by Liliana Hart
Island Home
Liliana Hart
Copyright © 2015 Liliana Hart
All Romance Ebooks Edition
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
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“This is stupid.”
Luke Mallory pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes before sucking in a deep breath.
“I’ve lost my mind. I’m just full-out, batshit crazy.”
He directed the flashlight up the sandy path. The overarching palms cast nefarious shadows, and the scurry of lizards and God knows what else could be heard as he interrupted their slumber.
Perspiration slicked his skin and his shaggy hair curled damply at his temples and at the base of his neck. A haircut was on his to-do list—way down on the list. He had other, more important, matters to deal with—the first being to have his sanity checked. Only a crazy person believed myths could become reality. And he didn’t believe. Not really. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
The Florida heat and humidity pressed in on him, making the trek up the side of the hill that led to Seeker’s Spring as close to the path to hell as one could get without actually going there. He swatted at the palms with one hand while the flashlight held steady with the other. The waterfall gurgled in the distance and the temperature rose the closer he got to the springs.
He was a native to the island and loved everything about the place generations of his family had called home—from the wickedly hot summers to the hurricanes that blew through every few years or so. The Mallory’s were Seeker’s Island. It was in his blood, and he’d be buried right alongside his ancestors in the Seeker’s Island Cemetery, whose graves sunk with haphazard uncertainty every time it rained.
Once he reached the top of the hill, Luke tossed the high-powered flashlight to the ground, so it shone eerily over the moss-covered boulders and onto the blackness of the water. The waterfall splashed loudly against the rocks at its base—competing with the crashing waves of the ocean barely a hundred steps through the trees to the west—and sent ripples across the surface.
“Idiot,” he muttered again, scrubbing his hands over his face and rolling his shoulders back to loosen the tightness.
At least no one was present to witness his stupidity. The sun hadn’t yet come up, and theoretically, the springs were closed. Not that it mattered. The sheriff was his best friend—though Jed Wells, perverse bastard that he was, might enjoy throwing him behind bars just for the hell of it.
Before Luke could talk himself out of it he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on one of the boulders. His cargo shorts went next along with his boxers. Hell, he hadn’t gone skinny dipping in the hot springs since he’d been eighteen and angry at the world. It was unfortunate that both times were because of the same woman—not that his wish had been granted the first time—but maybe he hadn’t asked for the right thing at the right time. Fate was a bitch like that.
Jessie James had brought him nothing but heartache in his thirty-three years. She’d been his best friend growing up, though he knew Jessie had kept secrets from him. The shadows in her eyes were never hidden as well as she thought they were. And who could blame her, growing up with a bastard like old Jesse James? The old man had been harsh on her, and Jessie spent more time being confined to indoors as punishment than she had running wild and free around the island.
They’d loved each other like friends should, even though she’d never trusted Luke with her secrets. And then came the time when they started noticing each other a little differently. Hormones and bodies changed, and they both took notice. They’d been sixteen the first time the innocent kisses they’d shared had turned into something more—both of them fumbling and inexperienced as they gave each other their innocence. They loved each other like crazy, as only the young knew how to do—without reservations or bitterness from life in general stealing away pieces of that happiness.
At least that’s what he’d thought. Looking back, he wondered if he’d ever been anything more to her than a distraction—a way to forget whatever was plaguing her. He’d never had her trust, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever had her love either. Not really. Because one day their senior year she hadn’t been on the ferry to the mainland that took them to school. And when he’d gotten back home that afternoon to check on her, old Jesse had looked at him with no expression whatsoever as he’d told Luke his only daughter had packed her things and stolen off with their boat in the middle of the night.
And she’d never come back. Not once. Because he’d waited for her. And he’d tried to look for her, even though her own father didn’t lift a finger to try and find her. So Luke had done his damndest to move on but still keep the hole she’d left in his heart open and bleeding, because it was the best kind of reminder that the only person you could really trust was yourself.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he climbed over the boulders and sat at the edge of the spring, dipping his feet into the water. He hissed as the heat touched his skin, and sweat broke out in beads on his face, dripping down his neck and onto his chest. He knew it would be cooler by the waterfall since the water that flowed from there came from a different spring.
That’s what made Seeker’s Spring so unusual and magical, at least according to the legends. And why tourists travelled from all over the world to this one spot, overrunning the island with ridiculous hats and rental golf carts, buying plastic bottles filled with spring water to take back home with them just in case they needed another dose to fulfill their wishes.
Whatever your heart desires…
A stupid scheme created by someone who cared more about money than the privacy and seclusion the island provided. And here he was, acting no better than a damned tourist out of desperation.
He treaded across the shallow edges of the pool and then hit the drop off in the center so his full body was submerged. There was no telling what the hell was at the bottom of the pool below him. He wasn’t curious to find out like several of the other locals who believed in the legend.
