by V. K. Sykes
Aiden turned away again, throttling back the impulse to give his dad a hard shove. “This discussion is over for now. I’m going down to the dance.”
“Yeah, sure, so you can sniff around Lily Doyle some more?” his father called out, as Aiden headed off. “I’d be real careful if I were you. Sure, she’s a nice piece of ass, but don’t you ever forget she’s a Doyle and you’re a Flynn.”
Aiden spun around in the drive so hard he kicked up gravel. “Like I said before, I am a Flynn, but I’ve never been like you and I never will be. So deal with it. Let me tell you something else, Dad—I can’t wait to get the hell off this island and never hear another word about your sick, dumbass feud.” He stabbed a finger in his father’s direction. “And if you ever slag Lily that way again, you might be on the receiving end of a fist for once.”
When he was a kid, anything close to what he’d just said would have earned him a smack in the face or a punch to the back of the head. Now he just heard a few mumbled curses that rolled off his back as he walked away, but it was still hard work keeping his father out of his head. Because despite their nasty little argument, Aiden still worried about him, especially because there was a very good chance that Sean would finish the half bottle of scotch on the kitchen counter. His dad could never say no to a drink.
Or a whole bottle.
He turned back to the house with a sigh. “Dad, you’re already half drunk or worse. Stick around here and have some coffee, okay? Don’t try to drive home like this.”
Sean waved Aiden off. “What I do is none of your goddamn business.”
Aiden shrugged, knowing how useless it was. “Okay, well, see you later.”
But he only made it to the edge of the deck before the door creaked open and Bram clumped out. “Jesus, man, your agent’s on the phone. Damn thing woke me up, but I’m going back to sleep so switch it to vibrate, okay?” Not exactly a pretty picture in his soiled T-shirt and sweat shorts, his brother shoved the phone into Aiden’s outstretched hand and went right back inside.
Aiden’s heart rate doubled in a nanosecond. “Dude,” he said into the phone, trying not to sound too excited.
“Aiden, did I get you at a bad time?” Paul Johnson’s words came out low and flat.
Shit. After almost ten years of working together, he knew every tone and nuance in his agent’s voice. Paul definitely wasn’t calling with happy news.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” He forced himself to take a deep breath.
“No, I’m afraid the Orioles and Royals both passed. They’re going to promote some guys to fill their gaps. I’m sorry, man. I really pushed hard for you.”
Bringing up a youngster from the minor leagues was a cheap move that teams often used to cope with injuries to their regulars. Aiden didn’t like it, but it didn’t surprise him either.
“I know you did,” he said, grateful as always for Paul’s dedication. “But somebody’s eventually got to need a veteran for the stretch run. There’s still time, right?”
His career couldn’t be over. Not yet—not when it seemed like yesterday that he’d played his first game in pro ball. How could he be done already when he still had fire in his gut and a lot of baseball left in him?
Paul’s sigh echoed over the line. “Buddy, I hate like hell to have to say this again, but remember what I told you about having a backup plan?”
Aiden shook his head, as if his agent could see him. “Come on, Paul, are you really telling me that absolutely nobody’s going to sign me?”
“Aw, hell, Aiden, I didn’t say that. But you don’t want me to start stringing you along, do you?”
“No,” Aiden said gloomily.
“Look, man, this sucks big time. But we can say that until I lose what’s left of my hair and it won’t change squat. I can’t get anybody interested right now, and the odds on that changing aren’t great. Not next week, not next month, and probably not even next season. Your numbers have been going down, and the GMs are just too leery of your health to take a risk.”
Paul always laid it out straight, which was one of the reasons Aiden had stayed with him over the years. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel like puking at his agent’s assessment. And unfortunately, Paul Johnson—one of the best in the business—was rarely wrong.
He found it impossible to hold back his bitterness and frustration. “You think I need a backup plan? Well, I guess my plan is to see if there’s a little junior college or high school in the Ozarks or some other place in the boonies that could use a baseball coach. What the hell else can I do?”
