Shoreline Drive (Sanctuary Island)

by Everett, Lily

  Ben groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Crap. Ever since I set her crazy pet llama’s leg, she’s been threatening to bake me a cake. I guess this was the perfect opportunity.”

  “Can’t say no to a slice of your own wedding cake!” Grady was enjoying this way too much.

  Glowering at his supposed best friend, Ben said, “One hour. That’s how long I said I’d stay, and I’ll keep my word. But in exactly one hour, I’m making a break for it. And I expect you to back me up.”

  Some of the glee on Grady’s stubbled, hard-jawed face faded into a more serious expression. He clapped one big hand on Ben’s shoulder, hard enough to shove him forward a step. “I’ve always got your back, Ben. No matter what.”

  “No need to act like I’m about to go off to war or something, you big sentimental drama queen.” But despite his eye roll and muttering, a tickle of warmth nudged at Ben’s heart. Letting his gaze veer off into the crowd, Ben spotted Merry by the gazebo steps, holding a clapping Alex up to survey the commotion.

  His family. The warmth around his heart blazed into a full-blown fire of joy so intense, it stole his breath.

  “Anyway,” Ben muttered without taking his eyes off his wife—his wife—and the boy who would be his son. “It’s your turn next, boyo. I hope you’re taking notes. Because this? This is how it’s done.”

  And with that, Ben plunged into the crowd, shaking hands right and left, dodging the puckered lips of every grateful old lady with an ailing pet and the back slaps of every farmer whose herd Ben had inoculated. He walked the line of picnic tables, barely registering the cornucopia of side dishes that made up their potluck wedding feast: everything from the humble shredded carrot and raisin salad he’d had a secret love for as a kid to a tray of fancy puff pastry tartlets stuffed with what looked like creamed spinach studded with slivers of dark red country ham.

  The moment Ben broke free of tiny, wizened old Dabney Leeds and his querulous questions about his poor bulldog’s watery eyes—the bulldog in question staring up at them in abject misery, stuffed into a doggie tuxedo complete with a black satin bow tie on his collar—a breeze rustled through the trees and sent a shower of autumn leaves swirling through the air.

  Merry and Alex stood a step or two above the crowd, looking up at the shower of leaves, and Alex reached out both chubby arms to try and capture one as it sailed past.

  He missed, his face clouding over with the beginnings of tears, but Ben snagged a perfect bright yellow specimen out of the air and presented it to him. Alex clapped, immediately distracted by trying to rip the crunchy leaf to shreds.

  “You know he’s only going to try and eat that,” Merry said, laughing. Pink stained her cheeks, high and pretty.

  “Since Alex hasn’t yet worked out how to keep food in his mouth when it’s delivered on a spoon, I’m not too anxious.” Ben put a hand on the gazebo railing and stared up at them.

  The longer he stared without saying anything, the more Merry’s blush deepened. Eventually, she said, “This isn’t awful for you, is it?”

  “What? Oh, the party.” Ben shrugged. He’d actually managed to forget his deep-seated discomfort in public gatherings for the past few moments. Standing here with Merry and Alex seemed to drive it away. Or maybe it was the fact that even the pushy, friendly, outgoing Sanctuary Island residents appeared to have enough decency to give the newlyweds a few moments of semiprivacy in the midst of the reception.

  Whatever it was, Ben was going to take full advantage of it. “I’m fine. How are you, over here all by yourself? I thought you’d be surrounded by a constant throng of your mother’s friends.”

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Merry’s eyes shone. “Everyone here is so kind and welcoming. I can’t believe I haven’t even lived a full year on the island—I feel like I’ve been here my whole life. I wish I had been.”

  Her brilliant glow dulled for a moment, and Ben knew she was thinking about her absent father.

  “You’re here now, and for the foreseeable future,” Ben said firmly. “That’s what matters.”

  “The future,” she echoed, a smile spreading across her delicate features. “You’re right. The future. And we can make it whatever we want it to be.”

