by MK Meredith
On a sigh, she shoved the cupcake in her mouth.
She’d simply resist the craving.
Larkin took his damn cupcake. She had balls the size of a damn lobsterman.
Ryker gripped his hands tight. Apparently, the Cape wasn’t enough for the woman, she had to take his favorite dessert, too.
He’d kept his eyes on Larkin’s perky ass until the front door closed but the vision didn’t desert him just because she was no longer in the house. When she’d licked her lips, his dick had taken it as a personal invitation and rose to the occasion in a very uncomfortable display of eagerness. Especially with a kitchen full of people and a grandmother who used words like “foreplay.” He shuddered.
Every time he caught Larkin looking at him, he swore there was something going on in her head. He’d be damned if he could figure out what in the hell it might be, though. There was something about her that left his body on fire, but any man would feel that way when someone threatened his home—and that was the story he’d keep telling himself, too.
He took a bite of his cupcake, forcing it down his dry throat. Then he shifted from one foot to the other, the soft sound of his bare feet on the tile audible in the stone-cold silence.
Mitch cleared his throat. “Well, uh…”
Maxine could stare at Ryker all she wanted. It didn’t bother him in the least.
“Don’t you act like you’re mad at me, Grandmother. I’m the one who’s mad at you.” Ryker took a long swallow of his coffee, hoping to ease the discomfort in his throat. Ever since he’d been a little boy, she had a way of making him squirm.
But he had to win her back over to his side so he could get on with this project before investors caught wind of the delay. This was too important to back down due to some misplaced ingrained fear of disappointing her.
“I’ll be mad at you any damn time you make me mad, young man.”
“You’re the one dating Judge Carter. And how the hell did that stay on the land get signed? What did you do, give Larkin a character recommendation?”
Maxine’s lips straightened into a telltale thin line and her eyes shifted over his shoulder. Aha!
“You didn’t.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of disappointment. His own grandmother was working against him. What in the ever living fuck? “Well, you need to fix it.”
She brushed her hands off over her plate. “I never imagined you’d sell the Cape off in pieces.”
He scrubbed his hands through his hair then leaned against the island top on his forearms. “Why did you sell the Cape to me?” The fact she questioned the decision now was like a knife in the back. What he wanted was never right, he was never enough.
She studied him quietly for so long he almost asked the question again.
“Do you remember when Janice would bring her flowers and Evette would bring her fresh berries for me to use in my moonshine?”
He’d loved popping the strawberries straight into his mouth without washing them first. Grandma always had a fit. He nodded.
“Even though we always had a garden maintained, you said their flowers and fruit were better because they didn’t hire someone else to grow them. I thought if you got a taste of what it was like to grow something of your own from this place, then maybe you could begin to love it. You could make it your own.” She tilted her head. “Regardless, it’s too much for me now and I won’t live forever. You’re my grandson and selling it to you brought you home. Simple as that.”
“But it’s not as simple as that. You say it’s mine, but you’re fighting for the opposing team.”
Maxine moved to stand in front of him. “There aren’t teams, Ryker. I sold it to you. You will do with it as you see fit. But so will Larkin. She’s fueled by the love of her son, and I won’t stand in the way of that.”
His gut tightened with an image of Larkin sitting in her home alone. It was hard to reconcile her as a widow and childless mother. Way to hit below the belt, Grandma. He braced himself against the rush of guilt. “But you will stand in the way of what I want.”
She smiled and grabbed his hand. “I don’t think you’ve given yourself a chance to really know what you want. You’re not wrong, but she’s not wrong either. Teddy asked me and I answered. Now it’s up to you to make them see that your plans are better and why. If you’re so sure they are, then you’ll have no problem.”
But there was no light in her eyes as she spoke. His grandmother didn’t want him to sell the Cape. A heavy weight coiled in his gut. Once again, he was being held back by his past when all he wanted to do was step forward.