Paul didn’t answer immediately. Maybe he thought Aiden needed a moment to get his head on straight. He was probably right.
“There are still some options,” his agent finally said. “Not at the major-league level, but maybe I could get some team to add you to the roster for minor-league depth. Or if worse comes to worst, I could try to hook you up with one of the independent-league teams.”
Aiden’s gut twisted tighter. Every word felt like a rusty knife slicing through him.
“Or there’s always Japan,” Paul added.
Aiden sank back down into his deck chair, staring at the ocean and the rugged beach below. The serene view in the fading twilight seemed to mock him.
“Japan? Really?” he asked, incredulous.
“Look, I’m just saying it’s an option. Their Pacific League uses the DH position. It’d be an adjustment, sure, but if you had some success over there, it would probably make it easier to get the teams here interested again.”
Maybe, but it was a long shot. It was uncommon for an American player to return to the majors once he’d been relegated to playing in Japan. If he were on the way out, Aiden figured he’d rather get on with life instead of trying to prolong his career in humiliating fashion.
“Look, Aiden, you need some time to think. So kick back and try to enjoy your time up there, okay? When you’re ready, I’ll be here for you. Just like always.”
“Yeah, I know. Call me if anything changes.” Aiden stabbed the End Call button. His dad just looked at him, for once having the brains to keep his mouth shut.
Great. Just great. Stuck on this godforsaken island with no job and no prospects.
And a big-ass decision to make that would profoundly affect the life of every person on Seashell Bay Island.
Including his.
The band—four local guys and a young female vocalist from the mainland—were blasting out a steady beat of soft-rock classics that even the old-timers seemed to enjoy. But Lily couldn’t focus on either the music or the conversation at her table. She was too busy watching the front door of the crowded VFW Hall, her nerves crawling with a weird combination of anticipation and dread as she waited for Aiden to show up.
Lily and Morgan had arrived two hours ago and Holly a few minutes later. Morgan had claimed a table in a corner at the rear of the room, and soon Brett and Laura, along with their old friend Ryan Butler, home for a brief vacation, had joined them. Lily’s sister, Brie, had arrived soon after that, sitting with Lily instead of at a table with their parents, Miss Annie, Roy Mayo, and a few other oldsters. After the evening kicked off with speeches by members of the festival organizing committee, the boat race chairman had presented the trophies and prizes to the winners. Then the dancing and serious drinking had begun.
Lily had watched with regret as the skipper of Miss Fortune, a fisherman from Boothbay Harbor, collected the hardware she had won the previous two years. Along with the winner’s trophy came a hundred gallons of diesel fuel donated by the East Bay Lobster Company. While Lily didn’t much care about the trophy, her dwindling checking account would have seriously thanked her for the savings on fuel.
Her gaze once more drifted to the front of the hall. Had Aiden decided to skip the social after all? It was getting late, but she found it hard to believe he wouldn’t show up after his promise to meet her. Then again, he could have returned home to a truly nasty blowup with his father, since Sean mu
st have been spitting nails at both the loss of the race and the damage to Irish Lady’s engine. As she conjured up the worst-case scenario, she could even imagine that a disgusted Aiden might have jumped on a late ferry and left the island for good.
“Maybe he decided to give the social a miss after all,” Morgan whispered, clearly reading her thoughts. “He might be too embarrassed by what happened this afternoon.”
Lily wasn’t buying that theory. “He sure didn’t look embarrassed when we towed Irish Lady to O’Hanlon’s. But I’m a little worried that he might have gone home to some awful fight with his father.”
“Hey, what are you two whispering about over there?” Brett Clayton boomed out from the other side of the table in a slightly slurred voice. He gave Laura a little nudge with his elbow. “Lily’s been practically jumping out of her skin waiting for the baseball hero to show up.”
