Tides of Hope: It's Never Too Late For Second Chances (A Nantucket Island Romance Book 1)

by Dawn Tomasko

  From this angle she looked down, gripped his shoulders, the curtain of her hair brushed his cheeks. She reveled in his strength, the bands of shoulder muscles beneath her hands. "Gabriel, this is all new to me. You make me —"

  "Sweetheart, you make me. But since Mom's in the truck, and Charlotte's peeking out of her dining room window at us,” laughter rumbled through his chest, "I should go. Kiss me one more time. I'm going to dream about you all night."

  Sara wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself slide down his body with delicious friction. Toni waited ten more minutes, and if she was still peeking out of the dining room window, Charlotte got one hell of a show.

  Toni left on Sunday on the first flight out, ready to get back to her husband and home. Unfortunately, Friday night she came down with a nasty cold and didn't make it to the cottage. After a visit to the hospital clinic, Gabriel stayed with her, visited with her at her hotel through the weekend until he took her to the airport.

  Sara dropped in with homemade chicken soup, which Toni loved, and after staying a short time, headed back to the cottage. Being alone for the weekend gave her time to think. Island life worked for her. If she wanted quiet, she could have it. Walks on the beach, a ride on her bike, and even an occasional nap, something she never indulged in. If she wanted nightlife, any number of restaurants or a clubs fit the bill.

  But all of it meant more when you had someone to share it with. One thought startled her. That someone could be Gabriel.

  Sunday morning, with a quiet day in mind, she sat in a chair on the back porch. On the side table sat a cup of coffee and Sara held a book by a favorite author. Legs propped on the railing, she found her chapter but after she read the same paragraph three times and it still didn't make sense, she set the book down.

  Even back here, she could hear the surf, hear the seagull’s cries carried on the wind. While much work still needed to be done, she’d made enormous strides in the back yard. The vibrant flowers she'd potted strained toward the sun. Bit by bit, the cottage took shape and already, this little back porch served as a peaceful sanctuary from the life from which she’d fled. Sometimes, running away was the best option.

  Odd, how she'd come to rely on Gabriel's presence and how she missed him when they were apart. Right then she recognized the sound of a diesel truck as it rumbled down the road toward her cottage and pulled in the drive. Her heart lifted and she nearly laughed out loud. She was so happy he’d come. The truck door slammed shut, and his shoes crunched on the shell drive.

  "Back here,” she called.

  Once he reached the porch, he propped a foot on the top step. A dimple appeared in his cheek. His dark blue gaze gave her the once-over, his eyes lingered on her long legs. Sara ran her tongue along her bottom lip.

  "Hey there, gorgeous."

  Oh, he looked good. "Hey, yourself. Your Mom's on her way home?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, I hope the plane ride doesn't mess with the pressure in her head. Her nose and ears are all plugged up. The antibiotic didn't have much time to work.”

  "I hope she feels better soon.” He looked like he’d stepped out of a summer clothing magazine in tan shorts, topsiders, and a soft blue polo shirt. "You look handsome."

  "Oh, yeah?” he asked, leaning down to give her a sweet kiss. “Thank you.” He dragged the other chair close to hers. "It's been a few days since I worked on the porch, but I'm not feeling it today, you know?” Long legs stretched out, he rested his head against the back of the chair and grinned over at her.

  "Neither am I,” she said and gestured toward the book. "It's Sunday. You don't have to work seven days a week on the house. Reading's not doing it for me. Want to go to Town?"

  Fingers laced together over his hard stomach, he nodded. "Definitely. Do you want to go out to lunch or pack one?"

  Sara pulled her feet from the railing, drained her coffee. "Let's eat out. No cooking, no work. Let’s have a real Sunday."

  "Sounds good to me, baby."

  Sara drove because her car had less bulk than the truck. As they walked the myriad of streets and lanes surrounding Town, Sara offered bits of knowledge and history.

  They stopped in front of a house Gabriel admired in particular. A real architectural wonder, the house was tall, a stately white Greek Revival with black shutters and front door with a brass knocker and kickplate. A low white picket fence surrounded the property with short, fat columns at the corners.

