by Cindy Miles
Back home she jumped in the shower, shaved her legs and applied her favorite warm vanilla sugar lotion, then chose a vintage sleeveless floral sundress that buttoned all the way down the front and came to just above her knees. With her hair finally dry, she pulled it back into a messy bun, dabbed on some lip gloss, slipped on a pair of white sandals and headed to the festival.
As she parked the Jeep in the lot of the café, she immediately noticed it was empty. Which meant Matt had either not returned, or had parked elsewhere. Deciding to take a stroll down the boardwalk, she made her way around the side of the Windchimer and started walking.
The beachfront was packed. She walked along, taking in the sights, the scents, and from the pier the music from a local jazz band wafted over the warm air. A smile played across her face as she encountered strangers who’d shown up to enjoy the festivities, and in truth, she didn’t even realize she was doing it.
“Well, now, if this ain’t the prettiest sight I’ve seen all day,” a voice said from behind.
When Emily turned, Eric Malone, in his Coast Guard uniform, strolled up beside her. With him, another rescue swimmer. He looked about the same age as Emily, maybe a little older. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sun-baked brown hair, shorn close to his head. Handsome.
“Hey, Eric,” Emily said. She grinned at his friend and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Emily.”
The guy broke into a crooked, cocky smile. “Is that so?” He shook her hand, and it was large, warm and rough. “I’m Jake.” With her hand still in his, he eyed Eric. “Been keeping this one to yourself, Malone?”
They dropped hands and Emily gave Eric a punch in the arm. “Gosh, you look handsome in your Coast Guard uniform.” She inclined her head. “We’re old friends. Neighbors,” she explained. “I’ve just moved back to Cassabaw.”
“Yep, she’s reopening the Windchimer,” Eric stated, and winked at Emily. “Matt’s doing the remodeling.”
“Well, if that isn’t the best news I’ve heard all day.” Jake smiled broader, and his eyes softened as they locked onto hers. “Welcome back to Cassabaw.”
Emily gave him a broad smile. “Thanks,” she said, and cocked her head. “I really like the color of your hair. It looks like wheat.”
Jake blinked, then his grin widened so much his teeth showed. “Wheat, huh?”
She gave an affirmative nod. “Definitely wheat.”
* * *
HURRYING PAST THE many vendors lining the boardwalk as people darted in and out of the shops, Emily made her way to Jep and Owen, who sat perched in the sand in a pair of folding chairs. Both turned in their seats when she approached.
“Well, it’s about dang time,” Jep muttered grumpily. He wore a Coast Guard cap on his head and a pair of dark sunglasses hid his green eyes. “Where you been, missy?”
“Hey, Emily,” Owen said gently. “Don’t mind him. He’s just mad because he hasn’t had at least two of Hendrik’s hot dogs yet.”
Emily stretched her eyes. “Are those the best things or what?” she said to Jep.
A faint smile pulled at his mouth. “A girl after my own heart.” He looked skyward. “Just now getting the kites goin’.”
Emily looked in the direction he stared, and sure enough, the beginning of the first kites appeared overhead. Up and down the stretch of beach, every color and shape and size of kite filled the air. Soon no less than a hundred flew.
“Now, that’s a damn sight, ain’t it?” Jep said. “Why, I used to run up and down this very beach, back before all this fancy stuff was here.” He waved his hand toward the pier. “With a homemade kite my da made me from an old linen apron. That thing would soar, I tell ya.” He sipped something from a white Styrofoam cup.
“That sounds like enormous fun,” Emily offered. “I bet you were a cute little thing, wearing knickers and suspenders, huh?”
“You bet your sweet patootie,” he chuckled.
Emily gave his cup a sly look. “Hey, whatcha drinking?”
Jep grinned at her. “Cola.”
She smiled in return.
“So where is your middle son?” she asked Owen. “I haven’t seen him since this morning.”
“He’ll be along directly,” Owen said. “We left him and his brother working on Matt’s Nova. He’s good at it—restoration.” Owen sighed. “Sure wish he’d find himself, that middle boy of mine.”
“You and me both, son,” Jep added.