“Shut up, Brett,” Laura said, loud enough for the people at the neighboring tables to glance at her. “I hardly ever get a night away from the Pot, and I’m not going to have you go spoiling it. So watch your motoring mouth or I’ll be cutting you off.” She invested that warning with a meaningful glare. Brett gave Laura a sheepish look and retreated into sullen silence.
“I’m looking forward to seeing Aiden again,” Ryan Butler said from beside Brett. “It’s been a hell of a long time.” Ryan, a Seashell Bay local who’d joined the military right out of high school, had arrived on the same boat as Brie yesterday for his annual visit to his folks.
“Me too,” Brie piped up. “He’s awesome cute, isn’t he, Lil?” Her annoying sister flashed her a mischievous grin.
Lily had told Brie absolutely nothing about Aiden, other than that he’d be racing against her today. Brie, though, had clearly wormed a lot more information out of one or more of Lily’s girlfriends.
Her beautiful baby sister, decked out as usual in her gorgeous designer clothes, almost always made Lily feel like the proverbial ugly duckling. Still, she figured she’d cleaned up pretty nicely for the social, and she actually felt halfway attractive. Her pale green polka-dot dress with its tight bodice and short, flirty skirt—bought at a discount store in Portland—had won her a few admiring glances from the men in the hall as she took to the floor for dances with several different guys. Without doubt, though, her sister Brianna had once again stolen the show, with her Boston salon haircut and her designer outfit. The cost of the sleek linen dress and Kate Spade sandals would have probably kept Lily in fuel and bait for two weeks.
Lily loved Brie to death, but she often wondered how they could have possibly come from the same gene pool. Finishing the remains of her beer, she stood, smoothing her skirt. “Time to powder my nose,” she joked to Morgan.
“Want me to come?” Her friend had obviously read her troubled look.
She managed a weak smile. “Thanks, but I actually just want a few minutes alone, okay? Maybe I’ll grab a little air.” She really had no need to use the rest room.
Morgan nodded and gave Lily’s hand a quick squeeze.
Avoiding the tables crowded around the room, Lily hugged the wall as she slid toward the double doors that opened into a foyer at the front of the building. The dance floor was rocking, and all the tables were full. If there were two things islanders loved, it was drinking and dancing, and the festival social was a grand occasion for both. The committee had decked out the hall with the usual blue-and-white streamers and balloons, and it had hung advertising posters from East Bay Lobster and a half-dozen other festival sponsors. The blueberry basket centerpieces on the table were a tradition too, but except for those rather meager decorations, the hall retained its usual no-frills atmosphere.
Just as Lily reached the doorway, Aiden strode into the foyer. They both stopped as if they’d run into glass walls. Aiden’s mouth had been set in a grim, hard line, but then it started to curve into something like a smile. Lily’s tense muscles started to relax when she saw his expression soften.
“Hey, you’re not leaving yet, are you?” he said, coming close. He towered over her, and his commanding height always gave her a bit of a pleasant shock.
And, boy howdy, did he ever look good in close-up.
Aiden wore a light blue cotton shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his tanned, powerful forearms. The top two buttons were open to reveal just a glimpse of hard, male chest, lightly dusted with black hair. His chinos showcased a lean waist and long athletic legs. The shirt and pants were clearly expensively tailored, but he also wore beat-up old Sperry Top-Siders, which saved him from looking just a little too perfect and a little too removed from island life.
He was totally, completely, hot.
Lily’s mouth went a little dry as she answered him. “Uh, no. I just needed a little break from all the noise.”
He glanced over her shoulder into the hall. “Or is it just a little too dull in there for a wild woman like you?” he teased.
“Actually, it’s fun,” she said after a brief hesitation. Though she’d been waiting for him all night, a sudden attack of nerves left her tongue-tied. But if she tried to put off telling him what she wanted from him any longer, she would probably go into full meltdown. “I guess the first thing you’ll want is to find out about our bet.”
He shook his head. “No, the first thing I want is a drink. It’s been a day, as they say around here.”
Ouch. Not just his words but his expression had her worried. Maybe she’d been right to fear that a battle had erupted with his drunken jerk of a father. The fact that she would have caused it made her feel slightly sick to her stomach.
