Caught Up in You

by Kim Boykin

  One of Denise’s hands was on her curvy hip, the other holding her drink. She put the drink down, picked up Shelby’s wine and then splash. Someone had even played with the footage so that it captured a close up of Declan’s face dripping with wine, mouth gaping slightly and then saying something. What had he said? Shelby didn’t remember.

  “We think Holly posted it. Or Danny. But when you get right down to it, there are a lot of women in this town who would have paid to see that; the other half want to be in your very cute shoes.”

  Shelby stared at the screen in disbelief. No matter how many times the images played, it was still surreal. “But Holly had seemed genuinely glad to see Declan. Danny even came out of the kitchen, they all seemed like friends.”

  “Holly may have that big hunk of Italian man in her bed every night,” Hannah drawled. “But I’d bet my Smith and Wesson, she posted this as a little payback for Declan ditching her at the altar way back when.”

  “What did Denise say to you?” Darcy definitely had her lawyer hat on and was pointing at the screen. “And what did Declan say to warrant a glass of wine in the face.”

  “She told me to zip it.”

  “Oh, no, she didn’t,” Emma barked. “Ooh, that girl is such a bitch. And he got the wine in the face because he defended you?”

  “Yes.” But more likely because he embarrassed Denise by leaving her at the altar four years ago.

  “Aw,” Stacia cooed. “That’s so romantic. Anybody up for a pizza from Rocco’s? They’ll be shutting down delivery soon.”

  “Order two. I’ll ride over to my house and raid the pantry, which is always fully stocked.” Miranda was always in her element as the little general with the Chicks. But if the love of her life, Logan, were there, she’d probably be delayed in coming back if she came back at all. “I’m low on wine, so what I have is for my guests. Sweet talk Rocco into sending over a couple bottles to go with the pizza. Something dry and red.”

  “Just order the pizza,” Darcy said. “I’ll text Trent to bring us some wine and some goodies.”

  “On it,” Stacia said, punching the call button on her phone.

  Emma was fiddling with the iPod doc. “I’d say tonight is definitely a Beyoncé night, all night. This one’s for you, Darcy.” She cranked up Put a Ring on It and took her place on the couch.

  “So do you like him, Shelby girl?” Miranda asked.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  “He bought you shoes?” Dusty whined, pulling the turquoise heels out of Shelby’s big hobo bag. “Oh, man, I wanted these, and Stacia said you only got one eight-and-a-half in.”

  “If you lived here,” Chelsea said, putting the last of the cookies in the middle of the coffee table and looking at her sister like, see I can share. “You, too, would have shoe privileges.”

  “Are you ever going to stay out of my closet?” Shelby snapped, playfully.

  “No, lovely sister, I’m not.”

  “So you like him. You really like him,” Emma teased, taking the other shoe. “These are gorgeous.”

  Yes they were, and he’d carried her over the oyster shell parking lot to keep her from ruining them. And, as an added bonus, he’d felt so good, smelled so good. But after the whole Denise thing, everything went completely awkward. He’d walked her out to the Pedicab, started to hug her, maybe kiss her, and then he’d looked down at his wine-soaked shirt and said, “Better not.”

  Even without him being husband material, she’d wanted him to, and when he’d mentioned walking over to his house, she’d wanted to do that too. She was curious about what he was like without his hands on a paintbrush. Maybe with his hands on her. Maybe she’d get that kiss she imagined tasting as he’d sipped his bourbon. And, why hadn’t he kissed her? Denise had had something to do with that, but maybe he just wasn’t into her any more than he was when they were in college.

  Was she into him? Maybe a little. Okay, a lot, but it was a bad idea.

  The hen party was in full swing when the doorbell rang. “Pizza!” everyone, shouted. Shelby grabbed her wallet and opened the front door. There stood Declan, hands in his pockets, clean shirt on, hair still damp from his shower. He seemed oblivious to the Chicks and Chelsea. Shelby could feel them behind her, huddled together, watching her and Declan like a Nicholas Sparks movie. She could hear their whispers.

  He took her wrist and pulled her onto the porch. She should have closed the door, but it was gaped open, much like her mouth. He was here. Why was he here?

