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

by MK Meredith

  He was an idiot. He might as well have kissed her on national television for the drama it stirred up. He was surprised he hadn’t already seen the headline, CAPE VAN BUREN’S GRUMPIEST BACHELOR AND THE TREE-HUGGING WIDOW, splashed across The Van Buren Tribune.

  His phone hadn’t stopped ringing and both Mitch and Maxine had come pounding on his door.

  Somehow, he’d managed to see no one for three days. He’d counted himself lucky.

  And his bees were thriving. That was a miracle.

  Regardless of what his father thought, his grandfather would be proud. And he let that fact ease the stress of the rest.

  Larkin’s observations on the different bee populations were spot on and surprising. She was a conservationist, sure, but she was scared shitless of the bees. Yet, she noticed. And she cared.

  Regardless how he developed the land, he planned to protect the bees. He might be an ass but he was an intelligent one. And it might just be the angle that would win him his rightful place on the estate.

  Replacing the lid on top of the super that held the Italian bees, he turned his attention to the gentler Carniolan hive. A flash of rich, honey-colored hair caught his eye, and he straightened. Larkin sat on the bench quietly watching him, settled in with her legs crossed at the ankles and leaning back as if she’d been there for a while. His body tightened in the now familiar sensual pull of wanting her. He wanted to hold her in his arms as much as his heart warned him to stay away.

  “You’re enjoying yourself.” She looked pleased. The woman was an enigma.

  “I am.” And that said a lot for anything having to do with the Cape. “My grandfather taught me everything I know. The bees do as well. They’re resourceful and tough, yet they make one of the sweetest foods on earth.”

  Grabbing his frames of honey, he walked toward her.

  She stood from the bench with a bit of a crazed look as he approached. A look that made him want to shield her from all the bad in the world. Then her green eyes raked over him, and his body responded, but it was obvious her focus had more to do with watching out for any hitch-hiking bees than the way he filled out his suit. Fuck. He had to get a hold of himself.

  He chuckled, low and raspy. “Relax, they’ll all fly back to the hive.”

  She pulled in a breath as she nodded, drawing his gaze to the swell of her breasts peeking from the top of the deep V in her t-shirt. The cooler day had her curvy ass encased in a pair of dark washed jeans, and he thanked Mother Nature for being so accommodating. Then promised himself he’d get her off his property as quickly as possible no matter how much his hands wanted to mold to her backside.

  He removed his hood, gingerly turning it to inspect for any of his winged friends.

  “I just finished up along the north shoreline. I think I have everything I need.”

  He dipped his chin and brushed past her. “Great.”

  Breaking out of the woods and onto the lawn, he called over his shoulder. “Can you see yourself out?”

  But she followed him to the house and into the back mudroom where his grandfather had the honey extractor set up. “Why are you so mad at me?”

  He set the frames on the counter and plugged in the electric knife he’d use to remove the wax capping so the honey would flow once the frames were in the extractor.

  He wanted to tell her about his meeting, about the jackass investors, and all his frustrations. But she couldn’t be that person for him.

  “Tell me about Archer.”

  She stiffened, her fingers flying to the locket resting over her heart. Staring at the floor, she pulled in a breath and sat at the small table next to the extractor. “He was my bright light. I don’t understand what you want to know.”

  He lined up the knife along the short side of one frame then slowly slid it down the length, exposing the raw honey.

  “What did he love about the Cape?”

  She laughed quietly. It wasn’t in humor, but the kind when something hits home bittersweet.

  “He loved Maxine and the way she saw the world with such spunk. She made him laugh. We’d do picnics out on the lawn by the lighthouse and work on puzzles. His favorite was one of the lighthouse itself. Your grandmother had it made.”

  “She’s thoughtful like that. Finding connections, knowing what’s important to people.”

  Larkin nodded, staring off as if watching a moment unfold on a projection screen. “He made a wish at the well…every visit. It was always about me or Maxine, his daddy. That we’d be well and one day be as good at puzzles as he was.” She chuckled softly.

