by V. K. Sykes
Lily decided to stall for time until she could figure it out. “What resort is your friend talking about?”
She’d visited the quaint little coastal town of Castine two or three times. Home of the Maine Maritime Academy, it was nearly three hours away from Portland by road but no doubt less than an hour by helicopter.
“It’s called Coastal Harmony Resort. I gather it’s only been around a year or so.” He gave another one of those shrugs that did such fabulous things to his shoulders. “I know it’s kind of a weird name, but Cole says it’s one of those green places—you know, focusing on harmony with the local environment and all that stuff.”
“Maybe he’s talking about ecotourism,” Lily said. It did sound interesting, and she vaguely remembered hearing something about an ecoresort being developed up the coast. But she rarely took vacations, and lobster fishermen didn’t go anywhere in the good weather months except out in their boats.
“I guess. Anyway, Cole said it’s one of the hottest resorts on the coast. High-end facilities, but with a casual atmosphere and a great restaurant. And I figured you’d probably like the green thing too.”
The way Aiden said the green thing, Lily couldn’t help a soft laugh. An ecofocused resort was hardly his cup of tea, she suspected. But it touched her that he’d come up with the idea for her sake, because he was right. Environmental issues had always been important to Lily, even all those years ago when she and Aiden had been teenagers. Now, as a lobster fisherman and an islander, her way of life depended on the environment—the plentiful marine stock, the pristine coastal waters, and the natural beauty of the Maine coast. “You thought right,” she said softly.
Aiden’s big hand came up to cradle her chin, his rough fingers oh-so-gentle on her skin. He dipped his head a bit to meet her eyes. “Live a little, Lily. All you ever do is work your lovely little ass off. It’s time you did something nice for yourself, even if it’s just for a day. Let me take care of you, okay?”
While Lily’s brain insisted on recalling her mother’s warnings, her heart knew what it wanted. And her body was clearly on board too. Yes, their relationship was totally up in the air. Yes, she had no idea what would happen between them. But all that was just background noise that didn’t seem to matter, not when he was gazing at her with those dark, smoldering eyes, silently urging her to say yes.
“Well, I’m sure Mom and Dad wouldn’t mind rescheduling, but I’ve got an SDC meeting Sunday afternoon at three o’clock, and I can’t duck out of it. With the car ferry vote next week, we’ll be mapping out a last-minute blitz strategy. People would kill me if I blew that off.”
Aiden’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment, and her heart stuttered, but then he gave her a smile. “We can get you back in time. Easy.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. So are we a go? Cole wants me to call this morning to confirm.”
A twenty-four-hour minivacation at a luxury resort, alone with Aiden Flynn. Honestly, what could possibly go wrong?
Plenty, but who the hell cares, at least right now?
Aiden was right. She deserved some fun. They both deserved some fun, and this sounded like a good way to get it. She’d deal with the consequences later. “We’re a go.”
Aiden parked behind a long line of junker cars about a hundred yards down from the Pot. He’d asked Bram to come with him, but his brother had elected to stay home playing online poker—again. When Aiden had given him mild shit about it, Bram had flared up, telling Aiden to fuck off before he ruined his winning streak. Aiden had responded by stalking out, resisting the temptation to rip the computer from its connections and toss it over the bluff.
The shitty scene had come at the end of an otherwise perfect day, although it blew him away that the word perfect could describe long hours spent on a lobster boat. Somehow the heavy traps had seemed almost weightless, and he’d barely noticed the ever-present muck and slime. And when a feisty lobster, flailing his claws like he was on speed as Aiden tried to band him, had sunk his damn pincher into his forearm just above the glove, he’d done nothing more than grumble a mild curse. That little injury—one that made Lily wave a finger at him—had been his fault, anyway. He’d been daydreaming about helicopters and resort bedrooms and Lily Doyle dressed in nothing but a red, lacy thong. He’d richly deserved the painful wake-up call from the desperate bug.
Did Lily actually wear thongs? Not likely, but whatever she wore next to her skin in those warm, soft places, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted to get his hands inside it.
