by Marie Force
Grace conjured up an image of the camper-sized sofa in the boat’s salon. It was small, but it would do for one night. “Thanks for your help,” she said.
“Any time.”
Since she had no choice, she turned and made her way slowly and reluctantly back to the boat, taking her time to avoid Trey for that much longer. On the way, she spent a moment appreciating the two supremely handsome men who were performing at the Tiki Bar. One of them had shaggy blond hair and a smile that wouldn’t quit. He seemed in his element playing the guitar and singing for the appreciative crowd.
The other had dark hair—Patrick Dempsey hair, she decided—a muscular build and a face that belonged in movies. He too seemed right at home on stage and sang with his partner as if they’d been performing together for years.
Leaning against the gift shop building, Grace hummed along to “Brown-Eyed Girl” and “Turn the Page” before she reluctantly continued down the pier to deal with Trey. As she approached the spot where the boat was supposed to be, she did a double take.
It was gone.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “That bastard!”
She stared at the empty spot at the dock for a long moment before the truth sank in. He’d left her there alone, taking her purse and clothes with him. She was stuck on Gansett Island with no boyfriend, no place to stay and no money. In the span of an instant, she went from hurt to angry to scared and then to sad. What was supposed to have been one of the greatest nights of her life had turned into yet another disaster.
This, Evan McCarthy thought, is as good as it gets. Strumming his guitar in perfect harmony with his best friend on a warm late-summer evening at the docks where he’d spent an idyllic childhood. Playing the home crowd at McCarthy’s Gansett Island Marina beat any stage in any venue, and he’d played his share of stages and venues.
He and Owen Lawry exchanged glances as they played the last notes of “Bad Moon Rising” and launched into their anthem, “Take it Easy.” Life was good. His CD would be out by Christmas, he’d had an awesome time with his brothers, sister and extended family during his sister’s wedding the previous weekend and the tropical storm that followed. He’d gotten a new niece out of the storm, born to his brother Mac and sister-in-law Maddie.
After a scary accident earlier in the summer, his father seemed to be on the mend from a head injury and broken arm. “Big Mac” McCarthy wasn’t quite his old self yet, but he was better than he’d been. Evan was somewhat concerned about the unusual bickering he’d witnessed between his parents since he’d been home, but he chalked that up to the strain of his father’s recovery, their daughter’s wedding, a houseful of extra people and the unexpected arrival of a granddaughter during a tropical storm.
A table of pretty young women had been sending flirtatious signals to him and Owen all evening. They’d have their pick of the ladies at closing time. Since he was still staying with his folks up the hill at “The White House,” the name the islanders had bestowed upon the McCarthy family home, he hoped the ladies had their own rooms at whatever hotel they were calling home for the weekend.
A nice fling over the long weekend would be just what the doctor ordered after a summer of nonstop work. He’d been feeling cooped up lately, cagey and unsettled. A little mindless sex would straighten him right out—the sooner the better, as far as he was concerned. When was the last time he’d blown off some steam? That he couldn’t remember was worrisome.
He joined Owen for the chorus to “Take it Easy,” high off the adrenaline of performing before an appreciative audience. Here he had none of the issues with the crippling stage fright that had plagued him throughout his career. That was another reason why he loved playing on Gansett so much.
Owen grinned at him, no doubt enjoying this evening as much as Evan. The gig was actually Owen’s. Evan’s folks had convinced O to stay on until Columbus Day, and he’d cajoled Evan into joining him tonight. It hadn’t required much arm twisting, since Evan hadn’t been doing anything but hanging around the house trying to dodge his mother’s increasingly probing inquiries into his nonexistent love life.
The one thing Evan McCarthy avoided like the clap was commitment, which was the last thing his mother wanted to hear, especially with his siblings falling like dominoes lately. First Mac fell for Maddie, then Janey married Mac’s best friend Joe, and then Grant fell for Stephanie. To add insult to injury, even their friend Luke Harris went down hard this summer with his first love, Sydney Donovan. Evan had no idea what was in the water lately, but whatever it was, he wasn’t thirsty.
Thank God at least Owen shared Evan’s commitment to bachelorhood. So did Evan’s brother Adam, who’d gone back to New York once the ferries started running again after the storm. The three of them had to stick together in the midst of all this marriage mayhem.
Owen nudged him, nodded toward a woman sitting at a table by herself and raised a questioning eyebrow.
As Evan watched her, she swiped at tears and stared off in the distance. Unlike the other women in the crowd, she wasn’t paying them an ounce of attention. Evan told himself that was okay even as his ego registered the hit.
Evan shrugged as they started into “Love the One You’re With.” As he sang along, he kept half an eye on the unhappy woman in the corner. Thanks to the overhead lights on the pier, he could see that she had shiny, dark, shoulder-length hair, the kind of hair that would feel like silk when you ran your fingers through it. What he could see of her face struck him as exceptionally pretty—or it would’ve been if it hadn’t been red and blotchy from crying.
