by C. L. Roman
Abby’s lips twitched, but otherwise, she maintained her placid expression. “Why on earth would I say any of that?”
“Because . . . it’s true?” I shifted in the pink wing chair, draping my body on the seat so that my legs dangled over one arm. “Because you’ve been dying to say all that since the moment I showed up on your doorstep, spouting off about bracelets and legacies and curses and Las Vegas?”
“Well, I’ll admit that I’m more than a little lost. And curious, too.” Abby folded her hands on the top of her desk. “I didn’t quite understand what you were saying when you got here yesterday. What bracelet are you talking about? Who’s the guy? And did you say you were in Vegas?”
“This is the bracelet.” I lifted my arm so that my cousin could see the pretty gold bangle with inlaid onyx and pearl. “And the rest . . . it’s a long story.”
Abby laid down her pen and rested her chin in her hand, leaning on her elbow. “I’ve got all the time in the world, Sierra. Spill it.”
“Okay.” I sighed and settled deeper into the chair. “Well, the day before yesterday was my birthday—”
“I know. I sent you a card.” Abby’s tone was even and patient.
“Right, of course, you did. Thanks so much for that.” I had a vague memory of opening an envelope from Florida. Abby was good about remembering birthdays, anniversaries and holidays, of course—she was perfect. Or at least that was how she’d always seemed to me.
“Anyway, just before lunch on my birthday, I got a package from my aunt Jenny. It was this bracelet in a pretty velvet pouch. I had just ooohed and ahhhed over it and put it on my arm when Blake got to my house. You remember him, don’t you? I’m pretty sure you met at least once.”
“Maybe . . .” Abby shrugged. “You two have been friends for a long time, right?”
“Since we were seven.” I nodded. “So he showed up, and we had to leave for the airport pretty much right away.”
“The airport?” Abby tilted her head.
“Yes.” I uncrossed my legs and re-crossed them. “Every year, Blake and I do something fun for my birthday, just the two of us. A couple of months ago, I mentioned I’d never been to Las Vegas, and he decided that was what we needed to do this year.”
“That’s quite a birthday gift from someone who’s just a friend.” Abby arched her brows.
“We’ve known each other for eighteen years. I don’t think it’s so weird,” I tossed back. “Besides, Vegas is just a quick plane ride from California. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“All right. Fine. Go on. You got the bracelet and then you took off for Vegas with your BFF.”
“Yes, exactly. We got there, checked into the hotel, and then we went downstairs to play slots for a little bit. We’d just gone into the bar to get something to drink when Aunt Jenny called. She wanted to know if I’d gotten the package—and if I’d read her note.”
“Ah.” Abby smiled. “There was a note. And I’m guessing you hadn’t read it.”
“No, I hadn’t, because Blake had gotten there and interrupted me. I explained that to her, and she told me the story about the bracelet.”
“Oh, do tell.” Abby wriggled a little in her seat. “I love a good story.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not sure this qualifies as a good story. Apparently, wayyyyy back when, my many-times-over great grandmother lived in Ireland. She had married a man who was much older than she was, and he died. They didn’t have any children. She was a midwife, though, and this is where the legend comes in. Some woman was traveling and came to their village. She was pregnant and about to give birth, and good old Granny helped to deliver her baby. As a thank-you gift, the new mom gave Granny this bracelet.” I touched the bangle. “She told her that it was a specially blessed piece of jewelry, and it would help her find her true love. The man she would marry. Within a week, Granny had met the man who ended up being my great-great—well, you get it. My granddad, many times over.”
“Wow. That’s quite a legend. It’s a shame it’s on your dad’s side of the family and doesn’t apply to me.” Abby leaned back in her chair.
“Like you need help in the true love department,” I snorted. “You’re head over heels for that husband of yours. I’ve seen the two of you.”
She sighed happily. “You’re not wrong. So Aunt Jenny filled you in on the legend . . .”