  "Houses are just not made like this anymore. These homes are well loved and maintained. The woodwork, stained glass windows, and all the fine detail work. Not a thing out of place. The paint’s perfect, landscaping, the whole thing."

  Sara nodded. "Sometimes when Charlotte shows a house she loves, she'll take me in to look around. It's fun. I would love to work on the landscaping of a house like this."

  "I wouldn't mind coming along sometime.” Gabe grabbed her suddenly, pulling her body tight against his. An SUV zipped by, heedless of how little room there was. “Damn it. Are you okay? Some of these lanes are so tight there's only room for one car. If a car came down the last street we went down we'd have to jump in someone's front yard to get out of the way."

  Eyes closed, she let herself soak up the moment. Right now, they were jammed into a privet hedge. In spite of the branches biting into her back, she tilted her face up to his and kissed his chin. “I’m okay. I love the way you feel,” she murmured, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Mmm,” he buried his face in her hair. “You feel good, too. I wish we were back at the cottage. I can think of a few ways to spend a Sunday at home.”

  Pulling his head down to hers, Sara kissed him with all the pent–up longing she felt. “Now, that was nice,” he whispered, staring intently down at her. “Before we get carried away, let’s take a walk.”

  Closer to Town, they walked the brick sidewalks, and Gabriel reached to take her hand in his calloused one. The warm roughness of his skin rubbed hers, heightened her senses. Now and then, they bumped shoulders, rubbed arms.

  Being with him feels so good. So right. With her free hand, she gripped his bicep, loving the hard, defined muscles, honed from long hours at his craft. Surprised, he looked down at her, then leaned down to nuzzle her neck and press his mouth behind her ear. On a sharp breath, she clutched his arm, wanting nothing more than to feel his body, hot and naked against hers. The touch of his mouth sent a shot of heat straight to her belly. More and more, spending time with him made her restless and Sara found herself aching and empty when they weren’t together.

  They passed the bank at the head of Main Street, Murray's Toggery Shop, and the camera shop. Now and then they meandered into a store if something spiked their interest.

  "There's the Hub,” she pointed diagonally across Main, "where you can get the Sunday paper, coffee, knick knacks and other touristy things. Just behind is St. Mary's Church. Didn't you say you've done work there?"

  "Yes, I fixed a half dozen kneelers.” They crossed Main to the Church. Gabriel stopped in front with its statue of Mary out front. With his chin, he nodded toward the figure, and its plaque. "Star of the Sea. Our Lady of the Isle."

  "She has many names, even here on Nantucket. The island does, too. Fog Island, The Grey Lady."

  Gabriel’s hand brushed down her hair to rest low on her back. "The way the fog can roll in at any time, the name certainly fits."

  They passed t–shirt shops, restaurants, and a unique store filled with woven baskets. "Let's go in here, do you mind?"

  "Sure,” he held the door open for her. "These are nice,” he observed as they moved through the shop. "What are they?"

  "Lightship Baskets,” Sara told him, picked one up to show him. "They're made well, with a tight weave. See the oval wooden base? They have a sturdy handle, a toggle closure and the top flips open.”

  Sara demonstrated. "Women use them for purses, but back in whaling times, ships' crews made the baskets on board. They call them Lightship Baskets because the tradition be
gan on the Nantucket Lightship."

  He turned the basket in his hands. Pleased by Gabriel's appreciation of the craftsmanship, she went on. "Crew members also put a circular or oval whalebone or ivory plaque on top, where they did scrimshaw."

  "Do you have one?” he looked up at her.

  She shook her head. "You can find knock–offs, but I've always wanted the genuine article. I'd rather save up for the real thing. There are tiny ones at the jewelry stores, too. Thin gold wire is weaved into baskets and set on a chain. A little penny is inside the basket."

  "Interesting,” he murmured. "Why haven't you bought one yet?” He flipped the price tag dangling from the handle and gave a low whistle. "Never mind, I see why."

  Sara laughed. "I wanted to show you an important tradition, which goes along with the Lightship, where I want to take you next."

  At last, they reached the waterfront. "Let's walk on the docks,” she suggested. "Down here you can find anything from a dory to a yacht big enough to hold a car and a helicopter."

