by V. K. Sykes
He almost choked on a sip of coffee, unable to speak for a few moments. “There really are no secrets on this little rock, are there?”
“Not many, and not for long. You should know that.”
This was not good. “Lily, Roy would like his involvement to stay on the down-low, for obvious reasons.”
She gave him a grim nod. “I’m not a snitch, so it’s not going to come from me. Miss Annie will find out though, and she’ll be right pissed.”
Aiden figured she was probably right. “I like the old guy, and I don’t want him to get into too much hot water for helping Bram and me. Are you pissed at him too?”
She cocked her head, as if studying him. He hadn’t a clue what she was thinking, but there now seemed to be a trace of amusement in her eyes.
“Me? Pissed at Roy because he’s working on your engine? Oh, no, not at all, Aiden. Not at all.”
As she turned and left him standing there, Aiden got the feeling he was in over his head when it came to both Lily Doyle and to understanding what the hell was going on in damn Seashell Bay.
Chapter 8
His bare feet up on the weather-beaten railing of Bram’s deck, Aiden sipped coffee and gazed out at the placid, midmorning blue of the Atlantic. It promised to be a hot, steamy day, though hardly by Florida, Texas, or even Philadelphia standards. For coastal Maine, though, it would be a scorcher.
The Blueberry Festival organizers would be plenty happy with the weather. When Aiden lived in Seashell Bay, everybody—and especially the kids—had looked forward to festival weekend, and he doubted it was any different now. Who didn’t love games, races, lemonade, candy floss, and enough sugary baked goods to guarantee a stomachache? He still remembered his mom’s famous blueberry pies usually selling out by the time the dew was off the grass.
Even as a surly teenager, Aiden had loved the festival, welcoming the escape from the usual, hellish days on his dad’s boat.
He was looking forward to the festival today too, for one obvious reason—seeing Lily again. Most of the morning he’d been thinking about her and the little… well, fight they’d had last night. He regretted that he’d brought it on and that he’d snapped at her. It was no mystery why he’d done it though. The more he pondered the choice between selling and holding on to his inherited land, the more he realized that the consequences of his decision would spread far beyond his own family. Though he hadn’t needed Lily to remind him of that, he shouldn’t have let her get to him either.
As easy as it would have been to sit on the deck all day, it was time to head down to the festival. Besides, better to keep busy than hang out here all day, waiting for his agent to call with some news. Or spend another day fighting with Bram.
When he went back into the cottage, he rinsed out his cup and then took a glance into Bram’s bedroom. His brother was still snoring, dead to the world after spending half the night drinking with a couple of buddies from the mainland. Aiden shoved his feet in his sneakers and headed out, striding quickly up the long lane to Island Road. Ten minutes later, he turned up Bay Street, and at the top of the gentle hill, he stopped for a moment and gazed straight across the channel to the nearby islands and the mainland shore far in the distance.
Aiden sucked in some deep, calming breaths, allowing the serenity of the view to seep into him. He had to admit that there was beauty here in Seashell Bay—serene and close to timeless in its unchanging tranquility. While most of the houses he’d passed on the way up the hill reflected the island’s bare-bones economy, they were almost all maintained with close attention and loving care, the paint kept fresh and the gardens flourishing. Just ahead on his left, he could see the elementary school and library, which probably still housed the computers his mom had suggested he donate several years ago.
He chuckled as he passed Gracie Poole’s property. The clapboard house hadn’t changed much since he left. The heavily treed yard, on the other hand, was an even bigger mishmash of lobster fishing gear and any other paraphernalia that struck the fancy of Gracie and her husband, Seth. Dozens of buoys in every conceivable color pattern hung suspended from tree branches on fishing line or pot warp. Dories, oars, nets, wooden and mesh traps, and even a couple of old outboards had been set up in rough and ready displays. All kinds of weird items like matchbox cars, beach pails, and both rubber and wooden ducks were set up on stumps and stands, adding even more color to the wild and relentlessly cheery tableau. Aiden couldn’t help thinking about how the neighbors in his Philly suburb would react to a yard like Gracie’s.
