Welcome to Serenity Harbor

by Multiple Authors

  He did it because he wanted her to have the best in life, have choices, and have the financial freedom to pursue her dreams. Unfortunately, he had never asked her what those dreams might have been. She knew he hadn’t wanted her to take over the family lobstering business. She didn’t think he ever realized she took pride in the business that had been in her family for as long as they lived in Maine. Hell, she practically grew up on the boat. She didn’t think she would ever be ready to let it go. It was in her blood and didn’t prevent her from fulfilling her dream.

  Her braid thumped down on her back as she palmed the last bobby pin. Right now, all she wanted to do was take a shower and wash the stink off of her. It had been a long, grueling day and she smelled of it. When she took off her gear, she found she had somehow gotten bait down the front of it, smearing it all over the front of her t-shirt. She cleaned it off as best she could but she still smelled like dead fish.

  She sighed. She was tired and her body ached.

  For the first time in her life she gave in to the fantasy of giving it up. She didn’t need to run the boat. She could give that over to her first mate. He would love to be the captain, running it for her. He’d been hinting to her for years. Hell, she should just give it to him. She couldn’t though, because the boat was her second home and, without it, her fantasy faded.

  Besides, the busy season was almost over. Kids had been in school for a couple weeks and the leaves were beginning to turn, painting the shoreline in an array of colors. Soon, she would give her crew the winter months off. She didn’t like to be out on the water in the winter. Before the winter set in, she would have the boat dry docked, scraped, cleaned and any equipment that needed to be replaced or fixed would be before it was returned to the water. She needed access to the ocean year around. She craved it. Dreamed about it. Yearned for it.

  She pulled her long-sleeve t-shirt off and the smell hit her harder. She almost gagged, it was so ripe. The heat of her body didn’t help keep the scent down but enhanced it. Carrying the t-shirt, she made her way to her laundry room. She would have to soak it. She wondered if today was the day Beth was scheduled to clean her house or if it was tomorrow. The thought of Beth made her stomach rumble. If her housekeeper had come, she wouldn’t have to worry about making dinner. If not, she may forgo eating to collapse into bed and sleep if she was going to keep her promise to herself. Tomorrow, she planned to take the boat out early to paint. She wanted to catch the sunrise over the ocean lightly kissing the gently turning leaves.

  A knock sounded on the door as she stepped into the laundry room. Could she ignore it? A louder pounding echoed throughout the house. She swore and tugged her shirt back on. She didn’t want to greet anyone in her old, almost tattered sports bra although it was so tempting. Maybe they wouldn’t come by to bother her again ever.

  She opened the door and almost slammed it shut.

  Why him?

  She leaned against the door jamb instead and stared at the too-tall, too-handsome man who lived next to her. The pain in her ass. She should have just continued to put her shirt in the washer to soak and ignored the knock. He smiled at her and her heart gave a cursed thump. The way her body reacted to him was almost as irritating as her annoying to hell neighbor. He was lucky her grandmother had attempted to instill politeness in her.

  She heaved an exaggerated sigh and demanded. “What?”

  “Did you see my note?”

  “Do you still see it attached to my door?”

  His smile deepened revealing dimples and her breath caught. This affect he had on her made her dislike him more. She didn’t need to be attracted to a man she didn’t even like. “Did you read my letter?”

  “I read the first one. What do I need to read the rest for?”

  Was it possible for him to smile even more? She wondered about that, watching him do so. His black eyes got that gleam she hated and not because it made her insides heat. She cursed herself for the fact she had a weakness for dimples and tall, handsome men. “Not all my notes are the same. If you would have bothered to open it, you would see it was an invitation to a party I’m having this Saturday. I would like you to attend.”

  “Why? Think by feeding me, you’ll win me over to your dark side?”

  “No,” he gave a soft laugh. Even that was attractive. Damn him for being breathtaking. She hated him. It didn’t help that the meaner she was to him, the more he acted as if she were flirting with him “Because, despite your moodiness and your refusal to sell your property to me, I like you and it’s neighborly.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. “Ummhuh,” she grunted at him then proceeded to shut the door in his face.

  As the door began to close, he said, “Your shirt is backward.”

  She paused long enough to say, “F off.”

  “Hey,” he called back. “At least I didn’t say anything about your smell!”

  She glared at him and slammed the door the rest of the way. His laughter followed her back through the house.

  Bastard.

  It was past time for that shower.

  * * *

  Pierce continued to laugh as he made his way back up to his Maine home. When he first bought the property and had the house built, his plans were for a summer family getaway when he was still young and believed in love. Then he caught his pregnant wife in bed with his former best friend. The DNA test proved the child hadn’t even been his. He turned his turmoil and rage into building this house, making it into a masterpiece. He divorced her and hadn’t seen or heard from the two people who had once been closest to him although he’d heard they had three more kids.