  And then he kissed her. Pushing her up against the doorjamb, holding her in place, which was really good because her legs were completely gone. Everything was on fire as his tongue tangled with hers, making her dizzy. When the kiss was over, he pulled back, ran his thumb over her bottom lip. And turned to leave.

  “What?” He was leaving? Now? After that? “What was that?” she stammered.

  He was almost down the steps when he turned back and smiled.

  “Chemistry.”

  Chapter Nine

  Declan woke up just about a half hour before sunrise. He dressed and skipped breakfast, pouring himself a cup of java that was already made thanks to Mr. Coffee and his timer. Even though the doctors had said his old man shouldn’t be out on the water alone, he’d proven he didn’t want Declan along for his morning outings. It had been a week since his dad had stowed away on his own boat, tricking Declan into thinking he wasn’t going out at all before heading out alone.

  To be honest, his dad’s rancor was wearing on Declan, but every time he rolled over and tried to forget about his dad and the Lazy Jane, he couldn’t. Maybe his dad really didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Declan had wanted to believe that somewhere in their daily treks out to sea, they’d find some sort of common ground in his dad’s last days. Sure he’d disappointed his old man by going his own way, but that disappointment cut both ways.

  Did the old guy deserve a hall pass because he was dying? Not after the way he’d treated Declan and his mom. But his father was all the family Declan had left now. How many mornings did the old man have left to sail out into the sea that he’d loved more than anything? After his and Declan’s contentious past, probably not enough to make peace out of a lifetime of hurt and disappointment. Anger.

  He shucked the idea, darted out the door and down the stairs, headed to the marina. He’d been home for almost a month, and after living in the city for so long, Declan was still surprised that he wasn’t itching to get back to the ordered chaos of New York. Magnolia Bay hadn’t felt like home in years, but then he hadn’t been home in years. Still, he couldn’t see himself here forever, which reminded him of Shelby and her chatty litany about their imaginary differences.

  Okay, so they were different. That night had been amazing and then humiliating. But the payoff? Seeing the look of surprise on her face when he showed up on her doorstep and then after he’d kissed the stuffing out of her had been priceless.

  Even before his lips touched hers, he knew they had chemistry in spades. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been in his arms before, kissed him before, made those little sounds that drove him crazy. Maybe he felt that way because he’d wanted all those things from her and more when they were in college. Thought about her all the time, but she was too young. He knew he’d leave her, maybe hurt her. He couldn’t do that to her then or now. Good thing her friends had been there; it had given him a chance to think about what he was doing to Shelby.

  And just what was he doing with her? He liked her, that was for sure. She was gorgeous, but what did he want from her? To sleep with her? Yep, he was definitely up for that. But there was more to it than just a physical attraction.

  That realization scared the hell out of him and had made him lay low after their date. He hadn’t called or gone by the store. Chelsea had come to sit for him a few days since then and had been sure to remind him how wonderful Shelby was, like she had to work to sell him on her sister. Actually, he was already sold on Shelby’
s looks, her honesty, her easy disposition. What he definitely was not up for was a fourth trip down the aisle, and she’d made it abundantly clear that was exactly what she was looking for.

  The sky was a grayish purple, and a few clouds made a poor attempt to shroud the rising sun as he walked toward the marina. Boats bobbed in the bay, his dad’s trawler on the far end of the docks. He noticed a runner in the distance; her long easy stride would put her at the entrance to the marina before him. She was muted by the twilight, graceful. Beautiful. About thirty feet from him, she moved to the grassy area to give him the sidewalk, and that was when he recognized her. Shelby.

  “Morning,” he said.

  But she was wearing ear buds and was so into the music and her run she didn’t seem to hear him, or recognize him in the dim light. Or maybe she did and she was pissed he’d avoided her. Surprised by just how much that bothered him, he went after her and grabbed her arm to get her attention. To apologize? To touch her again?

  She screamed. Spun around and took him out with a roundhouse kick that knocked him face down on the grass. She stood just out of reach, chest heaving, ready to fight.

