“Old Grady makes more money feeding tourists than he could processing fish.” The truck lurched as Matt pulled out of the parking lot. “So the fishermen lost out, and Sam took off to start up his own construction company.”
“Then that remark about local businesses giving back to the community…”
“Was a line.” He glanced at her sideways. “Sam’s good at lines.”
“I thought you were friends.”
“We are.” Matt smiled. She felt the pull of attraction deep in her stomach. “That doesn’t mean I’d let him date my sister.”
The man had strings, she reminded herself. Connections, complications, a warm, involved family who lived and worked together on the island.
Which sounded lovely, except Allison had come to the island to escape her family.
“Wouldn’t that be up to your sister? Unless you don’t trust her judgment.”
“I trust her fine. Meg’s the smart one in the family. It’s Sam I don’t trust.”
She raised her brows. “How old is your sister?”
Matt grinned, acknowledging her point. “Thirty-four.”
“Where does she live?”
“New York City. She’s vice president of marketing for Franklin Insurance.”
Allison blinked. Okay, so the Fletcher family didn’t all live on the island. Maybe Matt was right. Maybe she really did need to get to know the situation before rushing to judgment.
“But you know how it is,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “You have a brother. Miles, right?”
He remembered her brother’s name. He actually listened. That was something different for her.
She twisted her fingers together, slightly uncomfortable at being the focus of his attention. “My brother isn’t…” She had to clear her throat. “It’s not like that for us.”
“He didn’t look out for you?”
“Never.” That sounded harsh. Unfair. All through her childhood, Miles had been the one who encouraged her to go her own way, to take risks, to experience life. To collect moments, instead of things the way their parents did. “I can take care of myself.”
“He didn’t beat up your boyfriends? Protect you on the playground?”
The thought made her smile. “No. Well…” She stopped, caught by a memory. “Sometimes at night…I had nightmares as a kid. Our parents said I had to get over them. But Miles…Sometimes he’d let me climb into bed with him.”
“There you go,” Matt said. They pulled into her driveway, under the shadow of the porch. “Doesn’t matter how old or far apart you are. He’ll always be your big brother.”
“He left,” she said, the words jerked out of her. “When I was twelve. I haven’t seen him in thirteen years.”
“I’m sorry,” Matt said quietly.
To her horror, she felt tears sting her eyes. She stared at her knees, willing the tears not to fall. “It’s all right. It’s not like he died or anything. He just…”
Packed a bag and ran away.
Broke my heart.
Abandoned me.
“Left,” she repeated. Leaving her as the only target of their father’s anger and their mother’s dissatisfaction.
“Sometimes that’s worse,” Matt said.
“How would you know?” she asked and remembered, too late, that he was divorced with a sixteen-year-old son.
“Because most of the time leaving is a choice.” He turned off the engine. “Death isn’t.”
“I didn’t mean to be rude,” she said into the silence. “I don’t usually overshare like this.”
She didn’t usually talk about herself at all.
He was a very good listener.
He shifted slightly, facing her. His cheeks creased in a smile. “Not ever? Or not on a first date?”
She picked at the hem of her skirt. “We’re not dating.”
“I picked you up, I bought you a drink, I brought you home.” The creases deepened. “What am I missing?”
Those lazy blue eyes missed very little, she thought. Despite his easy manner, he must see, he must know, that she was attracted to him.
“We didn’t eat,” she said.
“Next time,” he promised. “When I show you my island.”
“We didn’t…” Her gaze fell to his mouth. Her pulse clamored. Shut up, shut up, shut up, Allison.
His eyes darkened. “I can take care of that now.”
He stretched his arm across the back of her seat, giving her time to stop him, giving her space to move away. She did neither. Her pulse went wild with anticipation as his fingers caught a strand of her hair, stroking it behind her ear.
He leaned in, warm and close. She inhaled and closed her eyes, need pooling in the pit of her stomach and lower, between her thighs. He kissed her hot cheek, making her shiver, pressed his lips to her forehead and made her sigh. Cupping her face with his free hand, he laid his mouth on hers.
His lips were warm, firm, parted. Like his touch, his kiss teased and tempted, a promise of heat, a whisper of excitement along her nerves, surging in her blood. Without thinking—Don’t think—she opened her mouth, inviting him in.
He deepened the kiss immediately, nudging inside her, licking inside her while his hand tightened on the back of her neck. Heat flared, blanketing her brain. She fisted her hand to pull him closer, wanting more. More heat, more contact, more tongue. He gave it to her, swamping her with sensations, the softness of his shirt, the roughness of his stubble, the taste and textures of his mouth.
His hand stroked from jaw to shoulder, brushing the outside curve of her breast, sliding from hip to thigh, rousing and soothing at the same time. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch. She made a sound in her throat and strained forward, her knee bumping the gearshift.
“Let’s take this inside,” he said against her mouth. Another kiss, deep and drugging. “I want to come inside with you. Let me come.”
Oh, yes. Inside me. Come.
Oh, no.
Allison broke the kiss, banging her head on the back of the seat.
“Easy.” He gathered her closer, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her neck.
His eyes were dark and dilated, his lips wet and close. She almost lunged for them again. No, no, no.
