by Annie Rains
Grace’s lips curved. “Don’t you ever tire of eating seafood?”
“Oh yeah. That’s why there’s burgers on the menu now. Abby nearly killed me when I suggested that one, but she eventually gave in.”
Grace smiled. “Lunch sounds good. I haven’t had fresh seafood in ages, so I’m in. Let’s do it.”
Jack’s groin jumped to attention at Grace’s words.
Color flooded Grace’s cheeks.
And there they were, back in that attract-and-resist game they’d started when they were kids.
—
“I thought you already knew what you wanted to order,” Grace said.
Jack was seated across from her at a small table that sat right above the water. He had his menu open. “Well, Abby likes to add new items every now and then. Just checking to make sure I’m not missing out on anything.”
“It’s a shame that she and Sam still aren’t talking,” Grace said.
“Yeah. I wish those two would just kiss and make up.” Jack lifted his gaze over his menu and met hers, the word kiss still on his lips.
Grace swallowed, thickly. “This is so surreal. You and I had barely looked at or uttered a word to each other in years, and now we’re sitting here having lunch together. All business, of course.”
“Of course.” Jack closed his menu and pushed it to the center of the table. “I’m going with the burger and fries.”
“Hey, guys,” Abby said, walking up behind them.
Jack turned back. “Hey, Abs. I feel special having you leave the kitchen just for me.”
Abby shook her head. “I love-hate to bust your bubble, but I left the kitchen for Grace.” She looked at Grace. “How’d the morning treat you? Did you drink a glass of water before bed to avoid the headache like I suggested?”
Grace’s eyes widened. Being outed for getting tipsy the night before her first day on the job wasn’t ideal.
Jack raised a brow in her direction and Abby swatted him on the shoulder. “Don’t judge. You, Noah, and the other brother-that-shall-not-be-named go out for drinks all the time. In fact, the other brother was there last night.”
Jack grinned. “And you two sat down and finally had a heart-to-heart, right?”
Abby rolled her eyes. “I didn’t drink that much.” Abby pulled an order pad and pen from the pocket of her apron. “So, I guess you want a burger and fries—traitor,” she teased under her breath. “And Grace, what’ll you have? Might as well pick the most expensive thing on the menu if Jack’s paying. I hear he’s loaded.” She winked.
Grace laughed again. God, she’d forgotten how much fun her ex-family had been. She’d missed them more than she’d realized. “What’s the catch of the day?”
“Flounder poached in coconut, ginger, and basil.”
Grace’s mouth watered. She closed her menu and handed it to Abby. “Sounds delicious. That’s what I’ll have.”
“Great. Coming right up.” Abby ran a hand through Jack’s hair, messing it up. She looked up at Grace and winked. “All right you two. Play nice.”
Grace watched Abby head back to the kitchen. “She seems happy.”
Jack shrugged. “It’s an act if you ask me. Can’t love someone the way she and Sam loved one another and be okay staying apart.”
Grace’s gaze snagged on his. He was talking about Abby and Sam. Not her and him. They’d never been in love, just in powerful teenage lust.
She swallowed thickly, willing herself to look away, but those blue eyes of his were like magnets pulling her in, like polar opposites attracting each other. Finally, she blinked and turned her gaze to the crowded dining room around them. “This place gets packed, doesn’t it?”
“Yep. People love Abby’s cooking.” He snatched a hush puppy out of the basket that Abby had placed on their table.
Grace grabbed one, too. “Thanks for hiring me, by the way.”
“Thanks for saying yes. Now I’m free to do something else.”
“And what would that be?” she asked.
Grace watched the blue of Jack’s eyes seem to darken as they crossed into the territory of what he would do with his life now that his best friend was gone. She’d known Chris in high school, too. She might’ve had a crush on Chris if not for Jack. Chris had been tall, athletic. He was the kind of kid who had always been in a good mood. The kind of guy who made everyone feel like they mattered during a time in life when people were divided into two groups: popular and unpopular. Grace had been in the latter group until she’d joined the Sawyer family, gotten new clothes, and a last name that the town respected. Then suddenly she’d found acceptance—short-lived as it was.
