My Kind of You (A Trillium Bay Novel Book 1)

by Tracy Brogan

  “As soon as it got dark that day, I came outside with a jar and tried to catch as many fireflies as I could because I thought for sure one of them was her.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

  “Yeah, I tried really hard, then my dad came outside and yelled at me for chasing fireflies on such a sad, terrible day. I wanted to explain, but he just yelled louder and then sent me to my room. For the longest time I thought he’d ruined my chance to say goodbye to her.” Her sigh was soft and shallow, her tone contemplative. “I was mad at him for so long after that, and he had no idea why. Then I got older and realized they were just bugs, so I got mad at her for telling me a lie.”

  Emily gave another short, abrupt sigh, as if blowing the thoughts away. “Anyway, it’s no one’s fault. Dad didn’t understand about the fireflies, and she was just trying to be fanciful.”

  “Did you ever tell him that story?”

  She looked up at Ryan, her eyes luminous under the glow of the moonlight. “No. Actually, I’ve never told anyone that story. I never think of it anymore, but I guess seeing the fireflies reminded me.”

  “Maybe you should tell him.”

  Her laugh was soft but full of dismissal. “I don’t see much point in that. Effective communication is not really in our DNA, and it doesn’t really matter anyway. But look—here we are.” Her smile brightened considerably as she pointed to a pale blue house just up the lane.

  “That’s where I’m staying. Gigi’s house.”

  He turned the corner with her, still holding her hand. He had no intention of going home without a few more of those kisses, especially after she’d shared such a sad story. He had every intention of cheering her up.

  “I can probably make it from here,” she said, stopping and turning toward him.

  He pulled their clasped hands up between them. “I’m sure you can, but since this is such an old-fashioned place, I’ve decided to act like an old-fashioned gentleman. I’m going to walk you all the way to the front steps. Then I’m going to hope you invite me up to sit on the porch swing for a spell.”

  His lame attempt at charm seemed to do the trick. “For a spell?”

  “Isn’t that what they used to say in the old days? I think I saw that in a movie once.”

  “Uh, sure. I guess I can’t argue with that. So, Mr. Taggert, would you care to join me on the front porch swing and sit for a spell?”

  “I would like that very much, Miss Chambers.”

  “Delightful.” They walked the short distance up the street and climbed the porch steps. A sconce light near the front door glowed amber, but the inside of the house was dark. Ryan spotted a swing off to one side, covered with flowered cushions. It looked very inviting and just the sort of place where a guy like him could steal a kiss. Even better than at the top of a lighthouse, although in truth, he was not that picky. He’d kiss her just about anywhere.

  “I think we are fresh out of mint juleps, but I do believe there’s some cold beer in the fridge. Or a glass of wine?” she asked.

  “Why, Miss Chambers, do you intend to get me intoxicated and take advantage?”

  Emily smiled. “You sound very optimistic, Mr. Taggert. So, beer or wine?”

  Well, now he was feeling optimistic. “Either. Whatever you’re having. As long as it’s beer.”

  The porch swing gave a charming, predictable creak as he sat down, and a few minutes later the porch light turned off and Emily returned with two bottles of beer. She sat down next to him, turning sideways and bringing her bent leg up to rest on the cushion between them. She handed him a bottle.

  “Thank you, miss.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.”

  They clinked bottles and drank, and Ryan couldn’t help but think of how things were so different here. Slow and quiet and peaceful. If Xanax were a village you could visit, then this was it. Damn it all. Tag was right. He liked this place. It pulled on him like a magnet, subtle but steady.

  Ryan stretched his arm along the back of the swing and rested his hand against Emily’s shoulder.

  “Why did you turn the light off?” He hoped it was because she had illicit intentions.

  “To keep the moths away.”

  So not what he was hoping to hear. He took a drink.

  “So who was the guy in the military getup? Tell me about him.”

  “Oh, that was just Reed.”

  He didn’t believe that guy had been just anything. “And? Let’s hear that story.”

