Love on the Cape: an On the Cape novel, Cape Van Buren

by MK Meredith

  “It really will be beautiful, but may I make a suggestion?” Larkin asked, hesitant to get any of them excited again. Her nerves couldn’t take it.

  She set her pansies in a large bowl with the flowers sticking over the rim. “What if we use blue glass stepping stones as kind of a river that flows through the garden? Guests walk through the garden instead of just around it. We can have little stations that give information about peacocks, their meaning, and the flowers. Make it interactive.”

  “I have beautiful peacock note cards we can use for the information cards. All I’d need to do is laminate them,” Blayne offered.

  Maxine stared at the two women with a hard look. Then her eyes lit up and she grabbed Janice by the arm. “This is brilliant.” She looked to Evette.

  All the ladies nodded.

  “But do you think we can finish it in time? We only have three days left,” Blayne reminded them.

  Larkin counted off on her fingers what they’d need to get done, not to mention her continued work out on the Cape. “It’s going to be tough but—”

  Claire Adams rounded the corner by the North Cove Condos at the south end of the garden.

  “We’d be able to do it if we had one more pair of hands.” Larkin pointed across the garden.

  All four women shook their heads.

  “You’re mad.” Blayne cut through the air with her palm. “You’ve just now come out from under your widow’s rock. Having to see Claire all the time will just push you right back under.”

  “No. It won’t,” Larkin insisted. “She needs this. I’ve had all of you. Who has she had?” She needed someone, something, and Larkin was determined to give it to her.

  Maxine glanced at the woman. “But she’s South Cove; no way are we letting her in. That’d be like inviting Teddy over while I’m selling my moonshine.” She shuddered.

  Larkin’s jaw dropped open. “Maxine. You know as well as I do that she’s never done anything with the South Cove Madams. She’s a loner. Besides, we already established they aren’t the most nurturing bunch. If anyone’s tried to help her at all, it’s probably been with a slap to her back and a ‘you got this!’ cheer.”

  “What is this really about?” Blayne asked, worry shining from her green eyes.

  “I just…” Watching Claire walk toward them, she shook her head. “I’ve got to help her. I had you, and it still took two years to get me moving past simply existing. And I’ve only just started.”

  Janice added the prepared pansies to the bowl, making a beautiful hemisphere of color. “Let’s do it.” She pushed her curls from her face. “We have too much to do to be picky now. Besides, with the wicked awesome idea you two girls had, there’s no way South Cove will win even if they had a year to copy our plan.”

  Larkin slapped her hands together on a grin. “Come help me.”

  “I am not—

  “Blayne.” She gave her best friend a hard stare.

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if I see one iota of evidence that this is hurting you, I’m ending it.”

  “Fine.” Larkin slid her arm through Blayne’s.

  With her stomach twisting into a knot, Larkin forced her gaze to stay relaxed but direct. “Hello, Claire.”

  The young woman snapped her head up then let out a sigh. “Why are you everywhere these days?”

  Pasting a smile on her lips, Larkin released Blayne and fell into step next to Claire. At least the two of them were no longer crying every time they saw each other.

  The woman looked her up and down with suspicion. “What…do you want?” The tone in her voice was both pleading and exasperated.

  “We need your help. And before you say no…”

  “Smart woman. At least I’ll give you that.”

  Larkin resisted the urge to grit her teeth. “The North Cove Mavens need an extra pair of hands to complete our garden design by Friday.”

  “No.” Claire tried to step away.

  “There’s a bottle of free moonshine with your name on it if you do.”

  That had her stopping in her tracks. “Mrs. Van Buren’s moonshine?”

  Larkin had trouble wrapping her mind around the Mrs. Van Buren title. Maxine was such a feisty every-girl’s kind of woman who always laughed off any mention of status. If she heard Claire call her that, no amount of begging would get her to hand over a bottle of her moonshine. For any price.