“Yes, and there’s more. Once the magic worked for Granny, she decided she’d pass on the bracelet to her descendants. It’s supposed to go to every unmarried, unattached woman in the family on her twenty-fifth birthday.” I hooked a thumb at my own chest. “And that’s why I had it.”
“I can’t believe you never heard of it,” Abby remarked. “No one ever told you about this?”
I shook my head. “Never. There aren’t that many girls in the Lockhart family. Aunt Jenny was the only one for a long time, until I came along.”
“Uh huh. Did the bracelet work for Aunt Jenny?”
“Apparently it did.” I nodded mournfully. “She said she put it on the day her great-aunt gave it to her, and that night, she went to church and met Uncle James.” I dropped my head back, resting it against the side of the wing chair. “I’m doomed.”
“Why are you doomed? Don’t you want to find true love?” Abby regarded me curiously.
“No, I don’t.” I swung my legs around and planted my feet on the carpeted floor. “I’m not remotely interested in finding true love or getting married. Seriously. Do I seem like I’m ready to settle down?”
“Well—” Abby began.
“I’m not sure I’m even capable of it. I’ve never had a long-term relationship, Abby. Nothing serious, that is.”
“All right.” My cousin lifted her hands. “I get it, Sierra. But this—that bracelet—is nothing more than a legend. So you wore it for a little while. You didn’t end up falling in love. Take it off and put it away. Problem solved.”
“No, Abby, the problem is far from solved. On many levels.” I buried my face in my hands. “First of all, when I told Aunt Jenny I was taking it off because I wasn’t looking for a husband, she laughed and said it didn’t matter, once I’d put it on, the magic went into effect.”
“Magic?” Abby rolled her eyes. “Do you hear yourself? There’s no such thing as magic or legends or family curses. These kinds of stories only have the power we give them. Take the damn thing off, and you’ll be fine.”
“Again, not quite so simple, Abs.” I lifted my miserable gaze to meet hers. “See, I kind of freaked out when Blake and I were in Vegas and Aunt Jenny told me the story. We were at a bar, like I said, and after I hung up, I had a little bit of a melt-down. I explained the whole situation to Blake, and he bought me another drink to help calm me down . . .”
“Mmmmmhmmmm.” Abby exhaled through her nose, the expression on her face telling me that she had a hunch where this was going.
“And then another. And at some point in the evening, he came up with a great idea. Aunt Jenny said the bracelet only works if the woman wearing it isn’t married. So what if I got married? Then I wouldn’t have to worry about it.”
“Oh, brother,” Abby muttered. “And this sounded logical to you? How much had you had to drink?”
“A lot,” I answered unhappily. “Like—more than I ever had. I don’t really remember much from the whole night. Only . . . when Blake made that suggestion, it did make sense. It sounded like a good way to get around the curse.”
She sighed. “I imagine what came next involved an Elvis impersonator and a little chapel on the strip.”
“No, it did not.” I squared my shoulders. “We had a perfectly respectable justice of the peace who looked nothing like Elvis.” I paused. “He might’ve reminded me a little of Brad Paisley, though, come to think of it. I don’t know. It was all pretty hazy.”
“I’m sure.” Abby laid her hands flat on the gleaming surface of her desk. “All right, then. You got married in Las Vegas. You’re hardly the first couple to do someth
ing impetuous like this without thinking about it—I’m sure we can take care of the annulment fairly quickly. I assume Blake is on the same page? He’ll agree to annulling the marriage? Where is he, by the way?”
I fidgeted a bit in my seat. “I don’t know.”
Abby frowned. “What don’t you know, Sierra? How Blake feels about an annulment? Or where he is right now?”
I kept my eyes on the floor. “Both. Neither.”
“Sierra.”
For as long as I could remember, Abby had been the cousin in charge. Whenever we all gathered for holidays or family celebrations, she was the one who organized the younger generation, kept us in line, and as we got older, arranged for joint gifts to our grandparents from all of the cousins. I was pretty sure she’d been born a thirty-five-year old woman.
And now, the tone in her voice when she uttered my name spoke volumes. It said that she was trying to be patient with me, but she needed me to cooperate, or she was going to lose her temper.