“And you’ll still love me, no matter what the court decides in the end?” The question sounded pathetic. Goddamnit. But she was the only person in the world he ever felt desperate around. Losing her was unthinkable.
She smiled with a small shake of her head. “I may have put in a good word for Larkin, but after your grandpa, you’re the love of my life. There’s no getting away from that. I just want you to be happy. And if your plan gives you that, well, I can’t fault you one bit.”
All he saw was the truth shining from her eyes, and he pulled her into his chest. “I love you, too.”
She sniffed then batted at the front of his shirt. “Enough, now. The attic won’t organize itself.”
Mitch slowly eased toward the front door.
“Not so fast, sucker,” Maxine called out. “You’re helping.”
Ryker’s six foot two, grown-ass man of a buddy hung his head and took the stairs one at a time.
“Dude. That’s sad.” Ryker shook his head as Mitch slowly raised his middle finger in a quiet but succinct fuck you.
“Does this mean Larkin has free reign of the land?” Maxine’s tone sounded a bit too victorious.
“Hell no.”
Mitch brightened. “You have no choice.”
This time it was Ryker who gave the finger.
Chapter 5
Late Sunday afternoon, Larkin set the breast-shaped, ceramic salt and pepper shakers back on the shelf. Why in the hell they’d caught her eye while she was putting together a house-warming-cum-apology basket for Ryker was way beyond her.
But there she was, checking out a well-endowed rack. Probably the same found on the kind of women Ryker dated. She glanced down at her own modest set and sighed.
“Larkin!”
Slapping her hand to her chest, she swung around, almost knocking the breasts from their perch in the Eclectic Finds artisanal boutique owned by her best friend, Blayne MacCaffrey.
They’d met at Cape Van Buren’s Ice Festival a few years after Larkin had graduated and had been inseperable ever since.
“Frick.” Her whisper was hard but with no direction behind it. Looking up and down the aisle, she tried to focus back on eyes framed by miles of lashes. “You startled me.”
Blayne hid a chuckle behind her berry-colored lips. Her light eyes twinkled in delight as she picked up the salt shakers. “I called your name repeatedly but you were too busy admiring my breasts.” She turned the shakers over in her hand as if studying their craftsmanship. “Not really what I thought you’d be going for when you said you were coming in.”
Larkin returned them to their proper place. “Stop it. I was just looking at them, and not for the basket I’m putting together.”
Blayne lifted one perfectly arched dark brow. “No? Then what is going on with the color scorching your cheeks and chest? Your skin is as bright red as mine is pale white. Damned Irish blood,” she finished with a grumble.
Larkin glanced down at the v-neck of her shirt and wanted to moan. Damn telltale blush. Of course, Ryker had noticed right away. Damn the man. “It’s nothing.”
Walking past her friend, she continued to peruse the shop, hoping Blayne would let the question drop. The store was full of everything imaginable, as long as it was handmade. All sorts of home decor, tools, and luxuries, from soaps and lotions to wall tapestries and breast salt and pepper shakers.
Blayne was as e
clectic as her shop with her love for all things vintage, a passion for kicking ass on the Van Buren Roller Beauties roller derby team, and being a champion of change with her savvy instincts in business.
Shaking her head, Larkin looked over a Scotch decanter set and only half listened to Blayne rattle on about her date from hell last night.
“Bleedin hell. You’re this embarrassed over a set of boobie shakers?” Blayne asked.
Born in the U.S., she’d grown up here, then moved to her family’s home in Ireland for her teen years, until she moved back again for a boy at eighteen.
Which had not worked out well to say the least.
Now that she’d been back for the last decade, her accent was soft—unless she was pissed—and her English better than most Americans with but a few slang words slipping through now and again.
Larkin frowned as she placed the decanter set in the basket she carried. One of a kind and hand blown on the coast of Maine. Ryker would never find anything else like it.