  Ben stepped up onto the bottom stair of the gazebo. With Merry on the stair above, they were eye to eye. She hadn’t worn a frothy white princess gown, but she wasn’t in pajamas, either. He liked the gauzy long skirt of the dress she’d chosen, blue silky material so pale it was almost ivory, with sleeves to her elbows and a crisscrossing bodice that pulled his gaze to the shadowy valley between her lush round breasts.

  She’d done something different with her eye makeup, too, a darker Cleopatra-esque outline that made them seem enormous and depthless, electric blue pools that drew him in and made him long to drown. On another woman, the sexy makeup might have been too much for such a sweet, innocent-looking dress, but on her, it wasn’t—it was simply, perfectly Merry: a blend of mischievous vamp and aching purity that had Ben leaning in to kiss her soft, smiling mouth before he knew what he was about.

  *

  “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” The chant of the jubilant crowd filled Merry’s ears as Ben’s lips covered hers. Giddy and off-kilter, Merry let the moment wash over her, let the desire for closeness melt her into Ben’s solid, wiry frame. She knew he was strong enough to hold all of them up if she lost her balance.

  It wasn’t their first kiss. He’d pecked her on the cheek at the courthouse, and there was that time when he was basically asleep and didn’t know what he was doing … but, in a way, this was the first time they’d kissed with both parties conscious, unconcussed, and aware of what they were doing.

  Maybe that was why it seared Merry to her core.

  Even knowing how much she’d grown to like Ben and his cranky ways, how much she looked forward to the sight of his wide shoulders and narrow hips filling the office doorway when he came back from a call, the shivery way her body responded to the nearness of him, no matter how she pretended otherwise … none of that prepared Merry for the surging swell of desire that engulfed her at the first touch of Ben’s lips.

  Everything low and deep in her body tightened and shuddered, a cascade of pleasure over nerves she’d thought deadened by the pain of labor and delivery. Since giving birth, hell, since discovering she was pregnant, Merry’s body hadn’t felt entirely her own. The growth of new life inside her had brought home the truth that her body was meant for more than her own wants and needs … and once Alex was born, it was hard to go back to living alone in her body. Hard to think of it as all hers once again. Hers to give, hers to share, hers to enjoy.

  But as Ben’s mouth opened hungrily over hers and his tongue licked into her like a dancing flame searing every nerve, Merry reconnected with her body … and the bliss it could be made to feel.

  The hard planes of Ben’s chest brushing hers, the hard muscle of his shoulder under her grasping hand, and above all, the hungry slant of his hot mouth sent Merry’s mind into a whirl of shocked sensation.

  She kissed him back as if her life depended on it, as if she were learning how to kiss for the first time, eager and enthusiastic with the newness of it all. A guttural noise ripped from Ben’s throat, and Merry quivered at it like a dizzy virgin.

  Only the cheers, catcalls, whistles, and stomping feet of the assembled population of the entire island kept Merry from having her way with her new husband right there on the gazebo steps in front of God, Alex, and everyone.

  Alex!

  She broke the kiss with a gasp, the chill autumn air burning her lungs for a head-clearing instant. Pulling back far enough to stare into Ben’s storm-gray eyes, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “I can’t believe how often we seem to make out with my kid right in between us.”

  Ben lifted a hand to cup Alex’s head. His long, slender surgeon’s fingers were gentle against the curves of the baby’s skull. “Hazards of being new parents. I bet most couples with a baby wind up
stealing kisses around the kid.”

  “But most of them aren’t newlyweds,” Merry retorted, a little breathlessly. She was used to having to tilt her head back to meet Ben’s gaze, and this straight-on view of his sculpted face was overwhelming. With his tumbled dark curls, razor-sharp cheekbones, and perfect raven’s-wing eyebrows, he could be a model or an actor. It was inconceivable that this gorgeous man was wandering around a tiny town like Sanctuary, rescuing animals no one else wanted, an incredibly eligible bachelor ready for the taking.

  Not anymore.

  The possessiveness of the thought rushed through Merry like a tidal wave, dangerous and inevitable. Feeling the sucking drag of the undertow threatening to pull her under, she tried to remind herself that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, between them. Ben didn’t want her messy emotions.

  “Anyway, don’t get used it,” she forced out. “We’re not like that.”