He swam the rest of the way to the waterfall until the cold spray splashed in his face, and he tried to maneuver his way around a few of the jagged rocks at the base of the falls—rocks sharp enough to slice a body to ribbons if care wasn’t taken. The sun was trying to come up—the sky lightening briefly to a hazy gray—but the black storm clouds rolling in from the distance assured he wouldn’t have to worry about being seen by any overzealous tourists wanting to see the springs before they officially opened.
Luke had spent years listening to those who’d claimed to have found their hearts desire from Seeker’s Spring. He still thought it was complete crap, but if there was even a sliver of a chance that it was real, he couldn’t let it slip through his fingers. The stakes were too high this time.
He knew what he’d done wrong the last time he’d come to the springs. He’d swam to the deepest part of the pool and made his request there, his chest filled with panic as angry tears coursed down his cheeks. He’d begged for Jessie to come back until his voice grew hoarse. He’d held out hope for weeks until old Jesse had told him he’d gotten a letter from his daughter that said she was staying with a relative up north to finish school and that she wanted no contact with anyone from Seeker’s Island—or what she’d called ‘her old life.’ Not even Luke.
He knew with clarity that was the turning point in his life—when the anger began brewing and bubbling beneath the surface so the people he’d known his whole life started giving him a wide berth whenever they saw him. When they began whispering behind their hands when his drinking didn’t numb the aching hole in his chest like it should have, and instead made him only angrier, so any person in his path might be a target. He still felt shame at the people he’d hurt, a
nd had spent all this time trying to make up for it.
But that was the past. He no longer carried that violent anger—just a simmering brew he’d learned how to control.
And now Jessie was coming back and he could feel the old anger trying to push through. But his wishes for his heart’s desire were vastly different this time. This was his island—his peace—and she no longer belonged here.
According to the information he’d gathered from the other fools that had made the trek to the springs, a person’s wish was only granted if they stood in the place where the cold and hot water merged. Good thing he hadn’t done it right the first time he’d made his wish.
Luke navigated his way across the rocks and wedged his feet securely as he stood to his full height. The wind picked up, almost as if it were a sign from God that he was, in fact, an idiot, and he smiled as the wind blew harder and the water from the falls slapped him across the face. A low growl of thunder rumbled in the distance. With his luck, the pool would answer his request by sending a hurricane and wiping out the whole island.
A sliver of panic worked its way up his spine when the flashlight flickered several times before going out completely, leaving him almost in complete darkness. Fortunately, he knew every part of the island and could walk it in his sleep, though he’d never done it in a raging thunderstorm and had no desire to try.
“All right, Mallory. Time to put up or shut up. Even if you are a complete idiot.”
The mix of hot and cold from the pool and the waterfall made him shiver and pebbled his skin with chills. The water stung like needles as the wind pelted it like tiny daggers at his face.
“I’m just warning you,” he yelled to be heard over the coming storm. “I’m not going to say it all out loud. You’re supposed to know all this shit ahead of time. So I’ll just ask for my heart’s desire and leave it at that.”
Saying it aloud didn’t make him feel any less stupid, but at least it was done and he could head back to the bar. His bar. No matter what the letter from the lawyer said. He had inventory to do and orders to have filled. Old Jesse James was a bastard even from the grave.
The storm would be bad for business, and if the waves were too high it would delay the ferry from delivering the fresh fish that were supposed to be arriving for the dinner crowd.
Just as he was about to step out of the spray of the waterfall, a huge crack of lightning rent the air. The hairs on his arms stood up and the smell of ozone was sharp and bitter.
“Jesus.” He dove into the water and swam like hell for the opposite edge where his clothes sat. That’s all he needed was to be struck by lightning and found buck ass naked, floating in the middle of the hot springs.
The rain hadn’t started yet, and by the look of the sky he figured he could just make it back to the bar by the time it hit. He didn’t bother drying off, but just pulled his clothes on quickly and shook his hair out like a dog before sliding on his flip-flops and grabbing the flashlight. His golf cart was a quarter of a mile down the path where the road ended and he jogged down the steep incline, swatting palms from his face as he went.
Another rumble of thunder sounded, this one much closer. He got into the golf cart and backed out a ways before he had room to turn around. The wind was vicious as he sped out from the cover of trees to the coastal road that led back to Seeker’s Paradise, the bar and grill he’d slaved and bled over for the last twelve years. He wouldn’t have been able to buy it to begin with if it hadn’t been for old Jesse.
Jesse had been a silent partner, putting down the other fifty percent of the money with the promise if anything ever happened to him that Jesse’s shares would go to Luke. But then old Jesse had died and Luke had found out very quickly that Jesse didn’t ever plan on keeping his promise, because he’d given the other half of Seeker’s Paradise to the daughter who’d deserted him all those years ago.
The thought of the betrayal had Luke’s mood darkening as black as the sky, and he pressed harder on the pedal, wishing for reckless speed and the rush of adrenaline he’d constantly craved after she’d left.