Blayne patted her forearm. “Because I’ve been talking to you for the last ten minutes and you’ve not heard one word. Because I’ve never seen you so distracted, not even when we were on the way to the hospital because Archer was bound and determined to be born before his due date.” Her light green eyes flew wide in dismay. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think—”
And there it was. The heavy weight that both filled her gut and left her hollow. She reached out to Blayne, grabbing her hand. “It’s okay. You can always mention Archer. You know that.”
Blayne’s lips trembled until she pressed them together. “I know, but I hate the haunted look in your eyes every time I do.”
“I’m getting better.”
Her friend pulled her in for a hug, surrounding Larkin in the scent of the ocean, sparkling with a hint of lemon and earth. Blayne always said the perfume made her think of her family’s home in Ireland, a place she hoped to return to someday. “When?”
Larkin smiled, squeezed her back, and then released her. “That is the question.” She pulled in a breath, allowing the tingling sensation of possibility to flow through her chest. “I needed to find something bigger than myself again. Ya know what I mean?”
Blayne fell into step with her as she browsed the shelves. “I do.”
“Well, I think I’ve found it.” Her voice was almost in a whisper as if afraid the universe might overhear.
Blayne slowed. “What’s going on? Why are you making a basket, or rather, who are you making the basket for?”
“Cape Van Buren has a new owner from the Big Apple itself. I met him Wednesday.”
“And you’re just now telling me?”
She ignored the censure in Blayne’s voice and continued. “Maxine’s grandson, Ryker. Unfortunately, Maxine forgot to tell him I had made a habit of stopping by.”
Blayne snorted. “Maxine doesn’t forget anything.”
“True.” She’d think more on that later. Maxine hadn’t been acting at all like herself lately. Some people started second careers, but apparently, she was starting her second life—in town. And dating for the first time in decades.
“He saved my locket but then he told me he’s selling the Cape.”
Larkin waited for the explosion. She couldn’t always express herself well, so sometimes it was extremely satisfying watching Blayne. And her friend didn’t disappoint.
“What the ever fuck. I will neuter the bastard. Who the hell does he think—”
“The new owner, CEO of Van Buren Enterprises, and proprietor of one incredible body.” She frowned.
Blayne stilled and narrowed her gaze. “Wait a minute. Incredible body? How the hell’d you see this boyo naked?”
“Five-hundred-dollar Armani shirt. He wasn’t about to ruin it for my eighty-dollar locket.”
“This sounds like some introduction. When are you going to see him again?” She winked.
Larkin shook her head. Leave it to Blayne to turn meeting a man into a hookup. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just need to feel him out a bit because—”
“Oh, I bet you want to feel him out alright.”
Larkin slapped Blayne playfully on the arm. “Ohmygod, Blayne…focus. I’m analyzing his land for conservation. Which means he can’t go through with his plans right now and therefore thinks I’m the worst human on the planet.” She lifted the basket. “What’s the saying about bees and honey?”
“You hate bees.”
She waved the words away. “I don’t hate them. They hate me. Big difference. Anyway. It’s just my way to butter him up a bit. At least so he’ll quit glaring at me every time I’m at the Cape. I need to find a way to make him love it like we do. And I’m starting tomorrow, bright and early.” Dark, intense eyes popped into her head and her chest warmed. This was going to be a problem.
Interest sparkled from Blayne’s eyes. “First, that is amazing, and I couldn’t be happier for you. Second…” She eyed the basket in doubt. “My inventory is one-of-a-kind but I don’t think the most awesome Scotch swag in the world will make this bloke happy with you right now.”
“I have to try something. He feels like he’s under attack, but saving the Cape will be a gift. He just can’t see it yet. I’m going early tomorrow with gifts and coffee. If I could just reach him. Make him see…”
“He’s interesting, isn’t he?”
Larkin scoffed. “What? No. Please.”
A huge grin spread her friend’s berry lips from ear to ear. “I gotta see this bloke. Wear something sexy tomorrow. Men can try to deny it all they want, but a little cleavage goes a long way.” She grabbed the basket and carried it toward the checkout. “When do I get to meet him?’