  He outweighed her by at least eighty pounds, and she’d dropped him with shocking ease. He rolled onto his back and stared up at her in disbelief. “Jesus, Shelby. Good morning.”

  “Declan?” She moved in closer and dropped to her knees beside him. “I’m so sorry; are you all right? Oh, my God, I could have hurt you.”

  “I doubt that.” Okay, that was more his pride talking than anything else. The fact was, Shelby Worthington probably could hurt him in more ways than one. “Remind me never to startle you again. Where’d you learn to do that?”

  “My dad was a marshal arts nut. Made me and Chelsea take lessons until we graduated high school. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “So you’re what? A black belt?”

  “I’m really rusty. Let me help you up.”

  He propped up on his elbows. “No thanks, I’m fine.” Stupid him. He’d enjoy her helping his six-foot-three-inch ass off of the ground. Might make his wounded pride feel a little better. Instead, he stood up, towering over her. “How rusty?”

  She chewed her bottom lip before she answered. “I only made it to second degree black belt. Jiu Jitsu. But I haven’t done anything with it in years.”

  He made the mistake of pushing a wispy brown piece of hair behind her ear, but she pulled away. Even in the dim light he could see the hurt in her eyes.

  “Chelsea made it all the way to ninth degree black belt. You don’t want to mess with her.”

  Which worked out great because even though he shouldn’t be, he was interested in Shelby. Suddenly, one of the big boats down by the docks rumbled to life. His dad was trying to cast off the lines by himself. “Shit.” Without thinking, he grabbed her hand. “Wanna go for a boat ride?”

  She’d hesitated for a second, but her competitive spirit kicked in and she took off, meeting him stride for stride, laughing, running hard. He ran all the time at the gym in New York, but the thick salty Lowcountry air was getting to him. She pulled ahead of him a little, and he kicked it in gear until he was ahead of her, her hand still in his. “I have work,” she said as they leapt off the main gangplank that led to the marina’s boat slips.

  “Me too.” He barely missed a cleat that would have landed him on his face again. His dad was gunning the engine. Pulling away.

  “Jump,” Declan shouted. By then she was by his side and they were airborne. They landed on the deck of his dad’s boat at the same time, laughing so hard they couldn’t stand up.

  “Hi Dad.” Declan sighed when he finally caught his breath, and then broke up laughing again. “This is Shelby.”

  “Make yourself useful, boy, and straighten those lines,” he barked.

  Mr. Enright was a little intimidating. Okay, he was a lot intimidating. He scowled at her occasionally, showing all his rough edges, but he didn’t scare her. Her dad could scowl with the best of them, but he was a big softy inside.

  She knew from things people had said over the years about Mr. Enright that he wasn’t even in the general vicinity of Softyville. Best stay away from him. Declan straightened out the thick ropes, looking at her from time to time with a smile so thin, it made her think smiling was illegal on his dad’s boat.

  “Girl,” the old man barked, and she snapped to attention.

  Her body went rigid, but her heart ached for her dad and his rough edges. Her dad had wanted sons. Shelby was supposed to be a Shawn, and Chelsea was supposed to be a Jack, named for his brothers. But oh, how he’d loved his girls. He pretended he was all rough and tough, all Navy, but he’d do little things like play Mall Madness or Mama’s ancient Dream Date game with her and Chelsea.

  “Sir, yes, sir,” she managed to choke out. She wanted to hear Declan’s father say something again. Anything.

  “Get over here,” he said, motioning to the cockpit, and she obeyed. The old man’s face was weathered by the sea; he had Declan’s eyes, only they weren’t soft and warm. “You ever steer a boat before?”

  “Yes, sir. When I was a kid. My dad was Navy, sir.”

  He nodded. “Take the helm.” He didn’t go far, just eyed the water as the boat chugged out of the choppy bay and into the open sea. The wind sent whitecaps rolling across the ocean, making it hard to keep the ship’s wheel steady. “Take the whitecaps straight on,” he said. “Easier when you go right at ’em.”

  “Yes, sir,” She remembered her dad with his arms around her, helping her hold the wheel of their little Boston Whaler steady in rough waters.

