by Carrie Elks
Juliet rolled her shoulders, moving her head from side to side to relax the stiff muscles in her neck. She was wearing yellow rubber gloves, the sleeves of her checked shirt rolled up to her elbows, her hair twisted on her head to keep it out of the cleaning fluid.
‘Today I’m thankful for this shop,’ she murmured. It was her haven, the place she felt surrounded by nature at its most beautiful. That’s why she’d decided to spend Thanksgiving Day in here, washing the floors and the counters, sorting through old stock, making enough space for the holiday designs she had planned. A clean, fresh start, and a way to keep herself occupied while Poppy was spending the next two days with her father and her grandparents. It beat sitting around moping, which was what she would be doing if she weren’t here.
By early afternoon everything had been polished to a shine. She’d sorted through the shelves of vases and boxes of florist wire, making notes of the things she’d need to reorder. Every now and then she’d pick up her phone, only to find there were no messages from Thomas, or from anybody else. The few friends she had in Shaw Haven were celebrating with their own families, and her friends in the UK probably didn’t even know it was a national holiday over here. For them, it was just another dreary Thursday in the November rain.
But that was okay. It gave her enough time to get the shop ready before the holiday season really set in. And by trading off Thanksgiving, she’d have Poppy on Christmas Day. At least that was something to look forward to.
She was standing on the wooden stepladder, reaching up to replace a light bulb when there was a loud bang on the glass door. She looked over, trying to see who it was through the rain-obscured glass, but she couldn’t make anything out.
Almost immediately her thoughts turned to Poppy. As she quickly climbed down the rungs, she touched her pocket. Her phone was still there. Surely Thomas would have called if there was something wrong.
Still, by the time she made it to the door she was breathless, and not from the exertion of running across the tiled floor. She squinted as she flipped each lock in turn, still trying to see if it was Thomas on the other side, but the water-splattered window was impossible to look through.
Pulling the door open, she felt her mouth drop when she realised it was Ryan standing there, his hair plastered to his head, rivulets of rain making their way down his skin. He was wearing a lightweight jacket – way too thin for this time of year. It was soaked through, sticking to his body in a very distracting way.
‘Oh my, look at you, you’d better come in.’ She took a step back, to let him come inside.
‘I can’t, Charlie’s in the car. I just came to bring you some turkey.’ He lifted a plastic bag and passing it to her. It was heavy – with two large plastic boxes inside. ‘Like I promised, remember?’
She allowed herself to smile. There was something about this man – standing in the entrance of her shop, offering her food because she was alone on Thanksgiving Day – that made her feel she wasn’t alone. As wet as he was, his mere presence felt like the sun coming out.
‘Thanks, I could use a break from cleaning.’ She pulled the yellow plastic gloves she’d been wearing off. ‘Did you cook it yourself?’
‘With a little help from Boston Market. But it’s good. Even Charlie said so.’ He looked behind her, at the shop. His eyes widened when he saw how out of place everything was. ‘You’re not running a Black Friday sale?’
She shook her head. ‘Not a lot of point. Nobody’s after a bargain bouquet on Black Friday. Plus the holiday season should be my most lucrative time of year, so I thought I’d get the shop Christmas ready.’
‘Are you working tomorrow?’
Over his shoulder she could see his old truck, raindrops splashing off the metallic roof. Charlie was sitting in the passenger seat, his face pressed against the window. She waved at him, and he smiled, waving tentatively back at her.
‘I’m not planning to. Hopefully I’ll finish everything here by tonight, so tomorrow I’ll get to chill. Poppy’s not coming home until Saturday.’ She could already picture it. A warm bath to take the cold from her bones, plus a nice big glass of red wine. She was beginning to discover there were some advantages to shared custody, after all.
‘Come sailing with me tomorrow.’ The smile on his face sent a shiver down her spine. ‘Charlie’s got another sleepover – he’s going to the movies to see that dragon thing. So I’m on my own, too.’