Yeah, he was going crazier every day with wanting Lily. And he couldn’t stand keeping his distance from her anymore.
In fact, staying away from her was beginning to feel… wrong. With every moment that passed, he felt an irresistible pull in her direction and the same weird sensation he’d had in the cemetery—that in some way he couldn’t explain, everything that was happening on the island this summer was meant to be.
So thank God Lily had said yes to his last-minute idea for a trip up the coast. He’d booked two rooms because he didn’t want to pressure her, but unless his radar had gone completely rusty, Lily was still feeling as much heat for him as he was for her. With any luck, the second of those booked rooms would remain empty.
He strolled down the road to the neon-lit Lobster Pot, taking his time and letting the small aches and pains of the day work themselves out. He and Lily had hauled well over two hundred traps, and she’d been almost delirious with joy when Billy-Pain-in-the-Ass weighed the catch. It made Aiden feel damn good that he was helping to get her financially back on her feet.
After they’d finished up, Aiden had tried to cajole her yet again into having a drink with him at the Pot, but she had other plans. A night out with Morgan, Holly, and maybe one or two other friends was a birthday tradition for her, just like dinner with her folks. So Aiden would have to enjoy her from a distance—and likely put up with lobbying from one or two half-drunk locals about the damn car ferry—but it was still a hell of a lot better than staying at home with Bram. If Aiden had to spend one more night watching his brother on the fast track to nowhere, he’d go nuts.
Aiden stepped inside to see the place jammed to the rafters with what looked like half the town’s population. Behind the bar, Laura pulled on draft levers with practiced ease while her assistant bartender poured shots for a gang of paramedics, including Brett Clayton, huddled at the far end. Maybe a dozen islanders stood around talking or playing darts or shuffleboard.
He finally caught sight of Lily across the room, one of six women at a table near the dartboards. When Holly Tyler noticed him, she said something that caused Lily to twist around and give him a smile before returning her attention to her friends. Though it was girls’ night out, a couple of guys he didn’t recognize were standing around Lily’s table, beer bottles in hand. Reading their body language, he guessed the boys were making lame jokes and trotting out stale pickup lines, hoping to score with the best-looking women in the room.
From what Aiden could see, the guys were batting zero.
He spotted a free stool at the bar and sat down. Dooley, the assistant bartender, slid over, leaning into the bar on hands the size of catchers’ mitts. “What’s your pleasure?” he said in a voice that sounded dragged out over broken beer bottles.
“Beer,” Aiden replied. “Please.”
“We’ve got six on draft and twenty in bottles.” Dooley pointed at a row of longnecks lined up in front of the mirror behind the bar. “I can give you some time to work through all the possibilities if you need it,” he added sarcastically.
“You’re a riot, but I’m too tired tonight to think. Just surprise me, okay?”
Dooley reached below the bar and plunked a bottle of Moosehead Lager down in front of Aiden, uncapping it. “This Canadian beer is about the best you’re gonna find around here, in my humble opinion.”
Aiden took a long swallow. “I think I agree with your humble opinion.” The lager was definitely
what the doctor ordered.
“Damn hard work hauling lobster traps, eh? Guess you’ve had a tough week.” Despite the heavy crowds, Dooley seemed in no hurry to rush away. He started stacking glasses in a rack on the counter below.
“Jesus, a guy can’t fart on this island without everybody in town hearing about it,” Aiden sighed. No doubt every person on Seashell Bay Island knew about the bet with Lily—not that it truly mattered anymore. “So how long have you been on this godforsaken rock, Dooley?”
The bartender grabbed a wet cloth and wiped down the bar after the guy sitting next to Aiden got up and left. “Must be going on a year now.”
“Planning on sticking around for a while?” Aiden was always interested in why Come-From-Away types remained on the island. It always seemed nuts to him.
The barkeep shrugged. “Maybe. Laura’s a good lady to work for. What about you?” He reached down again and came up with a Budweiser, sliding it down the bar to the hollow leg that was Boone Cleary.
