Stranded on the Beach (Holiday Acres Book 1)

by Noelle Adams

  It was home.

  Before she opened the car door, she heard a dog’s ecstatic barking, and when she stepped out, she was almost toppled over by Raven, Penny’s seventy-pound springer spaniel.

  She greeted the dog, the animal’s naked, slobbery affection almost making her cry again.

  As soon as Rebecca set the dog back down on all four paws, she was nearly knocked over again by Tommy, who had come from around the building and had launched himself at her.

  Tommy was brown-eyed and freckled like his mother, and he was grinning as he pulled away. “You were gone forever!”

  “I know. It was a long time. But I missed you, and I’m back now.”

  “I’m glad. It’s no fun around here without you. I’ve had to hang out with Uncle Russ, and he’s always telling me to stop pestering him.”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened. “He is not.”

  “Yes, he is. He says I’m a pest and so I pester. He says pestering is my natural state, so I can’t help but be a pest.”

  Rebecca glanced over at Laura, who was opening the trunk of her car, but Laura was chuckling and didn’t appear a bit concerned about Russ talking that way to her son.

  Relieved, Rebecca released the boy and went to help her sister with the luggage.

  Maybe Russ had been teasing.

  The three of them brought all her stuff into the old farmhouse with Raven panting exuberantly behind them.

  Rebecca waved and grinned at Martha, who staffed the coffee shop on weekends, and then she turned to the desk in the large entry hall to see that Russ Matheson was looking for something in a drawer.

  He’d worked in the finance department of a big company in Richmond for fifteen years before he’d joined Holiday Acres four years ago. Now he managed the books for the entire business, and according to Laura, he was really good at finding ways to save money.

  He glanced up when Tommy sprinted over to where he sat.

  “She’s finally home!” the boy announced, holding one of Rebecca’s small bags with both arms.

  “I have eyes, don’t I?” Russ’s voice was very dry. Much drier than people normally used with children.

  Tommy bubbled over with laughter, as if Russ had made a joke. “What are you doing, Uncle Russ?”

  “I’m working. Which would have been obvious to anyone who wasn’t born a pest.” Russ was in his midforties and had the same fit, lean body all the Matheson men had. He had brown hair with a slight sprinkling of gray, a high forehead, and the same amber eyes that Phil had. There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face.

  Tommy laughed even more.

  Laura was smiling and shaking her head as she came over to ruffle her son’s thick hair. “Tommy, no need to waste your energy on ornery old men. Go carry Aunt Rebecca’s bag up to her room.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Tommy replied, sounding incredibly put-upon.

  “I better make sure he doesn’t fall on his face,” Laura said, watching her son race up the old stairs. She picked up Rebecca’s suitcase and started after him.

  Rebecca glanced over and saw Russ had looked up from the file drawer. His eyes were resting on Laura’s slim back as she ascended the stairs.

  He looked away quickly but not before Rebecca caught his expression.

  She’d seen that look in his eyes before.

  She wasn’t wrong about it.

  And Laura clearly had no idea at all.

  Rebecca wasn’t going to say anything. Laura was so set against romance that it would likely come to nothing, and Rebecca liked Russ too much to put him in that position.

  She leaned down to pick up the two shopping bags, which held the remainder of her stuff, but before she could, Russ stopped her with a question.

  “You okay?”

  She blinked and turned to him in surprise. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Just asking.” His eyes were always too sharp, too observant, and right now they seemed to see into her mind.

  She wondered if he’d talked to Phil. She wondered if he knew what had happened between them.

  “I’m fine.”

  “How’s Phil?”

  Phil was his nephew. His family. Sometimes it was hard to remember that. The two men were so different, so far apart. “He’s okay.” She swallowed as a wave of grief washed over. “He’s... the same.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He did know. He had to know. There was real sympathy in his voice—so different from his characteristic irony.

  Rebecca nodded, dropping her eyes to hide her expression. “Thank you.”

  She picked up the two shopping bags, straightened up, and then went upstairs to her room.

  She was home. She loved it here. She was surrounded by people who cared about her.

  It hurt right now, losing Phil again the way she had. It hurt like hell.

  But it would get better. Every day it would get better.

  And she hadn’t made a mistake.

  She wasn’t going to accept life in the shallows. She wasn’t going to love a man who refused to really love her back.

  She would be happier without him.

  Not right now, but eventually. Hopefully soon.

  One day, not long from now, she would be happy again.

  Twelve

  PHIL FELT LIKE THE bottom had been ripped out of his world.

  That was exactly how it felt. Like he’d been safely in a wading pool and a monster had come and bitten out a gaping hole, letting an ocean’s worth of water come rushing in from below.

  Drowning him.

  Five days after he’d parted ways with Rebecca, he went to his gym to work out at lunchtime. He worked himself hard—for more than an hour—so he was drenched with sweat and exhausted when he got on his bike and rode back home.

  He didn’t mind being tired and sweaty. It was better than having nothing to distract him from the state of his soul.