‘Sailing in this weather?’ she questioned. ‘Is that a good idea?’
‘The forecast’s better for tomorrow. It’ll still be cold, but we can wrap up warm and bring some hot chocolate with us. As long as there’s no storm, then we can set sail. The Chesapeake is beautiful in the summer, but in the fall it’s in another league, like God’s own country. I want to show it to you.’
‘What if it starts raining while we’re out there?’
‘Then we’ll hunker down in the galley and I’ll show you what a poker fiend I can be. Come on, London, take a chance and come sailing with me.’
Her immediate response was to refuse. Yet she found herself questioning that response, analysing it. Was it fear of Thomas that was stopping her from agreeing, or fear of herself?
What was it Cesca had said when she visited? If somebody is offering you a bit of fun, why don’t you take it?
She already knew that a day out with Ryan would be fun. She hadn’t laughed as much in years as she had with him. He was attractive, kind and full of humour – and more importantly he’d be gone in a few months. Like her, he wasn’t looking for something permanent.
Just a bit of fun. She could do that.
‘Okay,’ she said, her mouth widening into a smile. ‘I’ll go sailing with you. And if I end up falling overboard after a squall hits, I expect you to come in and save me.’
His grin was as big as hers. ‘Sweetheart, you can count on it.’
15
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do
– Romeo and Juliet
Cleaning the shop on Thanksgiving Day had worn her out, until every muscle in her body ached. After walking back through the door in the late evening, her hair covered in cobwebs, the skin on her hands raw from scrubbing, Juliet had called Poppy and talked to her for a while, satisfying herself that her daughter was happy and well looked after, before collapsing into her much-anticipated bath. But rather than drink from the glass of Malbec she’d poured for herself, she’d fallen asleep until the water had turned chill against her skin. And of course, by the time she dried herself, and crawled into bed, she somehow found a second wind.
She lay there, listening to the creaking of the house, of the whistling of the wind as the storm slowly steamed its way out, and tried to order the thoughts as they rushed through her head.
‘That man’s got a thing for you.’ That’s what Cesca had said to her, as Ryan had carried a sleeping Charlie back home, his muscles flexing beneath his son’s weight. ‘He’s been making love to you with his eyes for half the night. And the way he kept staring at you, Jesus, Juliet, it made me realise your eyes weren’t the only thing he wanted to make love to.’
It was a good thing neither Ryan nor Sam had heard her. It was bad enough having to put up with Sam calling her London for the rest of his stay, his huge grin making her want to stab him in the eye with a pen. As for Cesca, when she wasn’t trying to support Juliet through her issues with Thomas, she was singing Ryan’s praises, telling her the best way to get over one man was by getting under the next.
As soon as they’d left to fly back to LA she’d missed them. And now, the house was quieter than ever. Just Juliet and her thoughts – and they weren’t proving to be the best company right now.
Dawn arrived, heralding a change in weather. Though the sky remained overcast, any hint of yesterday’s storm was gone, leaving yellow-tipped clouds that seemed desperately trying to dissolve. Juliet pulled at the corner of her curtain, looking out at the yard where broken branches and twigs lay on top of mushy brow
n leaves, puddles of water still covering them from yesterday’s rain. It was sweater weather, for sure.
She carried her coffee cup out onto the porch. The old bench creaked as she sat down, curling her denim-clad legs beneath her. Wispy clouds rose up from her mug, mingling with the vapour that escaped every time she exhaled. It reminded her of her daughter, and the way Poppy called it ‘dragon breath’.
She was swallowing the final mouthful when she saw the front door open in the next house over. Ryan emerged, wearing a dark grey sweater and jeans. The denim clung to him like it couldn’t bear to let go.
Wow. He was breathtaking.
‘Hey.’ A smile curled at his lips as he walked down the steps, and across to her bungalow. His old sneakers squelched across the wet grass. ‘You ready to go?’
