Sandcastles Under the Christmas Moon (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 9)

by McKeehan, Vickie

  “I got it. I’m good at putting things together.”

  To prove it, he went to work. For the next two hours, he used a drill to connect the two pieces of wood. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, three times with the drill and the stand was done.

  Before he left he had them piled up knee high around him.

  “How’s that?” he asked Caleb when the man checked on his progress.

  “Wow, nothing slow about you. You might hold the record for building them in less than ninety minutes. Why don’t you go ahead and knock off for the day?”

  “Give me another chore and I’ll do it.”

  “I know you will. But tomorrow is soon enough to start drilling the stand into the bottom of the trunk. You’ll also need time to create the price tag that goes on the upper branches. Tonight I’m afraid we’re losing the light. Don’t worry, we still have Tuesday and Wednesday to get them ready. For now, your shift is done. Good job. Don’t forget to go inside and clock out at the end of the day.”

  “Okay, but don’t do too many without me. I’ll be back right on time tomorrow.”

  Caleb took off his cap and watched the boy head into the office. He took out his cell phone and texted Quentin. First day went great. Best worker I’ve ever had in years. That includes Cooper. ~smiley face~

  An hour later, Sydney got her first look at Winona Channing Blackwood when Nonnie—as Quentin called her—got out of the car. Tall, at five-eight, the matriarch carried herself like an exotic empress, at ease in her majestic role. She had cool gray eyes that matched Quentin’s, proof that there were no clear-cut rules to inheriting the more common dark brown of her Miwok ancestry. Her regal face showed almost no signs of the aging process. Although her long dark hair held streaks of gray, she wore the thick mass elegantly down around her shoulders.

  Stone, on the other hand, was several inches taller than Winona. He had his long grayish hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore earrings in both ears. In looks, the man leaned more to professor than medicine man. Casually dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, he looked like a man you could trust to tell you the truth. And when he spoke, his voice was eloquent and expressive.

  “What a gorgeous spot. Look at that coastline, Winona. Your boy lucked out in the weather department. It’s beautiful here.”

  “I think you’ll find the climate to your liking.” Quentin helped Nonnie exit the car and then pulled her into a hug. He turned to bear-hug Stone with the same clear affection. “How was the trip?”

  “The mountain roads were a little slippery as they always are this time of year. But once we reached our turnoff to the highway, we were able to make good time.” Stone tilted his head toward Sydney. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

  Quentin made the introductions, grabbing a suddenly shy Beckham and bringing him closer into the fold. “And this is the newest member of the tribe.”

  Stone leaned in, nodded with a wink. “I’ll be sure to make it official before we head back to Tahoma.”

  Beckham all but bounced on his toes. “Are you really a medicine man? How does that work anyway? How will I know I’m truly a member?”

  “Oh, you’ll know. There’s a ceremony with chanting and lots of dancing around the fire. How about I explain it all to you over a cup of hot apple cider? Brought my own. I make the best this side of the Colorado River. Just point the way to the kitchen.”

  Enthralled with the idea of hanging out with a shaman, Beckham followed the medicine man into the house.

  Quentin saw the look of pure alarm on Sydney’s face. “Relax. It’s a nonalcoholic brew that Stone mixes up himself, blends in a ton of cinnamon and cloves, serves it with his homemade apple muffins.”

  Winona chuckled. “Stone is quite the chef, started as a cook in the army. He’s better than I am with certain dishes. Apples come right out of the orchard we own together. That boy’s way too thin. But that’s a challenge. Stone and I will put some meat on those bones while we’re in town. Wait and see. But what’s with the bruises on his face? Who did that to him?”

  “Some lowlife bully at school.”

  “The teacher in me is fuming. The mother in me wants the bully’s head on a platter.” She looked sternly at Quentin, pointed a finger. “And if I wasn’t such a lady, I’d go hunt down the little weasel who did that to him and teach him a lesson.”

  “We’re trying to handle it through the proper channels.”