  “Yeah, but let’s call her Maxine. She gets a bit snappy with the ‘Mrs.’ kind of thing.”

  Blayne yawned. “You don’t have to join us. I keep telling them we’ll finish in plenty of time.

  Larkin sent her a raised brow.

  Claire lifted her chin. “Fine. If I get the bottle of moonshine, I’m in.” She eyed Larkin warily. “This is going to mean I have to chat with you, won't it?”

  Larkin would have grinned, but the glassy look in the young woman’s eye warned of tears, not good humor. “I’m hoping,” she said softly.

  “Are you in or not? We haven’t got all day.” Blayne slid her arm back through Larkin’s, always a mama bear before a pussy cat.

  Claire shot Blayne a hard stare, then the corners of her mouth trembled into a small grin. “I like you. Your annoyance is a hell of a lot better than the pity I get from everyone else.”

  Larkin reached for her. “I’m sure they’re all just—

  Claire raised a hand. “Stop while you’re ahead. Make sure you don’t forget the moonshine. I’ve been wanting to try that for years but never had the right connections. Except for Mitch Brennan, but he’s no different now than when we were kids. Annoying with a side of irritation, but in a much bigger body.”

  Larkin and Blayne exchanged knowing glances, reading between the lines of Claire’s griping.

  “I’ll run home and change and head on over to the gardens.” Claire took off without looking back.

  Blayne pulled Larkin back toward the Mavens. “So a bottle of moonshine, huh? How are you going to swing that? Maxine doesn’t sell to strangers. She loves you like a daughter and barely comes off one for you.”

  That was going to be a problem but she had to figure out a plan. The urgency to pull Claire into the fold, to help her like Larkin’s friends had grew stronger with each passing day that she worked to save the Cape. Somehow the two missions had melded into one.

  A few ideas popped into Larkin’s head, but they all included intense dark eyes and a mouth that inspired fantasies. She needed to steer clear of that man.

  But he might be the only one who could get her that moonshine.

  Chapter 12

  Wednesday afternoon, Larkin stepped through the fresh cut grass, focusing on the silky blades as they slid over her toes. This part of the lawn was crisp and groomed and emerald. It served as a wonderful contrast to the exciting untamed and natural areas of the Cape that ran the perimeter. Rough rocky shores, tall blue joint grasses, and the rare blue leaf willow trailed along the edge of the shore above the rocks.

  It made her think of Ryker. He too was both well-groomed and ruggedly sexy.

  Which she didn’t need to think about. Especially now.

  He was the reason she was on the Cape to work instead of play in the first place.

  Stepping up to the well, the familiar squeeze of sadness constricted her chest. Two weeks had already passed since Archer’s birthday, since the beginning of her mission to save his Cape. The days without him kept slipping by while the years that stretched out before her seemed endlessly long.

  But the only time that mattered now was the less than two weeks she had left to propose her findings and save the Cape.

  Time to focus and stay determined.

  Just as she had to do with Claire yesterday. She’d talked her into helping the Mavens, but spending time with the woman turned out to be just what Blayne had warned her it would be. The Cape reminded her of Archer when he was alive, running through the tall grasses with Puzzle, his laughter carrying on the wind. But seeing Claire reminded her of his death.
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  Of the mangled car.

  Of no turning back. Or moving forward.

  It was as though she were stuck in the horrible moment when she’d learned he’d died. Nothing would ever be the same, and every day after was excruciating.

  Pulling in a shaky breath, she ran her fingers over her locket, relieved by the weight of it in her hand and against her heart.

  She walked around the well, counting through the flowers planted at the base. They’d grown since Ryker had saved her necklace. She studied the flowers where he’d hung himself over the edge, his and her feet digging in to keep him top side.

  Peering closer at the flowers, a small smile pulled at the corners of her lips.

  Though crushed that day, they’d bounced back. They stood tall, a few petals bruised but otherwise blooming.