  “You don’t have to yes, sir me. I’m not Navy.” Yeah? Well, she was a little bit afraid of him. She knew for a fact he was not a nice man, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Just keep it steady.”

  “Yes s—. Okay.” It had been so long since she steered a boat, and never one this big. It reminded her too much that she still ached for her dad and her mom; she wondered if that feeling would ever go away. If one day she’d wake up and she wouldn’t feel that empty place inside her that had gotten smaller and smaller over the years but was still there.

  As if to wrench her from her sadness, the Lazy Jane lurched hard into a swell. The boat was at least forty feet long. Although it wasn’t used for shrimping anymore, nets on giant pulleys flanked either and side of the boat still fluttered in the gusty wind like wings. She steadied herself, spreading her feet a little further apart and steered straight into the waves. “Thank you, Mr. Enright.”

  “Will. Just Will.” He watched her for a while and then sat down on a little chair and pretended to be taking in the scenery, but Shelby could feel him wanting to take the helm again. A couple of the bigger waves smacked into the bow, rattling the fillings in her teeth. Part of her wanted him to take over, but the competitor in her wasn’t about to give up.

  “Hurricane down South America way has the ocean all churned up. The Bay hasn’t been hit hard since Hugo in ’89. I was fifteen when Hazel roared through, so we’re about due,” Mr. Enright remarked, pointing to a half dozen trawlers in the distance. “Costs so much to insure a boat these days, most of them don’t have any insurance. One comes, those poor bastards will lose everything.”

  Hurricane season came and went every year like Christmas or Halloween. As many coastal towns as Shelby had lived in growing up, she had never had to ride one out. Her family had moved to Magnolia Bay six years after Hugo wrecked the Lowcountry, and, there had still been remnants of the storm in places.

  “Hope this one passes us by,” he said, packing tobacco into his pipe.

  “Me, too,” she said over the roar of the engine.

  “He’ll leave soon, ya know.” His words came out matter-of-factly and sounded so much like her father when he used to comment on the weather or the day’s catch when he took her and Chelsea fishing. Shelby couldn’t answer. “He’ll be glad when I’m dead so he can get the hell out of Magnolia Bay.”

  The boat took a sw
ell wrong, tossing her against the old man. He steadied the wheel with one hand and moved in to take over. He looked at her and then looked away quickly toward the bow. “I say something to make you cry?”

  “No, sir.” If she opened her mouth and started talking about how much he reminded her of her dad, she would start bawling and wouldn’t stop. So, she changed the subject. “You’re wrong about Declan; he loves you or he wouldn’t be here.”

  “I don’t blame him for wanting to leave. I was a shitty father, and I’m not any better now. But I’ve seen you around; you’re like them other two he almost married, Magnolia Bay girls through and through. You ain’t going nowhere, but he can’t stay here. Never could.”

  Declan had been watching them while he pretended to mess with the lines. He smiled at her and when she swiped at her eyes and didn’t smile back, he tossed the last line onto the deck and headed straight for her. He leaned in close so she could hear him over the engine. “You okay?” She nodded, and swallowed hard.

  In the distance, a half dozen shrimp boats were closer inland, their nets dropped in hopes of a good haul. Declan knew from talking to Tanner Mauldin, who ran the marina, luck for shrimpers had run hot and cold this summer, mostly cold. When they couldn’t see the mainland, his dad killed the engine and sat on a bench with his back to them. Giving him privacy? Ignoring him? Who knew?

  Against his better judgment, he tugged Shelby onto the small bench at the bow and pulled her into him. Truth was, he couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d wanted to, and man, did it feel right holding her. “I’m sorry my dad upset you.”

  She shook her head and he could have sworn she was trembling, although she’d probably write it off to the rough seas. “No, it’s not him. I’m just a mess,” she said attempting to pull away.

  He wrapped his leg around hers. “Stay.”

  He held her in place until her body relaxed into his. The choppy sea rocked them closer together. Even with his dad a few feet away, Declan was hard for her. Yeah, the old man had no filter, if he saw that, he’d for sure say something to embarrass him.