“I woke up yesterday in bed with Blake.” I cleared my throat. “Naked. And if this annulment deal is contingent on the marriage not being consummated, then we’re screwed, because it was damned good and consummated.” I hesitated. “Three times.”
“Of course, that part you remember,” she said under her breath, and I ignored her.
“I flipped out. I grabbed all of my stuff and left. Checked out of the hotel and caught the first plane here.”
“Sierra.” Much like my mother, Abby had the uncanny ability to make me feel like a recalcitrant four-year-old with one word. “You know, I’m beginning to think you weren’t wrong about not being ready to settle down yet.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Taking off without facing the mistake you made and working to fix it isn’t exactly the mature choice. How do you think Blake felt when he woke up alone?”
“Maybe he was relieved.” I shrugged. “I mean, yes, I did leave, but I also paid our hotel bill before I checked out. Blake probably woke up and was glad that I was gone, so he didn’t have to tell me that the night before was a mistake. I’m sure he went back to California and is currently trying to forget I even exist.”
“Regardless, you have to call him and talk. Make sure he’s feeling the same way you are, and then . . . figure out what you’re going to do to end this marriage.”
I jiggled one leg. “I will. But . . . I need a little time, Abby. I’m mortified. Blake and I have been friends for a long time. How am I ever going to face him? What if he hates me?”
Abby stared at me for a long moment, her lips pursing and her eyes narrowing. “Sierra, have you ever had any feelings for Blake that go beyond friendship? Do you think it’s possible he wants more than friendship from you?”
My cheeks warmed. “No. Of course not. We’re friends. He doesn’t think of me that way.”
“Uh huh. Well, I don’t know Blake, and I can’t speak for the relationship you two have, but in my experience, men don’t offer to marry women, even women who’ve been their best friends forever, if they don’t have some deeper feelings.” She sniffed. “Sometimes even men who do have deep feelings run at the first mention of marriage. It just seems to me that maybe you’re not seeing what’s there in front of you.”
I swallowed over the lump of panic in my throat. “You’re right, Abs. You don’t know Blake. If you did, you’d realize how wrong you are.” I stood up. “If you don’t mind, I’m going back up to my room for a while. I think I have jet lag.”
Abby eyed me. “Okay. But listen, Sierra—don’t you want to come and stay with Ryland and me, at our house? We’d love to have you. Connor adores you.”
I smiled, almost involuntarily. Abby and Ryland’s little boy was a sweet toddler now, and I loved him, too. But even so . . .
“Thank you, Abby.” I gentled my voice, because although I was annoyed at her for implying that Blake had some kind of hidden agenda in marrying me, I knew she only wanted the best for me. “But I think I’d rather stay here at the Inn, if that’s all right. I’m not very good company right now, and I want to be alone to lick my wounds.”
“All right, sweetie.” My cousin skirted her desk and came over to hug me. “But don’t let this drag on too long. For your sake, and for Blake’s, you should figure out what you both want and make it happen sooner rather than later.”
I nodded, although my stomach clenched at the idea of facing my best friend again. “I promise. Don’t worry, though, Abby—I’ve got some time. I’m sure that right now, Blake’s back in California, pretending that the last three days never happened at all.”
Chapter Two
Blake
“Hey, there. Welcome to the Rip Tide. Have a seat anywhere you like.”
The woman who greeted me from behind the bar grinned widely and gestured to the mostly empty tables and chairs. It wasn’t surprising that the restaurant was quiet; at ten-thirty, it was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch.
“Thanks. If it’s okay, I think I’ll just sit at the bar.”
She shrugged. “Help yourself. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Iced tea?”
What I really wanted was a shot of Jack, but ordering hard liquor before noon probably wasn’t the way to make a good impression. “Uh, coffee sounds great. And maybe some ice water? I just got off a plane, and that always leaves me dry.”
“You got it.” She turned to pick up the coffee pot, and I studied her absently. She had to be in her forties or maybe even a bit older, I decided, but even so, she looked good. Her arms were slim and tanned under her short-sleeved tee, and the black hair that was caught up in a messy ponytail had only a few strands of silver.