Emily watched the kites for a while with Jep and Owen, then excused herself when her stomach started rumbling. Ever since she’d passed that funnel cake vendor, she’d been craving one of the deep-fried, rolled-in-powdered-sugar concoctions. She bought one, and strolled along the boardwalk as she ate, enjoying the music and the sugar rush.
“Hey.”
She turned, and Matt was suddenly there. Her stomach plummeted at the sight of him. Dressed in a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a pair of well-worn jeans, he was beyond handsome. Towering over her, his gaze moved from the funnel cake to her nose. “Hey!” she returned. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“You’ve got sugar on your nose,” he said, his gaze lifting to hers. “Seems to be a common thing with you.”
She shrugged and took another bite. Pretended his curious stare didn’t make her tremble inside. “Well, don’t try and wipe it off now. I’ll just get more on it before I’m finished here.” She chewed, and her eyes rolled.
“Good?” he asked, then surprised her and grasped her arm gently, tugging her off the boardwalk and onto the sand.
“It is like—” she thought for a moment “—a gooey, fried, sugary, gilded coaster of pure...rapture.” She knew he found her choices of adjectives beguiling. “How was that?”
He thought a moment. “Eccentrically mesmerizing as always,” he answered. She detected the slightest bit of humor in his voice. “Besides that ball of sugar, did you eat yet?”
“I haven’t,” Emily responded, and held up the waxed wrapper filled with the remaining funnel cake. “Want some?”
He stared down at her, one brow quirked up. “You’ve licked all the sugar off one side of it.”
Emily shrugged and took another bite. “Such a baby,” she joked. “What’d you have in mind?”
Matt nodded down the boardwalk a ways. “BBQ shrimp and hush puppies.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Oh, that sounds fabulous. I’m starved.”
“I’m not surprised.” Without looking at her, and without saying a word, Matt held out his proffered arm and inclined his head in the direction of the shrimp vendor. Emily smiled and slipped her hand through and grasped his bicep.
“You look...nice,” he muttered as they walked. When he looked down at her, she saw his green eyes light on hers, linger, spark.
As they dodged the oncoming tourists as they walked, Emily glanced up. “Why, Matt Malone,” she teased. Inside, she beamed. “Thank you. You’re just full of sunshine and unicorns today, aren’t you?”
He just shook his head and fought a smile. Emily saw it. And she found it extremely endearing.
The local band kicked back up on the end of the pier, and Emily hummed along with the music. As they walked, the kites littered the cobalt blue sky above, and high tide came in and crept over the sand like long fingers, farther and farther toward the dunes and sea oats. Dragonflies darted in swarms by the dozens.
Emily pointed to a cluster of them. “Isn’t it lovely how the sun dashes through their wings like stained glass in a church?” She sighed. “I adore dragonflies. They’re so magical.” She waved her fingers in the air. “Like I can imagine fierce little warrior fairy knights riding on their backs and fighting, I don’t know...the evil Raven King who’s come to take over their kingdom in the dunes. That’s why they’re all over the place. A battle ensues.”
Matt laughed softly—a husky sound familiar and foreign at once to Emily’s ears. “You should write some of that stuff down,” he said, and turned his gaze on her again. It
wasn’t a casual glance; it was a downright sexy stare. “Kids would probably love it.”
She cocked her head up. “I think you love it, Matt Malone. You used to beg me to make stories up and tell them to you on the end of the dock while we crabbed. For hours. Remember?”
* * *
MATT CUT HIS eyes at the girl hanging on to his arm. She continually used his first and last name, and was currently singing to the Four Seasons—off-key—and reminiscing about their innocent childhood days. “Yeah, I remember,” he confessed. And he did, too. Like it was yesterday, although he’d never admit that part. Emily was filled to the gills with endless, crazy stories that she’d make up on a whim.
It’d always fascinated him that she could come up with so much layering, to where it all made sense and wrapped up neatly in the end without having to think about it. By the time she finished you’d think it had truly happened. He stared down at her as they walked and even now, as a grown woman, Emily Quinn retained that innocent childhood magic.
He found he liked it. A lot. Actually, a hell of a lot.
And that scared him.