“I don’t do this,” she said. Not anymore.
His body tensed. Stilled. “Okay.”
“I can’t do this.” She struggled to remember the reasons why. “Your son is in my class.”
The inside of the cab was sweltering. Her breathing rasped in the quiet.
Matt eased back, his gaze on her face. “My son doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
Maybe not.
She swallowed, feeling hot and dorky and embarrassed. It wasn’t like she was a virgin or anything. In college, she’d had her share of drunken fumblings and awkward couplings. But she was trying so desperately now to be an adult, to only say yes when she meant yes. When it meant something. She didn’t need a commitment, but…
“I don’t know you. I don’t jump into…” Bed, she thought. “Things with someone I don’t know.”
“I understand,” he said.
She stared. “You do?”
“Sure. You don’t do one-night stands.” He took a deep breath; released it slowly. “You got a way to get to school tomorrow?”
“What?”
“Without your bike.”
“Oh. I…Yes.” Her blood was still warm, her face hot. “I do have a car. In the garage.”
He nodded. “Okay.” His eyes met hers. “Call me if you get a flat.”
Five
THAT NIGHT, MATT spent the hour after dinner fixing a leaky valve on the Harley. Classic bikes were best, everything simple, stripped down, easy to service. He didn’t have the time or inclination to go poking around with some complicated new fancy equipment. Low maintenance, that’s what he wanted.
But even as he repaired the worn valve guide and installed new plugs, his mind kept sliding to Allison, remember
ing the flush on her face, the warm interest in her eyes.
The way her hand had fisted in his shirt.
He stepped out of the work shed, rolling his neck to ease the muscles there. His body felt restless. Needy.
Cicadas whirred and chirred their mating cries, a rising, falling call that worked its way under his skin and into his blood. Hell, even the bugs were getting more action than he was. There had been the usual influx of tourists this summer, but no woman who really caught his eye. Maybe he’d been too busy. Maybe he was getting too particular.
Matt made a face. Or too old.
Whatever the reason, he hadn’t been with a woman in a really long time. Four months, he realized.
Jesus. After four months, a man was bound to get a little edgy and off his game.
Which didn’t excuse him moving on his son’s new teacher like she was a woman he’d picked up in a bar.
His brain replayed the scene in the truck in 3-D with sound effects, all that warmth, all that heat, that sound she’d made deep in her throat.
Matt shook his head to clear it. Allison Carter didn’t do one-night stands.
And he didn’t do anything else.
He’d always had a ban on dating island women. On dating any woman who would expect more than he had left to give. Promises. A ring. A life.
The trees in the garden, all fragrance and shadow, blocked the moon and the lights from the inn, leaving him alone in the dark.
On the other hand, Allison Carter didn’t really fit the island profile, Matt decided. She looked like a woman who came from money. She talked like a person who had places to go. I kept changing majors, trying new things, hoping to discover something I could be passionate about.
He could give her passion, he thought. But he didn’t expect her to stick around.
Lots of people moved here, drawn by the idea of island life, seduced by the summers, only to discover when the last tourist left and the first hurricane blew in that they couldn’t put down roots in sand. When the school year was over, maybe sooner, Allison would move on. He could show her around, show her a good time, without anyone thinking he was auditioning another mother for Josh.
Simple.
But first he had to square things with his son.
Matt crossed the strip of yard to his porch feeling almost cheerful.
Inside the cottage, Josh sprawled on the living room couch, eating cereal from the box, the dog at his feet and his gaze locked on ESPN.
Matt closed the door behind him, shutting out the incessant grind of the cicadas. “Done your homework?” he inquired.
Josh sank lower into the couch. “Pretty much.”
Another time that would have been enough.
Allison’s face rose in Matt’s mind. Her voice echoed in his head. Perhaps you should talk to him anyway.
He walked into the open kitchen to pour a glass of water from the fridge. Fezzik’s tail thumped the carpet as he passed.
“Saw your new teacher today,” he remarked.
Josh snorted. “The DB.”
Dingbatter. The island epithet for newcomers, uplanders, and Yankees.
“Miss Carter to you,” Matt said mildly.
Josh shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, whatever.”
Matt took a long drink of cold water. Keep it light. “She mentioned something I was supposed to sign.”
“Permission slip. We’re watching some lame movie in class next week.”
Matt thought back to yesterday’s conversation on the dock. He didn’t remember a movie. “This was some kind of contract,” he said. “On the syllabus.”
“Oh, yeah.” Josh returned his gaze to the TV. “I took care of it.”
That figured.
Matt rubbed his face with his hand. The truth was, he was out on the water ten, sometimes twelve hours a day. God knew he tried to keep track of the important stuff, doctor’s appointments, basketball games. Tess, bless her, filled in where she could. But over the years they’d all learned to make accommodations for him being a single parent.
He strolled back into the living room, blocking Josh’s view of the discussion of Carolina’s starting lineup. “You sign my name?”
Josh eyed him cautiously. “Maybe.”
Matt nodded. “You still have trouble forging the h?”