  Buildings lined the docks, and Gabriel realized they were cottages. "Are these year–round places or rentals?"

  "Both,” she said of the waterfront homes in the Boat Basin. "They're beautiful with stunning views. I've been to a party or two down here. But I prefer my cottage, away from the hustle and bustle."

  "I agree it’s amazing, but you have to like activity and nightlife to rent down here. That and living in close quarters with neighbors."

  "I'd rather sleep,” she said in a heartfelt manner.

  Gabriel stopped to look down at her. His thumbs brushed her jawline. "You have trouble sleeping, don't you?"

  "Yes.” Caught in the intensity of his gaze, Sara moved to rest her head on his shoulder.

  When he leaned down to whisper in her ear, his warm breath fanned her cheek. "Why, baby?"

  Oh, God, she was in danger of losing her heart to him. Instead of answering, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I like when you call me baby."

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead. After a few minutes when she didn’t take the conversation further, they started walking again. She appreciated the way he didn't push. David never respected her space when he was on leave. He’d push and push until a huge argument blew up, leaving them both raw and confused. Gabriel moved to rest his hand on her back as they approached a group of kids who sat in a circle playing cards.

  Gabriel stopped to talk with them. By the time they walked on, he'd gotten them laughing. People seemed drawn to him, especially kids. He would make a good father.

  "Nantucket Lightship,” she pointed to a large red vessel, the name Nantucket Lightship on the side. "She's been around for a long time. This ship is an important part of the island's history, and the country's as well. You know what lightships are."

  "Sure,” he replied. "They're used when lighthouses aren't feasible."

  "Right.” Sarah's eyes roamed the bright red boat. "She kept captains and crews safe to navigate the shoals, rough seas, and fog. A great many boats and ships wrecked here."

  "The lightship showed the way home.” Dark and focused, his knowing eyes glinted down at hers. "The way to safety."

  "True North,” she murmured. His warm fingers came to rest firm on her waist. Sara leaned into his side. Not knowing whether to be shocked or amazed, happy or afraid, she realized when Gabriel was near, her world felt centered.

  "This is the largest lightship ever built,” she told him.

  "Cool.” He absorbed the details of the lightship. "Looks to be about 150 feet long, twin beams."

  "She's been declared a National Landmark, rich in history. During World War II U–Boat sank her. Titanic's sister ship rammed the lightship in 1934, and she sank again. She was recovered and restored. One of her past assignments on the Nantucket Shoals is considered to be one of the most dangerous in the world. There's a concerted effort underway to preserve this important piece of history."

  Gabriel nodded in appreciation.

  "We all need to find our way sometimes, don't we?” She gave a tentative smile.

  "Yes and we can't always do it alone.” Gabriel leaned down to kiss the end of her nose.

  Since it tickled, she rubbed at the spot. To lighten the path of the conversation and the deep water they were treading, she asked, "How about some ice cream?"

  Eyes sparkling, he grinned down at her. "I never turn down ice cream."

  "Well, you're in for a treat,” she grabbed his hand, tugged him along. When they reached the ice cream shop, she held the door open for him with a flourish, which made him laugh. "Prepare to be spoiled. They make waffle cones in irons. See how they peel them off the hot iron and roll them into a cone shape?"

  "Smells delicious,” he bent over the glass cabinet, watched a teenage boy behind the counter form the cone. Scents of warm sugar and hot fudge infused the air.

  "They drop little marshmallows in the bottom to keep the cone from dripping and load it with whatever type of handmade ice cream you want."

  Engrossed, Gabriel nodded without looking up from the glass. "How am I supposed to choose? How many choices are there?” he wondered out loud as he walked along the glass cases. "Toasted almond, mango, red velvet, mint chocolate chip. Heath Bar? Oh, man."

  Sara enjoyed watching him as his face lit up like a little kid’s. "The cones are humungous so I usually I get mine in a cup. Look at you. I know a sweet tooth when I see one."

  "Guilty,” he murmured, still honed in on the selection. In the end, he settled on a traditional mix of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. "Start out slow, and then get wild. That's my policy. Don't you agree?” he prompted, his voice silky.