As he approached the landing, he spotted Lily’s red Jeep near the little seasonal store that sold a few basic groceries and a lot of beer. Aiden had already resolved that the first thing he would do when he saw her was apologize for his testy response last night. Nothing about the situation with the Flynn land was her fault, and she had every right to be concerned about his take on it. Yeah, she could have stifled that cutting remark about ducking responsibility, but Lily had never been one to pull her punches, not even as a teenager. That fiery, honest quality had drawn him to her back then, and damned if it didn’t have just as powerful a pull on him now.
Oh, yeah, and her killer body too.
Finding a sliver of temporary shelter from the sun at the side of the Rec Center, Lily whipped off her sun visor and dabbed at her forehead with the handkerchief she’d borrowed from her dad. She thought briefly about heading back to the SDC’s little tent to get out of the sun for a few minutes, but she could see it was still jammed. Jack Gallant and Miss Annie had been holding court there since early morning, and those two, along with close to a dozen volunteers, had been handing out the flyers and telling folks in stark terms what a car ferry would mean to Seashell Bay.
The younger volunteers, like Lily and Morgan, had taken the tougher assignments. Since eight o’clock, they’d been approaching people in the parking lot, at the food tents, and inside the Rec Center where artisans from both the island and mainland had set up booths to hawk their crafts and wares. She was pleased with the results so far, because the majority of people seemed to hold the car ferry proposal in about as much esteem as Congress. The battle, however, was far from won. The ferry’s supporters might seem to be in the minority today, but that didn’t mean there weren’t lots of folks who would quietly vote in favor when the time came.
And predictably, the SDC wasn’t the only organization hitting on the townsfolk today. Bay Island Properties had produced a glossy folded leaflet that Selectman Albie Emory, along with Boyd Spinney, a long-time crony of Sean Flynn’s, were handing out under a professionally designed banner that read, A SEASHELL BAY CAR FERRY—IT’S TIME.
How creative.
Time for what, Lily wondered? Time for developers to make a ton of money by messing up her island home? Not as long as I’m still breathing salt air.
The crowd down front was swelling as each hour passed. At least a couple of hundred people were now crammed into the space between the ferry dock and the row of low buildings on the other side of the parking lot. The laughter and screams of kids jumping and rolling around in the bounce castle filled the air, punctuated by the occasional startled yell from the dunk tank as one of the festival volunteers splashed down into the cold water.
“Hey, you look like somebody who could use a drink. A peace offering too, after the way I bit your head off at the meeting last night.”
Lily had been so focused on the busy scene in front of her that she hadn’t noticed Aiden’s approach from the side. With a crooked, charming smile that still had the power to make her heart flutter, he thrust an open bottle of water into her hand.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said.
“Thank you for both the apology and the water, but a cold beer would go down even better right about now,” Lily joked.
She took a long swig from the chilled bottle. Knowing that Aiden had just drunk from it too made the exchange seem strangely intimate. It had been a very long time since they’d shared a drink like
that.
“A beer could definitely be arranged, but I’m guessing you have other plans for your afternoon.” He nodded toward the flyers in her hand.
God, he looked good, casually dressed in a faded, close-fitting T-shirt that lovingly outlined his hard chest and baggy cargo shorts that couldn’t hide his muscled legs. She felt a little light-headed just looking at him, and she knew it wasn’t from being out in the heat.
She sighed, letting go of the enticing image of sharing a beer with Aiden on a secluded beach. “I’m afraid so.” She had several more hours to spend preaching the cause, not to mention a turn in the damn dunk tank.
“I really like your shirt,” Aiden said, his gaze sliding down to her chest. “It’s pretty funny.”
Given the heat in his eyes, she wasn’t sure whether he was staring at the cartoon on her shirt or at what was underneath the thin fabric. Thank God she was wearing a slightly padded bra in preparation for the dunk tank, since she could already feel her body instinctively reacting to him.