  “He had a rule, you know.” Her eyes welled with unshed tears. She sniffed. “With every wish, the penny had to reach the bottom before it was spoken for it to come true.”

  An uncomfortable pressure settled on his chest. That must have been what she’d whispered about the day she’d offered to buy the property.

  She swallowed hard on a trembling smile. “His dad came to pick him up and take him home the day of the car accident. So I could meet up with Blayne in town. I remember saying goodbye, the way his hair smelled sweet from his shampoo and felt warm from the sun. I can still feel him against my chest as he hugged me goodbye. The weight of him, the sound of his footsteps when he’d run down the hall in the mornings to crawl into bed with me and snuggle.” A tear broke over her lower lashes and ran down her cheek.

  He set the frame and knife aside then washed his hands, watching her intently as she continued to speak.

  “His dad had a bad temper and always lost his cool on the road. I should never have—”

  “He was his father. There’s nothing you should or should not have done.” He moved to stand in front of her. It was the very reason his grandmother’s hands had been so tied when he’d been a child. He refused to admit the abuse was happening in order to protect his grandmother, so the authorities had nothing to go on but speculation.

  Gripping her hands in his, he kissed her knuckles. “It wasn’t your fault. Period.”

  She glanced at him, her lashes in a ray of wet spikes. “I should have protected him.”

  Which was why she felt the need to protect the Cape.

  He got it.

  But if she’d only trust him, believe in him, she’d see his plans wouldn’t destroy it. He’d be giving families what she and Archer had with Maxine. A magical place to make memories.

  There was no telling her that though. Part of dealing with loss was taking it step by step. Her mission was part love of the land, part love of Archer, and part a need of not being powerless. If she didn’t try, she’d never get past it.

  So he got it.

  But he had to do the same for himself.

  He cupped her face then ran a thumb under each eye, wiping away her tears. “Tell me a good memory.”

  She rewarded him with a watery smile. “Once, when Henry Stull, the old lighthouse keeper, was visiting as he always did after your grandfather passed, Archer challenged us to a puzzle-off. I think we’d attended one too many Project Community Unity events downtown.”

  Twisting her hands in her lap, she continued, “Whoever could finish their puzzle first got to pick the flavor of ice cream for after dinner.” She shook her head. “Your grandmother is a great cook, by the way.”

  He nodded, remaining quiet.

  She pulled in a breath. “We had no plans for ice cream but it was Archer’s way to make sure we did. Needless to say, even with my sweet boy letting his older friends work together on a puzzle, he won. He’d thrown his hands so high in the air, you’d think he’d just won the Super Bowl.”

  She stood from the table, smoothing her t-shirt down the front. “He was always having little wins like that. Finding ways to get ice cream, rides on the four-wheeler, play time in the lighthouse. He knew how to work us with that smile and his innocence. We were helpless to resist.”

  He pulled her into his chest. She stiffened at first, then melted into him in such a way he never wanted to let her go. He was at ease with her i
n his arms. No tension in his shoulders, no pounding in his head. Just a calm peace in her presence, which made no sense when she was fighting him for his land. But there it was.

  He loved her. God help him. He loved the one woman who could get in the way of him righting his past. And he could get in the way of righting her future. They were at a crossroads where no one would win. Not really.

  And he wasn’t good for her. He had so many demons that the devil himself was too scared to fuck with him. But more, he could never give her what she needed. He couldn’t give her the Cape, or a family, or all of himself. He hadn’t been whole since the first time he saw his dad punch his mother in the face, since the time that same fist smashed into his own.

  Clearing his throat, he kissed the top of her head. “He sounds like a mini version of you, cupcake. He made people smile, made them want to make his dreams come true.”

  She tilted her face up. “No one wants to make my dreams come true,” she whispered.

  “I do.” But wanting to and being able to were very different bed partners.