Waves crashed violently against the shore and he tried to distract himself, mentally going through his checklist for when he got to the bar. The rain was an inconvenience and a hassle. The place would still be packed come dinnertime, only he’d have to worry about his waitresses slipping on the wet floors or the generators not kicking on if the electricity went out.
People enjoyed their drinks and conversation, no matter what the weather. He personally didn’t understand the need for the latter, though he more than understood the need for the first. There wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t tempted to pour his own glass and take a stool at the counter like a couple of the other regulars. The need was there with every drink he served, but he relished the pain his hard fought self-control brought. He’d found other outlets to keep his mind off the temptation.
The sky opened up just as he pulled the golf cart beneath the covered patio near the kitchen, and fat drops of rain came down in a deluge followed by another flash of lightning. It didn’t matter how fast he ran, he was soaked by the time he unlocked the kitchen door and pushed inside.
He kicked off his flip-flops and pulled off his shirt as he slammed the door behind him, muttering curses under his breath. His first priority was pulling down the screens on the side of the bar the storm was blowing from so the entire inside wasn’t soaked, and there was no point putting on dry clothes until that task was done.
It took precious seconds to unlock the kitchen door that led into the bar area itself. Seeker’s Paradise had been built to resemble a large, square tiki hut—fat bamboo posts sat at each corner and the roof was thatched to resemble straw. The bar was a square, directly in the middle, so people could sit at the long expanse of polished wood on all sides. The cabinets where the alcohol was kept were locked up every night as well as the kitchen where food was kept, but the restaurant itself was open at all times since there were no walls.
Luke pushed through the kitchen door and into the restaurant, grabbing the long hook he kept by the wall so he could pull down the protective screens. The overhang of the roof was enough to keep the rain out most of the time, but not with it blowing horizontal as it was now.
He’d just slipped the hook through the little hole at the edge of the ceiling when he felt the tingle at the base of his spine. He wasn’t alone. Luke’s shoulders tensed, but he continued on with his task. The island was a safe place to live, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t trouble from time to time—usually from mainlanders coming over on the ferry looking to cure their boredom. If someone wanted to rob him they were in for a huge disappointment. He deposited the cash every night and the liquor was the only thing of worth on the premises.
He pulled down the screen and it rattled and clanked noisily as it hit the floor. He bent over to fasten it down, waiting for whomever it was to make their move, but there wasn’t a rush of air or a sound indicating someone was coming toward him.
His hand clamped in a white-knuckled grip around the hook in his hand and he raised back up slowly before turning to see who waited for him.
The sight of her made him wish for the robber instead. His heart stopped in his chest and his lungs burned with the air he couldn’t remember to breathe.
City girl.
She’d changed in the fifteen years since he’d last seen her. The girl had grown into a woman, but gone was the softness he remembered. A short crop of black hair fringed around her face, making her green eyes look impossibly large and her cheekbones sharper.
There had never been much to her—she’d always been thin as a reed and willowy—her legs long like a dancer and her breasts small, though enough to fill his hands. He’d felt clumsy when he’d touched her—rough—but she’d wanted him anyway. At least for a time.
The sundress she wore was the same vibrant green as the moss around the springs that had just betrayed him and came just to the top of her knees. Her long, narrow feet we
re strapped into white sandals that crisscrossed all the way up to her ankles. He’d never known feet could look quite so sexy.
“Hello, Luke.” Her voice still held the sultriness of the south, and the sound of it sent pleasure straight to his groin, just as it had so many times before. Her voice had haunted his dreams for fifteen years—tortured his body as it begged for release in his sleep.
“Jessie,” he managed to get past his frozen vocal cords. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
The corner of her mouth tilted in a sardonic smile. “More than likely you just hoped I wouldn’t show up.”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Though maybe it’s better this way. You can sign the papers and sell your half of the bar to me, and then you can go back from wherever it was you came from.”
The challenging glint in her eyes made him go rock hard and he moved so he stood behind the bar like he was going to go on about his daily business.
“My father’s dead,” she said.
“I remember. I was at his funeral. Where were you?” Luke didn’t find satisfaction in the way the color drained from her cheeks and a haunted look came into her eyes—a look he’d last seen during their childhood.
“I’m here now.” Her voice dripped with ice and her shoulders stiffened. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t waste your lies on me,” he said, wondering if today would be a good time to pour the drink he’d only thought about until now. “You couldn’t wait to get off this island fast enough. Why would you want to tie yourself to it now? Just sell me your half of the bar and you can go on with your life.”
“My reasons for coming back are none of your business. Just know that I’m here now, and I’m claiming what’s mine.”
Fucking legends and stupid wishes. His teeth gritted so hard his jaw hurt and he pulled out a white apron from beneath the bar. He tossed it at her feet, and shame crawled across his skin as she reached forward to catch it and missed. But he couldn’t back down now. She’d taken everything he’d ever had to give. He’d be damned if she took his livelihood as well.
