by Meredith, MK
“Stay.”
No explanation of where or why…just stay. So she did.
But he didn’t know what it cost her. No one had touched her since John had died. She hadn’t wanted them to, hadn’t been ready.
The thought of her dead husband numbed her. She was afraid if she looked too closely, she’d lose the tenuous hold on her temper that remained. It might not be fair and it left her with a little more than a lot of guilt but she couldn’t stop it.
She was drawn to Ryker in a way that also scared her, that made her feel needy and desperate. Which was dangerous. Need resulted in vulnerability, which always ended in pain.
And her heart couldn’t withstand any more sorrow.
But she stayed anyway.
“My mother wasn’t strong. Not like the strength I see in Maxine…or in you,” he said gruffly.
“I’m not—”
His eyes captured hers. “She wasn’t strong and she mistakenly thought that there was no fighting against a man whose family owned most of the town. When he first started the beatings, he included her until she learned to sit in her rocker and ignore it. Then, when she couldn’t just sit there anymore, she left.”
“Oh, Ryker.” Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. His own mother watched his abuse then left him alone with a monster. How did any child get over that?
He stared at his hand on her leg. “Once I left, I searched for her. She’s in Florida. That’s all I know.”
“I can’t imagine. I could never—”
He put up his hand to stop her. “I know what you’re going to say. You could never do that. You’d never leave Archer. But if you’d have asked her when she and my dad had first married, I’d bet the Cape she’d swear the same thing.
She grabbed his hand, resting it back on her leg, and slid her fingers back and forth over his knuckles. “Do you hate her?”
“I did. Then I didn’t. I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t hate her for leaving, I hate her for not taking me with her.”
“Ryker…” What could she say?
He leaned back against the cushions. “I’m fine. I think back to that boy from so long ago, and I’m pissed he felt such fear and pain. Like it wasn’t me. Until I saw my father today. I can’t stand that as soon as I saw that familiar look in his eye, the same old fear shot through me.”
His fingers absently rubbed a small circle on her thigh.
How could she comfort him? How could she erase the look that haunted his dark eyes? She gripped his fingers and raised them to her mouth. Kissing each one, she held his gaze, watching his pupils dilate and drop to her lips.
“None of it was fair. You never deserved any of it. And it was not your fault.”
Dropping his forehead to hers, he whispered, “I used to think if I’d just disappear, maybe he’d at least be nice to my mom.”
She hesitated, the warmth of his breath washing over her lips, making them tingle in anticipation. Her heart slammed in her chest and stole her breath. And then she did the only thing she could think of to ease a bit of his pain.
She released his hand then slid both of hers up to hold his face. His scruff tickled her palms and she caressed the corners of his lips with her thumbs.
“Cupcake.” There was a warning in his voice. But she didn’t understand what he wanted or what he didn’t.
The endearment shot a sizzle of awareness through her. With a small inhale, she leaned into him, capturing his lips with hers. Their plush heat was everything she’d dreamed of and warmth spiraled in an infinite loop.
He stiffened, letting her slide across his mouth with her own in feather-light caresses. Then a low, almost imperceptible groan reached her ears, and he pushed her back against the pillows of the couch, pressing into her, chest to chest. He swept his tongue along her lower lip and her nerves thrilled at the sensation.
“Larkin.”
She opened for him and when his tongue touched hers a swift wash of heat rushed from her center out along her limbs. Sliding her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer still. He tasted like coffee and ocean breezes, and if he never stopped kissing her, it would be too soon. The weight of him against her was heaven. She wanted to rub her breasts back and forth along his chest until he took notice, until he eased the pressure with his hands.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered against her mouth, then licked the sensitive skin along her jaw to her earlobe, which he captured with a small suck into his hot mouth.
“God. I know.” She slid her hands over the large mounds of his shoulders and down his arms until she came to his hands gripping her waist. With a tug, she pulled one to her breast. Desperation filled her with a need to be touched, a need to have her pain eased as she hoped to ease his.
He closed his hand over her in a gentle grip and they both groaned.
His touch was a lifetime of experience she’d never had before. Overwhelming, terrifying. Perfect.
He slammed his mouth back into hers, mirroring her same need, their tongues tasting, testing, teasing. The heat of him enveloped her. He was so large it was like being surrounded by a great wall of warm stone.
“Fuck. You feel so good. Exactly like my damn dreams. I’ve tried to stay away. The Cape…”
He stiffened at his admission. Then slowly pulled back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. Shit.”
Dragging a hand through his hair, he sat back against the far corner of the chaise, and his hands gripped into fists at his sides.
Acute mortification swept over Larkin along with the scalding heat rising to her hairline.
“It’s not you.” He put his hand out, as her damn telltale blush deepened.
She shoved up from the couch. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help. I—”
“Larkin, wait.” He put out his hand but she stepped away.
What had she been thinking?
There was too much animosity between them. But he’d been in such pain; she needed to do something to ease the anguish in his eyes, even if it was just for a moment.
As she took the stairs down the front porch, her fingers flew to her lips.