The corner of Jack’s mouth quirked. “We never told anyone, but Chris and I were planning on retiring from fishing this year. We had this dream of starting up a construction business building piers and docks. We were always into that kind of thing. The hours just blur when you’re building.”
“You’ve always been good with your hands.” She felt her cheeks flush before she’d even finished her sentence. She had no idea how good he was with those hands of his—although she’d fantasized a time or two.
“Not sure that building would pay the bills, but…”
“Well, in the words of Abby, you’re loaded, so who cares?” Grace winked at him when he looked up. She was trying to soften the mood that Chris’s memory had suddenly cast. It seemed to work, because now instead of sadness in his eyes, she saw a familiar heat. Working for the Sawyer family was going to be so much trouble, namely because of the man sitting across from her.
Chapter 4
At midafternoon Jack headed over to the recreational area to start repairing the kayak launch. There was no fixing it, though. It was ruined. He’d be better off tearing the entire thing apart and starting from scratch.
“Jack? What do you want me doing?”
Tristan walked up, hands on his hips.
Jack pointed. “I’m sawing wood to the measurements needed to make walking room for two people side by side, with a foot to spare on either side. I’ll saw and you’ll pile the wood when I’m done. Things will go faster that way.”
An hour later, Jack had cut enough wood to get them started on rebuilding.
Tristan walked over and wiped his hand across his forehead as if he’d done an entire day’s worth of work. “Is it break time yet?” he asked.
Jack looked up. He couldn’t blame the kid. This was probably as much work as he’d done in his entire life. “No,” Jack said with a laugh. “And if you want to do this job, you have to do it right. That means you need to earn a break.” Jack realized he sounded like one of those adults he’d rolled his eyes at as a kid. But someone had to teach Tristan about being a man and doing a day’s work.
Tristan stared at him. “I don’t want this job, but I don’t want to go to jail more. So what’s next?”
Jack repositioned the ball cap on his head. The sun was high and the heat from the saw was making him even hotter. “Next we switch,” he said.
A look of surprise lifted Tristan’s dark brows. “You’re gonna let me take a turn at the saw?”
Jack nodded. “Can you be trusted?” he asked. “I don’t want to have to take you to the emergency room this afternoon and get your finger sewn back on.”
“I can do it,” Tristan said.
This made Jack smile. “Okay, good. Let me show you how it works.”
By the time Jack made it home late that afternoon, his muscles ached, which he equated with one of the best feelings in the world. There was a soreness that set in after a good day of fishing. This was similar. The kayak launch was nearly complete. At Gabe’s request, they were going to build onto it, adding another lift and a small pier. Tristan couldn’t argue about the work. The damages he’d done were greater than just one launch. The boat needed to be fixed, too.
Jack grabbed some leftover Chinese takeout from the fridge and sat down at his computer to start looking at various designs he might replicate with the new lau
nch and pier. His cousin hadn’t asked for anything fancy, but this kind of work excited Jack. He drank two more beers at the computer until he found a design that would be easy enough for two people to build. Then Jack headed to bed.
The next morning, Jack willed his eyes open, on the edge of waking and a nightmare. In the dream, Chris was sitting with him at the front of the Summerly, sunglasses reflecting a perfect day.
A day that was damned to be the worst within an hour.
Jack didn’t want to relive that memory, but his mind apparently did, because once or twice a week the dream came to him as crystal clear as the water had been that May morning.
“I’m heading back,” Chris yelled over the sound of the roaring motor, cutting through the ocean.