  When he got home, showered, and changed back into the shorts and T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier, he couldn’t help but think about what it had been like to go over to Rebecca’s vacation house in the middle of the day.

  She’d make him lunch. They’d sometimes have sex. They’d get in the pool or the hot tub. Then they’d rest together.

  It was worlds away from his life now.

  And he couldn’t even feel sorry for himself since he knew it was his own fault.

  He couldn’t resent Rebecca for leaving the way she had. Or even lashing out at him when he’d asked her to stay.

  They’d only been together for two weeks, after seven years apart. Of course she wasn’t going to move—uproot her whole life—to be close to him.

  Who the hell would do that?

  He made a sandwich, ate it standing next to his kitchen sink, and stared at Rebecca’s blue scarf that was still lying on the top of his dresser.

  He needed to throw it away. Get rid of it. Stop staring at it all the time and thinking about her.

  Instead of putting it in the garbage, he picked the scarf up after he finished his sandwich and stuck it in his pocket. Then rode back to the shop and pier, feeling glum and heavy and like the rest of the days of his life would follow today in the same bleak monotony.

  He parked his bike and went into the office to talk to Larry about some business-related stuff, trying to focus on work when all he wanted to do was sit in a daze and think about Rebecca.

  After Larry finished going over everything he needed Phil to do, he scowled and said, “And would you please go get your girl back so you’re in a decent mood? You’re scaring customers away.”

  Phil rolled his eyes. “I’m not scaring anyone away.” Then he added in a mutter, “And she’s not my girl.”

  “Then that’s what you need to fix. Make her your girl, and do it soon. Because all this moping is getting on my nerves.”

  Phil was tempted to snap a response, but he bit it back.

  Larry was always this way, and Phil had never minded before.

  It wasn’t Larry’s fault that Phil was
displeased with the entire world at the moment.

  He left the office and hoped to make it by the bar without having a conversation with Stella, who was sorting through bottles of liquor on the shelves against the wall.

  But no such luck.

  “Any word from your girl?” Stella asked with her normal friendly smile.

  Phil had to fight not to growl as he stuck his hand in his pocket and fingered the scarf. “She’s not my girl.”

  Stella’s face changed.

  “Sorry,” Phil said quickly, feeling like an asshole. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine, honey. I know you’ve been having a hard time since she left.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you? Because it sure doesn’t look like it to me.”

  Phil had no idea how to answer that. He wanted to end the conversation, but he couldn’t bring himself to be rude again to a woman who’d never been anything but good to him. “She... she’s got her whole life back home.”

  Stella’s eyes were deeply sympathetic. “And she didn’t want to leave it all?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Did you buy her a ring?”

  Phil jerked in surprise. “A ring? Of course not. We’d only been together for two weeks.”

  Stella’s brow lowered, and her mouth turned down in a frown. “You wanted her to give up everything she has in her life now and move up here to be with you? And you didn’t even give her a ring?”

  He stared at the older woman for a moment, his vision blurring as he felt a wave of something hot and strong. “She... she never would have said yes. It was too early.”

  “I guess. Maybe so. But you at least made it clear you were thinking in that direction? I mean, you didn’t expect the poor thing to move here without even a commitment? Surely girls don’t do that nowadays, do they? Put up with anything on the off-chance a man might finally step up?”

  Phil tried to say something, but no words came out.

  Shit.

  Is that what he’d done to Rebecca?

  Expect her to give up everything without offering her anything in return?

  That was what she’d said, and he hadn’t understood it until right now.

  He’d told her he wanted to see what happened because he was afraid of asking for what he really wanted.

  He’d told her he only wanted to “see what happened.” When what he’d really wanted was to have her in his life for good.

  Without thinking, he pulled Rebecca’s scarf out of his pocket and stared down at it. It was pretty and soft and resilient. It looked delicate, but it was strong. Too strong to tear in half.

  His breathing turned ragged as he gazed on the blue fabric.

  “Phil, hon, you’re too good a guy to leave it at that.”

  “I’m... not a good guy.”

  “Yeah, you are. You’ve just forgotten that about yourself. You’ll remember. Give it a little time, and you’ll remember.”

  PHIL FELT UNSTEADY on his feet as he finally got out of the restaurant, checked on Mary in the shop, and then got his fishing rod and headed out to the pier.

  He didn’t have any lessons scheduled for today, so it would probably be a quiet afternoon.

  That was good.

  He didn’t feel like talking, and he needed to think.

  Although he was kind of scared to think at the same time.

  As he walked down the pier to the end, he passed old Mike Parsons, who came out two or three afternoons a week in the summers. He gave Phil a friendly greeting and said, “Where’s your girl?”

  Phil froze, holding back the tidal wave of feeling prompted by the question. “She’s not my girl,” he managed to say.

  “Sure she is. Everyone knows it.”

  It sure seemed like everyone did. He couldn’t even go to work without being bombarded with questions about her.