  Winona made a growling sound in her throat. “Proper channels usually takes the same lame stance they always take. ‘Boys will be boys.’ That’s BS. What kind of an outfit are they running around here if they let this happen right under their noses? Bullies need to be dealt with head on, no other way to make them stop their abusive behavior.”

  Quentin gave her a strange look. “That was certainly getting on your soapbox. As I recall you didn’t take that approach with the guy who kept beating me up.”

  “Good lord, Quentin. Are you still moaning about Benny Satterfield? My goodness, the man ended up in prison at nineteen. Isn’t that enough for you?” Winona threw Sydney a long look. “Holds a grudge, this one does. Better to be aware of it now. I hear you’re the young lady who doesn’t like my grandson very much?”

  Caught off guard, Sydney stammered, “I…I…well…”

  Winona leaned over with a gleam in her eye. “You’re wise to make him prove himself to you. Overdue for a challenge if you ask me. Got to keep this one on his toes. Maybe you’re just the one who’ll come up with a doozy of a way to do it.”

  Sydney’s shoulders relaxed. “It was nice meeting you both. But I have to be getting back to Charlotte.”

  “Beckham’s very sick grandmother,” Winona said with a nod. “We shall make every effort to get her feeling better. My homemade dressing will go a long way in that department.”

  “Uh, don’t kill the messenger, but you should know, we’re likely to have a full house eating here on Thursday.”

  Winona’s regal face broke out into a wide grin. “Good. It’ll be just like old times. Remember when people poured into our house for Sunday dinners?”

  “I do. Great memories.”

  In the grand entryway, Winona took the time to stare. “So this is the Douglas abode I heard so much about. Your mother used to go on about how her brother had a flair for color. I see she was right. Let’s see the kitchen. Best to judge a home by its kitchen I always say.”

  Winona opened cabinet doors and studied the size of the pantry before inspecting everything from the pots and pans to the stove. “This will do. Did you get all the groceries I listed in my email?”

  “Yes ma’am. Beckham and I practically bought out Murphy’s Market.”

  “That’s my boy. I brought a few things of my own. There’s a few boxes in the car.”

  “She’d have brought her entire kitchen if I hadn’t stopped her,” Stone murmured.

  “Thank goodness you put your foot down. But I can take a hint. I’ll start carting in the luggage. Beckham, come help me lug everything in.”

  Twenty

  After getting Winona and Stone settled, Quentin left Beckham and Buckley in their care and headed back to the clinic. He found Charlotte asleep and Sydney sitting at her desk fretting.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You. You’re what’s wrong.”

  “What did I do? I haven’t even been here.”

  “I keep thinking about how good we’d be together. It’s driving me nuts. You’re driving me crazy.”

  “So far I’ve resisted throwing you on the ground and taking advantage of you. In my book, I should get major points for my restraint.”

  “It occurs to me, why bother? With restraint, I mean. We finally like each other. If we approach this thing on the premise that it’s just the sex, there’s a better success rate.”

  Quentin scratched his chin. “I suppose your logic is in there somewhere. While that’s tempting, the ‘just sex’ part, I actually think you deserve better.”

  “I have
it on good authority that the little ol’ ladies around town and their wagging tongues already have us sleeping together.”

  Quentin found that fascinating. “These are probably the same people who thought I deserved to get shot because I was sleeping with another guy’s wife.”

  “Oh my God. That’s horrible. Who said that?”

  “I forget which busybody was the source. When the rumor mill works overtime it gets murky. Not only that, it’s a flat-out lie. So let them lean over every picket fence in town and discuss our love life. Who cares?”

  “Not me.”

  “Not me either.”

  They were standing close to each other, too close. Sydney could smell the man’s aftershave.

  When their eyes met, she said the only thing that came to mind. “What if I run and grab us some takeout? Fischer makes a lasagna that melts in your mouth.”

  “I don’t need lasagna before making love to you.” He cupped her chin and covered her mouth. The slow burn inched toward a full-blown blaze.