‘As soon as I’ve finished my coffee.’ She lifted her mug up. ‘There’s still some left in the pot. Would you like one?’
Every time he was near, her body reacted to him. He only had to stand close for her to become hyper-aware of his height, his muscles, the way his face looked like sculpted perfection. He smelled of fresh water and sandalwood, a combination that fired something in her synapses, her mind a whirl as adrenaline shot through her body.
‘Coffee sounds good.’ His voice still held the thickness of sleep. ‘Do you have a travel mug? We can take some with us.’
He followed her into the kitchen, and she could feel his body heat as he stood behind her. The room seemed small, more closed in than she remembered. As if by walking inside it he’d somehow made everything less significant.
‘I made us some sandwiches, too. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be out for, so I thought I should bring something just in case.’ She was talking just to fill the silence, afraid of what would happen if she let it overwhelm her. ‘It’s ham salad – do you like ham? Maybe I should have asked you first.’
‘Ham sounds great, thanks for making them. And we can be out as long as you like since we’re child-free. The day is ours.’
Oh. She felt an excited nervousness pricking at her skin.
The drive to the wharf passed in the blink of an eye. He turned the radio to a rock station, and hummed along as he drove through the town and towards the water’s edge. His foot tapped to the beat, his muscled thigh rising and falling, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. When they reached a stoplight he looked over at her, a small smile playing at his lips. Their eyes locked, as if they shared a secret nobody else could know. Her skin started to tingle all over again.
‘You doing all right, London?’
‘Yeah, I’m good.’
‘You’re being very quiet.’ He tipped his head to the side, still staring at her. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. It’s been a busy few days.’
‘That sounds like the perfect reason to get on the boat and relax. I’ll need your help to get out in the water, but after that you can sit down and enjoy the view. I’ll try not to wear you out too much.’ He grinned after that last sentence, and a bolt of delight rushed through her.
‘I like to pull my own weight.’
Still with the grin, though it was more smirk than anything. ‘You don’t have a whole lot of weight to pull.’ He glanced at her body – at her striped blue and white sweater, and tight jeans. His eyes softened as he took her in.
The atmosphere between them felt electric, the way it had that night at the dance club. She could feel it fizzing on her skin, making the tiny hairs on her arms stand up.
‘That sounds like a compliment,’ she noted, keeping her voice light. ‘But I guess it could be an insult too.’
‘It’s all compliment.’ His voice was gravelled. ‘You should definitely take it that way.’
When they pulled into the parking lot, the wharf was busy – full of leisure sailors taking advantage of the holiday. The two of them made their way up the jetty towards Miss Maisie, the forty-footer standing tall and unaffected by yesterday’s storm.
Like the last time she was here, the boat was ready for them, no doubt polished to a shine by Ryan’s friend Stan. But unlike last time, it was just the two of them, and being without Poppy and Charlie made her feel exposed and yet excited.
Ryan climbed on board first, reaching his hand down to help her up. His fingers folded around hers, warm and strong, pulling her up easily until her feet landed on the deck. He was standing close, his body towering above hers. The breeze lifted her hair, a stray piece escaping from her ponytail, and he reached out to tuck it back behind her ear.
He dragged his finger back over her neck, leaving a trail of ice behind him. A shiver slid its way down her spine, making her inner thighs shake with need. She had never been as affected by a man before. He was strong and warm and beautiful, and he scared the hell out of her.
Love hurt. She’d learned that more than once. It had destroyed her when her mother died, and then turned around and did the same thing again when Thomas left her. It was a knife wrapped in velvet, soft to the touch yet deadly.
But this wasn’t love, it was lust. And she could deal with that, couldn’t she? She could let herself surrender to the desire, to the sensations of Ryan’s fingers. They were both adults, they were both single, and they both knew where they stood.
A fling. No more no less. A few months of fun, while she sorted out her life and Ryan waited to move away, and then they could both move on without regret. Nobody needed to know, it could stay their little secret. It could be that simple, if only she could stop herself from overanalysing it.
