“What’s all this, Sister?” he asked.
“I told you, God’s work,” she answered with a deceptively sweet smile.
He cocked his head to the side. “God’s work is riding a motorcycle?”
“No, you idiot,” she said with an annoyed shake of her head. “God’s work is borrowing Dominic’s bike to take you to Camp Woolwich to find Natalie.”
His brow creased. “You can drive that thing?”
Like a tiny nun ninja, she kick-started the old bike and revved the engine.
“Holy—” he began, but Sister Evangeline pinned him with her gaze.
“Cow,” he substituted for holy fucking crazy shit! Because that’s what this was.
“Get in,” she called over the grumble of the engine.
He paced the sidewalk. This is what he wanted, right? A chance to get her back. The opportunity to show her that he loved her and that he wanted to make a life with her. He stared at his reflection in the window of the shop next to the bar when a sparkle caught his eye.
A ring.
He pressed his hands to the glass to find a Natalie green emerald, right there, staring up at him as if the universe had planted it.
“Give me a second,” he called to the nun, then ran inside, and, in less than five minutes, he’d purchased a…what?
An engagement ring?
He stared down at the sparkling gem. “Sister, do you have a phone?” he called over the engine’s sputtering purr.
The woman reached into a pocket and handed him her cell. “Don’t let Sister Anne know I have this.”
He mimicked zipping his lips, then clicked on the web browser, and searched for Camp Woolwich. When the page came up, he saw the button he needed, completed the transaction, then handed the phone back to Sister Evangeline.
“You didn’t cancel my Netflix subscription, did you?” she asked.
“No, I pledged to donate ten million dollars to Camp Woolwich,” he said, tucking the ring box into his pocket, then put on his helmet.
The nun’s jaw dropped as he maneuvered his massive body into the snug sidecar, grinning like the happiest guy on earth because he was.
He was all in. All that money would be hers, just like his heart. Even if she were to kick him to the curb, he wanted the camp to have it. With or without him, that money would provide the funds for generation after generation of campers.
He glanced at the nun. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive after that martini?”
The woman scoffed. “You think one martini does anything for me. I could drink you under the table every day of the week and twice on Sunday,” she called, looking half her age with a wide, girlish grin.
He didn’t doubt it.
The nun revved the bike, and they were off, speeding down Main Street. The shops and restaurants thinned out as the motorcycle zoomed down the highway toward Camp Woolwich. He relaxed into the snug space and allowed his thoughts to drift. Memories of his mother and father, once locked away in his heart, came flooding back, washing over him like the tranquil coastal breeze.
Sailing trips on the lake, tying knots with his father, and nights spent in their little boat’s cabin, playing board games and laughing, danced in his memory and warmed his heart. Those years had been jam-packed with so much laughter and such profound joy.
He’d tried to forget, fearing that the pain of never experiencing real happiness again would be worse than the stoic numbness he’d forced himself to adopt. But loving Natalie had cracked open his hardened heart.
No matter what happened next, his life would be different.
He would be different.
He’d choose kindness over cash flow and sincerity over sales.
He would do better. Be better.
“I could use your help getting her back,” he whispered to his parents as a warmth filled his chest, but he didn’t have long to dwell on the sensation as the Camp Woolwich sign came into view.
The old motorcycle turned onto the camp’s bumpy road as they entered the property then passed the parking area near the lodge.
“Where are you going?” he called to the nun.
She maneuvered the bike onto the path that led to the waterfront, and then he remembered.
The vow renewal ceremony was tonight on Woolwich Island.
Across the cove.
Separated from the mainland by a narrow stretch of the ocean.
An island only accessible by boat.
“There’s one left,” the woman called, cutting the engine.
He took off his helmet. “One what?”
“Sailboat. The family’s gone to their island for the vow renewal. Bev told us about their plans that day we came for our art class. You know, the day where you wouldn’t pose naked for us,” she answered with a pout.
He stared at the boat. “I have to sail?”
“Unless you can walk on water,” the nun countered.
He maneuvered his body out of the tiny sidecar and stretched his long limbs, staring out across the cove. In the hazy twilight, lights from the island twinkled, winking at him, calling to him.
“You know how to sail, don’t you?” Sister Evangeline asked.
He nodded. “My parents taught me when I was a boy.”
“Then what’s stopping you?” she challenged.
Nothing.
The fear and sorrow in his heart made way for an ocean of love. He rigged the little boat, securing the lines and hoisting the mast just as his parents had taught him to do on Lake Michigan.
“I owe you, Sister,” he called, catching the wind as the boat glided away from the dock onto the shimmering sea.
“Well, you haven’t gotten her back yet,” the woman replied, but her wide grin let him know she was pulling for him.
And speaking of pulling, he needed to get his head in the game. As if his parents were right there with him in that little Sunfish, he pulled in the flapping sail. He hadn’t done this in over a decade, but it all came back to him. The rock of the boat. The feel of the line in one hand and the tiller in the other. He could almost see his father pointing, showing him how to pick a point in the distance, and he set a course for the little island with its beachfront littered with canoes, kayaks, and sailboats tethered to a weathered dock.
