by Amy Lyon
“Great!” Sara said, trying to smother her disappointment with excitement. She snapped pictures of some of the displays as she moved toward the front of the store. “I should get moving anyway. I’m having shelving and supplies delivered this morning. That’ll keep me busy all day.”
And hopefully keep her thoughts where they should be. On her business.
“I’ve got time this evening after I close the shop at six,” he said. “Wanna take photos then?”
Sara shrugged casually. “Sure. I think I’m free.”
Who was she kidding? He knew as well as she did that she hadn’t been on the island long enough to fill up her schedule. Not that she’d had much of a social life of in Minnesota. Truthfully, her idea of an exciting night involved a thorough kitchen cleaning and rearranging the glasses in her cupboard.
Jackson peered down at her with soft eyes and Sara feared the worst: pity.
“I’m here all day if you need help lifting boxes, shelving, perfume bottles, whatever,” he said and cocked his head. “I’m your guy.”
She clucked her tongue. I wish. “A true gentleman.” She stepped down the stairs to the sidewalk, and when she looked back to give him a friendly wave, the sight of him stopped her.
“Hold it,” she said, bringing her camera to her face. She snapped several shots of what looked like a scene from a magazine. Jackson leaned casually against the weathered porch post with his arm over his head, his shirtsleeve pulled up just enough to accent his muscular biceps.
She resisted the urge to fan herself.
She focused on Jax. The golden retriever sat next to his owner with what appeared to be a huge smile on his furry face.
“This is too good,” she murmured.
Jackson laughed uncomfortably and lowered his arm, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Just a couple of bachelors living the life,” he said and nudged Jax with his knee.
The implication that he was single sent a shiver up Sara’s spine. When she said I do to Mack, she’d sworn she’d never have to wonder again what a man thought of her. Little did she know there were much worse things to think about when in a loveless marriage. All that aside, since Mack passed away she hadn’t even considered a relationship. She’d resigned herself to being a widow.
So why now? Why Jackson?
She focused her attention on Jax. Maybe she needed a dog. Would a canine companion be enough to take her mind off her handsome neighbor?
“Don’t forget to bring Jax to the beach this evening,” she called over her shoulder. “We want to make sure the real manager of Beachside Rentals is featured on the website!”
Jackson’s gentle laugh rippled through the air and stayed with her on the short walk to her shop. She had hoped seeing him this morning would squelch the desire she’d felt last night, but being in his presence only made her want more. More of the long gazes and gentle smiles. More of the flirtatious banter and any reason he could find to touch her.
Her heart had been the silent party for so long, relegated to the back seat while sensibility mapped the safest route and took the wheel. But today, her heart found its voice, hopped up front and demanded the keys.
We’re going after this guy!
* * *
Jackson was uncomfortable having his picture taken, but that cute little face behind the camera kept him focused. Sara was a free-spirit tonight, unguarded and energetic, and wearing a big, white sun hat that shaded her face from his admiring view. He wished he could spend the whole evening on the beach with her, but he had a commitment to keep.
Sara kicked her shoes off and walked along the waterline.
“It’s warm,” she said. “Go grab one of your boards so we can get some action shots.”
He loved her energy and spunk, and the calm water would be perfect for paddleboarding. But he had to decline.
“Dinner at seven,” he said and motioned to his shorts. “Don’t really want to sit there in wet clothes.”
Sara nodded her understanding. “With Vivian?” she asked, her gaze still on the water. “I saw her leave your shop this afternoon.”
Jackson smirked at this hint of her jealousy. He’d take any help he could get to gauge her interest. “A little bit of Vivian goes a long way.”
She looked up. “It’s none of my business—”
“PTSD group,” he said. “Retired military guys I go to dinner with once a month. Helps me deal with this—” he waved an arm in front of him “—new direction for my life.”
Sara’s face softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“And for the record,” he said, moving in closer. “I have no interest in Vivian.”
Sara looked out over the horizon. “That’s really none of my business.” But he caught the tip of a smile under that hat.
Jackson gently nudged her. “It could be your business.”
She snickered. “You’re not flirting with me, are you?”
“Finally, you noticed.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “What’s a guy gotta do to get your attention?”
She laughed again but he couldn’t read her expression. If she’d at least take off her sunglasses, he’d be able to look into those green eyes and, maybe, have some clue as to how she felt about him.
As if reading his thoughts, Sara’s fingers threaded with his. “If your dinner is at seven, you should get going.”
He pulled her in closer so his chin rested on top of her hat. “But I just got here,” he whispered. “And you’re way more fun than a bunch of old guys complaining about life.”
She looked up, rose to her tippy-toes and brushed a kiss across his cheek. “There’s always tomorrow.”
Jackson’s heart exploded, freely giving in to what he felt for her. Maybe he couldn’t see her eyes, but he felt a trail of fire where she gently kissed his cheek and the softness of her small hand in his. That was enough. More than enough, actually.
For the first time in years, he knew he was in the right place at the right time.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sara liked that before Jackson left for dinner, he made plans to meet her at the beach the next morning to pose for paddleboarding photos.
