“We’ve had forty-three Woolwich weddings here over the years. Lara and Leslie were the only two who chose to get married somewhere else.” He gestured to the water. “I taught my children and grandchildren how to fish right off that dock, and Natalie sailed to Woolwich Island all by herself in that very Sunfish when she was twelve years old.”
Jake stared at the small sailboat and swallowed back memories of sailing with his parents. He’d lean over the side and drag his fingers along the glassy surface of Lake Michigan as they set a course to the Beaver Islands or over to Fish Creek. But just as the thought materialized, years of compartmentalizing allowed him to tuck it away.
That carefree boy had died along with his parents.
He kept his features neutral. “I’m sure this place holds many memories for you.”
Hal’s lips twisted into a knowing half grin. “I’m sensing a but.”
This man was no fool.
“But things change. Priorities change,” he offered.
“Is that how you see it?” Hal pressed.
How did he see it?
Before Natalie Callahan crashed into his life, he believed that wholeheartedly. There were no constants in this world, and the only person he could count on was himself. Never get sentimental—and don’t become attached to a place, even somewhere as magical as this. But now, he didn’t see dollar signs when he gazed out at the water. He saw eyes. Natalie’s eyes. Green and sparkling. People always talk about the ocean blue, but here, gazing out to where the ocean spanned across the horizon, he was met with an endless watery blanket of deep green.
Natalie green.
They continued down the path in silence, passing the boathouse and headed toward the dock where several of the Woolwich grandkids sat with fishing poles alongside members of the Elks Club.
Hal jiggled the weathered wooden post leading out to the dock and frowned.
“I bet there’s a decent amount of maintenance to keep a place like this going,” Jake said, dropping a few more breadcrumbs. He had to stick to his plan and surreptitiously guide the conversation toward selling. The kiss keeper bombshell had thrown him off track. But Natalie was done with Jakes, and he knew better than anyone that he couldn’t give her what she deserved. And, he could not forget what was on the line.
Control. Total and complete control of his life.
“I won’t lie to you, Jake. There is a hell of a lot of upkeep, but it’s a labor of love,” Hal said, breaking into his thoughts.
“Well, fifty years in one place is a long time,” he replied, continuing the song and dance he was so well versed in, but that damn bothersome tightness was back in his chest.
Hal cocked his head to the side and observed him closely. “Can I give you a piece of advice, Jake?”
“Sure,” he answered
Hal held his gaze. “It doesn’t feel like a long time if you’re with the right person. And once you find that person, you’ve got to be smart enough and brave enough to surrender control and give up your heart.”
“That seems like a lot to risk,” he replied.
Hal gave him a knowing look. “Ah, but imagine what you would gain.”
He stared out at the water as the breeze picked up, and he heard her name—Natalie Callahan—whispered on the breeze.
“What did you gain?” he asked.
“A lifetime of love and happiness, and that, Mr. Teller, is very difficult to put a price on,” Hal said, clapping him on the shoulder before heading down the weathered dock.
Jake watched the great-grandkids cluster around Hal, holding up their catches for him to admire, then turned his attention back to the water. His phone pinged, but he ignored it and stared at a sailboat in the distance. A boat not so different than the one his parents used to have. It rocked gently in the Natalie green sea, and a lightness took over. A lightness that never accompanied closing a deal or checking his robust bank account balance. A strange sensation he hadn’t known in years until it hit him, and he knew what he had to do.
8
Natalie
“What do you think, Aunt Nat?”
Natalie glanced up to find Josie and Maddie twirling in circles in the center of the lodge as their homemade Hawaiian skirts, made not with grass but strips of fabric sporting tiny lobsters, fluttered around their legs.
She finished cutting a strip of fabric, handed it off to one of her aunts, then grinned at the children. “They’re perfect! You both look ready for the lobster luau.”
“Why do we do a lobster luau?” Annabelle asked, shimmying around the table in her own little makeshift skirt.