Owen, Jep and Nathan had met up with them at the hush puppy stand and they’d all eaten together. It amazed him how well Emily fit in with his family. Everyone liked her—especially Jep. And since Jep was opinionated, he didn’t always click with everyone. But no matter what sort of craziness Jep threw at her, Emily rolled with it. Good quality to have, to his way of thinking.
He’d keep that to himself, too.
As the afternoon waned, the crowd began to thin out. They’d walked to the pier because Emily had promised Ted Harden a dance, and sure enough, the moment they appeared, Ted pushed from his chair and grabbed Emily’s hand, limping and pulling her to the makeshift dance floor in front of the band.
“’Bout time you got here, girl,” he grumbled in his loud, boisterous manner. “It’s almost my bedtime!” He swung her around as though he were a twenty-year-old and called over his shoulder to the band, “Can you boys play some of the good stuff? How ’bout ‘Let’s Misbehave’?”
Emily laughed, the band started up and apparently they did know “Let’s Misbehave,” because Ted gave an approving nod and he and Emily began to dance. Slow, as Ted had a bum knee, but still managed.
It was another old tune, and it almost felt like the thirties out there on the pier, with the big band orchestra music and the Chinese lanterns hanging from the posts. It amazed him that the guys in the band, who were probably all in their thirties, knew the old stuff. Impressive.
Emily knew the songs, too. She danced with every one of the vets, slowing her pace to match their older ones, and sang along to the songs that had words, as well. Even old Jep made his way to the dance floor and drew a cheering crowd and wowed everyone by doing the Charleston. And the only reason Matt knew it was that particular dance was because Jep loved it. Always had. Jep had taught it to Matt and his brothers, long ago, as well as Emily.
As Matt stood back, leaning against the pier’s railing and watching Emily dance and sing, he was caught off guard when Eric and one of his coworkers made their way toward them.
“Hey, bro,” Eric said, and clapped Matt on the back. “You remember Jake?”
“Yep,” Matt said, realizing who he was. He held his gaze, shook his hand in a firm grip. Same age as Matt, but not an islander. He’d come to Cassabaw a few years ago. Matt had met him once while on leave.
Eric turned, his gaze on the spectacle of Emily and Jep. “Wow. She’s something, huh? Look at her go!” When Matt didn’t answer, his younger brother looked at him, his ridiculous face twisted in a grin. “You’re not gonna dance with her?”
Matt’s eyes stayed on Emily, the way her feet glided and her slender body moved to the music, keeping up with each turn and twirl guided by a man and a melody generations older. She could almost pass for a girl of the forties, with her flowery dress and sandals. Since when did he find such outdated and retro type of dress so appealing?
Since Emily.
He didn’t think anyone else could pull it off like she did. Probably because it was way more than just a dress. Or a hat. Or a pair of shoes. It was the unique woman who filled them. Everything came so easily for Emily, he thought. Including dancing.
Matt shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t dance.”
“Well, I do,” Jake said, and pushed his way toward Emily.
Matt’s gaze remained on the rescue swimmer as Emily turned when Jake cut in, smiled and took over the dance. A slower modern tune picked up and Jep, mouthing a particular favorite Irish swear and pouting, flopped down on a bench next to Matt.
“Did you see that?” Jep complained.
“See what?” Matt asked. He watched Jake’s hand slip to Emily’s lower back. The man leaned in and whispered something. Matt watched Emily toss her head and laugh.
“Ha! You know exactly what, boy.” Jep slapped Matt’s thigh. “I can see you seething, son. See it in your eyes.” He chuckled. “Pure Irish fire.”
“Hey,” Eric said, leaning beside Matt. “You had your chance, old boy.”
“Had a chance at what?” Nathan said as he joined them. The wind had blown his hair out of the ponytail he wore and it was sticking up all over. He was eating a funnel cake.
Jep nodded. “Jake swiped Emily right out from under Matt’s nose.”
“She’s already danced with every soldier over the age of eight-five, plus Jep,” Eric offered. He flicked something from his shirt. “Matt said he don’t dance. Jake took off.”