  Now that was determination.

  “Okay, Archer,” she whispered. “I hear you.”

  Dropping her locket back to her chest, she reached for the damaged but thriving blooms. They were silky under her fingertips.

  So fragile.

  Yet here they were.

  And so was she. It was time to make it count.

  Choosing a hardy flower that hadn’t been fighting to recover, she plucked the stem low to the ground then tucked it behind her ear. When she got home, she’d press it between the pages of her favorite book. A reminder of how strong she could be.

  Glancing up and down the length of the Cape, she checked the time. Ryker was in town or so the gossips that were her crazy friends had informed her this morning while they worked with their peacocks in the garden.

  She didn’t mean to hide but clarity and focus were not easily maintained with him around.

  Her heart was wrapping around someone who would never want the encumbrance. Not to mention she struggled with every story she heard about his childhood. In any other situation, she’d help him in any way she could to heal from his heartache. But she just couldn’t this time. Healing his past, his way, meant destroying hers.

  And she would always be stuck.

  With one last look at the flowers around the well, she pulled out her phone. Swiping through her screens, she pulled up her notes then snapped a few photos.

  She took pictures and measurements of the blue joint, then slowed down to really study the blue leaf willow. It was rare inland but in abundance on the Cape. Pulling a small waxed paper envelope from her bag, she removed a leaf section, then slid it inside. A little closer look at her office at work would let her determine the overall health of the plant.

  Along with the crowberry blue butterfly and the Yellow Spotted Salamander, she was building quite the argument for conserving the Cape. Not to mention the bees. And if she was right, there was an Italian honey bee hive pretty close to a Carniolan bee hive. If they weren’t cared for properly, the Italians would steal from the others, which also risked spreading disease and destroying the hive.

  She made her way down the familiar path into the woods. As soon as she stepped within the grouping of trees, the world was blanketed from all the noise of life. It was much darker inside and an ethereal glow illuminated the space with sunlight filtered through so many leaves.

  Keeping her distance, she located the hive and tried to get a closer look. The honey bees might be her Hail Mary for saving the Cape. But she was hoping not to need one. Her recommendation was solid. The board just had to care.

  She frowned.

  The soft hum of the little suckers met her ears. There was no way in hell she was going any closer. The threat of never tasting Maxine’s moonshine ever again wouldn’t even budge her.

  Up on tiptoes, she squinted but still couldn’t identify which bees the hive had.

  Damn it.

  “What’re you doing, Cupcake?”

  The question came from behind her and she spun around so fast she almost fell.

  Ryker reached out to help her but she threw her hands out to ward off any assistance. Seeing his dark gaze hooded by strong brows and supported by a twisted grin was bad enough. If he touched her, she feared she’d succumb to her overwrought, long-denied hormones and ease her frustrations by tackling him to the ground.

  “I’m okay. I got it.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “I scared you.”

  He raised a brow. “What?”

  Heat crawled up her neck. “I mean, you scared me.” Good God, woman. Pull yourself together.

  Approaching slowly, his gaze slid over her from head to toe. Her sundress suddenly felt too tight and her light rain jacket, which she wore to ward off the cooling evening temperatures, now seemed sweltering. Ignoring him, she peered back at the hive. “What kind of bees are those?”

  “I thought you hated bees.”

  “I told you, I don’t hate them.” She stepped toward the bench, watching out for the salamander she’d found last time. Peaking at him, she worked hard at shoving down the waves of awareness from his proximity.

  Then she saw the hummingbird feeders, each of them filled with nectar, and her heart turned over. She trailed a finger along the edge of one red feeder.

  “You filled them.” She gestured toward the tiny birds.

  He dipped his chin then turned back to the beehive with a content look on his face. Must be nice to feel that way. It only confused her more that he could let it all go.

  “I thought you were in town.” She bit the inside of her lip. The last thing she meant to do was admit she’d been keeping tabs.