Dream-Jack gave a brief nod. Sweaty-sleeping-Jack wanted to scream, yell, curse until it changed the outcome. The boat continued forward, though. Dream-Jack smiled. All he could hear was the sound of the motor and the wind rushing against his ear. He never heard any yells for help. Maybe there had never been any. Maybe Chris had fallen overboard and been swallowed up by the ocean so fast that there hadn’t been time to cry out. Jack would never know.
With a huge gasp, Jack awoke, sitting straight up in bed. He’d have thought he was the one who’d gone underwater that day instead of his childhood best friend. He ran a hand over his face and turned to glance out the window. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Jack dragged his bare feet down the hall toward the fridge and grabbed a bottled water. He must have lost at least that much in sweat during his nightmare. As he drank, a knock on the door grabbed his attention. It was still fisherman’s hours, so there were only a few people it could be.
“Hey, Dad,” Jack said as he opened the door. “What brings you here?”
His father stepped inside. “Ah, you know how it is. We scraped the bottom of the boat on the seafloor early this morning as we were going under the bridge. Knocked us into one of the columns. Sam is taking it to get fixed.”
Jack shook his head. “I’m sure it was all Sam’s fault.” Sam and his father were a crew, the same way Jack, Chris, and Noah had been a crew.
His father lifted an eyebrow. “Of course it was Sam’s fault. Always is,” he joked.
“I was just about to make some coffee. Want a cup?”
His father sat heavily on the sofa. “That’s why I came. That, and Sam told me you needed to talk to me.”
Jack grabbed the ground coffee from his refrigerator and went through the motions. “Oh yeah?” he responded, realizing suddenly that this simple, daily conversation was possibly going to turn heated.
“So, how are the interviews going?” his father asked.
Jack prepared two mugs and poured their cup of joe midbrew, placing the coffeepot back in its holder when he was done. He walked over and laid the mugs on the coffee table, along with cream, sugar, and a couple of spoons. He liked his coffee black, but he knew his father dressed his up. It was the only thing in his father’s life that got dressed up.
Jack sat back in the recliner next to the couch. “Yeah. That would be what I want to talk to you about.”
His father looked up. “Well, spit it out. I can see you have your reservations. Why?”
“I don’t, actually. But you might.” Jack set his mug down. “I hired Grace Donner.”
His father didn’t move for a long moment.
“She needed a job, Dad,” Jack started to explain. “I couldn’t just let her—”
His father raised a hand to silence him. “Grace is a good choice.”
Jack pulled back. That wasn’t at all what he was expecting from his father’s mouth. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I never held any of what happened against her. After the divorce, it was hard to keep a relationship with her. She’s a package deal with Tammy.”
“I know.”
“She’s a good girl, though. Always thought so, despite her mother.”
Jack relaxed. He wanted to believe that about her, too.
They were quiet for a moment. Then his father reached in the chest pocket of his shirt and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here.”
Jack took it and unfolded it to reveal the announcement for the Thirty-second Annual East Coast Fishing Tournament. He frowned. “I’m not doing it this year.”
“You’ve done it every year since you were sixteen years old.”
“I’ve also fished with you guys since I was a kid, but not anymore. Things change.” Jack didn’t even want to look at the flyer. He’d done the tournament every year since he was sixteen with his best friend, Chris. He wouldn’t do it without him.
“Chris wouldn’t want you to give it all up. The tournament is one day.”
Jack reached for his mug and took another sip of his coffee. “If I tell you I’ll think about entering, will you shut up about it for now?”
His father’s blue eyes bore into him. “Is that a way to talk to your father?”
Jack grinned behind his mug, knowing his father’s stern look was a ruse. “Yeah, it is.”
—
“So?” Krista said on the other line of the phone on Saturday evening.
“So?” Grace parroted.
“Details, Grace. I need to know how your first couple days at the Sawyer Seafood Company went.”
Grace smiled to herself as she lay back on the couch in her apartment. She hadn’t expected Krista to call, but they’d settled back into their friendship after all these years as if no time had lapsed between them. Krista had always been like that, Grace remembered. She was everyone’s friend. “It went well,” Grace told her.