  She swallowed audibly.

  He chuckled and then paid for the treat. "Sure you don't want one?"

  Both heat and cold coursed through her body. The man played her like an instrument with only his words and voice. "Uh, I'm saving my appetite for lunch."

  "Then share with me, a little bit,” he teased when they walked out of the door back to the sidewalk. "Look at the size of this monster."

  “I’m confident you can handle the whole thing.”

  “Oh, I can handle it.” He brought the cone close to her mouth. "Come on, you know you want to.” The husky quality of his voice made heat pool low in her belly.

  Eyes steady on him, Sara wrapped her fingers around his hand, took a big bite of chocolate and the cone. Sara rolled her eyes. "Mmm."

  He took a bite of his own, took a few steps down the sidewalk and turned back to her. "More,” he offered, only this time when she opened her mouth he shoved the cone into her face. Her nose, mouth and chin dripped with ice cream.

  "Hey!” Sara held her shirt out of the way, gave him a look of mock horror. "I don't have any napkins, smarty pants. Now, what are we going to do?"

  "Let me help,” he leaned forward, kissed and lapped up all traces of ice cream off her face.

  Aroused by the warm, wet slide of his mouth on her skin, she blushed. Suddenly, she wished they weren't in a public place. Her hands rested on his cheeks.

  "All set."

  "You're a bad boy,” after she scrunched up her nose, she complained, "and I'm still sticky."

  "You're delicious,” he quipped. "I'd love to see where else we can put this ice cream."

  Giggling, she shoved at the hard wall of his chest. "I'm a mess!"

  "Yeah, but you’re a hot mess. If you want, I'll buy a bottle of water, and we'll clean you up.” Warm fingers ran up her side, coming to rest under her breast where her heart beat wildly.

  "So you can squirt it all over me?” she yelled playfully.

  His mouth dropped open. "I would never… "

  She grinned, shoved his shoulder. "Yes, you would."

  "Wait a second, let me think about this. The sight of you in a wet t–shirt? Yeah, maybe I would."

  Chapter Thirteen

  They walked, finished the ice cream cone, laughed, and enjoyed each other. The day grew warm without the constant breeze typical
at the cottage. Sara showed him the Atheneum. The builder in him admired both the architecture and the history.

  In a candle shop, he bought her three jar candles. Fair payment, she told him, since he smeared ice cream all over her face. Cranberry, beach plum and hydrangea scents, her favorites, in porcelain containers, patterned after lightship baskets. For his generosity, she thanked him with a lengthy kiss beneath a shaded tree with a promise to spend an evening at her cottage cooking for him again soon.

  "We'll light one of the candles."

  "You’ve got a deal.” He glanced at his watch. "It's nearly three. I think I digested the ice cream. Are you ready for a late lunch?"

  "You have quite an appetite,” she remarked, not surprised. Exercise and hard work must be a regular part of his life.

  Gabriel stepped close, held the side of her face with one hand. "I do when it comes to you,” he murmured and set his mouth on hers. "When I'm with you I'm hungry all the time."

  Sara wrapped her arms around his neck, rolled up on her toes to kiss him back. His big body, hard and warm, fit hers perfectly. When her stomach growled, he huffed out a laugh. "I guess the feeling’s mutual. Let's eat."

  Outside the restaurant a father and a little girl walked hand in hand on the brick sidewalk. Gabriel nodded to the man then smiled at the little girl. The girl spotted a bird on the sidewalk up ahead and let go of her father's hand to chase after it.

  All at once, she tripped on the edge of a brick, falling face down. Fat tears filled her eyes, and Gabriel knelt down to pluck her up off the sidewalk as her father rushed forward.

  "There you go,” he murmured in a soft tone, offered her a handkerchief from his pocket. "You're okay.” Gabriel held it over her nose to stop the bleeding.

  "Thanks,” her father said, and leaned down to take over. "That was kind of you. Have a good one."

  "You too,” Gabriel replied, and then turned to Sara. They moved toward the restaurant. "Are you okay? You have a strange look on your face."

  "You were sweet to that little girl."