“Probably just a few more days. A week, tops.” The words came out fast and easy, like they were programmed. Leaving soon was still Aiden’s plan, but he couldn’t help thinking about how he would feel getting back on the boat and leaving Seashell Bay—and Lily. Until a few days ago, he’d figured he’d feel nothing but blessed relief.
Not anymore.
“Well, I’m sure Lily is real grateful for the help,” said Dooley before moving away. It felt kind of like a dismissal, but Aiden decided he liked Dooley anyway. He seemed to fit into the crazy patchwork of people that made up life in Seashell Bay.
He took a quick glance at the big mirror over the bar, catching another glimpse of Lily’s table in the reflection. It was all he could do not to barge over there and try to drag her away. But only a selfish jerk would act that way. This was her night with her friends—which didn’t mean he wasn’t damned tempted to try and lure her to the dark side with him.
A heavy arm landed on Aiden’s shoulders, and a blast of garlic breath hit him in the face. “How are you, son?” Albie Emory asked jovially as he slid onto the empty stool next to Aiden.
Crap.
“I’m good, Mr. Emory. You?” Aiden answered, resigning himself to what would surely come next.
The older man ordered by making some sort of mysterious hand signal to Dooley. “Tired, and my throat’s about as dry as my wife’s corn bread,” he said with a hearty laugh. “Spinney and me are making the rounds tonight to see who we can count on for the car ferry and who we can’t.”
“Uh-huh,” Aiden said, trying for polite and noncommittal as Dooley poured the selectman a Jack and Coke.
“We’ve got lots of support,” Emory said. “But some of the diehards talk about this place like it was the frigging Galapagos Islands—stuck in time.” He glanced meaningfully at Lily’s table. “If people like them get their way, this island’s going to suffocate and die. Hell, it’s already happening.”
Emory looked gloomy for a few moments, but perked up when his drink arrived. Aiden hoped that if he just kept his mouth shut, the old guy would soon talk himself out.
“People like you and me and your dad, we’ve got to make sure that never happens, right?” Emory asked, peering hopefully at Aiden. “We need to win the vote and get the new dock built.”
“Well, you’re certainly doing your part, Mr. Emory,” Aiden said.
Emory shifted a little to his right and plunked his arm on Aiden’s shoulders again, as if they were coconspirators. “Aiden, you could make a real difference. If you were to speak out in support of the ferry, I think it would definitely pull some votes for us.”
Oh, the hell with that. “I doubt it, sir. In fact, if I did what you’re suggesting, it might do more harm than good. You know folks here don’t like outsiders coming in and telling them what to do.”
The selectman’s forehead wrinkled up like a Basset Hound’s. “True, but you’re hardly an outsider, Aiden. You’re a Flynn, and the Flynns built this island as much as any family.”
“Yeah, but I’m a CFA now.”
“Oh, don’t go talking rubbish. I can tell you most islanders are pretty darn proud of the local boy who made good in big-league baseball.”
“If so, they’re keeping it pretty well hidden,” Aiden said drily.
Emory leaned right in. “Listen to me, son. You’ve got generations of islander blood inside you. You could go away for fifty years, and you’d still be a Seashell Bay man. And maybe someday you’ll come back to stay too. Eventually, everyone does.”
Aiden could feel his eyebrows crawling up his forehead in disbelief. “Maybe they used to, but times have changed. Now people go where the jobs are.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” said the old guy, changing tack. “A car ferry could change all that and bring in the jobs. Think about what I said, Aiden. You can make a difference, and you’d surely make your dad proud.”
Emory finished the rest of his drink and clapped Aiden on the back before sauntering back to his table of cronies. Mentally sighing, Aiden finished his beer.
He shoved a ten at Dooley and told him to keep the change. Emory’s little pitch had pretty much sucked the energy out of him. It was time to get some sleep, especially because his plans for Lily over the next few days didn’t include much shut-eye. Besides, if he stayed much longer, someone else would probably start to lobby him and he’d already heard enough. Everything was going to come to a head next week with the big vote, but at least he had the weekend with Lily to look forward to before all hell broke loose.