She’d been getting laughs and compliments all morning on the shirt that she’d bought online to be a conversation starter at the festival. On a basic white background, the designer had overlaid a rough drawing of someone’s hand pulling a smiling lobster out of a holding tank. The lobster was saying to his two buddies still crawling along the bottom, “Did you hear that, guys? I’m going to a party in a hot tub!”
“I thought it might make people laugh before I pummel them into voting down the car ferry,” Lily said.
His gaze narrowed thoughtfully, telling Lily that something was weighing on him. She knew that expression from the years she’d spent mooning over his handsome face, and it was yet another way that Aiden Flynn hadn’t changed.
She handed him back the bottle. “Okay, tell me what’s on your mind.”
“You always know when something’s bothering me, don’t you? Well, it’s no big deal. I just hate sitting around waiting for my agent to call.” He let out a ghost of a laugh. “Not much patience, huh?”
Lily’s heart ached for him. Baseball had always been his dream, and he sure didn’t sound ready for it to be over. “I’m really sorry, Aiden,” she said, investing it with all the feeling she could. “I hope something works out for you soon.”
But not too soon, she thought guiltily.
He shrugged. “Baseball can be a tough business. Kind of like lobster fishing in that way, right?”
Lily would never have made the comparison, but she saw his point. Still, as a fisherman, she worked only for herself and controlled her own destiny—or at least as much as the lobster stock and the elements would allow. Aiden, on the other hand, could be moved around by his bosses like a piece on a game board. A well-paid piece, to be sure, but could money truly compensate for the kind of freedom she felt on the deck of Miss Annie?
Taking in his brooding expression, Lily tried to lighten things up. “Maybe, but I bet you don’t smell as bad as I do after a day at work.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Aiden said. “Between a postgame locker room and a lobster boat after a day at sea, I’d say it’s a toss-up.”
They both laughed, and just like that the tension between them broke.
“So, have you checked out the blueberry pies and the other baked goods?” She remembered how much he’d loved that part of the festival. As a tall, gangly teenager, he’d been able to inhale awesome amounts of food and never put on an ounce of fat. “If not, you’d better get over there before everything’s gone.”
Aiden ran a hand over his awesomely flat stomach. “I’d better steer clear. Nobody’s going to want to pick up an old, fat ballplayer.”
She had to stifle a laugh at his serious expression. Aiden Flynn was six feet four inches of lean, toned muscle, with about as much fat on his entire body as there was on one of her thighs.
When Aiden gave the water bottle back to her, their hands fleetingly touched, and her heartbeat picked up several notches.
Suddenly, applause broke out behind her, and almost as one, the crowd started to push in that direction. She turned and stood on her tiptoes to see above the heads blocking her view. Twenty feet away, Lily glimpsed Miss Annie and Gracie Poole in front of the car ferry supporters’ tent. Her granny was stabbing her finger at a heavyset man wearing a white shirt and tie. “Aiden, I need to see what’s going on over there.”
“Right behind you,” Aiden said.
Lily pushed her way between bodies until she was standing just beside her grandmother. Behind her, Aiden was using his elbows to clear some space for both of them.
“Why can’t you just build your resort, Dunnagan?” Miss Annie said at close to full volume, her red face a startling contrast to her white hair. “We can live with that. We just don’t need a big, stupid subdivision too, and we sure don’t want your car ferry.”
“You tell him, Miss Annie!” somebody behind Lily yelled.
“So that’s Kevin Dunnagan,” Aiden said in Lily’s ear.
“Head honcho of Bay Island Properties,” Lily said, though she’d never met him. “The jackass.”
Dunnagan wiped his sweaty brow with a white handkerchief. “Look, ma’am, our plan for Seashell Bay can’t just be broken up into pieces. It’s a unified, well-planned whole.”
“Hole is the right word for it,” Gracie said to laughter.
“This is the only way development can happen,” Dunnagan said, obviously frustrated. “All three pieces work together—the housing estates, the resort, and the car ferry, all very carefully planned to enhance the island. You folks will love it if you just give us a chance. Trust me, it’ll be great.”