  “Oh?” Ben licked his bottom lip, and Merry couldn’t help dropping her gaze to the movement of his tongue over the full, kiss-reddened mouth. “What are we, then?”

  That pulled her up short. As much time as she’d spent defining what they weren’t, Merry hadn’t quite worked out what they were. “We’re … friends. Almost definitely. Even though you drive me crazy sometimes, and other times I think you need a good swat to the seat of the pants.”

  The twinkle in his eyes brightened. “Anytime, sweetness. But everyone who came out here today to celebrate with us would probably say we’re more than friends.”

  “They don’t know the whole story, though,” Merry argued. “Besides, I thought you said this party wasn’t even about us, that Sanctuary will take any feeble excuse to throw together a potluck.”

  “That’s definitely true. Last spring, the town lost its collective mind and put on a festival to celebrate the sighting of the first red-breasted robin. But this is different. You know what Miss Emily said to me when I thanked her for the cake?”

  Merry leveled him with a skeptical brow.

  “Okay, okay,” he admitted, quirking his mouth. “Geez, woman. You know me too well. Anyway, when I asked Miss Emily what in the blazing hell she was smoking when she put that frosted monstrosity together, she didn’t even get mad. All she did was grin and kiss me on the cheek.” He turned his face to show her the smudge of virulent apricot pink in the vague shape of a smooch. “She told me she was happy I wasn’t alone anymore. That I’d found a partner.”

  Without thinking, Merry licked her thumb and smoothed it over the lipstick mark to wipe it clean. “A partner. That works for me.”

  Today, they’d committed to stand by each other, through thick and thin. And wasn’t that what partners did? They were there for each other, to lean on and support in turn. To cheer the victories and commiserate over the failures, and offer advice in the tricky situations life threw at them.

  She could trust Ben with that much, Merry thought.

  “Toast!” someone yelled, to an accompaniment of applause and cheering, and Merry realized how long they’d been standing silhouetted against the backdrop of the gazebo as if they were posing for their nonexistent wedding photographer.

  “That’s not my job, is it?” Ben asked, panic spasming across his face.

  Merry laughed. “How can a man who’s never backed down from telling anyone what he thinks of them be afraid of public speaking?”

  “It’s not public speaking I mind,” he said darkly. “It’s how everyone here is waiting for me to break down and cry with joy, or something. All those expectant smiles give me the willies.”

  Merry angled her head to gaze out over the assembled crowd of well-wishers, people she barely knew yet who had left their houses and taken time out of their lives to bring a covered dish down to the town square and help turn this somewhat impromptu business arrangement into an actual wedding party.

  She saw a lot of smiles. Several people had brought their pets; Mr. Leeds and his long-suffering bulldog, an older lady Merry thought she recognized from the Firefly Café with a Persian cat on a leash, and there was a family with a young black lab puppy sporting a plastic cone of shame to keep him from licking at the shaved patch on his hind leg.

  The lanky boy who’d gotten in trouble with Taylor had set up a pair of speakers on a folding chair by an open space of green grass. A blonde Merry didn’t know leaned over the back of the chair flirtatiously while Matt scrolled through the iPod he’d attached to the speakers. With a grin up at the flirty girl, he picked a song, something jazzy with a lot of brass that made Merry want to dance. She wasn’t alone. While she watched, Grady Wilkes pulled her sister to her feet and over to a level patch of grass. The two of them wrapped around each other like honeysuckle vines, swaying in place.

  Merry saw Harrison McNamara whirl her mother into a quick two-step, Jo throwing her head back to shout a laugh up at the twinkle lights strung from the trees. And over by the nonalcoholic punch, Taylor McNamara stood ladling neon-pink liquid into plastic cups and casting sideways looks at Matt and the girl by the speakers.

  When Merry gave her a smile and a thank-you wave, Taylor only shrugged, but Merry thought she detected a pleased tilt to her pointed little chin. They were going to be okay. Merry would make sure of it.