  He brushed his lips over hers, once, twice. His body tightened at the caress of her mouth, but his heart cracked open wide. The fear of wanting her, of losing her, of never having her made his chest ache.

  Sinking into the kiss, he memorized her taste in that moment. With the scent of honey heavy in the air, mixing with her own sweetness, there was nothing more he needed. He pulled back, kissed her nose, then her forehead.

  “Come help me.”

  Her eyes widened. “With what?”

  He led her out to the back porch where he’d set up borders to mimic slabs of river rock. “A few sections of the patio needed to be repaired. They’re poured cement.”

  “But why are you fixing them if you’re just going to tear the whole place down?”

  He shook his head, part in exasperation, part in acceptance. “Who ever said I was tearing it down?”

  “Well, you implied it.”

  “No, you inferred it.”

  She frowned but stepped to his side. They worked in silence, adding water to a bag of cement he’d poured into a wheelbarrow then, one by one, filling each bordered section and smoothing the top. There was no denying how smoothly they operated. He’d move one way, she’d complete the action in another. Their efforts were completely in sync.

  Finally, when the last mock stone was poured, they studied their creations, kneeling side by side. “Here.” He scooted over, indicating for her to come closer. He placed both of his hands on top of the last stone and pressed. Carefully peeling his hand back up, he grabbed hers.

  “What are you doing?”

  He sighed. “Just trust me, okay, cupcake?”

  She raised a brow but nodded.

  “Regardless of what happens, each of us will have left a mark.” He encouraged her to spread her fingers as he had, then placed each of her hands inside the print of his own. His chest tightened at just how perfectly they fit in his.

  He knelt behind her, his arms around her body, and as he lifted her hands from the cement, he slid his fingers back up the length of her arms.

  “You’re getting cement all over me.” Her voice wavered, but she continued to stare at the handprints they’d made. The sound made him feel all kinds of complicated things, so he shoved any possibility from his head and let his body take over.

  “Then let me wash it off.” He answered gruffly. He rose, offering his hand. His relief was swift as she slid hers into it and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

  They made their way through the house and to his bathroom in silence. She had a smudge of cement on her nose and a little on a few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail to flutter about her face. She was so beautiful, delicate, with the strength of the iron used to set the foundations in the lighthouse.

  He undressed her slowly, taking in every inch of flawless skin, the gentle curve of her shoulder, the dip at her waist. His body recognized the perfect fit of hers as he stepped into her. He stroked his hand through her hair at the back of her head and fisted her ponytail. “I want you. I want to bury myself inside you and feel your body break apart around mine.”

  She swallowed hard. “There’s something I have to tell you.” Her eyes dropped to the floor. “I’m submitting my report Friday.”

  “I know.” The timeline was meticulously detailed in the paperwork and he’d memorized every word, looking for any way out.

  “You still want me?” The nervous question struck his heart with a solid thump. She still didn’t get it, didn’t get him. She had to do what she had to do. He understood because he was in the exact same position. Hopefully, they’d both find a way to heal.

  Yanking his t-shirt over his head then shucking his jeans, he held her gaze. “I do, baby. In every way. I want to feast on you and hear my name slip from your sweet lips like a prayer.”

  Her eyes dilated wide, leaving her irises but a slim ring of green. She stepped into him, burying her face in his neck as he walked them into the shower. As soon as the hot water rained down on their heads, they both tilted their faces to the spray, slicking their hair back.

  Then she entwined her arms around his neck. “I want you, too. I forget myself when I’m with you. The world disappears when you touch me.”

  Her words acted as a salve to his soul even as they cut. The world disappeared, her pain, her worries even, but that didn’t mean she was lost in him so much as she was hiding from herself. But he’d take it. How could he expect her to give all of herself when he was in no condition to do the same?

  “But first, I want to taste you.” Her whisper hit his ears as she pressed her lips to his sternum, then followed the path along the deep ridge of his abs with small, feather-light licks of her tongue.