He was everything she’d dreamed of, too. At least she wasn’t alone in that.
But he was right. They had the Cape between them.
And no kiss in the world, no matter how earth-shattering, could change that.
Chapter 9
Friday afternoon, Ryker stared off into space at the South Cove Lobster House. He gripped the tail of his lobster in one hand and the body in the other while the taste of Larkin lingered stubbornly on his lips. Stopping her sweet seduction had been the most excruciating thing he’d ever done, but with the Cape between them, nothing good would come of letting it go further.
But, fuck. He’d really wanted to.
The feel of her skin under his hands, the scent of her filling his head, and the soft weight of her breast—
Crack!
He’d bent the tail harder than necessary for the softshell and lobster tomalley sprayed across the table, spattering Judge Carter in the face.
“Son, you act like you’ve never eaten a lobster before.” He wiped at his chin, glaring under thick salt-and-pepper brows. “If this lunch is to win me over to your side, as I suspect, you’re going at it all wrong.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Ryker gripped the tail more gently in both hands and applied pressure. A softer crack sounded, then he reversed his grip and pressed it in an inside-out direction, easily separating the meat from the skeleton. He dropped it in his melted butter.
“That’s more like it.” The judge grumbled. “I know Maxine’s taught you better, even if you have been away for a while. Once a Mainer always a Mainer.”
Pulling the meat from the small bowl, Ryker shoved a large chunk into his mouth, wiping at the butter running down his chin. The soft, savory goodness was like a salve to his frustration. There was nothing better than a Maine lobster. Even those who didn’t like seafood or thought it was the food of the
poor—and there were plenty, regardless of what flatlanders thought—would agree.
The judge was right. He was there to turn the old guy around. He wanted to go to his investor meeting and tell them the stay was canceled and they were back in business. He just had to appeal to the judge’s good-ol-boy side.
Men sticking together and all that…besides, his plan would benefit the Cape, the people, and the town. “Can’t argue with you there.”
Sitting on the restaurant’s back deck, Ryker directed the judge’s attention across the sands and open waters of the South Cove to the lighthouse, rising from the end of the Cape. Most people looked at the pristine beauty of the Cape in awe, but every time he looked, he saw all his hiding places.
“I understand your concern about me developing the Cape, sir. But my focus is on the good of the whole town.”
“Well, some might argue that your plans are self-serving and downright damaging.” The judge took a healthy bite of a bisquit.
“And they’d be wrong. No one bothered to ask me what my plans were in the first place. They jumped on the conservation game without doing their due diligence, and in doing so, are delaying a project that will increase town revenue.” Throwing Larkin under the bus didn’t feel good. In fact, he’d be hard pressed not to punch the face of anyone else who dared, but in this instance, she’d forced his hand.
“I’m listening.”
“What I want is to build a community, a family of neighbors. The development would have special amenities and opportunities for the residents to thrive. As a matter of fact, the lighthouse itself will draw flatlanders in droves.”
“How so?”
“I plan on renovating the lighthouse and making it available to rent for a day, a week, a month. Give flatlanders a real Maine experience. They’ll wake up to the sea breeze with the morning sun and a cup from the Flat Iron Coffeehouse, then close their eyes to the stars only seen from Maine with a belly full of a North Cove Confectionery blueberry pie. The three hundred and sixty-degree view shows off the town spectacularly and will draw them in.” He paused and shoved a piece of lobster in his mouth.
Swallowing, he continued, “They’ll see South Cove Lobster House, hell, they can see all the way to the Fountain of Youth from there. The town itself will draw them in and guarantee a great time. And the whole experience will be directed by a concierge who specializes in our town’s events.”
Not to mention the cash flow would end up paying for a good portion of the Cape upkeep itself. Larkin would hate knowing she gave him the brilliant plan with her little lighthouse tour. She’d made him fall in love with the Cape, alright—in love with its ability to make him more money and get him back to New York.
Interest sparked in the judge’s eyes. “I like the sound of that. Hell, now I want to stay the night. But the lighthouse itself won’t provide a huge surge of commerce.”
“But more than a little. And with the concierge services extending to all Cape homeowners, we’ll be getting the citizens of Cape Van Buren more involved than they’ve ever been.”
His grandmother’s gentleman friend scratched his neatly groomed whiskered chin. “I like it. I like it.”
“That property was meant to be lived on by families that can make happy memories there. The more families, the better the chances. And happy families mean a happy town.”
“My grandson can wordsmith with the best of them, Teddy. You need to stay wicked sharp with this one.” Maxine leaned in for a kiss from Ryker—and he gave her one even though she didn’t deserve it—then slid in next to Carter.
Throwing her a dirty look, he shook his head. “How’d you know we’d be here?”
The judge had the courtesy to drop his eyes to the table.
“Judge Carter?” Ryker asked, but the answer was clear as the judge averted his eyes.
“Sorry, son. But when her schedule opened up, I wasn’t about to miss out because we had a meeting.”
“A meeting I’d have liked to hold without a spy hanging around.”