A commotion stopped Aiden in his tracks before he reached the door, the entire bar clapping and cheering. Turning, he saw Laura pushing backward through swinging doors from the kitchen, following by two grinning cooks and a busboy. She was holding a big chocolate birthday cake topped with sparklers. People started singing the birthday song.
For Lily.
Smiling sheepishly and looking sweeter than any cake, Lily swept her gaze around the crowd, as if thanking all of them. Laura set the cake down in front of her and kissed her on the forehead. Lily’s girlfriends all gathered around her in a fiercely loyal and loving group.
Aiden sang too. He sang, and he thought about all the love that surrounded Lily, and the invisible bonds that stretched like webbing through the Pot, connecting everyone in it to each other and to the island.
Including him.
Chapter 17
Lily hadn’t known what to expect when she and Aiden arrived at the Portland Harbor heliport. As excited as she was for her birthday trip, she’d never flown in a helicopter, and visions of being trapped in one of those tiny tourist bubbles that often hovered over Casco Bay brought out the claustrophobic in her.
But Cole Rogers’s four-passenger helicopter was no miniature chopper. It was a freaking sky limousine.
She and Aiden sat in a pair of sinfully luxurious leather seats separated by a wide console with polished teak cup holders, spaces for books and magazines, and a built-in minibar. A small door connected the cockpit to the cabin, but Cole had closed it before liftoff, giving Aiden and Lily some privacy.
For a lobster fisherman who’d never flown on anything but a packed, cheap charter jet to the Caribbean, it seemed surreal to be flying over Portland Harbor in a helicopter obviously built for corporate big shots. When Aiden said that he wanted to do something special for her, he sure hadn’t been kidding. It was only a short trip up the coast, but she was getting a glimpse into the life of the rich and famous, squired in ultrafast luxury to her destination by a private pilot. And she fully intended to enjoy it.
“Want some coffee?” Aiden said, as they banked over Peaks Island. “Cole said there’s a carafe and mugs in the cabinet opposite us.”
Lily tore her gaze away from the big island below. Aiden had insisted she take the left-hand seat so she would have the best views as they flew up the coast, and she had to admit that it was incredible to see everything from the air. Her whole life, she’d seen Peaks and the other su
rrounding islands only from the ground or on the sea. From a few hundred feet up, Casco Bay seemed like an entirely different and almost magical world.
“Not right now, thanks,” she said, smiling at him. “I don’t want to take my eyes off this. It’s so beautiful from up here, Aiden.”
Aiden’s gaze drifted over her, heating with a clear appreciation he didn’t even try to hide. “Not as beautiful as you are, Lily. You look totally amazing in that dress.”
Lily felt herself blushing. She’d picked a short, yellow wraparound sundress, casual and cute but definitely dressier than what she usually wore. Of course she’d done a quick Internet check on Coastal Harmony, and from what she could tell, it was decidedly upscale—no jeans or ratty T-shirts, at least in the publicity photos on their website. The fact that Aiden looked so amazing in a navy sport coat, cream polo shirt, and tan chinos was another reason she was happy she’d chosen a nice outfit.
“You’re not too shabby yourself,” she teased. “But then again, you’re used to this sort of thing. I’m assuming you’ve flown in a helicopter before?”
“Lots of times. Mostly for corporate product shoots, but a friend of mine in Philly—an old-money guy—would sometimes fly players to his McMansion on the Jersey Shore in one like this.”
“Pretty sweet,” Lily said, snuggling her shoulders back into the plush seat. “But why are we flying straight east over the bay? I thought Cole would just hug the coastline.”
Aiden leaned over, his arm brushing against her bare shoulder as he glanced out her window. It made her shiver in a good way. A very good way.
“I asked him to go right over Seashell Bay before turning onto his straight line route,” he said. “I thought you’d like to see the island from the air.”
She’d been hoping for that but hadn’t asked, not wanting to come off as pushy. Clearly, Aiden had read her thoughts. It was another example of how thoughtful and how tuned to her state of mind he was.