  “Well, she’s not my girl.”

  Mike shook his head and tsked his tongue. “All I know is that you’ve been sleepwalking through life all this time and then she showed up and you finally woke up. To my mind, that means she’s your girl.”

  “Well, she’s not. And sleepwalking isn’t the worst thing.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I guess it feels pretty easy. You don’t have to deal with the hard stuff. But you also don’t get any of the good stuff. Not a good trade-off, in my view.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re not together anymore.” It hurt Phil like a physical pain to say the words out loud.

  Mike shook his wrinkled head with a smile. “So go get her back. If she’s your girl, then go get her back.”

  Phil managed to return the smile and kept walking to his place on the pier. He prepared his line and then cast it out into the water.

  The sun was hot today, and the breeze was strong and humid.

  And Mike’s final words—along with Larry’s complaints and Stella’s questions—were all rattling around in his head.

  He stood and fished for five minutes, filled with a growing knowledge, realization, understanding.

  He saw what he’d done to Rebecca seven years ago.

  And he saw what he’d done to her again on Sunday.

  When his realization was strong enough, big enough, deep enough, he pulled his line back in.

  Then he got his stuff together, returned to the shop, stopped by the office to have a brief conversation with Larry, and he headed back to his apartment.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was filling his old pickup truck with gas and pulling out onto the road.

  Mike was right.

  He’d been sleepwalking through life. Trying to escape all the hard stuff. Waiting for people to let him down the way his father always said they would.

  So maybe he’d managed to avoid some of the hard things, but he’d also never got any of the good.

  He wasn’t going to do it anymore.

  Rebecca was his girl. Everyone knew it.

  He’d known it since he was seventeen years old and had been so awed by the fire inside her he’d had to kiss her in the front seat of this truck.

  He was going to get her back.

  A FEW HOURS LATER, he was pulling into the long driveway in front of Russ’s hundred-year-old farmhouse.

  He hadn’t called anyone to tell them he was coming, but he could see Russ’s car parked under the carport, so he was obviously home.

  It was getting dark. Part of him wanted to head right to Holiday Acres and find Rebecca, but as he’d gotten closer to town, he’d also started feeling heavier, more anxious.

  It wasn’t as simple as pulling Rebecca into his arms.

  He knew it, and he’d known it when he got into his truck to come here.

  There was more that he’d have to do here.

  He went to the front door and knocked, waiting a minute before he heard the dead bolt turn and the door start to open.

  Russ blinked at him through the storm door.

  Phil just stood there. He had no idea what to say.

  Finally Russ opened the storm door, but he didn’t step out of the way. “Why are you here?” he asked.

  It wasn’t a very welcoming greeting, but it also didn’t sound rude. It sounded... bewildered.

  “I... You were right.”

  “I know I was right. But how right do you think I was? Because I’m happy to see you, Phil, but I’m not okay with you coming here and blowing the ground out from under good people’s lives and leaving a mess behind you. So how right do you think I was?”

  Phil felt an automatic tensing of defensiveness, but he let it go immediately.

  He deserved the question. He knew he did.

  “I don’t want to blow things apart. You were right about everything.”

  “If you’re not ready for all of it, then you’re going to hurt her even more.”

  “She’s hurt?” The question was embarrassingly hopeful. He didn’t want Rebecca to suffer, but he hoped she was missing him at least a little.

  “Of course she’s hurt. You
broke her heart. Again.” Russ didn’t look angry even now. He looked wary.

  “I broke my heart too. I’ve been doing it for years. I want everything. I... think I’m ready.”

  Russ scanned his face with his unnervingly astute eyes. Then his expression finally relaxed into a smile. “About time. Come on in.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, AS Phil was drinking coffee on his uncle’s front porch, a car turned into the driveway and parked behind his truck.

  He didn’t recognize the vehicle. It was an expensive dark gray SUV, and he couldn’t see the driver through the darkened windows.

  He was surprised that Russ would have a visitor at six in the morning, but Phil didn’t know much about his uncle anymore.

  When a man got out of the driver’s side, Phil understood what he was doing here.

  It was his brother, Scott, who was a year older than him.

  Scott was taller and darker than him, but their features and eyes were the same. Scott wasn’t smiling as he came up and sat on the rocking chair next to Phil.

  “Did Russ call you?” Phil asked.

  “Yes. At ten o’clock last night. You could have called before you showed up, you know.”

  “I know.”

  They sat there in silence for a while.

  “You’re doing okay?” Phil asked at last when the quiet started to become awkward.

  “Yeah. Work’s good. Everything else is fine.” Scott turned to peer at Phil closely. “So you’re going to get together with Rebecca?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know if she’ll have me.”

  “But you’re going to try?”

  “Yes. I’m going to try.” He paused, feeling weird and deep and uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to this. He hadn’t felt this way for years. “What happened wasn’t her fault.”

  “I know.”

  The words surprised Phil since Scott had always been as bitter as he’d been himself.

  “You know?”