“That’s it?” Krista asked. “I’ve been waiting for over forty-eight hours to hear the scoop.”
“No scoop. Sorry. There was one little blip with Sam on Friday, but Jack smoothed it over. Then we had lunch together at The Landing.”
Krista gave a small squeal. “A lunch date!”
“Not a date. More of a business meeting.”
“Shh. Don’t ruin this for me. I haven’t had any sparks with a man in forever. And you and Jack used to put off sparks every time you looked at each other in high school. Tell me everything. Everything you ate, said, did.”
Grace ran a hand over her face. She wasn’t used to sharing the details of her life with anyone. “I had fish, one too many hush puppies, and then Jack drove me back to the office, okay?” In the very same pickup truck he’d gotten when he was sixteen.
“Well, I’m glad you now have daytime hours. That means we can hang out more often.”
“That’d be nice,” Grace said, meaning it. She looked up when her mother made a noise from the back bedroom. “I have to go. Talk to you soon?”
“You bet.”
Grace hung up the phone and headed down the hall. “Mom?” She glanced inside the room and leaned against the doorframe. “What are you doing?”
“Knitting.” Her mother’s hands shook as she held tightly to pink metallic knitting needles. Yarn spilled onto the floor.
“You don’t knit.”
“It’s supposed to help with my fine motor skills. The doctor told me to work on those. See, I listen,” her mother said, focusing on her task.
“Right.” And this time Grace hadn’t had to beg her mother to take the doctor’s advice. That was an improvement.
“I’m making a baby blanket. I figure by the time I finish this thing, you’ll be married with a grandchild on the way.” Her mother’s gaze flicked up.
“Not without an immaculate conception.” Grace shook her head and laughed.
“How was work?” her mother asked, returning her attention to the needles and yarn.
“It was fine.”
“I still don’t like you working there. There’s no way those people will treat you right.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom.”
“Did you…see Pete?”
Grace walked across the room and sat down on the bed. “No. Not yet.” And as far as she knew, Jack hadn’t even told his fath
er about her being the new office manager yet. He’d promised her he’d tell the rest of the family, though, before another encounter like the one with Sam happened. No more surprises.
Her mother nodded. “I’ve been thinking about this new arrangement you have. If you’re dead set on doing it, maybe some good can come out of it.”
Grace watched her mother’s hands tremble harder. A symptom of her disease or her anxiety on the subject? “Yeah?”
Her mother stopped knitting and looked up. “I screwed things up with the Sawyer family, Gracie. I was young and stupid. I’ve had a lot of time to think about those years. Maybe this Parkinson’s stuff is my punishment.”
“Mom, that’s not how it works.”
“No, let me finish. I need your help.”
Grace folded her hands in her lap. She was used to entertaining her mother’s dramatics. “What kind of help?” she asked, knowing she’d probably regret it.
“I need you to make things right between our families before I die.”
“Mom! You’re not dying. Don’t even talk like that.” Grace reached for her mother’s hand.
“Shh. I know I’m not dying today. Not unless I take a fall on these knitting needles.”
Grace laughed. “That wouldn’t kill you.”
“You working for the Sawyer family can fix things.”
“Mom,” Grace said softly, “your marriage to Pete is over.”
“Oh, I’m not trying to fix that, dear. That was over fifteen years ago. I just want to make amends, if that’s possible. You can do that for our family.”
“It’s just a job,” Grace said.
“I think it’s fate.”
Her mother was in rare form tonight. “I didn’t realize you believed in fate.”
Her mother shrugged. “And God. And free will. Whichever one works at the moment.” Her mother looked up. The tremors in her neck muscles were barely visible as she held her head high. “I also believe in you. You could do this for us.”
“I’m not sure that’s even possible. I don’t know if you realize this, but the Sawyers don’t like us very much. I think selling the boat named after their matriarch might have sealed their hatred forever.” Business professional was the most Grace could hope for.