When they finished the song, Owen announced they’d be taking a short break. Usually this was the point in the program when they lined up after-hours entertainment. At their table of admirers, the perky blonde he’d been making eyes with gave Evan a come-hither smile, full of invitation. All he had to do was walk over and close the deal they’d been negotiating for hours now.
“What’s with the weepy chick in the corner?” Owen asked as they set their guitars into stands.
“No clue.”
“Doesn’t look like she’s here with anyone.”
Evan looked over at her again, noting that she continued to stare off into space as if she had no clue she was in the midst of a bar full of people having fun.
“We’re not under any obligation here, are we?” Owen asked warily, eyeing the table full of friendly women.
“You’re not, that’s for sure.”
“Dude, just because your folks own the place—”
“WWBMD?”
Confused, Owen stared at him. “Huh?”
“What would Big Mac do?” Evan asked, knowing the answer to his question before he asked it.
Wincing, Owen said, “Bring a gun to a knife fight, why doncha?” He accepted a couple of beers from a waitress and handed one to Evan.
“I could ignore it and go about my life, but his voice would be in my head, ruining whatever fun I might be trying to have,” Evan said. “He’d be saying, ‘How could you leave that gal crying all alone, son? Especially when she’s a guest at our place? That’s not the kind of man I raised you to be.’”
Owen busted up laughing. “Jesus, you sound just like him.”
“Years of intensive training, my friend.” Evan took another look at the young woman, confirming she was still there and still miserable. With a resigned sigh, he said, “Wish me luck.”
Owen touched his bottle to Evan’s. “Go get her, tiger. I’ll entertain the other ladies for both of us.”
“Gee, you’re a pal.” Like a condemned man heading to the gallows, Evan started toward the corner table. As he passed the perky blonde, he sent his regrets with a shrug and a rueful grin. Would’ve been fun. He approached the corner table and plopped down, startling the crying woman. “Now tell me this—what in the world could’ve ruined such a great night for such a pretty lady?”
Chapter 2
Grace was surprised to discover that the singer with the Patrick Dempsey hair
was even more handsome up close. She wiped frantically at the dampness on her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows knitting with concern.
The last thing she wanted was to unburden herself to another guy who probably had his pick of women. She was done with gods. A regular mere mortal was what she wanted now. A nice nerdy guy would do just fine.
“Nothing.” Extending a hand under the table, she reached for her purse before she remembered she didn’t have her purse. Trey had taken it.
“Wait,” he said when she started to rise. “Whatever it is, I might be able to help.”
“You think so?” She couldn’t help the snarky tone.
“I know for sure I can’t help if you don’t tell me what has you so upset.”
Since she hardly had any better options, Grace flopped back into her chair. “Fine. You want to know? Here it is. My boyfriend—no wait, that’s giving him too much credit. My date for the evening left me here alone with no money, no clothes, nowhere to stay.”
He stared at her. “What do you mean he left you?”
“I mean he took off on his fancy boat with all my stuff.” She held up her cell phone. “Except for this, which is of no use to me whatsoever, since anyone who could rescue me is on the mainland.”
“Wow, what an asshole.”
“Ya think?”
He pushed his beer across the table. “You need that more than I do.”
She gratefully reached for the bottle and took a drink. The first sip went down so well, she took a second. “Do you have a name?”
“Evan McCarthy.”
“Any relation?” she asked, gesturing to the marina sign.
“My folks.”
“Nice place.”
“We like it. So where’re you from?”
“Mystic, Connecticut.”
“I like it there. Pretty town.”
“You’re good—at the singing and stuff.”
He flashed a devastating grin, complete with sexy dimples. Life was so unfair. “Gee, thanks.”
“Your friend is getting ready to start again. Shouldn’t you be up there?”
Crooking a rakish eyebrow, he said, “Trying to get rid of me?”
Heat flooded Grace’s face, forcing her to look away from him. “I don’t want to keep you from your work.”
He shrugged. “Owen can cope without me for a bit.” Propping his elbows on the table, he leaned in closer to her. “So what’re we going to do about this dilemma of yours?”
“It’s certainly nothing you need to worry about. I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to do anything about it.”
“Now that I know, I can’t not help you.”
“That’s a double negative,” she said primly and then wanted to shoot herself for sounding like such a prude. Old habits died hard. It occurred to her that pre-weight loss, a man like Evan McCarthy never would’ve bothered to speak to her, let alone offer to help her.
His ringing laughter warmed her, even though she knew that being sucked in by yet another smooth-talking charmer wasn’t in her best interest. “Are you a teacher or something?”
“Or something. Pharmacist.”
He screwed his face into a serious expression. “A very smart profession.”
“I guess,” she said with a shrug. “I’m not feeling very smart at the moment.”
“What’s your name?”
“Grace.”
“Nice to meet you, Grace. Here’s what I think we ought to do. I have another couple of hours to go here, and then I could take you home to my folks’ place up the hill. My sister’s old room is empty since she’s off on her honeymoon—not that she lives at home anymore. I’m sure we can find an old T-shirt of hers or something for you to sleep in. Tomorrow, I’ll get you to the ferry landing so you can catch a ride home. Would that work?”