  He had distanced himself from getting really close to people since. He didn’t trust himself. Sometimes he found himself looking over to the small, two-story house almost on the edge of the water. When he met the daughter of the man who’d sold him the property for much more than it had been worth, he had been taken aback. She was the first woman he had been drawn to since his ex-wife. She was the opposite of the New York socialite he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

  The daughter, Millicent, had been blunt and so truthful that it cut. You knew exactly where you stood with her because she would tell you. She could be painfully brusque in her honesty but she was real. She played no games. She was someone you could trust. He knew she was attracted to him. He saw it in her eyes every time she was forced to speak to him. But he also knew she had convinced herself she did not like him as a person. When he realized this, he’d done his best to cross paths with her but it was nearly impossible.

  As the years passed, he found himself coming to Serenity Harbor more and more throughout the year. He worked hard to get his business in the city to practically run itself. He was barely needed in the office anymore except for board meetings. Everything else he could do from his office at his Maine house.

  He wasn’t going to fool himself. Millicent Montgomery was the main reason he started to come to here more often. Interacting with her had become the highlight of his days. He only offered to buy her land as an excuse to talk to her. He could offer her every dime he had and he knew she would say no. She wouldn’t sell her family’s homestead for the world. But getting a rise out of her always put him in a better mood when he was feeling off or lonely as he had been today.

  He entered his large, echoing foyer and made his way to his study. He had work to do. He shouldn’t have taken the time to leave his office but couldn’t resist when he saw Millicent approach her house and tear his envelope from her door. She wasn’t opening his letters. Beth, their mutual housekeeper, told him that when he asked. It had been an excuse to see her because he did want her there on Saturday. He needed her to know about the invite. If she came to his small party, he hoped, she would see him in a different light. Maybe he would see her in a more formal setting but he didn’t care if she came dressed up or in her everyday jeans and t-shirt.

  He just wanted to see her and have her in his home. One day, he hoped to have her in
his bed and in his life.

  Pierce looked out his office window and down at the house sitting a small distance away. He had deliberately made the large library into his office because it was one of the few rooms that overlooked the Montgomery house. He was able to watch Millicent’s comings and goings though he usually missed her goings, she was up so early.

  He watched the window to the upstairs bathroom light up. He knew the layout of the house from the one time her father had given him a tour. He knew she must be taking a shower with the way she stunk when they talked. She smelled as if she had rolled in a heap of rotting fish. Picturing her under the steam of hot water, lathering up her dark hair that he had no clue how long it was filled his mind. He was dying to know what she looked like with her hair loose. Was it as beautiful as he imagined. The image of her naked, covered in foam made his mouth dry. In his mind, he saw her hands running over her naked skin and wished they were his.

  His fists tightened as his body grew hard. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the window, wishing he could see past the curtains into the room. He watched until the light went off, followed shortly by the one in her bedroom. Seeing no lights come on downstairs, Pierce assumed she was just going to sleep even though it wasn’t yet six in the evening. He wanted to tuck her in, sweetly kiss her goodnight. He would hold her as she fell asleep. He yearned to love her to sleep.

  She was a mystery to him. He had so many questions he wanted answered about her. How long is her hair? What does she look like under those baggy clothes and t-shirts she always wore? How does she sound when she laughed? How would she react to a lover’s touch?

  He didn’t know how long he stared at the darkened house before he turned back to his computer. He shook his head trying to get her out of his head. He needed to leave his office. If he stayed, he would continue to stare at her house wondering what she looked like as she slept. What did she sleep in? Endless questions that roamed through his mind filled with his desire for her. His attraction for her had grown over the years and he doubted the woman who intrigued him would even throw water on him if he was on fire.

  He needed to change rooms if he was going to finish his work. He unplugged his laptop and moved into the living room. He settled into his favorite chair and stared up at the vivid, brilliant, seascape painting with its rich blues, greens, and a million different hues hidden within the canvas. He felt his mind, quiet down as he stared into the peaceful scene wondering for the umpteenth time who the mysterious artist was before he got back to work.

  Chapter 2

  It was still dark out Monday morning when Millicent made her way down to the dock carrying her art supplies in their big bulky case. She set them down on the pier before heading back into her workshop. She had remodeled it a year after her father died. She made the large open building into two separate sections with their own entrances. The door nearest the dock she kept for lobstering, the other side became her art studio. She had three oil canvases she had put the finishing touches to the other day that were still drying. She’d give them another week before taking them to Lauralee’s gallery, The Ocean’s End. Lauralee had them framed beautifully before she hung them up to display and sell.

  It amazed Millie how quickly they sold and for how much. What started as a hobby she learned at her grandmother’s knees had grown over the years into a profitable business. The fact she loved it made her life seem more blessed. It was her passion. To spend the day out on her boat, floating on the calm ocean and becoming lost to the view and her oils was heaven to her.

  Two days ago, she had stretched a couple new canvases. They were waiting to be painted. She gathered them up and carried them to the boat, stowing them securely. She went back and retrieved her art case and loaded it onboard before starting up the boat and heading out to the ocean.