Much of the crowd started to boo loudly.
“Great for you, you mean,” Lily said over the din. “Sure as hell not for us.”
Miss Annie looked at her and grinned. Behind her, Aiden squeezed her shoulder. She wasn’t quite sure what that signified. Was he being protective, concerned for her in the crush of the crowd, or warning her to back down?
“You’re wrong, miss,” Dunnagan said, shaking his head. “The economic benefits to Seashell Bay will be huge. Think about all the construction jobs—not just the resort but hundreds of single-family homes. There are a lot of people here who could use the work, especially during the months when there’s no fishing, right? We’re talking upwards of a hundred jobs at the peak of construction, and plenty more when the resort opens. And when new businesses start up—and they will—that’ll bring more jobs too.”
“Sounds pretty damn good to me,” someone shouted. Lily didn’t recognize the voice.
When the crowd started to murmur, Lily’s stomach tightened.
“Most of those are just temporary jobs,” Miss Annie scoffed. “But the damage to the island will be permanent.”
“What damage?” Dunnagan said calmly. “More jobs, more businesses, more stores—that doesn’t sound much like damage to me.”
“Spoken like a man who only cares about money,” Miss Annie shot back.
“He’s got a point though, Miss Annie,” Carol Peabody said. “My boy can’t work on a fishing boat, so work’s hard to come by around here.”
Lily had sympathy for her twenty-year-old son, Terence. Too scrawny to haul lobster traps, he’d been mostly unemployed since he graduated high school. But turning Seashell Bay upside down wasn’t the answer.
“We’re going to stop you from ruining this island, Dunnagan,” Miss Annie vowed. “Just you watch us.”
Dunnagan heaved a big sigh. “Then you’ll have to win the car ferry vote. And if you do, the whole deal is off.”
Miss Annie turned her back to him and pulled herself up onto her tiptoes, looking out at the crowd of at least fifty people behind her. “Why don’t we tell Mr. Dunnagan what we think right now? If you don’t want the car ferry, let’s hear you say no!”
Loud shouts of “No!” resounded from the crowd. Lily figured maybe two-thirds of the people had joined in, but it was hard to tell. And many were shaking their heads
.
Miss Annie swiveled to face Dunnagan again. “There’s your answer.”
“The only answer we care about is what happens on voting day,” Dunnagan said. “We’ll be working real hard to convince people right up to the moment they mark their ballots.”
“So will we,” Lily said in a loud voice.
“You tell him, granddaughter,” Miss Annie said proudly. “All right, folks. I think we’ve made our point. Let’s go have some fun.”
The tension quickly bled away as the crowd around them thinned. Dunnagan started talking to Albie and a few of their supporters, and several shook his hand.
Lily turned around, straight into Aiden’s muscular chest. “Let’s get out of here, okay?” she said, feeling breathless.
“Sure.” Again, Aiden used his size to good effect, guiding her through the crowd to a patch of shade.
“That was… interesting,” he said.
Lily gave him a grim smile. “I suppose it was inevitable. We really shouldn’t be politicking and fighting at the Blueberry Festival, but this is so important…” She ended with a shrug.
“I get it,” Aiden said. “But let’s talk about something else, okay?”
Lily nodded.
“That bounce castle looks like fun,” he said with a grin. We never had that here when I was a kid. Maybe we should try it out.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her in a comic leer, clearly intending to make her laugh. Unfortunately, she found the idea of rolling around with him on fluffy, bouncy cushions, getting all hot and bothered, an all too-enticing idea.
She nudged him into moving as she saw Morgan, soaking wet, climb out of the dunk tank. “The bounce castle? I guess you’re still a kid at heart, aren’t you?”
He fell into step beside her. “I play a game for a living, don’t I? Some people say ballplayers never grow up.”
Despite their differences and all the years apart, Aiden was still easy to talk to, and they were quickly falling back into old patterns, alternating between the serious and the light-hearted. “You seem pretty grown up to me, Aiden.”