Nathan whistled low. “Man, that was the dumbest thing you’ve done in a while.”
Matt watched Jake bend his head close to Emily’s ear, and Emily pulled back and gave him a wide grin.
He’d had enough. Shoving Eric, who did nothing but laugh, Matt took a deep breath and made his way to the dance area at the end of the pier. Taller and broader than Jake, he stepped up and placed his hand on Emily’s shoulder.
“Hi, Matt,” Emily said, looking up at him and slightly out of breath. Her strangely shaped eyes gleamed. “Are you here to cut in?”
Jake sort of just looked at Matt.
“Yep.” Matt grasped Emily by the arm and pulled her away.
“Bye, Jake!” Emily called back. “Thanks for the dance!”
A rousing cheer erupted, not just from Ted, Wimpy and the World War II gang, but from the Malones, as well. Matt scowled at his ridiculous brothers, as well as Jep and his dad as he and Emily passed by. She almost had to run to keep up with Matt’s long strides.
“Hey, where are we going?” Emily finally asked.
They made it to the end of the pier and Matt stepped off, Emily right behind him. “I don’t know.”
In the sand, Emily rounded on him. Her cheeks were flushed; her eyes were bright and flashing. And the corner of her mouth tilted upward. She poked his chest with her finger. “You’re angry.”
Matt couldn’t hide it. But he wouldn’t confess it, either. So he kept his mouth shut. Glowered.
Emily’s hazel eyes narrowed in a mock frown. “Why are you angry? Exactly.”
“We’ve...got work to do,” he stammered, and pulled his truck keys from his pocket. He knew it was lame. He didn’t care. “A hell of a lot of it. Early. In the morning.”
A slow smile stretched Emily’s mouth as those eyes, so perceptive and striking, bored a hole in his. “Oh, yes. We sure do, don’t we?” She tapped her temple with a finger. “Wow. Boy. It’s a good thing you’re so on top of our time schedule.” She quirked her lips. “Know why?”
Matt had a hard time feeling grumpy now, despite how much fun she seemed to be having while dancing with that idiot Jake. “No.”
Fast as lightning, Emily grabbed his keys and darted off. “Because if you want your keys back you’ll race me to the top of the lighthouse!” She laughed and ran fast over the sand and back up onto the boardwalk, dodging people and the few remaining vendors. “Last one to the top’s a rotten egg! Mattins
ki!”
“Dammit, Emily!” Matt hollered.
She kept on running. Farther away. With his keys.
“You go. Chase.”
Matt turned to find Hendrik standing on the boardwalk. He waved his hand and jutted his chin toward the lighthouse. “She is fast. You hurry.”
With a growl, Matt took off after Emily Shay Quinn. He watched her lithe body seemingly glide as she made her way to the lighthouse. How could something so childish be so innocent and alluring at the same time?
Never had the simplest gestures been so enticing to him.
Until Emily.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EMILY’S LEGS PUMPED and she laughed as she tore up the boardwalk, until the stores and restaurants ended and the path turned to sand. She glanced over her shoulder once; Matt was running toward her, and she couldn’t tell if he was frowning or not. She didn’t care. He’d get over it.
This was fun. And she was going to make him remember fun if it killed her.
Soon the keeper’s cottage fell into view, and Emily leaped off the path and ran faster. The lighthouse stayed open until 10:00 p.m. each night—she’d asked Jep, who’d confirmed—so once she hit the shelled path leading to the entrance, she chanced another look over her shoulder. Matt had gained a lot of ground—he was right behind her.
A family of four was just leaving the lighthouse as Emily ran up, and it was a good thing, too, because she barely slowed down. The man held the door open for her.
“Thanks!” Emily called over her shoulder, and started up the 178 steps to the top. She didn’t look back this time; didn’t need to. She heard Matt right behind her as he opened the lighthouse entrance.
“You’ve gotten slower!” Emily yelled as she climbed.
Matt said nothing; but his footfall against the metal spiral staircase sounded closer. She peeked down as she ran. Inside, the dim lighting cast shadows and the musty smell of age and sea salt clung to the walls, but Matt’s massive form moved closer and closer, definable even in the shadows and low light.