So, at 7 a.m., she crossed Water Street and headed back toward Mimosa Harbor. The ocean was calm, boat traffic was nonexistent, and the landscape was picturesque. From a hundred yards away she saw him on a board gliding atop glassy waters, his strong figure a silhouette to the sun rising on the horizon behind him.
He whisked across the surface with powerful, even strokes. And as Sara got closer, she saw Jax perched on the front of the board. She snapped pictures as fast as she could, knowing the scene would make a perfect header across the top of Jackson’s website.
A man and his dog.
Ultimate relaxation.
This serene scene could be yours.
Come to Beachside Rentals today.
She waited at the water’s edge until he saw her, and took more photos as the duo made their way to shore.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” he said with a smile that heated her body.
“Good morning.”
Jax jumped off the board into the water and Sara greeted him, too. Like a little, furry gentleman, Jax moved several feet past her before shaking off, saving her from a sandy shower.
“Have you ever thought about teaching paddleboarding?” she asked. “You could give individual lessons or teach a monthly class. It’d be good marketing for the shop and a way to make some extra money. I bet they’d let you put flyers out at Casa Blanca Resort and Spa.”
Jackson hopped off the board and beached it. “You work too much,” he said matter-of-factly.
“This isn’t work,” she argued. “This is fun for me. I enjoy planning and—”
“Time for some real fun,” he said, resting a hand on the small of her back to lead her toward the water. “Thanks for volunteering.”
“Volunteering? For what?” She resisted slightly, but his hand felt good touching her.
“To
be my first student.”
“Oh no, I can’t.” She held up her camera. “I have this.”
Jackson took the camera, wrapped it in his beach towel and set it on top of his shoes a safe distance from the water.
“I’m not wearing a swimsuit,” she said when her feet hit the water. She ran a hand over her khaki shorts and touched the fabric of her white tank-top.
“Then don’t fall in.” He nudged the board out with his foot. “You’re the perfect test subject.”
She snorted. “How do you figure?”
He waded in a few feet, his fingertips holding the board in place. “You’re from up north, most likely haven’t been on a paddleboard before, might be a little afraid of the ocean—”
“I’m not.”
He shrugged. “Either way, you’re probably a little unsure of your balance on water.” He patted the pad of the board. “So hop on. I’ll teach you.”
Tiny waves lapped at her knees. “No, you go ahead. I’ll watch and learn.”
“First lesson in stand-up paddleboarding: You learn by doing.” He patted the deck pad again. “Sit cross-legged for starters. I’ll be right here with you.”
Sara didn’t want to seem chicken, so she waded a little farther in, backed onto the board and swung her legs over the top. The board was surprisingly stable and she sat comfortably above the water.
“Perfect,” Jackson murmured behind her.
Chill bumps rose on Sara’s arms. Both the water and the air were warm, so the reaction was purely Jackson-induced. She felt safe. Like she could try anything with his encouragement.
A welcome sensation washed over her and she related the feeling to her father and her childhood. The whirling in her midsection was a combination of warmth and electrifying energy, and she recognized the fearlessness from the times she tried something new, even something so simple as riding a bike without training wheels.
There was safety in her father. In his memory. And for the first time she felt that safety with another man, with Jackson.
He fastened the board’s leash to her ankle and walked alongside the board.
“You know how to swim, right?”
Sara huffed. “I grew up on a lake. I should hope so.” She turned to look at him. “Why, are we going to tip over?”
He shook his head and smiled. “This is the largest board I have and it’s perfect for training. It’d take a tsunami to bring us down.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she muttered.
Jackson eased onto the board and knelt behind her. Then, in one quick motion that barely caused a ripple, he pushed himself to a standing position.
In no time they sailed parallel to the beach. Sara lost herself in the peacefulness of Mimosa Harbor even with Jax barking playfully as he kept pace with them, running along the water’s edge. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt this content. Life had been darkened by a negative undercurrent for so long she’d forgotten what it felt like to swim comfortably in her own skin.
Today was a welcome reminder.
As they neared the docks of Mimosa Sailing and Boating Club, Jackson dragged the paddle and brought the board to a stop.
“Your turn,” he said.
Sara jerked her head to look at him. “Oh no, I’m fine being a passenger.”
But Jackson wasn’t taking no for an answer. He lowered himself to his knees, balanced the paddle on the deck in front of her and wrapped his fingers around her shoulders.
“We’ll ease up to a standing position,” he said. “You got this.”
She planted her hands on the deck. “What if I tip us over?”
“You won’t.”
“But what if I do?”
“What if you stopped what-ifing for two seconds and trusted me.”
Well, since you put it that way … Sara took a deep breath, eased forward to her knees and let Jackson guide her to a standing position. The board wobbled slightly, but for the most part she felt balanced and safe.
“Good news is, if we do topple over, the water’s only three feet deep here.”
“Funny,” she said, but knowing the water was shallow did help her relax. She’d grown up on a lake, was accustomed to waterskiing and tubing, and learned how to swim before she learned how to ride a bike.