  “You don’t want to hear that story.” She shook her head, making her hair slide over her shoulders.

  “Sure I do.”

  “Why?” She looked at him with curiosity but not suspicion.

  “Because I’m sitting next to a pretty girl in the moonlight, and I have a nice cold beer in my hand, and I’d like to hear a story.” And you need to keep talking because if you stop, I’m going to start kissing you.

  She smiled. “Wow. The lack of Internet on this island is really getting to you, isn’t it?”

  “Quit being evasive. Tell me about the guy with the wig and the scrawny, disappointed wife.”

  She laughed, and every time she did that it felt like winning a blue ribbon. “Fine. Reed was my high school sweetheart. Everyone thought we’d get married, even me, right up until the time Nick showed up.”

  “Nick, Chloe’s father?”

  “One and the same. As you can imagine, the dating pool here is pretty limited, but the unspoken rule on the island is that local girls do not fraternize with the out-of-state college boys. It’s a good rule, and one that I broke.”

  “So he was the skinny-dipper?”

  She nodded and took an extra-large gulp from her bottle. “Yep. Maybe if I’d known about dopamine then, I could have saved myself a lot of trouble, but instead, I fell into what I thought was the forever kind of love. When he left at the end of the season, I went with him, back to Texas, but we swung through Vegas first and got married.”

  Ryan took a long pull from his own beer. “It sounds kind of romantic, in a doomed sort of way.”

  “Exactly. I think Nick was rebelling just as much as I was. His parents had some pretty specific expectations for him. He was supposed to become a lawyer and then a judge, just like his daddy.”

  “And that’s not what he wanted?”

  “I’m not sure he knew what he wanted, but for a while he convinced himself it was me. By the time we figured out we’d made a huge mistake, I was already pregnant with Chloe. Harlan shut me out completely for about a year after that. Brooke finally negotiated a peace treaty, but it’s not ideal. Now that I have a daughter, I have a slightly better understanding of how my dad felt, but the good news is, I see signs of a thaw. Maybe. Now you know all about my family. Tell me about yours. You have two brothers, right?”

  Ryan nodded. “Jack and Bryce.”

  “And one of them has been married three times?” She sounded a little incredulous, with good reason.

  “Yep. That would be Bryce. We like to say he never met a woman he wouldn’t like to divorce someday.”

  Emily couldn’t help but laugh, partly because it was funny, and partly because she was happy to be sitting here on Gigi’s porch with Ryan Taggert. “How about your other brother? Is Jack married?”

  Ryan chuckled and looked down at his beer. “No, Jack has never been married.”

  “Why is that funny?”

  “Well, he asked a girl once, but she said no.”

  Ryan sounded awfully lighthearted about this.

  “Hmm, still not getting why that’s funny. It seems kind of rotten.”

  His chuckle became more of a hearty chortle. “It’s totally awful. Especially since he proposed to her during the first ten minutes of a hot-air balloon ride.” Full-on laughter overtook him.

  “No, he didn’t!” Emily covered her mouth with one hand, trying to comprehend the humiliation, in spite of Ryan’s indication of the opposite.

  “He did.
It was awkward. I was there videotaping the whole thing.”

  “No.” Certain moments in life should not be captured on film, and this had to fall under that category. Yet, Ryan’s gleeful laughter made her giggle. Obviously it wasn’t a painful memory for him, even if it might be for his brother.

  “That is the saddest story I’ve ever heard. She said no, and then they had to hang around in that wicker basket until the balloon landed? How long was that?”

  “A full hour. The pilot couldn’t land sooner than that because the pickup crew wasn’t ready. Plus, Jack had told some friends he was going to propose, so there was a group of people waiting for us to come down. I think the only thing that stopped him from jumping out of that basket was thinking he’d only break his legs and not be put out of his misery.”

  “That is so awful.” And it was, but now she was laughing, too.