“Good question,” Leslie said under her breath, weaving her way to sit in the corner with her sister through the room of Woolwich women working on their Maine inspired Hawaiian costumes.
But not even Leslie could dampen her mood. She’d done it. Natalie Callahan, the screwup Woolwich granddaughter, had turned a scheduling melee into an event to remember. Elks had caught buckets of trout, cars had been washed, the band got in a fun-filled afternoon on the waterfront, and the nuns had sketched. Their guest had left camp smiling, except for Sister Evangeline, who had a thing for Jake. She sported a scowl for the entire lesson and had bucked practicing shading techniques on fruit to sketch Jake’s torso. If there were one thing she could say about the feisty nun, it was that the old gal still had an excellent memory and had produced one heck of a drawing.
But she hadn’t earned this victory alone. A delicious shiver traveled down her spine and settled low in her belly at the thought of Jake, taking her hand, threading his fingers with hers, and standing by her side. And then her mind wandered to her fake boyfriend’s body, shirtless with every ripped muscle exposed, and she couldn’t blame the nun one bit for lamenting his absence. Those abs, the same abs that had pressed against her back as he took her from behind this morning, were seared into her memory as well. But it wasn’t only his spectacular body that she missed.
She missed him.
She hadn’t seen Jake since they parted in the art room earlier in the day. Her grandfather had whisked him away to go fishing and, most likely, had him on lobster bake duty with the rest of the Woolwich men and boys as if he were hers, and a real part of all this Woolwich family madness.
The strange thing about this ruse, this con, was that the lines had blurred. Sure, they’d had the greatest sex of her life last night, but that had been predicated on intercourse simply being intercourse—a transaction between two willing people. A transaction like a man pretending to be a woman’s boyfriend.
But this morning, when they were half-awake, not consumed with playing a part and only relying on touch and desire, it had felt real. And after that, when she’d led him up to the well and shared her kiss keeper curse story, it was as if every cell in her body had ached for his kiss—as if the well or the ghosts of Otis Wiscasset and Muriel Boothe demanded it. Or maybe it was her yearning, her body begging to be touched by this man who’d gone from a complete stranger to her lover in the space of hardly more than a day. Still, when they’d nearly kissed at the well, and he’d gazed into her eyes, she would have sworn that she’d glimpsed a flash of wonder and an intense longing that took her breath away.
Could what had started as a parlor trick parlayed into something more, or was this her artist’s heart leading her astray with another Jake, again? The way he worked her body, no, worshipped her body, had to mean something. She closed her eyes, remembering the sweet slide of their bodies as he thrust his big, hard—
“Aunt Nat? Are you okay?”
Natalie blinked. “Sorry, I was just thinking about…”
“Kissing Uncle Jake?” Josie said with a giggle as she, Maddie, and Annabelle twirled about.
And licking his torso all the way down to his magical cock, but she was in charge of the kids and needed to keep this PG.
“You wanted to know about the luau, right, Annabelle?” she asked, forcing herself to switch gears.
“Yeah!” the little girl crie
d and wiggled onto her lap.
She smoothed the strips of Annabelle’s skirt then waved in Josie and Maddie. “The lobster bake luau is a tradition that started a long time ago, right after Mimi and Poppy opened Camp Woolwich. Every year, the girls all gather in the lodge to create their costumes while the boys take care of the lobster bake preparations on the beach.”
“Why can’t the girls do the lobster bake preparations?” Josie asked.
“That’s a good question! It’s always been this way, but that doesn’t mean it can’t change. I might bring that up with Mimi,” she answered.
“Bring what up with Mimi?” her grandmother asked, entering the room with a crate of bright yellow hibiscus flowers.
“Josie and I were thinking that someday the girls should be in charge of the lobster bake beach prep, and the boys can make lobster skirts.”
“I like it! A little change could be good for Camp Woolwich,” her grandmother answered.