But the ocean was different, full of strange sea life, and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of Jackson.
He picked up the paddle and handed it to her.
“Another lesson,” he said. “Paddle with your core, not your arms.”
Sara dipped the paddle fully into the water and immediately felt her abdominal and back muscles engage. The motion forced her onto her heels. Before she lost her balance, Jackson gripped her hips and steadied her.
“That’s it. Keep your head up and your weight centered over your feet.”
Sara bit her lip. She understood now why Jackson was so toned. He made paddleboarding look like a day of tubing on the lazy river.
His hands moved from her hips to her arms, and he gently adjusted her grip. “Let’s try switching sides with the paddle,” he said, and showed her how her grip should change.
“You’re a good teacher,” she said over her shoulder.
“You’re easy to watch.”
Sara felt the chill bumps rise again on her arms. “I think you meant teach.”
“No,” Jackson said, close to her ear. “I meant watch.”
Soon, they sailed along at a comfortable pace. Not as fast or as gracefully as with Jackson at the helm, but in a forward motion nonetheless. His hands never left her sides and she relaxed into the closeness of him.
As they came in for a landing on the beach, Jackson hopped off the board easily and slipped the paddle from Sara’s hands.
“I see why you enjoy this so much,” she said. “Very relaxing and a good workout.”
“Wasn’t my first choice, but it has grown on me.”
She stepped off the board. “What do you mean?”
He pulled the board onto the sand. “Other than walking and riding a bike, paddleboarding is the only activity I’ve been cleared for by my physical therapist. I used to be more—” he searched for the right word “—athletic, I guess you could say.”
“Before your injury?”
He stiffened. “Yes. Before the injury.”
She rested her hands on her hips. “Where were you shot? If you don’t mind me asking.”
A muscle ticked at his jaw and she knew he did mind. At least a little. “Leg and shoulder,” he said, patting his left knee. “The bullet to my leg grazed the skin and didn’t cause much damage. The shoulder was more ... involved.”
Sara cocked her head for a better look, but his board shorts covered his knees and his T-shirt, while stretched tightly across his back, didn’t reveal his shoulders. Clearly his past was a sensitive subject, so she opted for the neutral topic preferred by Minnesotans.
“What a perfect day,” she said on a sigh.
Jackson seemed to relax and he looked out over the water. “Really is paradise. Especially early in the morning.”
“Must have been amazing to grow up here.”
He glanced her way and the storm still swirled in his eyes. “It was,” he agreed.
“And now?” Oh, she was pushing, but she didn’t care. The craving to know more about him was too strong. “Are you glad you live here now?”
He drew in a deep breath. “Being back on Mimosa Key was not in my long-term plan, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t part of a greater plan.” He stepped closer to her. “There’s always joy in coming home.”
“And home is what you make it,” she said.
He looked down at her and smiled. “Exactly.”
Jax barked behind them and lunged at the sand. They moved in his direction and Sara spotted the dog’s target. A sea creature on guard with its pincers up.
“What is that?” Sara hissed, stepping back into Jackson.
He laughed and protectively wrapped a ha
nd around her waist.
“Little ghost crab,” he said. “Completely harmless.”
“So you say.” She crouched cautiously for a better look.
“Unless Jax sticks his nose within pinching distance, he should be fine.”
“And what about us?” Sara asked, checking the sand around them. “Are there more?”
He laughed. “Hundreds burrowed in the sand, but they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”
Sara snorted. “People say that about snakes and spiders, too, but I’m never comforted when I happen upon one.”
Laughter rippled up from his throat and the tension he’d displayed earlier disappeared. With a gentle touch, he turned her to face him. “I’ll protect you,” he said in a husky voice.
Sara imagined he could protect her from more than just a ghost crab. Maybe her past, too.
She tipped her head to gaze up at him. “Oh, my hero,” she quipped, resting a hand over her heart.
And like that little ghost crab making its way back into the safety of its hole, Sara wanted to retreat. She didn’t trust her feelings, especially raw ones like these. In her experience, most situations turned sour with time.
She considered a joke to lighten the mood, but Jackson’s eyes rendered her speechless. The cool blue-gray depths burrowed into her soul. As if he sensed her insecurity, he gently caressed her shoulders and leaned forward. When his lips touched hers, Sara exhaled the breath she’d been holding. His lips were full and slick, and his kiss was slow and gentle, seemingly in time with the waves lapping the shore.
A slow tingle swirled in Sara’s midsection as she leaned into the solidness of his chest. He embraced her like a person might cradle a valuable glass figurine, solidly and possessively, but with extreme care. And Sara knew in an instant what it meant to become one with another human being.
Gently, he pulled away, continuing to kiss her with his eyes.
“That was nice,” he said, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.
She nodded, words escaping her for several seconds. “Very nice,” she finally said.
Her arms found their way to the solid foundation of his chest and her hands explored the lines of the muscles just below his T-shirt. “You should open the shop,” she said, wanting him to do no such thing.