  “Yep. People were cheering as the balloon came down, but as soon as they saw our faces, they quieted down pretty fast. At least Jack got his three hundred dollars back. The balloon pilot felt so sorry for him that he refunded the money. Jack and I went out and spent it on tequila. The rest of the night is a little hazy after that, but I sure wish I could forget the next morning.”

  “A little hungover?”

  “A little.”

  They laughed again, and each took a drink, and Emily couldn’t resist asking. “So, how about you? Have you ever been married?”

  They were both turned now, facing each other. His arm was still stretched across the back of the seat, his hand sending lovely tremors through her with every casual caress.

  “No, I’ve never been married.”

  “Ever been close?”

  He paused but didn’t look away. “There was a girl once. Felt like the real deal, but the timing was off. I think if we’d gone forward it would have ended badly. It was a pretty long time ago, though. I haven’t thought about it much since then.”

  “No?”

  He set his beer on the porch. “No, not really. Do you know what I have been thinking about a lot lately, though? Like, incessantly?”

  “What?”

  He took her beer and set it next to his.

  “Kissing you.” He moved closer. “Sacramento, San Antonio. Tag. Lilly. I just don’t care about any of that stuff.” He brought a hand up to cup her jaw. “I’m not sure what happens next week, Emily, or next month, but what I am absolutely certain of is that I like you. I like being around you, and I definitely like kissing you, very much.”

  The list of obstacles and reasons and consequences evaporated from her mind at his words and his touch. Ryan was right. None of those things mattered in the moonlight here on the porch. Details could be sorted out later, because right now she needed him. She hadn’t felt this way since . . . ever.

  His hand was warm on her face as he leaned closer, brushing his lips across her cheek. “Just one little kiss,” he whispered, but she didn’t want just one. She wanted him to kiss her over and over again. And then some more. The porch swing swayed and creaked as they moved closer. His hands slid up to tangle in her hair, as if he wanted to capture the moment in his grasp, and finally he kissed her. His breath was warm, his lips soft but insistent, and Emily gave in to all of it. The delicious anticipation, the satisfaction of pulling him close, the pleasure of just being with him.

  Kisses and caresses, sighs and whispers. Emily was enthralled as it continued. The swing protested again, but they ignored it, pushing pillows off to give them a little more room.

  “There, now I can reach you better,” he said, laughing against the curve of her neck.

  She had one arm around his shoulders and the other near his jaw. She rubbed her palm against the little bit of stubble, loving the scratch against her skin. He kissed her neck and she giggled, so he kissed her lips again, and teasing turned to tantalizing. His hand drifted to her breast, and she pressed herself forward, encouraging, inviting, and a soft moan escaped her.

  Emily heard a door close, although it took a moment for her mind to register the sound. She was that distracted, but then the kitchen light turned on, the beam blasting across them through the window like a deputy’s flashlight. They bolted upright and apart, the swing creaking loudly.

  “Hello?” Chloe called out, and Emily nearly groaned in frustration.

  “It’s just me, honey,” she called out. “Go back to bed.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” Nothing except being exquisitely felt up.

  “There’s a spider in my room. He is legit ginormous.”

  Ohmygosh, seriously? She looked over at Ryan. His smile was full of disappointed understanding.

  “Can’t you kill a spider by yourself?” Emily called out.

  “I can’t reach it. He’s on the ceiling, and if I go to sleep, he’ll drop down on my face and lay eggs in my hair.”

  Ryan chuckled softly, whispering, “Do you want me to get it?”

  Emily shook her head. “No, but I’m afraid we have to call this a night.” She turned back toward the window. “I’ll be right in, Chloe.”

  Ryan’s forehead tipped forward to rest against hers. “Okay,” he breathed. “But can we do this again tomorrow? I happen to have a pretty nice room down at the Rosebush Hotel. I wouldn’t mind showing you.”

  Emily smiled and reluctantly stood up. “That is a very tempting offer, Mr. Taggert. Very tempting, and I’d like to oblige, but here in Trillium Bay, we take our courting slowly.”