  “Why are you avoiding me?” His tone was low but direct.

  She half laughed. “I’m not, I…” Staring at her coral-painted toes, she ran through possible excuses but came up short. A shadow fell over the ground she was hoping would swallow her whole.

  “Larkin.”

  Please don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. She repeated the wish over and over in her head as his hand reached for her.

  Warm fingers slid along her cheek and she grabbed them. “I can’t do this. It’s too complicated.”

  “No, it’s not. It just is what it is.” He stepped closer.

  She put her hand on his chest. “Wait.” In a quick move, she skirted around him. “I think you have different subspecies of bees here on the Cape.”

  She glanced back to find him watching her with a curious expression.

  He walked toward her, and her mind tried to argue but her body hummed with an awareness that told her his interest was way more biological than environmental.

  “Anyway,” she continued warily as he got closer. “If you have Italian bees, you’re at risk of losing whole hives. They like to steal and they aren’t nice about it.” With a quick look back to the hive, she pulled in a nervous breath. “In fact, you may have already.”

  He stood in front of her, overwhelming, encompassing. “I know.”

  She stared dumbly. “Oh.”

  “I’m going to kiss you now, Larkin.” He slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders.

  “But why? You know this is a bad idea.”

  He held her gaze with one corner of his lips kicked up in a half grin. “I’ve told myself that at least million times. But here I am. Drawn to you. Whether I like it or not.”

  “I don’t like it either.”

  On a chuckle, he stepped closer. “Then we have that in common. There’s no pressure…” He slid his fingers from her shoulders up along the sensitive skin of her neck in a slow circular motion. “…no expectations. This doesn’t have to go anywhere. I know you’re not ready for anything serious.”

  She stared at his mouth, swearing she could feel it on her even though he hadn’t kissed her yet. And since when wasn’t she interested in anything serious? No one’d ever asked her if she was. Hell, she hadn't asked herself. It certainly wasn’t any hang up on John. The thought of him left her numb, little more than a layer of guilt for not feeling more. They’d been drifting apart years ago, and after what he did…

  The combination of the soft skin of Ryker’s fingertips with the calluses along the
ridge of his palm sent a shiver down her spine.

  What did she want?

  The Cape.

  But for her future? For love?

  Biting on the inside of her lip, she studied this man who clouded her brain and set her body aflame. She wanted a future on the Cape—she wanted love. She wanted to do more than dream of feeling alive; she wanted to really feel it. And if she crashed and burned afterward then so be it.

  She had to quit hiding behind her grief.

  Swallowing hard as his hand moved up to gently cup her cheek, she tilted her head into his warmth.

  He plucked the flower from her ear. “What’s this?” His whisper held a husky edge to it.

  Proof that even something fragile could survive and thrive. But she couldn’t say that. Not to him. Not now.

  If she wanted to live, it was time to live. And on her terms.

  Whether it was the romantic glow of this magical place with fireflies flickering on and off like nature's own string of lights, or the low humming music from the bees, or pure, simple loneliness, she wasn’t sure. But she wanted to feel something beyond the hollow space left in her chest. She wanted to feel…him.

  Sucking in a breath, she slipped her arms around his neck and pressed against his chest. His arms immediately banded about her waist, lifting her higher. She slid her lips over his lower one then tasted his top one before diving deeper still.

  A low rumbling groan reverberated from his chest to hers and he whispered against her mouth, “Fuuuuuck.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” She kissed him harder, trying to ease the rising urgency she’d felt since meeting him.

  She slowly broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his. “But here? I don’t have any…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  His mouth stretched wide and he dug deep in his back pocket. The glint of foil sparkled in the low light. He looked around them.

  “Here is perfect. Our very own secluded haven.”

  In the waning light, they transcended into a secret fairyland where, just maybe, everything she’d ever dreamed might come true. The air was humid but light. As evening drew closer, the temperature dropped while her own skin burned.