He pressed his hand against her lower back to shift her around. “We can talk about the bet later. Right now I just want to have a beer and hang out with you.”
Short of digging in her heels and dragging him into a discussion he didn’t want and, truth be told, neither did she, there seemed to be no choice but to go with the flow. Lily had never liked ducking a problem, but this was so clearly not the time to hit Aiden with something he would probably hate as much as a root canal.
No, make that half a dozen root canals.
“Sure,” she said, sounding a little breathless. Not that she blamed herself for her squeaky tone, not with his big, warm hand resting just above the swell of her bum. “We’ll squeeze in another chair at my table. People are really looking forward to seeing you.”
Aiden’s sceptical expression suggested he didn’t think that was truly the case.
As they moved through the noisy hall, Lily leaned into him to make herself heard above the band. “Holly and Laura and Brie are there, and so are Brett Clayton and Ryan Butler. Remember Ryan?”
Aiden scanned the room looking for the table in question. “Hell, yeah. When did he get here? To the island, I mean.”
“Last night, on the same boat as my sister, unfortunately.” Lily let out an exasperated laugh when Aiden lifted his eyebrows in a silent question. “Brie talks about him constantly. She thinks he’s such a hunk, and her, uh… enthusiasm is getting a little tiring.”
“Ryan’s a solid guy. He broke my home run record at Peninsula.”
Aiden’s hand moved to Lily’s bare upper arm and wrapped around it in a grip that felt gentle but possessive. She had to resist the urge to melt into his big body.
“Is he still in the army?” Aiden added. “Last I heard he was finishing up another tour in Afghanistan.”
That would have been over two years ago, when Aiden came home for his mother’s funeral. “I never ask him what he’s doing anymore, because he ducks those sorts of questions. Our Mr. Mystery Man, Morgan calls him.”
When they reached the table, Lily hung her purse over the back of her chair as Aiden shook hands with the men and hugged the four other women. When he got to Ryan, they gripped each other in a bear hug. Getting the drift, Brett and Laura shifted over to make space for Aiden to sit between Ryan and Lily. For the next few minutes, the two men leaned close, hunching over in animated conversation w
hile Morgan and Holly fetched a round of drinks for the table.
Lily had to admit they were quite the sight—two big, ridiculously gorgeous guys, both full of a self-confident masculinity that would have most women mooning after them like idiots.
Aiden and Ryan spent several minutes deep in a conversation that seemed all about sports. Lily was just starting to get irritated at being ignored—irrationally, she told herself—when Aiden suddenly turned to her. “Dance with me, Lily,” he said in a deep, smoky voice as his gaze raked over her.
Blunt. Decisive. Hot.
Because it was getting later in the evening, the band had started to do a few down-tempo numbers from their playlist. Lily recognized the opening lines of the song—Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing”—and knew exactly why Aiden had suddenly asked her to dance. Though the tune was a slow-dance staple, what were the odds that the band would play the one song she’d come to associate with him? Although they’d never officially dated, they’d danced a lot at some of the Portland high school dances the spring he graduated and, for some reason, especially to this particular tune. To her, it had always been their song, and he’d obviously remembered too.
When Aiden got up, holding out his hand, she felt everything inside her go soft and shivery. She snapped a quick glance at Morgan, who nodded her support with a wry smile.
Sucking in a deep breath for courage, Lily stood on rubbery legs and let Aiden guide her into the middle of the suddenly jammed dance floor. Everybody liked the slow dances, young and old. Even Miss Annie and Roy hustled onto the floor—evidently Granny hadn’t murdered Roy yet—as did Lily’s mom and dad.
When Aiden’s arms came around her, she let out a sigh, only then realizing she’d been holding her breath. Sliding into his embrace was so easy, so natural, that it happened without any conscious thought or movement on her part. She remembered the feel of him as if it was yesterday, and she couldn’t help glancing up at him with a rueful smile.