‘Are you ready?’ he murmured, his hand cupping her neck, his fingers brushing softly against her skin.
Was she? Yes, she really was. Ready for whatever happened next, and determined to face it head on.
‘Yes, I’m ready.’ She nodded. ‘Let’s go.’
The wind picked up out in the bay, making the sails flap against the mast as the boat sped its way through the water. Juliet was standing at the front of the boat, her hair blowing out behind her, as she held on to the rail to keep herself standing. She was staring out into the bay, her back towards Ryan, and for a moment she reminded him of the carved wooden figureheads on ancient ships.
Britannia ruling the sea.
When she turned around to look at him, her face was flushed from the breeze. Her lips were swollen and red, her eyes sparkling. Her vitality was intoxicating, a live wire he couldn’t help but want to touch. He wasn’t surprised any more by the intensity of his reaction to her, but that didn’t diminish its impact one iota. Every time he looked at her, he couldn’t help but remember their passionate kiss. The warmth of her mouth, the softness of her breasts as they pressed against him.
They’d been sailing for just under an hour, leaving Shaw Haven behind them as they made their way down the bay. And for sixty minutes he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. It was driving him crazy not to touch her. And yet he couldn’t help but remember the promise he’d made himself that night when he’d returned to his home. Whatever happened next was up to her. He wasn’t the kind of guy to force the issue – not after seeing his father dominate his mother during his childhood. If she wanted something, she was going to have to make the first move.
‘I’m going to anchor us up over there,’ he shouted, trying to be heard above the wind. He steered the boats towards the grassy bank on the left that opened up into a small inlet. Far from any town, it was deserted save for the birds that swooped and hovered above the marshland.
Juliet nodded, clambering over the foredeck to grab the anchor while he steered them into shore. He loved the way she was a natural, anticipating his instructions before he’d even had a chance to shout them. She was an easy crewmate, at one with the water, and it was sexy as hell to watch her take control.
He brought the boat to a stop twenty feet from the land, not wanting to risk the shallow waters that might bring them aground.
‘How deep is it?’ she called out.
‘About
fourteen feet.’
Without another word she measured out the anchor line, tying a cleat knot to make it the right depth, before lowering the anchor into the water. He straightened the boat up as the anchor slowly made it’s way to the bottom, and Juliet knotted the remaining rope around the bow cleat.
‘Does that look okay?’ She frowned, pulling at the knot to make sure it was tight. ‘I did it the way you showed me, but that was a while ago.’
He released the wheel and walked over to her. A glance at the knot was enough to tell him it was sturdy. The boat bobbed gently in the water, rising up and down with the rhythm of the tide.
‘It’s perfect,’ he told her, not looking at the knot any more. He was too busy staring at her face, her lips, her deep hazel eyes.
He felt the warmth of her stare as her eyes held his. She looked different out here on the river. Stronger somehow. Even though she was wearing flat sneakers, she seemed to have grown a few inches.
The boat bobbed up and down in the water as he stood and stared, neither of them breaking the connection between them. The gentle ebb and flow of the water against the bank accompanied the sound of the blood rushing through his ears. A Canada Goose flew down onto the riverbank. Nestling among the tall grass he let out a deep honk.
‘Shall we go explore?’ he asked her, pointing at the bank. ‘We have enough time.’
Without taking her eyes from his, she shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want to explore.’
He frowned. ‘You don’t?’
‘No.’
‘If you’re cold I have a sweater in the galley. You want me to bring it up?’
The hint of a smile curled at her lips. ‘I’m not cold. I don’t need a sweater.’ She took a step forward, until the gap between them almost disappeared. He could smell the sweet fragrance of her shampoo, mixing in with the crisp, cool aroma of the river. He had to curl his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out and touching her.
‘London … ’
‘Sshh. It’s okay.’ There was a determined look on her face – one he hadn’t seen before. ‘You don’t need to look so worried, Ryan.’