Grace stared at him, stunned. “I can’t just go home with you.”
“My parents are there,” he said, flashing the dimples again. They were good dimples. Very good dimples. “We’ll be fully chaperoned.”
“That’s not what I mean. I can’t—”
He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “You’re in a pinch. People on the island help each other out when someone finds themselves in a pinch. It’s really no big deal, okay?”
With the heat of his hand demanding her full attention, Grace was powerless to resist the help he offered so freely. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“No problem.” He squeezed her hand and released it. “I’ll meet you right here when I’m done, okay?”
Since she had absolutely nowhere else to be, she said, “Okay.”
On his way back to join Owen on the stage, Evan stopped one of the waitresses. “See the woman sitting by herself in the corner? Could you keep her in food and drinks for the rest of the night?”
“Sure, Evan, no problem.”
“Put it on my tab.”
“You got it.”
“Thanks.”
Owen, who had started the next set on his own, sent Evan an arch look as he strapped on his guitar and joined in the chorus of “Sister Golden Hair.”
After they played the last notes, Owen stayed at the microphone while he strummed his guitar. “Y’all may not realize it, but we have a real star in our presence.”
While Evan made plans to shoot his friend after the gig, he stole a glance at Grace to find her watching them with interest. He was glad she’d stopped crying.
“The eminent Evan McCarthy, recording star straight from Nashville, Tennessee, is gracing our stage tonight.”
“Shut up,” Evan muttered to Owen as the table full of women went crazy cheering.
“I’m sure that with enough encouragement, Evan might be convinced to share the first single off his new album with us. Waddya say, Ev?”
As the crowd went wild, Evan said, “I say I’m gonna kill you for this,” even though he appreciated the chance to show off one of his new songs.
Owen gestured for him to take center stage.
Evan rolled his eyes, bit back the surge of panic he’d grown accustomed to, then stepped up to the microphone and strummed the opening notes to “Here for You,” the ballad he’d co-written and hoped would launch his career. The song was about a couple trying to recover their friendship after a rough breakup. As he hit the refrain, he again sought out Grace in the crowd and found her watching him, her chin propped on her hands.
While she appeared to be enjoying the music, she still looked so hopelessly sad. Something about her tugged at him and made him want to make it all better, even though he knew it wasn’t up to him. It was, however, within his power to make tonight a little better for her. So for the rest of their set, he sang to her, for her, and in his opinion, he’d never performed better in his life.
“You were awesome tonight, man,” Owen said as they packed up their guitars and enjoyed a beer.
“So were you.” Evan took a drink from his beer. “You got a date tonight?”
“Nah.”
Evan stopped what he was doing to stare at his friend. “Why not?”
Owen shrugged. “Not in the mood.”
Evan reached up to place a hand on Owen’s forehead. “You’re not feverish. Have you seen a doctor lately?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Owen said, laughing. “For your information, I’m tired. I’m going home and going to bed. Alone.”
“Really, I think you need a physical or something. This isn’t like you.”
“I’ll take that under advisement. What’s the plan with Weepy?”
“Don’t call her that. She’s had a rough night. Her asshole boyfriend dumped her here and took off—on a boat—with her purse and all her stuff. She’s truly marooned.”
“Whoa. That sucks. So what’re you going to do?”
“Take her home to Linda. What else?”
Owen laughed. “Dude, she’ll have you two married with four kids by the morning.”
Evan felt like he’d b
een hit by an electric cattle prod. “Jesus, you’re right. Maybe I can sneak her in and out without Linda ever knowing.”
“You talking about Voodoo Mama? Good luck with that.”
“Oh my God,” Evan moaned. “I promised her a place to stay. I can’t renege now.”
“I’d offer her a room at the Surf,” Owen said, referring to the old hotel in town that his grandparents owned. “But we’re not exactly prepared for guests.” Owen’s grandparents had recently hired Evan’s cousin Laura to renovate and reopen the hotel.
“And of course everything else is sold out this weekend.”
“Looks like it’s either Linda or a tent on the beach.”
Evan actually considered the latter alternative before dismissing it as too impractical. He was way past the point where sand in places sand didn’t belong appealed to him. “Any rumors you may hear in the morning regarding my impending betrothal are not to be believed. Got me?”
Owen snorted beer through his nose and winced from the pain. “Don’t say crap like that without warning me.”
While they were talking, the bar had more or less cleared out, leaving Grace alone in the corner waiting for him. “Well, here goes nothing.”
“Best of luck, my intrepid friend.”
“Bite me.” Evan shouldered his guitar, finished his beer in one big swallow and steeled himself to deal with a devastated woman he barely knew and a calculating woman he knew all too well.
By the time Evan finally made his way over to her, Grace had begun to shiver in the cool breeze blowing in from the Salt Pond. Along with everything else she’d brought on their trip, Trey had taken her jacket, too.
“Ready?” Evan asked when he reached her table.
Grace’s stomach knotted with nerves, but since her options were limited, she nodded and stood. “Thank you for the drinks and snack.”
“No problem. Are you up for a short walk up a long hill?”
“Sure, that’s fine.”