  Over an hour later, she anchored as the sun began to creep up over the horizon. She paused watching the sun rise and breathed in the salty air. Closing her eyes, she began to see the images appear. She pulled out all of her art tools, set up her canvas and got to work. She loved nothing more than being out on the ocean by herself, feeling the gentle rocking of the boat which gave uniqueness to her strokes, and painting under the sun on the deck of her ship.

  This was her heaven.

  Her soul sang with each stroke. She got swept away in the brushstrokes, the colors and the ocean, with all her moods and rhythms. This was her favorite medium. She hummed while she painted, lost in her art.

  She took a quick lunch and watched her first canvas dry on the deck, the first layers of paint vivid in the bright sunlight. The sun shining overhead, she began her second one.

  Painting was her muse. It enabled her to spend five days a week, sometimes six, out on her boat hauling in her traps. But when she painted, it was different from anything else in her life. She knew she was good and by way her paintings sold, so did others. But it wasn’t something she could do full time. She was too practical and too grounded to spend her life in the artists’ world. This was her hobby. She sold her work only because she couldn’t store it all. The proceeds she made from her sold paintings went to the local homeless shelter to offer a program helping families get back on their feet and into jobs and homes. It was all done anonymously. Her paintings didn’t even have her name on them. She marked them with a little sheep hidden within the picture.

  She didn’t know how long she was consumed by her art when her hat tore from her head. The strong gust of wind pulled her attention from the canvas. She looked up to see a large storm cloud coming in. No storm had been in the forecast for today but this was Maine. If you didn’t like the weather, wait five minutes.

  “Damn it,” she swore.

  The whole eastern skyline was filled with dark ominous clouds and they were moving fast towards her with an occasional flash of lightning. She quickly secured her painted canvases in a steel, cedar-lined box she had made especially for her boat to keep her art protected and any extra moisture out. With them stored safely, she threw her paints in their case and wished she was one of those painters that had everything neat and in its place. She was not an organized painter. In fact, she was messy when she was in the zone. Instead of putting her tubes of paint away after use, she was more likely to simply close and drop them. Today, she had to scurry to pick them up as the waves began to rock the boat. The rain started as she packed up the last of her oil paints. She stowed her case before she rushed to the cockpit to raise her anchor and start the engine. She looked up as the clouds blocked out the sun. It was already a bad storm and she was at the edge of it.

  It would get worse.

  A lot worse.

  She shifted her boat into high gear and attempted to outrace the storm. All she had to do was get to the nearest island. She knew these waters as well as a trucker knew the interstate.

  Soon, she saw the island she wanted. The man who owned it and the house on it had been a good friend of her father. Her father used to watch over it during the winter months and he would bring her. She had become good friends with their daughter. They were the same age. When her father passed, she took over the job. Right now, the owner was out of state. But it would give her a place to lay low until the storm passed because she knew she would never make it back to shore in time. She laid anchor and unhooked the little inflatable boat attached to the side of the cockpit and quickly paddled to shore.

  Her ship would ride out the storm. Land would be a much safer place for her. She didn’t want to be tossed around like a ball.

  She pulled the tiny boat up on shore and secured it. The last thing she needed was for the storm to blow it away. The rain came down harder and she raced up the narrow steep path to the front porch of the large summer home. She ran up the stairs to reach the shelter of the wide veranda porch and froze.

  “What are you doing here?” she exclaimed.

  * * *

  Pierce woke up restless. He decided to go into town for breakfast, hoping it would help. For a moment, he was tempted to knoc
k on Millicent’s door to see if she would join him but he noticed her boat was gone. He spent some time over breakfast chatting with the locals he knew. It didn’t ease him. His restlessness grew. If he had been in the city, he would have gone to his gym and boxed it out. Here, he did the only thing he could. He drove back to his house and got out his kayak. He had always loved the water which was one of the reasons he bought the land in Maine.

  In college, he had been part of the rowing team. It was his favorite form of exercise. Kayaking wasn’t the same but it was close enough as he pushed out into the ocean. He quickly got into the rhythm of the small vessel, staying close to the shore at first then paddled further out to sea. He loved the feel of the pull on his muscles as he swept one side of the double paddle into the water then the other. Soon, he was approaching an island with a large house peeking from the trees. He had never been out so far. It was a good stopping point before he headed back. He pushed the kayak up onto a small, sandy beach and climbed out. He would go visit the owners and, if no one was there, he would explore the outside of the house. He had always loved the architecture of buildings and, from what he glimpsed; this one looked like a combination of the Victorian and Georgian style. He pulled the kayak out of the water and dragged it up to the tree line before following the small path.

  The house was larger than he’d thought as he walked around it. With no one home, he peered into the windows to glimpse the size and shapes of the rooms. Feeling like an interloper, he decided to head home. Maybe he would get some work done on the new advertising campaign his ad department came up with. They needed his approval before they could give it a green light. He started back down the path to the beach when the sky grew dark. The first raindrops started as he reached his kayak. He looked at the looming black clouds sparking with lightning and the waves that started breaking on the small sandy beach and started back up the path to the house.