubt in his mind that his grandmother sent her so he couldn’t say no. Maxine could manipulate the skin off a snake and onto her shoes if she wanted to—she was that good.
Larkin stared into his eyes, and for a brief second he wished he had a penny to throw in the well for insight into her thoughts.
“I had a bit of a rough day yesterday. A visit to the Cape kind of makes it all better.”
He snorted. “Yeah…not for me.”
She stepped toward him. “How can you say that? It’s—”
With a narrowed look, he raised a hand to stop her, steeling himself against the emotion in her voice. “You and Maxine were good friends. Don’t tell me she never told you how bad things used to be here.”
Larkin pressed her lips together as a blush rushed across her chest at the reference to his father’s abuse. “No, she did. I’m sorry. It’s just very hard to reconcile the hard life of the little boy who lived here with…” She waved her hand at him. “I forgot.”
He winced, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wish I could.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” She grabbed his forearm gently.
The so
ft slide of her hand demanded his attention, reminding him of yesterday when they’d been on his skin, tending to his scrapes, and he glanced down at his arm. Dark, heated thoughts furrowed his brows. She was a gorgeous woman, there was no arguing that, but she was a complication.
One who knew too much pain and not enough pleasure, and it was something he could see no matter how high she lifted her chin or how straight she held her back. A constant reminder that she was not a woman to be toyed with. She’d already had a ton of shit handed her way; she certainly didn’t need any of his own personal brand. His pockets were full of it.
An uncomfortable awareness crept into her eyes, and she slowly dropped her hand to her side. He wished she hadn’t—which didn’t sit well with him at all.
With a step back, he motioned to her face. “What’s going on here?”
Confused, she studied the front of her shirt. “I don’t know what you mean. I—”
“It’s like an immediate sunburn.”
Mortification joined the blush that now reached her hairline. Sucking in a breath, she waved her hand like a fan and rubbed the spot he’d almost touched with her other. “Never mind. I’m just warm.”
He glanced at the sweater she had tied at her waist. “Then why are you wearing a sweater? It’s summer.”
Ignoring him, she pointed over his shoulder. “What are you doing with those men?”
Ryker studied her a beat. She hadn’t been happy with the news of him selling the Cape, but better she accept it now. “Those men are land surveyors.”
“What are they doing? Are you planning an addition? Because I have a serious offer I’d like you to consider.” Tension radiated from her, tightening his own muscles, and he forced himself to relax.
“Of sorts.” He could barely imagine what she had in mind. With the husky timbre of her voice, when she said the word offer, it sounded more like an indecent proposal. One he’d like to take her up on but knew he couldn’t. With a wink he hoped would ease the heaviness around them, he asked, “An offer? What do you have in mind?”