  They took from each other, gently at first. But hands began to roam and explore. Fingers sailed over hard planes and gentle curves. Urgency took over.

  He backed her toward his office and that lumpy sofa. “This isn’t what I pictured.”

  “You pictured taking me to bed?”

  “Yeah. The first time you slapped that blood pressure cuff on me I was a goner. You were wearing this slinky off-the-shoulder top and this little skirt that showed off your legs. Kinda like the one you’re wearing now.”

  He pushed her back against the wall, propped her up, and prepared to give her the pleasure she deserved.

  She braced for the passionate onslaught. Through the fabric of her blouse, long, lean fingers toyed with her breasts. His surgeon’s hands dispatched the shirt and then her bra. When his mouth closed over a nipple, her head fell back. Steeped in pleasure, it didn’t take long for her to call out his name, once…and then twice.

  They clawed to get free of everything they were wearing. “This would be so much easier if we were already naked.”

  “Getting there,” she whispered in his ear as she slipped his shirt off his shoulders. In the scant light, she saw the scar on his bare chest where the bullet had dug in. Instinct had her nibbling his flesh, spreading little kisses over the mark.

  She had no scars to kiss. So he set out to revel in her perfection. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Hurry,” she urged, loosening his belt.

  Her hands wandered into new territory while his meant to conquer all barriers.

  He found the sliver of silky black a delight and slipped his fingers past the lace. He hoisted her butt up off the floor, pinning her to the wall.

  Her blood turned molten. A new wave of pleasure speared through her. A series of explosions rocked her. There was a moment of absolute pleasure before greed took over.

  “More,” she murmured.

  He dove full-throttle into the heat.

  “That’s it. Oh. Don’t stop,” she cried out. Pressed to the wall, she hung on until she called out his name for a third time.

  He reveled in hearing it. Her enjoyment drove him on. He spread kisses along her neck until her eyes closed. He plundered her mouth, felt her go loose, pliable as melted gold. That surge spread sky-high. “I’ll take you higher.”

  She arched her back. “Yes, higher.”

  Her body vibrated against his. Hot pressed against slick. Wet slapped toward a conquered daze. Smooth as velvet, it burst, caught in that final thrust. The tidal wave rushed to shore in a riptide current that pulled them both under. The air left his lungs as he tried to catch his breath. “You okay?”

  Limp, she could hardly move. Her heart still raced. “I’m…I don’t think I’m able to move my legs. Without you holding me up, I might take a nosedive downward.”

  He let her take a slow slide to where her feet could touch the floor. “Talk about a quickie. Sorry that lacked finesse on my part. But I wanted you too much to wait.”

  “I’m not complaining. I should’ve jumped your bones that first day and gotten you out of my system fast.”

  He had to swallow a laugh. “As I recall you were too busy walking around glaring at me.”

  She shushed him with a little kiss. “Do you think Charlotte heard us?”

  He reached down to tug up the pants still wrapped around his ankles. “She probably heard you. If not, I think the neighbors across the street did.”

  Sydney stifled a giggle. “Guilty. So sue me. It was the end of a long dry spell and I got caught up.”

  “Not complaining either. It sorta showed your kinky side.” Zipping his pants up, his stomach rumbled. “I’m game for that lasagna now. How about you? What if I call in the order and go pick it up?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll tiptoe in and check on Charlotte.”

  She found Charlotte still asleep, and went about checking the woman’s vitals, making the hourly notations in her chart.

  In the kitchen, she pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge and sat down to worry about what she’d just done with Quentin. But to her surprise the regret didn’t come. She’d waited two years to feel that explosion in the belly. Why regret the incredible moment when the urge had overtaken her? She refused to think about it too much.

  So when he walked in the door with the food, she acted like nothing had happened. But something had. Something big. Something different. What was it about a good-looking doctor that always made her lose her head? This time, she vowed not to lose her heart.

