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

by MK Meredith

  He’d been dreaming. Fuck.

  Running a hand through his hair, he dropped to the edge of the bed, willing his breath to ease. “I’m sorry.”

  She lowered carefully next to him. “You yelled. Like nothing I’ve ever heard before.”

  Shaking his head, he laid his hand on her thigh, the heat of her burning through the thin fabric of her dress. He traced the edge of her profile in the dark. The slope of her nose, the curve of her neck.

  “A dream. My dad.” He pulled in a steadying breath. “I used to have them all the time, but it’s been awhile. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

  She scooted back to the pillows, patting the space next to her. “It’s alright. I can’t imagine how scared you must have been as a child.”

  As a child. As a man. When he dreamed, there was no difference. The fear was the same and very, very real.

  And every inch of the Cape reminded him of how it had felt.

  Joining her against the pillows, he pulled her into his embrace, and she laid her head against his chest.

  “Your heart is beating so fast.” She squeezed him.

  “I’m fine.” Of all the goddamn nights, he had to have the dream with her there to witness it.

  Smooth.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She placed kisses against his neck.

  “I think all of our talking is what probably triggered it in the first place.”

  She stiffened next to him, remaining silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” he whispered, pushing her back and settling between her legs. “You’re here.”

  He pressed into her and she sucked in a shaky breath, pulling him closer. “I’m here.”

  Blocking out the anger in his father’s eyes and the sorrow in Larkin’s, he took her mouth and sunk into the mind-altering effects of her taste.

  He wanted to feel, to forget, to get lost in the pleasure they found in one another’s arms.

  So much for keeping his distance.

  “Thanks for coming in on a Saturday, gentlemen.” Ryker stood at the head of the conference table in one of the meeting rooms on the top floor of the Cape Van Buren Library.

  “I’ll work on my wife’s birthday as long as you’re making me money,” the first investor stated, then drew his brows together. “Which remains our concern, Van Buren.”

  Mitch handed out a one-page timeline report. “Gentlemen, this should ease any concerns you may have. We have acquired all the permits, the plans have been submitted to the city, and the contractors vetted. The only thing we’re waiting on is the stay on the property to be lifted.”

  The second investor gave a cursory glance at the paper. His expression did not bode well for the meeting, nor did the tone of any of the men at the table.

  The muscles at the back of Ryker’s neck tightened painfully. He could not afford to have these investors drop out, nor did he have the time to find new ones. His leave from his job and life in New York was not indefinite. Not if he wanted to stay relevant anyway.

  “Who is this Ms. Sinclair that initiated the stay in the first place?” The first investor tapped a finger on her name at the bottom of the page.

  “She’s a local conservationist who’s very familiar with the property.”

  “A conservationist?” The second investor sounded disgusted. “Just what we need, another goddamn tree-hugger getting in the way. I bet she gets her panties in a bind every time one of those pathetic animal commercials comes on. An ignorant hindrance of progress if you ask me.”

  Ryker stepped forward, his fingers curled into fists at his sides, but Mitch placed a grounding hand on his shoulder.

  The asshole investor had no idea how close he’d just come to choking on his tongue.

  “Ms. Sinclair is doing her job. And I’ll do mine. You have nothing to worry about.”

  The first investor laughed. “If we had nothing to worry about, we wouldn’t be here, now would we?” He shifted in his chair, bouncing his gut off the table. “Van Buren, let me say this as simply as possible. Get the stay removed. If you can’t handle some twit conservationist, how the hell do you expect us to trust you handling our money?”

  Goddamn, self-important, chauvinistic fuckheads. No one in New York would ever talk to him in that tone. As a matter of fact, the investors who knew him clamored to work with him. The only reason he even had Mitch approach these asses was to stay local. Local investors meant local profit and economy, which would go a long way with the board. But these bastards were making it damn hard.

  “My work speaks for itself. You have the timeline, gentlemen. If you have any other questions, call Mitch.” He dismissed them and moved toward the back of the room before he lost his shit and told them where to stick their wads of green.

  He’d make sure it was so far up their asses they tasted it.

  Mitch quickly stepped in, assuring the men they’d hear from them the next week, all the while making apologies for Ryker.

  As soon as the door closed, he spun around. “Don’t ever apologize for me.”

  Mitch eyed him with a disgusted look of his own. “Step off your over-entitled pedestal, you prick. You’re counting on those men to stay in the game. You don’t do that by dismissing them like schoolchildren.”

  “They’re assholes.”

  “Yes, they are, but they’re the assholes who are going to make it possible for you to finally free yourself of the Cape.” Mitch slammed his hand on the table. “What the hell is your problem?”

  Larkin’s green eyes flashed in his head. He didn’t like the way they talked about her at all, but he wasn’t about to tell his buddy that. He’d never hear the end of it and Mitch would go running to Maxine before he even finished the sentence. How the hell did putting his past to rest become so complicated?

  “Don’t tell me you’re pissed over what they said about Larkin?”

  Ryker gave him a hard stare.

  “Dude. They’re prehistoric cavemen with pockets of money. They don’t know anything more about Larkin than the fact she’s a woman and in their way. But what the fuck? Since when do you let shit like that affect your business sense?” Mitch gathered his notes then shoved them in his bag.