  A low growl vibrated through his chest as she cupped his balls in her slick hands. She slid her hand down to the base of him, then back up and over the head with a firm squeeze and tug. He sucked in a breath, gently kneading her shoulders to keep from demanding more.

  The tip of her tongue slid along the tip of him, then her whole mouth wrapped around him and his world went black.

  “Jesus Christ,” he grated out.

  As the hot water pounded down on his torso, she slid up and down the length of him, sucking more of him in then he’d ever thought possible. His thighs tightened against the rising pressure and shook.

  “I love the feel of your skin, so soft and so hard at the same time. From the first day you took your shirt off at the well, I wanted to feel you.”

  She gently tugged with her mouth, then swirled her tongue around and around. “You taste so good, Ryker.”

  “Damn it, woman.” He gripped her by the arms and dragged her back up before him. Yanking her to his chest, he lifted her, tucking her legs around his waist. He slammed his mouth onto hers, the shower doing its best to wash away the day, but he could still taste her sweetness.

  Kneading deep into the back of her thighs where they met her ass, he lifted and lowered her, sliding her over his length. She tangled her tongue with his, matching the rhythm he set and groaning into his mouth. “I want you. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  His brain echoed the sentiment but his heart rejected the idea. He didn’t want her only to want him, but hungered deep inside for her to need him, to see herself with him to the point that the Cape, the town, nothing else mattered. He wanted her love. But he didn’t deserve it.

  Leaning back against the tiled wall of the shower, he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the inconvenient direction of his thoughts and just feel.

  Her center was wet and slick, different than the water sluicing over them.

  “Someday, we’re going to have to try this on a bed,” she teased.

  “Someday.” Might never come.

  Jerking the shower knob to the off position, he swept her up in his arms and pushed through the door.

  “Ryker, what are you doing?”

  He padded across the tile to the wood floor then dropp
ed her on the bed. Crawling toward her, he spread her legs as he went. His dick throbbed as her eyes dilated with excitement.

  “What are you doing?” she repeated, her question came on a breath.

  “I’m loving you, Larkin.” He slid his tongue over her, working her with tender caresses. Her hands flew to his head, grabbing fistfuls of hair. The sharp sting to his scalp was a pleasure-pain that shot straight to his dick, and he groaned against her center. His hand slipped up her side to palm her breast, then skim over her rigid nipple.

  Her head thrashed back and forth. “Ryker.”

  “Say you need me.” The demand was hollow because he was the one who needed. He needed the words; he needed those closest to him to believe in him.

  He slid his body up hers, stopping to lave at her breasts, twirling his tongue around one nipple then the other, and adjusting his body until he was poised to finally feel what he’d wanted since they were leaving their prints on the Cape.

  “I need you. Now.” Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, lost in the pleasure they found in each other.

  Hearing the words shook him to the core, and he flexed his hips, sliding home, connecting them in a way that was deeper than either was prepared for. “Look at me, baby.”

  She whispered. “Yes, yes.”

  “Look at me, goddamnit.”

  Her eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. She found him and locked on. As he sunk deep then pulled back, she gripped his flanks with her thighs, her heels digging into his ass, but she never looked away. “I need you, Ryker. Don’t stop.”

  He increased the pace, his balls drawing tight, his thighs burning and his arms shaking as waves of white hot pleasure rocketed through him. Slamming his mouth to hers, he swallowed her cry of release and met it with his own.

  She’d changed him. Made him feel things he’d never allowed himself to believe were possible. His heart split wide open.

  He wanted to give her the world, but all she wanted was the Cape.

  Chapter 16

  Larkin trailed her hand down the walls of the hallway from her bedroom to the kitchen. Her fingers bumped over the edge of a door frame then fell to the dark wood to rest on the sun’s warmth shining through the opposite window. She paused, working through the rush of memories. Early morning snuggles, lullabies and bedtime stories; she could hear the rapid little thump, thump, thump of him running down the hall, looking for her.