Jogging to catch up, Larkin sucked in a breath and grabbed Blayne’s arm. “No way. You are not going anywhere. I am simply figuring out how to keep my time at the Cape from being a constant wrestling match.”
“Wrestling with a man can be fun. You’ve just forgotten.”
Larkin took a deep breath and shoved the visual from her head. “You are a pain in the ass.”
Blayne swung around. “I’m totally am, but I’m also calling bullshit. Not about the Cape. I get that. But you so want to see this bloke again.”
“I do not. I—” She stopped mid-sentence and stared as her friend, wiggled her brows, and pointed at Larkin’s chest. She didn’t need to look; she could feel the heat flushing across her skin with the mere thought of the man. He was so tall she’d had to look up to meet his eyes. Eyes she had felt travel the length of her body in a glance. And that mouth. Wide and generous. When he smiled, it set her stomach on a low, slow, delicious roll—unfortunately, the same thing happened when he frowned. What in the heck was wrong with her?
Lifting her chin, she moved to brush past Blayne. But a woman entered the store and Larkin’s stomach dropped. She ducked behind a display tower of city landscape steins.
Her heart pounded so hard it clogged her throat and the heat spreading across her chest raced to her hairline.
Blayne said something but the ringing in her ears made it difficult to hear. Two strong hands grabbed her upper arms. “Honey, what is it? You’re okay. Breathe,” Blayne demanded.
She tried to pull air into her lungs. “It’s her.”
Light green eyes opened so wide the whites surrounded the iris like an ocean surrounds an island. “You’re okay.” Blayne’s words were reassuring but her expression betrayed her worry.
Mouth dry, Larkin tried to answer. Her fingers were numb yet tingled with pins and needles. She needed to pull herself together. Breathe.
Blayne peaked around the tower. “Oh, bleedin hell.” Always a fast talker and a faster thinker, she walked Larkin toward the back of the store. “Let’s go to my office.” She stopped suddenly almost yanking Larkin off her feet. “Dammit. Hold on. I have to run up and tell my cashier her break is over.” She looked up and down the aisle. “Okay, wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Blayne took off toward the front of the store
as Larkin used the footsteps to count out the seconds of breathing in and breathing out. Slowly her shock subsided. Leaning back against a wall of pillows, she let her head drop back and clicked her fingernail along each zipper tooth on her jacket.
It had been two years since she’d seen Claire Adams. Ironic that their paths would cross so close to Archer’s birthday—and not in a cool, meant-to-be kind of way. All interactions between them so far had been complete disasters. Too much pain to manage niceties, so instead, Larkin had tried to avoid running into her at all.
Someone rounded the corner next to where she waited. She snapped her head up and pushed away from the shelves.
“Okay, come on.” Blayne grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the direction of her office.
“No. Wait.” She dug in her heels. She’d been hiding from the woman for two years; looking out for her when she went to Bellamy Grocers or scanning crowds during the multitude of Project Community Unity events downtown. Seeing each other triggered the accident as if it had happened yesterday. Claire had been wrecked, losing her fiancé the night before their wedding. And so had Larkin.
The door chimes tinkled. “It’s fine. She’s left,” she said.
Blayne stood on her tiptoes, trying to see to the front of the store. “Yeah, I think she did. Okay, come on. Let’s get this wrapped up so you are ready for your special delivery.”
The air quotes around the last two words had Larkin rolling her eyes and helped her ease from panicked to poised-ish. “Oh my God. You never give up.” She’d had a few mini panic attacks since Archer’s death but it had been over six months since her last one. They weren’t too bad but always left her feeling shaken
“You’re right. I don’t.”
Stopping, Larkin dropped her hands to her sides. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m not done. You need to eat. You were thin to begin with…” She gestured her hand up and down in front of Larkin. “But now I’m frightened by how frail you look.”