  “Look.” He shoved in the chairs around the tables. “We have to get that stay lifted. Have you thought of anything we can use to win our case?”

  The honey bees and Larkin’s assertion that there were so many varieties on the Cape came to mind. Destroying them would destroy him, not to mention his chances of keeping the Cape. But she didn’t know that. She assumed they’d all go, which explained why she’d been studying them yesterday. He’d gone out to clear some honey but had found her standing there, unreal in the soft light of the forest, his bees humming in the background.

  And all he could think was that he needed to touch her.

  Now that he had, he saw it as the mistake it was, but damn if he wouldn’t do it again. The biggest problem was that she deserved more than a jackass of a man loaded down with baggage, too broken to love and too determined to get out of town.

  “I do have some ideas but let me figure a few things out first. I’ll fill you in and see what your take is on Monday.”

  Mitch’s shoulders eased. “Good. Good.” He moved to the door. “Are you stopping at the festival? Let me rephrase that…when you stop at the festival, so my mother and your grandmother don’t make me hunt you down, make sure to watch out for the triplets.”

  A streak of fear sliced down Ryker’s back at the mention of the three twenty-something sisters from the North Cove. Their dad was the high school football coach and if he ever caught anyone even thinking about his daughters he’d as soon cut their balls off as shake their hand.

  Mitch slapped a hand to his chest. “They are gorgeous, legal, and all three smart as shit, but even I cross the road to pass them on the street. Coach Dawson scares the hell out of me. But Candy said they heard you were in town and are hoping to ‘catch up.'” He made air quotes with his
fingers.

  Ryker furrowed his brow. “Catch up how? They don’t know me at all. I was a senior when they were in eighth grade.” He shuddered.

  Mitch saluted then took off through the door.

  “Wait, who’s Candy? And what the hell happened to Cindy?” He scrubbed his hand over his face. Fuck. Why in the hell did he care? Mitch went through women like water through a colander.

  Left in the silence of the conference room, he glanced out the large, arched windows that faced Garden Parkway NW. He could see the crowds gathering through the brick walkways that ran between the shops across the street. The North Garden was just on the other side. Which meant Larkin was less than a block away. He had to make an appearance and get the hell out before the woman’s nearness did him in. She already saw too much as it was. He was no less than mortified that she’d witnessed one of his damn nightmares. Then the way she comforted him…

  Larkin.

  He couldn’t get the image of her, the feel of her in his arms, out of his head. Her silky skin made promises with every inch he explored. The way her breath caught when he kissed her always sent him over the edge, and his dick grew hard just to prove a point.

  He yanked on his tie and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

  The Cape.

  Those damn old fucks had no idea what they were talking about. There was nothing to handle when it came to the Cape. The property was his and would stay that way.

  Larkin may have conservation on her side, but Ryker had ownership and cold hard business savvy on his.

  He cracked his neck against the mounting pressure.

  He was more than capable of handling his business—the idea that they questioned him burned his ass. It was enough to have his grandmother disappointed and his father laughing. Their questions were almost enough to push him over the edge and demand they get the hell out.

  And he would have if he didn’t think they’d help his case. In the end, he needed them to move forward.

  Past the Cape.

  And in the end, past Larkin.

  He was never meant to stay in town, or with her. So why the hell did the thought leave his gut churning with loss and regret?

  Chapter 14

  Cape Van Buren was at its best during the Garden Festival. All sides of the town were in full bloom, not just the flowers but the people, too. It was as if the citizens themselves were in competition with the potted planters hanging from windows up and down the historic brick buildings of Van Buren Boulevard.

  Larkin walked the stone sidewalks along the perimeter of the North Gardens and admired the Mavens’ handiwork. The garden looked as though a flock of jeweled peacocks had settled home for the rest of the summer. Bright turquoise, glistening emerald, and radiant ruby burst in a spray of flowered feathers from each bush.

  “This looks spectacular, Maxine.” Slipping her arm around her sassy friend, she gave the older woman a squeeze. “I think we’ve outdone ourselves.”

  Maxine nodded, her silver strands settling effortlessly back in perfect order. “Of course it is. The Mavens are a special lot, not to mention Claire turned out to be a godsend.”

  A small band tightened around Larkin’s chest, but she appreciated the fact it had been less than two weeks since her overture to Claire. She was making progress. “Who knew she was so creative? The interactive stations she created for the kids are amazing. And the little pinwheels they get to collect at each stop are already a huge hit,” she said, waving her hand at a group of elementary students running through the grounds and spinning their prizes, their laughter floating just above the general hum of conversation.

  Maxine looked her over. “You look different. Better. Brighter.”

  Larkin knew a flush raced up her neck.

  So did her friend and her eyes lit with interest. “A lot brighter.” She wiggled her brows.

  Larkin threw out her hands. “No, no. I’ve just…it’s felt really good to work toward something worthy, something for Archer. The special plants and animals on the cape are a gift.”

  “Uh huh…” Maxine winked. “Does this something worthy happen to be about six-foot-four with a dark scowl and a heart of gold?”