  There were a lot of faces she knew, and more she didn’t, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before everyone on this little island was out on the makeshift dance floor. “Speech!” Ella called, laughing up at her from the safety of Grady’s arms.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Merry said, as loudly and clearly as she could. “My husband and I—”

  She had to pause for the eruption of shouts and whistling, the stamping of feet and raising of plastic cups. Every breath of this perfect afternoon was like inhaling pure oxygen, life-giving and sustaining. “We appreciate it more than we can say,” Merry finished, her heart pounding. She felt as if she’d finally come home.

  Through the yells and laughter, the shouted congratulations and wishes for their happiness, Merry saw a sleek black car drive slowly up Main Street and park across from the square. Shading her eyes against the brightness of the afternoon sun, she squinted curiously to see who would emerge. Part of her fluttered nervously—the silly part that never stopped hoping her father would wake up one day and be interested in her—but the man who got out of the driver’s side was too short and squat. Even from a distance, she could see that he wore a dark uniform and a cap, like a chauffeur out of a movie.

  “Oh no,” Ben groaned. He went rigid at her side, stiff and unhappy.

  “What?” Merry asked, just as the chauffeur guy walked around to the back of the car to open the door for an older couple to climb out. The woman was slim and stylish in a classic pink wool pantsuit, and the man whose arm she took turned to stare over the town square like a king surveying his great, unwashed populace.

  “Brace yourself,” Ben said grimly. “Those are my parents.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Merry frowned in confusion. “Why should I brace myself? It’s wonderful that they were able to make it in time for the reception! Isn’t it?”

  The ache of her own father’s absence tightened her voice, and Ben had to force himself to uncurl his fingers from the fists that wanted to punch a hole through the gazebo wall. Because this was not going to be pretty.

  Stay cool, he told himself. He was going to need to be cool to get through the next hour. His parents were here, invading his private island haven, crashing the happiest day of his life—and he wasn’t going to be able to hide the truth from Merry.

  “Listen.” He turned to her, grasping her shoulders for emphasis. “When I said I invited my parents to our wedding, and they were sorry they couldn’t make it? I lied. I didn’t invite them. And they’re about to make both of us very sorry.”

  “Why wouldn’t you invite them?” she gasped. “And why would you lie about it?”

  “Because they’re horrible,” Ben said impatiently. “What, you think I turned out the way I a
m by accident? No. Trust me, these people are awful, and I didn’t want them around you and Alex.”

  “If they’re so horrible,” Merry hissed, exasperated and embarrassed, “why go to all the trouble of marrying me to provide them with a grandson to carry on the family name?”

  Caught out, Ben shook his head. “Just because my parents suck doesn’t mean I’m happy to see the family name die out. Besides, that wasn’t the only reason—but it was one I thought you’d be able to sympathize with.”

  She opened her mouth to argue with him, but Ben cut her off with a naked plea. “Can we talk about this later? I swear, I’ll answer any questions you have about my relationship with my parents.”

  “Fine,” Merry said, eyes flashing. “But this isn’t over. And Ben? This is not a great way to start our married life—with you getting caught in a lie.”

  “Believe me,” he said bleakly. “I know.” He turned back to survey the two people picking their way through the newly fallen leaves blanketing the village green.

  Heads turned as the newcomers made their way through the crowd of revelers. Harrison McNamara stepped in their path as if he wanted to greet them, but Tripp and Pamela Fairfax were old hands at ignoring what they didn’t want to see. They swept past the dignified bank manager without a sideways glance, all of their glittering attention focused on the gazebo.

  “What do you want?” Ben snapped, instinctively curling a protective arm around Merry and drawing her close. She was tense against him, her body all planes and angles. “You show up at my wedding, unannounced and uninvited—”

  Merry jerked away from him with a reproachful glance before turning to his parents. “What he means to say is, welcome to Sanctuary Island. We’re so glad you could be here to celebrate with us.”

  Tripp Fairfax stopped a few feet from the pavilion, his bushy brows lowered over the judgmental stare he leveled at the simple, homespun decorations … the harvest bouquets of red and gold leaves, the strands of cheap Christmas lights hanging from the trees. “Tell me we’re not too late,” Tripp said heavily. “To put a stop to this insanity.”