  He sighed, deep and heavy, running his hands down her arms until they caught with hers. “I suspected as much, but the invitation stands. Think about it.”

  “I suspect I will think of little else. But in the meantime, I have to go kill a ginormous spider.”

  “Okay, and I will go jump in that ice-cold lake.” He leaned forward, giving her one last fast kiss, and she felt her body wanting to surge forward. She felt as if she was seventeen again, only this was so much better because she knew it wasn’t just the kissing that was wonderful. It was the kissing Ryan that was so wonderful.

  Finally, he stepped back. “Okay. I really have to go now. Which way is that lake?”

  Chapter 24

  “Morning, Mom,” Chloe said as Emily walked into Gigi’s kitchen, bleary-eyed and searching for coffee. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. After killing what was legitimately a huge-ass spider, she’d lain in bed and thought about Ryan, and kissing Ryan, and touching Ryan, and being completely and totally naked with Ryan. Then she’d thought about all the reasons that was impractical and unwise. And inevitable.

  She stopped short at the sight of her daughter, up, dressed, and apparently ready for the day.

  “What are you doing up so early?”

  “The boat races. Remember? I told you. I’m going to the boat races with Susie and the gang, and guess what?”

  “What?”

  “It’s going to be yachts of fun.” Chloe waggled her eyebrows, and Emily groaned.

  “New rule. No puns before I’ve had my coffee.” She picked up her phone from the counter. There was a text from Ryan that had come in at one in the morning. It just said, THINKING ABOUT YOU.

  She smiled and turned her face away so Chloe wouldn’t see her blush.

  The other message was from Jewel: CALL ME. AND TELL CHLOE THAT I MISS HER FACE.

  “Jewel wants me to call. She said she misses your face.”

  “Tell her I said I miss her face, too.” Chloe popped up from her chair and grabbed the knapsack sitting on the table, then put her empty cereal bowl in the sink. “I do miss her, but do you know what’s kind of strange, Mom?”

  “The fact that Gigi always wears exercise clothes but never exercises?”

  Chloe giggled. “Besides that. I thought I’d miss San Antonio like crazy, and I totally don’t. I definitely think we should do summers here, and maybe come sometimes in the winter, too, because I’m dying to see some real snow, and Leo says driving over the ice bridge is better than a roller c
oaster.”

  “I did love winters here,” Emily said. She missed the changing seasons and the fellowship of the neighbors during long snowy months. It hadn’t felt isolated. It had felt comfortable, but she’d forgotten that during her time away. Coming home this time had been like sinking into a favorite sofa.

  Emily pulled Chloe in for a hug. “I’m very glad to hear you’re enjoying it here, sweetheart. I really am. I’d love to come home more often, too.”

  “Maybe we should just move here.”

  It was way too early in the morning for radical comments like that. Emily tilted back to look at her daughter. “Move here?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know. I just really like having so many nice people around. Not one single kid has called me a giraffe, and my friends from back home don’t seem to really notice I’m gone. At first we were texting each other all the time, but that’s sort of, I don’t know. Stopped?”

  “But what about Jewel?”

  Chloe smiled. “She could come, too.” Then she leaned in for another squeeze, and Emily counted it as a blessing that her twelve-year-old daughter hadn’t decided yet that she was too old for hugs.

  “Have yachts of fun at the boat races,” Emily said, tugging Chloe’s braid.

  Chloe laughed. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you later.”

  Emily filled her coffee cup and sat down at the kitchen table to call Jewel. Please have good news. Please have good news.

  Jewel’s voice was breathless as she answered. “Hey, sweetie. You just caught me at the end of my workout, but I’m glad you called. I’ve got some good news and some other news that is crazy good news, but you might not think it’s entirely good news. Although it is, it’s just not going to make you totally excited. I mean, I think you will be totally excited on some level, but on another level, well—”

  Jewel was never one to get straight to the point, and her breathlessness made it even harder to understand her. “Jewel, I’ve only got sixty-five percent battery on my phone. Could you just spit it out, please? What is it you’re trying to say?”