“Where did you come from?” She poured the coffee into a plain white mug and slid it toward me across the scarred wooden bar. “Sugar and cream are right here, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I poured a generous helping of cream into my mug. “Uh, I flew in from Las Vegas this morning, but I was just visiting there. I actually live in California, in the San Joaquin Valley. About forty-five minutes from the Bay Area.”
“Oh, yes. I know vaguely where that is. My husband and I were in that part of the world a couple of years ago, touring wine country. We’ve been toying with the idea of trying a vineyard around here.”
“Yeah, that’s not too far away from my hometown.” I sipped the coffee. “Would a vineyard work around here? Are the soil and the climate right?”
She shrugged. “For a certain type of grape, it would work. But we’re still in the research and debating stage. Logan—that’s my husband—isn’t sold on the idea yet.” She smiled and winked at me. “But he’ll come around. He always does.” Holding out a hand to me, she added, “I’m Jude Holt, by the way. I own this lovely establishment.”
Shaking her extended hand, I glanced around the restaurant. It wasn’t elegant or trendy, but it was homey and comfortable, definitely well-cared for and clean. “Nice to meet you. I’m Blake Hennessey. And this is a great place.”
“Thanks. The Tide has been in my family for four generations now. My grandparents started it, and now my son and daughter-in-law run it most of the time. I come in between trips or when they need a hand.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “You know this town, then. You’d be able to help me out. I need to find a place to stay, and I couldn’t find any hotel names I recognized nearby.”
Jude laughed. “No, you wouldn’t. But I can definitely point you in the right direction. Full disclosure, though—my husband and I own both of the places I’m going to recommend.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I smiled back at her. “Sounds to me like you two run the town.”
“Not hardly. But we do everything we can to try to make it the best place possible to live.” She pointed to the door. “If you walk out here, take a right and go about two blocks away from the ocean, you’ll see the Daniel Hawthorne House. It’s an adorable bed and breakfast, which might no
t seem like an obvious choice if you’re just looking for a place to crash, but I promise, the place is amazing. It’s comfortable and homey, and the breakfasts are delicious.”
“If it’s close and has a vacancy, I think I’m sold. But what’s my other choice, just for kicks?”
“At the other end of town, down on the river, is the fittingly named Riverside Inn. It’s more of a hotel, or maybe even a resort. You’d have more privacy there, and you’d be out of the hustle and bustle of town.”
I tried not to laugh at that. Crystal Cove seemed like a decent place, but I wasn’t sure if I would term its main street as having much in the way of hustle and bustle. “I think I’ll try the bed and breakfast. What did you say it’s called?”
“The Daniel Hawthorne House. It’s named after my late husband.” Jude reached for a rag and wiped the bar top.
“Your late—oh. The way you talked about him . . .” I trailed off, confused.
“Oh—yeah. Sorry. Daniel was my first husband. We were married almost twenty-five years when he died of cancer. It’s been seven years now.” She smiled again, but this time, there was a wistfulness there. “We’d been childhood sweethearts. Losing him nearly killed me, too. Might have, if I hadn’t had two kids who needed me—and my husband’s friends who were determined to keep me alive.”
“They sound like great friends,” I observed.
“The best. As a matter of fact, I married my favorite one of them.” Her eyebrows rose, and she laughed. “Which sounds kind of cheesy when I say it like that. But it wasn’t. Logan was Daniel’s best friend, and nothing happened between us until over a year after Daniel passed.” She paused, and her eyes went soft. “Logan is . . . my reward for surviving those hard times, I think. He’s what I never dreamed of having again, after Daniel. I was blessed enough to marry my best friend—twice.”
My heart thudded painfully against my ribs. “Lucky you.”
“So now that you know my life story—or at least the high points—tell me. What brings you to Crystal Cove, Blake?” She leaned her elbows on the bar and watched me with bright green eyes that were filled with friendly curiosity.