“What are all the flowers for?” Annabelle asked.
“These are for our hair,” her grandmother said, sliding one into Annabelle’s dark locks. “And for the leis.”
“Leis?” the child parroted back.
“They’re flower necklaces that you get to give to someone special,” her grandmother answered, pulling out several flowers then passing off the crate to a Woolwich cousin.
“Can I give one to Finn?” the little girl asked.
“Sure,” Natalie answered. Growing up, she’d always made a lei for her grandfather or for Fish, but she’d never given one to a boyfriend—even a fake boyfriend.
“I thought you were supposed to give a lei to somebody you love,” Maddie chirped, her cheeks turning pink.
Annabelle scrunched up her face in a confused pout. “I love Finn. He’s my cousin.”
“Gross!” Maddie and Josie cried in unison.
Annabelle cocked her head to the side. “Why’s it gross?”
“It’s not gross. It’s perfectly fine to love your cousin, sweetheart,” her grandmother answered.
“Are you going to give one to Jake?” Josie asked.
“Do you love him?” Maddie pressed.
Love him? She hardly knew him, but that didn’t stop the flutter in her belly at the mention of his name.
“I certainly like him an awful lot,” she answered, feeling her cheeks heat.
It wasn’t a lie.
“He’s very handsome,” her grandmother added.
“And he can climb trees, Mimi,” Annabelle supplied.
The hint of a smile pulled at the corners of her grandmother’s lips. “An admirable quality, indeed,” the woman answered, then clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies, the flowers have arrived. Let’s get started on those leis.”
Natalie went to work, and the room buzzed with conversations as the women strung flowers and made final additions to their skirts when her grandmother sat down next to her.
“He cares for you,” she said, sliding a bloom into her hair.
“Who?” Natalie asked, keeping her eyes on the lei. If anyone could read her, it was her grandma Bev.
“Jake, who else, sweetheart?” her grandmother answered, handing her a flower.
Natalie took the bloom and slid it into her hair. She needed to change the subject. It was one thing to parade her fake boyfriend around camp. It was a whole other bag of wax to lie to her grandmother’s face.
“I’m glad you and Grandpa have gathered us here to celebrate your fiftieth anniversary. I’ve missed this place so much.”
Bev threaded a flower onto a string. “You found your artist roots here many moons ago.”
“I did, thanks to you,” she replied. It was like old times, creating art alongside her grandmother, even if it was only a lei.
Her grandmother stroked one of the hibiscus petals. “Oh, no. I may have guided you in that direction, but you’ve always had the artist’s spark. That gift to see the beauty in everything and everyone.”
Natalie glanced over at Leslie and Lara, both women glued to their phones, then turned her attention back to her grandmother.
“I don’t know if I see the beauty in everything, but you and Grandpa have never look at me like I’m a…” she trailed off.
Bev set down the lei. “A what?”
“A failure,” she answered.
Her grandmother’s brows knit together. “Is that how you see yourself?”
Natalie sighed. “Well, I’ve got no job and no boy—” she stopped herself. “You must know that I lost another job. I texted it to Mom, and then it hit the Woolwich stratosphere.”
“Maybe it happened for a reason. You never know when opportunity will come knocking on your door,” her grandmother said with a twinkle in her eyes.
Natalie squeezed the woman’s hand. “How do you stay so optimistic? After all the years running Camp Woolwich, it couldn’t have always been easy.”
“Oh, it wasn’t, but the universe led me to your grandfather and brought us to this place. So, I’d say I’m pretty lucky,” her grandmother replied.
“And I’d agree.”
The women startled at the voice behind them.
“What are you doing in here, Hal?” her grandmother asked.
“I’m here to escort the prettiest girl to the luau,” he said, taking her grandmother’s hand.
“What about me?” Annabelle pouted.
“I meant the two prettiest girls,” he answered, scooping up the little girl in his other arm.