Josh relaxed. “No, I’m good.” A corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile. “Good enough to get away with it, anyway.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Matt said. “Pull it out and let’s have a look.”
“Can’t it wait until after Sports Center?”
Matt had a feeling he’d already waited long enough. We’ve been in class now for almost three weeks and he has yet to open his mouth. Or, as far as I can tell, a book.
Matt hit the MUTE button. “Syllabus,” he said. “Let’s see it.”
Josh heaved an exaggerated sigh before lurching from the couch. He retrieved his backpack from beside the door and dumped it on the couch, pawing through its contents like Fezzik digging for a bone. Eventually he unearthed a slim paperback and several crumpled sheets stapled together. He flipped over the top two pages before handing them to Matt.
Matt thumbed back to the beginning—course outline, homework policy, letter to parents, promises to students. Phrases leaped out at him until he could almost hear Allison’s earnest voice. “Excited about working with your child…welcome your concerns…”
“You don’t have to read it,” Josh said.
Matt raised his brows. “That signature says I did. Let’s not make a liar out of us both.”
Josh flushed and fell silent.
Matt read. “Scarlet Letter. They still make you read that, huh?”
Josh shifted. “Well…”
A rap sounded on the front door. Josh wriggled like a fish on the line, preparing to slip away.
“Stay put,” Matt said and went to open the door.
Luke stood on the stoop, his face in shadow. “Got a minute?”
Matt glanced over his shoulder at Josh. “Now?”
Luke held up a six-pack. “I brought beer. I thought we could go out on the boat.”
“Cool,” said Josh.
“Not you,” Matt said. “Can we do this later?” he asked Luke.
Luke grinned. “If you don’t mind warm beer.”
Despite his brother’s cocky smile, his voice was strained. Luke never had been any damn good at asking for help. Tromping across the yard, six-pack in hand, was as close as he could come to a distress call.
Tension knotted Matt’s neck.
“I’ll get my keys.” He cocked a finger at Josh. “You stay here. TV stays off.”
“So what do I do while you’re gone?” Josh asked, aggrieved.
“Find that permission slip I’m supposed to sign.” Picking up the paperback, Matt tossed it to his son. “And catch up on your reading.”
THE NIGHT BREEZE ruffled the silver bay as the old Sea Lady rocked at anchor. Water lapped the side of the boat.
Luke tipped his head back against the seat. The moonlight bleached his fair hair, emphasizing the bones of his skull and the shadows under his eyes. His face, pale and skeletal, motionless under the moon, dug at Matt’s chest like a hook biting hard.
Luke had lost a lot of weight in Afghanistan. He looked gaunt. Older.
Shit.
Matt popped open another beer and stared at the sky until the burning in his eyes went away.
That haze around the moon meant dust in the air. A high pressure system. That should keep the clouds away.
“Another clear day tomorrow,” Luke said.
Matt glanced at his brother, surprised by the echo of his own thoughts.
But despite their differences in age and temperament, they were brothers, bound by blood and memory, by a thousand inside jokes and shared experiences. You couldn’t escape family.
How many nights had they gone out together with their father, grandfather, and watched the moon?
Matt set down his be
er, untasted. “You didn’t drag me out here your last night home to talk about the weather.”
“No.”
Matt waited. He wasn’t comfortable putting his emotions into words. But at least he had some experience dealing with feelings, some practice at being a parent. Luke didn’t.
The silence stretched.
“You get the kid settled down all right?” Matt asked at last.
“I said good night.” Luke’s tone was defensive. “She’s a little old for bedtime stories.”
Maybe so. Matt couldn’t remember at what age he’d stopped reading to Josh. But he remembered the wriggly warm weight against his arm, the tousled head against his shoulder.
Luke had missed all that with his daughter.
Why? Why hadn’t Dawn told him about the child they’d supposedly made together? Sure, they broke up in high school, but why hadn’t she come after Luke for child support? The Simpsons had never had any money.
“We had to move her,” Luke said abruptly. “Mom needed the room for some guests coming in late tonight. She made up a bed for Taylor in the old sewing room.” The small room at the top of the stairs off the kitchen. “The kid looked at me like I was making her sleep in the crawl space.”
“You could have given up your room,” Matt said.
Luke shook his head. “The sewing room is right above Mom and Dad. I didn’t want to leave her alone in a guest room next to a bunch of strangers.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing anyway?” Matt asked quietly. “In her eyes, we’re strangers, too.”
Luke’s jaw set in a mulish expression Matt recognized. “We’re her family.”
Matt held his brother’s gaze. “You sure about that?”
Luke expelled his breath. “I had a paternity test done first thing. There’s a place in Texas that’ll get the results back in twenty-four hours if you pay them enough.”
“What did you do?” Matt asked dryly. “Hold her down and draw blood?”
“I didn’t have to. Dawn’s lawyer made sure I was appointed Taylor’s interim guardian until the court determines final custody. That gives me the right to take her to a doctor on base.”
“Jesus. No wonder she’s hostile.”
“Hey, I didn’t tell her why,” Luke said. “I picked her up, told her she needed a physical before school started. Which she does. Anyway, while he was at it, the doctor did a…” Luke waggled his finger next to his cheek.
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