A peace settled over him. The same calmness he remembered, listening to his parents’ voices lull him to sleep on their overnight boat trips. That is, until the little boat glided in next to the dock, and he realized he hadn’t made a plan. In fact, he was flying by the seat of his pants.
What the hell was he going to say to the woman he loved?
Where should he start, and what would her family do to him? He, the guy who initially was there to get their land, then pretty much duped the beloved Woolwich granddaughter, and broke her heart in the process, had stolen a Camp Woolwich sailboat and sailed to Woolwich Island to crash a vow renewal.
He, the slick guy with a scheme for everything, had no strategy, but when he felt the corner of the tiny box in his pocket dig into his thigh, a sense of euphoria rushed through him.
He had a ring.
He patted the outline of the small box. “Here we go. Wish me luck,” he whispered to his parents.
The sound of violins carried on the breeze, and he sprinted up a sandy trail toward the glowing lights coming from the center of the island. Brush had been trimmed back, but the place still had a wild, uninhabited feel. He worked his way through the winding path, picking up speed until he caught his toe on a tree root and pitched forward.
“Shit!” he cried, stumbling to get his balance when the violin music came to a squeaky, screeching halt, and he looked up to find a large covered gazebo with twinkling lights and row upon row of seated Woolwiches, all staring at him.
Like a wild animal, he scanned their faces, searching for Natalie. Hal and Bev stood along with an officiant at the far end of the gazebo with their heads cocked to the side. No one spoke a word as he continued to survey the group when a hand grabbed his arm
.
“What are you doing here? How did you even get here?” Natalie demanded in a harsh whisper.
“I sailed over?” he whispered back.
She frowned. “You stole a boat and sailed here by yourself?”
“Yeah, because I need to tell you something,” he whispered back, then looked over to find that all eyes were on them.
She crossed her arms. “Well?”
He leaned in so only she could hear. “Muriel never got on the boat.”
She reared back. “What are you talking about?”
“Muriel Boothe, the girl Otis Wiscasset loved,” he said, keeping his voice down.
Natalie’s brows knit together. “Yes? What about her?”
“She never got on the boat back to England. She and Otis ran off to California. They lived a long life together and had kids and everything,” he whispered, his gaze bouncing between Natalie and the many, many sets of unfriendly Woolwich gazes.
Curiosity edged out anger in Natalie’s expression. “How do you know that?”
Good. At least, she was talking to him.
“I was drinking with that horny nun in town, and she told me the real story of Otis and Muriel. Then she drove me back to camp in the sidecar of her gardener’s motorcycle, so I could find you and tell you that there’s no curse,” he replied as her angry expression returned.
“How much have you had to drink, Jake Teller, because you sound insane. And if you’re here out of some misplaced sense of duty, you can get back on the stolen boat and leave. I don’t need you or your help. I’m taking over the camp myself. I’m never letting this land leave my family, and I’m not afraid to do this on my own,” she answered, raising her voice for all to hear.
He took her hands into his. “I’m not insane. Okay, maybe I am, but it’s only because I cannot lose you, Natalie. I never thought I’d sail again, but the thought of not spending the rest of my life here with you was the kick in the ass I needed to make me confront my fears and let go of the past and focus on what really matters. That’s you and Camp Woolwich. I know you could run the camp without me. But I hope that in your heart, you know that you don’t have to.”
She stared past him, shaking her head as her eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t pull away.
He glanced at the Woolwich clan, who were still watching, then exhaled a slow breath. He had to lay it all on the line. It was now or never.
He swallowed hard. “Maybe you and I started out as a con, but I’m pretty sure we both knew the minute that we met that we were meant to be together. I tried to deny it, but my heart knew. And your heart knows this, too.”
Her eyes shined as she held back tears. “Jake, I don’t know if I can trust you.”
He cupped her face in his hand and held her gaze. “Heels, I thought that making lots of money would fill the void inside me. I thought that it would give me complete control over my life. I never wanted to depend on anyone the way I was forced to depend on my uncle. But it never worked. There was never enough until I met you. Well, met you for the second time, and you brought me back to Camp Woolwich. You helped me remember the kind of person I want to be and the kind of person who my parents would be proud of. The kind of person who gives back and the kind of man who gives his whole heart to the woman he loves.”
“You love me?” she gasped.
He nodded. “Yes, more than anything in this world.”
She glanced away. “But what about all my failed relationships with the wrong Jakes? Why would you be any different?”
Dammit, she had a point. A lot of Jakes had let her down.
“What if he’s the right Jake?” Hal called from across the gazebo.
“And remember, none of us are perfect. Mistakes are part of the process, dear,” Natalie’s grandmother added.
He looked to the couple, profoundly grateful to have them rooting for him, then turned to Natalie. In his past life, this would have been the part where he’d close the deal. He’d bullshit his way to get everything the way he wanted it. But tonight, he didn’t have to bullshit. He had love on his side. That emotion he’d once dubbed as something only for the weak had become his fountain of strength.