Maxine scoffed. “Oh, please. So much drama.”
Ryker couldn’t keep his voice from rising. “You gave a character witness against me!”
“It wasn’t against you so much as for Larkin.”
With a scowl, he shoved another piece of lobster into his mouth. Though delicious, it did little to improve his mood. Right when he had the judge on his hook, his grandmother had to show up. And he wasn’t about to discuss any of his other ideas with her. She’d run back and tell Larkin as soon as she had the chance.
One thing he’d learned fast in business was to never underestimate the competition. He’d recognized right away that Larkin was savvy and intelligent. She’d had the stay put in place before he’d unpacked his bags. The last thing he needed was for her to develop counter measures to offset his plans.
“Besides, you’re so bent on selling the place off into pieces.” She tucked a hair that was errantly blowing about in the light sea breeze behind her ear with a frustrated scowl. “You know, chopping it up into pieces and selling it off isn’t going to take away any of your pain.”
The lobster in his gut solidified into a ball of cement. “It’ll be a good start.”
“The plans I’ve heard so far sound pretty good, Maxine.” The judge cleared his throat.
She shot him a warning look. “And what plans are those, Teddy?”
The old judge coughed into his fist and threw a pleading glance at Ryker.
“Grandma, leave him alone. And don’t you dare go digging to figure out my plans. Just know I’m not destroying the Cape, I’m making it better.”
She reached across the table and took his hand before he could avoid it. “I heard your dad showed up. I’m sorry. But you have to know if you destroy the Cape, if you destroy everything…your dad wins.”
The sadness in her eyes killed him. She’d always felt responsible, but she wasn’t. His dad had changed as an adult, and when she and Stuart had tried to get him help, he’d laughed in their faces. He was so far gone from PTSD and his alcoholism after coming back from his overseas stint in the army, he couldn’t find his way back to his family.
Maxine had always told Ryker she should have found a way to help his father, but some people refused to face their demons and there was nothing that could be done. So she’d continued lavishing Ryker with love to try and make up for all the pain suffered and caused by James.
“Grammother, I’m not destroying it, and you know James isn’t your responsibility.” He squeezed her cool hand. With a small shake of his head, he continued. “He threatened Larkin.”
That had both the judge and his grandmother leaning on the table. “What?”
“Before you get all riled up, she held her own. Against her better judgment if you ask me, but she gave it back better than he gave it.”
Maxine beamed. “She is a scrappy thing when she gets a mind for it.”
“Scrappy is one way to say it.” Scrappy, sexy, smoldering…
“Ryker…Ryker.” Maxine’s voice broke through his musing and he shot her a look.
“Where’d you go all of a sudden?” She asked with a curious grin.
“I think the whole situation’s wearing me out. That reminds me, you need to stop by and pick up all the honey. I’m assuming you’ve got ways to use it? Your moonshine maybe? I’m sure you’ve got a sale coming up.”
He would have given the Cape away for a photo of the look that crossed his grandmother’s face at the mention of her illegal selling of moonshine in front of the judge. He’d mat and frame that sucker.
She slapped her hand lightly to the table. “Well, I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her tone was low and full of warning.
“Oh, I’m certain you do. Your moonshine is the finest kind.”
Turning to face her more fully, the judge chided, “Maxine, you said you’d stopped all that business.”
“Ha!” Ryker burst out. The day Maxine stopped selling her moonshine wo
uld be the day she died, God rest her soul. Grandmother wasn’t one to be told what to do, and if the look on her face was any indication, the judge better mind his tongue. Ryker suspected the man was more worried about falling out of his grandmother’s good graces than she was falling out of his.
Maxine narrowed her eyes at Ryker though she spoke to the judge. “You know, Teddy. It really is a shame what Ryker has planned. You know his community will destroy the beehives that Stuart nurtured with such care out at our place. Such a shame with the struggle honey bees have in this day and age.”
Judge Carter nailed Ryker with a look. “Now, son, I don’t like the sound of that at all. Not at all.”
“But, judge, she’s just trying to—”
A hand spotted with time and wrinkled with age rose and cut him off. “Son, I think we need to give Miss Sinclair time to put together her findings, then we’ll rule and see who moves ahead. Yes, that’s the best plan.”
Ryker fell back in his seat, not bothering to hide the look of disgust on his face.
“I’ll be there Sunday evening for the honey. Have dinner ready,” Maxine said with a triumphant twinkle in her eye.
Well played, Maxine Van Buren. Well played. She just threw her own grandson under the bus to save her moonshine.
Though, truth be told, he didn’t blame her. That shit was the finest kind; that was for sure.
And just now he needed a strong brew because he was back to square one with Judge Carter.
* * *
Sunday evening, Ryker placed the third wooden crate of jarred honey on the stack by the front door, then brushed off his hands. There would be no excuses for his grandmother to forget this way. In fact, he might just take them straight out to her car once she got here to be certain she didn’t. He was still pissed at her for the little stunt she’d pulled on Friday with the judge, and the less he saw of her right now, the better.