“Are you sure you’ve got her?” her grandmother asked, eyeing her husband.
“I’m fine, Bev,” he answered gently, then made Annabelle laugh with a silly face.
“All right, Woolwich women, let’s head over to the lobster bake luau,” her grandma Bev announced.
“Are you coming, Aunt Nat?” Josie called over her shoulder.
Natalie glanced around. She could use a Woolwich-free minute to collect herself. “I’m going to tidy up a little in here. I won’t be long.”
The room cleared out as she went table to table, brushing loose petals and wisps of fabric into her hand, soaking in all the time she’d spent in this room, then stilled, sensing Jake was there. She grinned as the heat returned to her cheeks.
“Are you just going to watch?” she said over her shoulder as the door to the lodge let out a weary creak and gently closed.
“Wow! You look…” Jake began.
She dusted the remains of the lobster luau prep into the bin then turned. “Silly?” she asked, staring down at her feet.
Why was she so nervous all of a sudden?
“No, stunning,” he finished.
“In a tank top and a lobster skirt?” she teased.
Jake crossed the room as if he owned it, and she couldn’t stop her pulse from racing at the sight of him. But before he could reach her, he stopped and frowned.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s your feet,” he answered, concern lacing the words.
“What about them?” She wiggled her toes.
“You’re wearing sandals, Heels.”
The mention of his nickname for her sent an electric jolt of anticipation through her body.
“It’s a luau,” she answered, doing her best to not look like an enamored idiot.
He raised a finger. “It’s a lobster bake luau. And I’ve been working my ass off for the last few hours, digging a hole big enough to fit enough lobsters to feed your entire family, and…”
“And what?” she tossed back, her hands on her hips.
He raised an eyebrow. “And if I can see your feet, you know who else will be able to see them.”
She grinned. “It’ll be dark soon, and I can guard my toes against Dr. Foot Fetish. Plus, I think you’ve put the fear of God into him, and that doesn’t hurt.”
“He’s not so bad,” Jake said with a shrug.
Her jaw dropped. “Leo?”
“Yeah, I spent the day fishing with your grandpa and the Elks Club.
Leo and Marcus were with us. When your cousins aren’t around, their husbands aren’t too bad. Marcus did try to eat the bait, but we got him squared away with a bag of Funyuns.”
“So, you survived?” she asked with a chuckle.
His expression softened. “You mean, did your grandfather grill his favorite granddaughter’s new Jake? A little bit, but I survived.”
“You seem to be able to handle yourself. It’s almost as if you came into this whole ruse with a plan,” she added, trying to get a laugh out of him, but the opposite happened.
Jake’s jovial expression faded as the door to the lodge swung open, and Josie and Maddie burst into the room.
“You’re the queen, Aunt Nat,” they cried as they ran up and handed a crown decked with mini plastic lobsters glued to the side.
She turned to Jake. “How did I become the queen?”
“I nominated you,” he answered, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
The lobster queen was no queen.
“Do you know what the queen has to do?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I figured you’d have to wear that lobster crown. It sounded fun.”
“And the queen has to kiss the winner of the blindfolded obstacle course,” she added.
“What?” he threw back, his eyes as wide as saucers.
“Didn’t you see the obstacle course on the beach?” she pressed.
He shifted his weight. “I figured it was for the kids.”
“No, the guys compete, and my grandmother’s always been the Lobster Queen.”
“I forgot,” Jake answered, running his hands through his dark tangle of hair.
She watched him closely as that weird déjà vu thing between them returned.
He shook his head. “I mean, I didn’t realize.”
“Better hurry! It’s about to start,” the girls said with a squeal as the screen door slammed behind them.
Natalie paced the length of the room. “One of the older boys will most likely win, and it is only a kiss on the cheek.”
“Or it could be Marcus with onion breath or Leo, and he may fake you out and try to kiss your feet,” Jake added with a half-laugh half-grimace.
The Kiss Keeper Page 13