  Larkin laughed. “Only you’d describe Ryker like that.” Actually, it was a perfect description. He did have a heart of gold when it came to his grandmother, to others’ emotions, just not the Cape. Which was why he so often did have a scowl. One she wanted to kiss right off his face.

  Maxine clucked. “Something on your mind?”

  Clearing her throat, she slid her arm through Maxine’s as they walked. “Listen, when I get the Cape declared for conservation, I want to open a community outreach that provides all sorts of resources for the town. Everything from arts to environment to health and wellness…” She trailed off as her heart picked up its beat. It would change Van Buren in ways she could only imagine until she made it happen. That’s what this new opportunity had taught her. It was time for her to make her life happen, not merely exist within its confines of loneliness and heartache.

  She stopped and faced her friend. “I want Claire to help me with the art component. She has a real talent that I’m not sure she even recognizes. I think it could help her heal.” The young woman needed a way to find a life herself. She hadn’t opened up to Larkin yet, but it was clear that she hadn’t moved on from her loss either. It was time they both did.

  Smooth fingers settled on her arm and Larkin looked into Maxine’s troubled face.

  With a small tap that set her antique bracelets tinkling, she tilted her head. “You know you aren’t responsible. And it wasn’t only John’s fault either. Both men made decisions that day that took everything from you and Claire.”

  Larkin looked around the gardens, the families laughing, mothers smiling down into the shining eyes of their children. John’s face popped into her mind and instead of numbness, a fist of rage grew in her stomach.

  “I think I might hate him,” she whispered.

  Maxine squeezed her hand. “It’s about time, my dear.”

  Larkin stopped breathing and shock lit through her chest. “I doubt it’s a good thing. I mean, I can’t hate Archer’s father. It’s not right.” Knowing it didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling it.

  “It’s better than the nothing you’ve been feeling. It’s real. And I’d hate the man who was responsible for my son’s death, too, until I found a way to work through that into some sort of forgiveness, or at least acknowledgment.”

  Holding Maxine’s gaze, she struggled to find the right words. Surely, she shouldn’t focus on hating him but at that moment, if she were honest, that was exactly what she felt.

  “There you are!”

  Maxine and Larkin turned to find Shelly Anne walking toward them with two cups from the Flat Iron Coffeehouse in her hands. She glanced at her concession stand, set up at the end of a row, with a small wrinkle in her nose. “My high school students need to liven up over there. It’s like a morgue. Who wants coffee from a place full of dead people?”

  “Shelly Anne, it’s a coffee stand, not a disco,” Maxine chided with a shake of her head.

  Shelly Anne scoffed. “Shows what you know.”

  Maxine looked their new arrival up and down, then eyed her with suspicion but sniffed at the air all the same.

  The freshly brewed aroma drifted on the breeze and gently wafted to their noses as though heaven sent. Larkin couldn’t resist the pull herself.

  “What are you doing over here? This is nothing but a sorry attempt at gaining some intel, Shelly Anne.”

  The two women stood nose to nose in silence. Maxine, in her nautical striped shirt and walking shorts topped off with deck shoes and gold jewelry, looked like she’d stepped right off the boat Ryker had been working on the other day. Shelly Anne looked positively earthy in her usual bohemian-style dress and waist-length hair pulled back into a long, silver-streaked braid. No one would ever guess she’d been a Studio 54 dancer back in her day.

  Suddenl
y both women burst out laughing and Shelly Anne handed over the coffees.

  Maxine took an appreciative sip. “Oh, God. Your coffee is divine.” She narrowed her gaze. “But if you ever tell Evette, I’ll call you a liar and still come into the cafe the next day.”

  Shelly Anne wrinkled her nose. “Please. Even Evette knows my coffee is the best in town. I know every delivery we make. She’s one of my best customers. It’s hard to hide anything in Cape Van Buren.”

  The woman tossed her long braid back over her shoulder and pinned her gaze on Larkin. “Speaking of hiding things, what’s this I hear you’ve been spending time out on the Cape?”

  Janice joined them with a harried look on her face, her red curls bouncing. “I think those kids might be the death of me yet.”

  Larkin took the interruption as divine intervention and waved off. “I need to go find Claire real quick. Thanks for the coffee, Shelly Anne.” She lifted her cup and slipped away before she had to answer any more questions. Usually walking away from the group like that would guarantee she’d be the topic of discussion. But Shelly Anne and Janice would have to do the usual North versus South challenge dance before they got back to talking.

  Fingers crossed that by then they’d move on to less volatile topics. Just thinking about Ryker made her heart pound in an all too delicious way. She gave her visible mosquito bites a cursory glance—the tea tree oil took away the itching and the swelling, so at least now her late-night, best-sex-she’d-ever-imagined adventure was simply dotted across her body in tiny pinpoints instead of swollen red welts.

  Talk about volatile. She’d never forget the panic and fear on his face after his nightmare. She couldn’t imagine her own son ever experiencing the horror Ryker had. Really seeing the effects of what he’d gone through made what she had to do so much harder.

  She was falling for a man that she could never have.

  When he’d asked her to stay, she couldn’t say no. But she’d left before he woke. A hint of self-preservation still remained.