“Maybe all those Jakes made up a dating roadmap, leading you to the right Jake. The Jake who wants every part of you. Because if you’ll take me, Natalie, I want to be your last Jake and your kiss keeper every day for the rest of our lives.” He steadied himself and stared into her emerald ocean eyes. “We shared our first kiss. Let me keep all your kisses from here on out. I love you, Natalie Callahan. I’ve loved you since I was thirteen years old, and I will never stop.”
“Oh, Jake,” she rasped as a tear trailed down her cheek.
He brushed it away and smiled through his tears. “And, there’s more.”
“More?” she exclaimed.
He nodded. “No matter what you decide. If you allow me to stay or tell me to go, the money is yours.”
“What money?” she asked.
A Woolwich teen held up his phone. “Somebody pledged ten million big ones to the camp. It’s right here on the website!”
He brushed another tear from her cheek. “It’s the best investment I’ve ever made.”
“Ten million dollars?” she repeated with wide eyes.
“That could buy a lot of cinnamon roll-scented foot inserts.”
He and Natalie glanced over at the Woolwich pack to find Lara and Marcus nodding and whispering to each other before Leslie cupped her hand over her sister’s mouth.
“Foot inserts?” he asked.
Natalie released a teary chuckle. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, that ten million is everything I have, and it’s yours. With or without me, it’s yours,” he added softly.
She smiled up at him. “Today, before we left for the island, I asked the tide what it was going to bring me, and now, you’re here.”
His pulse kicked up. She wasn’t telling him to leave.
“We’re not cursed, Natalie. And even if we were, I don’t feel cursed when I hold you in my arms. All I feel is complete.”
“Me, too,” she answered.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about what Charlie wanted me to do,” he said, his voice shaking.
She wiped a tear from his cheek. “I know you are.”
“Can you forgive me, Heels?”
There it was, the question that held all the weight.
She watched him, staring into his eyes. “You heard what my grandmother said about mistakes. We’re good at second chances here at Camp Woolwich.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Say you’ll be mine, Heels. Tell me that I can help you carry on your family’s legacy. Say we’ll be each other’s kiss keeper forever.”
“I’ve always been yours. It just took six Jakes to get to you,” she answered with a teary, teasing grin as a chorus of cheers broke out, but the applause abruptly stopped when he stepped back and took a knee.
“Jake, what’s that?” she asked, staring at the box in his hand.
He glanced at the sparkling ring. “We’ve only known each other a week, and it might seem crazy to do this after such a short time, but when I saw this ring today, I knew it was the ring I was meant to give to you when I asked you to be my wife.”
“A week isn’t that short,” Hal called from underneath a garland of wildflowers.
“And, it’s seven times longer than I knew her grandfather before I married him,” Bev added.
“What’s that all about?” he asked.
She grinned. “It’s another long story. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“We get to have a later?” he asked.
Her eyes sparkled. “Yes, but you should probably hurry up this proposal. We are kind of hijacking my grandparents’ vow renewal.”
He chuckled and then blew out a shaky breath. “Natalie Callahan, you’ve had my heart since I was thirteen years old, and you always will. And if you’ll have me, I will love you every day, and I will k
eep your kisses every night. Will you be my wife?”
“Aunt Nat and Uncle Jake should get married now!” Annabelle called.
“Yeah! Up with Mimi and Poppy,” Josie and Maddy chimed.
Hal gestured to the altar. “There’s plenty of room up here.”
“What do you say? Should we close this deal?” Natalie asked with a sly wink.
With his parents and, he suspected, the ghosts of Muriel Boothe and Otis Wiscasset smiling down on them, he slid the ring onto her finger, then gazed into her ocean eyes.
“Lead the way, Heels.”
Epilogue
Jake
“I think I understand why podiatrists can barely control themselves around your feet, Heels. You do have damn perfect arches,” he growled, holding his wife’s ankle as he pressed a kiss to her perfect foot.
“Do I have to add you to my foot pervert list?” Natalie teased with a sweet sigh.
“Oh, no. As your husband, I’m tasked with being your foot protector,” he replied.
With her hair fanned out on the pillow and her hands gripping the iron rods of the bed’s headboard, Natalie captured his gaze with hungry eyes. “And, as my husband, you’re also tasked with another very important job, and it’s got nothing to do with my feet.”
“Your knees?” he teased, pressing a kiss to each.
“You’re getting warmer,” she purred.
“This freckle on your thigh?” he asked, trailing his tongue farther up her leg.
“Even warmer,” she answered on a dreamy moan.
“How about here?” he asked and began rubbing tiny circles to her most sensitive place.
“Hot,” she breathed as he worked her with his hand and watched her naked body writhe beneath his touch.
Growing slick with desire, she rocked against him, and a fiery jolt of lust went straight to his cock. He’d never tire of this view. And, thanks to the help of a horny nun and a fake curse that turned out to be a real blessing, he’d never have to.
The moment after Natalie Callahan became his wife, in true Jake Teller form, he’d thrown her over his shoulder and high-tailed it back to the little Sunfish where he’d sailed them back to camp, then carried her all the way to their cottage. And that’s where they’d stayed for three days in a gloriously sweaty, orgasmic haze.
The Kiss Keeper Page 20