  While they stuffed their faces with garlic sticks and lasagna, she refused to feel bad. She’d been here before.

  Quentin studied her demeanor. “You aren’t regretting what happened, are you?”

  “Should I?”

  “Not at all.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  “I want you to take some time off, use that room I reserved out at Promise Cove. You deserve it. With the holiday on Thursday coming up, next week should be a light week. I can handle things here alone.”

  “Are you sure it’s okay?”

  “I’d remind you that I’m the boss. Although right now that might make things so much more awkward. I don’t want that.”

  She ran a hand up his arm. “Surprisingly I don’t feel that way.”

  “Good, because I don’t either.”

  Twenty-One

  Tuesday afternoon Sydney found herself unlocking the door to her room at the B&B. It made her feel a little decadent. In the middle of the day, with no patients to tend to, she could indulge herself with a luxurious soak in a tub. How long had it been since she’d been able to do that?

  She turned in a circle to admire the perks. The innkeeper, Jordan Harris, was known for her attention to detail. Sydney could see why. When she’d checked in, Jordan had called it The Starfish Room. The cheery beach-themed studio was like a cocoon of soft turquoise and creamy white accents.

  She took the time to study the gallery on the walls—photos of lighthouses and sunsets and beaches—from someone’s personal collection, she noted. The décor all somehow meshed together with the antique furniture. She twirled in front of the four-poster mahogany bed and plopped down to test the firmness.

  Like a kid on a sugar high, she couldn’t seem to sit still. She went to the double French doors and threw them open, stepped out onto a balcony that showed off its view of the Pacific Ocean. To capture the dazzling scene, she grabbed her camera phone and started snapping pictures of the blue horizon. She sent several off to Quentin.

  Jordan had stocked the bathroom with hand soaps and lotions and bath oils fit for a princess. It would be a shame to leave them untouched. Sydney intended to take advantage of them all. And her good fortune.

  If that meant getting used to her growing attraction to her boss, so be it. While it wasn’t the first time she’d dipped her toe in that particular foolishness, she knew her track record on that issue wasn’t stellar. She had no problem owning any of it. H
er past judgment in men could clearly use a fresh slate of what not to do.

  But when a man like Quentin walked into a room and electrified it, she wasn’t strong enough to fight the battle within. She had only to daydream about getting together with him again, the sooner the better. Who knows? Maybe she could talk him into joining her here at the B&B, at least for a night.

  The knock at the door startled her, but got her head out of the clouds. She let go of the reverie and walked over to see who it was.

  Jordan stood in the hallway holding a large vase with an arrangement of buttercup yellow flowers nestled in baby’s breath. “These just came for you. There’s a card attached.”

  “Me? Are you sure these are for me?”

  Jordan sent her a devilish smile. “You are Sydney Reed. Someone had to know you were staying here.”

  “Quentin. I bet they’re from him.” Sydney snatched up the card and read the sentiment. “Yep. Look at this. He says to ‘enjoy myself now that I’m away from the office. I should go for a hike and allow my stress to fall away.’”

  “I certainly never had a boss like that. Where do you want me to put them?”

  “On the dresser. Do you have any idea what kind of flowers these are?”

  “Winter jasmine, I think. I should’ve asked Drea when she brought them out. Is everything okay with your room?”

  “More than,” Sydney said. “In case you wondered why I’m the one who checked in, Quentin is giving me some needed time off. He didn’t want the room to go to waste since his grandmother decided to stay at Bradford House.” She was rambling and a little nervous. But what did it matter? The rumor mill was already ginned up with gossip.

  “No matter the reason, we’re just glad to have you. Will you be with us for Thanksgiving dinner?” Jordan asked.

  “I’m not sure. Hayden’s been bugging me about spending the day with her and Ethan. I haven’t decided yet.” She was still hoping Quentin would ask her to Bradford House to spend the day there with him and Beckham.

  “You take your time. We’ll always have plenty of food on hand around here. You let us know what you plan to do.”