Love, Honor & Cherish: The On the Cape Trilogy: A Cape Van Buren Trilogy

by Meredith, MK

And she broke his heart.

  “I’m going, Da.”

  “If ya walk out that door, Blayney, dontcha be thinkin’ to walk back through.”

  The thing he didn’t understand was she felt as if he’d just shattered hers. With the pain of loss fueling her words, she shouted, “If ya really feel that way, Da, then an ocean won’t be wide enough. I won’t want to come back!”

  Chapter 1

  “Please don’t leave.”

  Blayne MacCaffrey sighed at her best friend’s softly spoken plea, the pain in her chest a tangible reminder of how very much she loved Larkin Van Buren. But it was time to go home. To find her way back to Ireland and her family.

  Her da.

  Ten years past time to be exact.

  She forced out a light chuckle. “In a month, you’ll be so busy with your new baby and the conservation center, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

  Larkin yanked her close, surprisingly strong for someone so willowy, and held tight. “You’re going to miss meeting the baby. I’ll notice every second of every day. You’re my best friend.”

  The thickened tone of Larkin’s voice threatened Blayne’s tenuous hold on her own tears. Missing the baby would be hard, but she was afraid if she waited, she’d never go. It was past time she moved home and found a way to reunite with her family.

  She squeezed her hard. “I’m not bleedin’ leaving yet, not until we make this center a success. So, stop it. You and I’ll always be close. An ocean can’t change that. You know I’ll visit.”

  “What about Eclectic Finds?”

  “What about it? I’m training my new manager. Evette Kingsley’s niece. She’s stepping in and running things while I work the launch. I don’t have to live here to keep it going.”

  She hid her face to blink back tears, needing to think of anything else, as she tightened the laces of her scuffed, banana-yellow derby skates. In any other business meeting, she’d have worn her vintage, sky-high Mary Janes and red Wiggle dress. A throwback to a power combination that guaranteed success.

  However, this deal was already in the bag, and she loved nothing more than annoying Larkin’s husband, Ryker.

  And nothing annoyed Ryker Van Buren more than when she skated in the community center of Cape Van Buren—aka his old house and her ticket home.

  She stood, gliding her feet back and forth to get the blood moving in her legs again, careful to make room for Puzzle as the cat weaved between her skates.

  Larkin shook her head. “Ryker’s going to kill you.”

  Nodding with juvenile enthusiasm, she agreed. “I can’t help it. The bloke’s fun to annoy.”

  “Ha, that’s only because you don’t live with him.”

  Blayne waved at Larkin’s growing belly. “Yes, it seems to be such a hardship.”

  A blush scalded her friend’s chest red and raced its way to her hairline.

  Blayne took in the lighthouse at the end of the cape. “I really love this place.” The beautiful building, which stood high on the rocky bluffs, overlooking the majestic Atlantic Ocean, provided a strong foundation, a solid core, and a bright, shining light to help guide those in need. She wanted to do the same.

  The Archer Conservation Park of Cape Van Buren and the plans dreamed up by Larkin were much bigger than anything she had ever worked on before.

  Bigger than herself.

  Maybe even bigger than the ocean separating her from her family.

  Literally and figuratively.

  The park was more than the preservation of the richly wooded peninsula, it was an everlasting symbol of happiness, family, and community. It would enhance the quality of every life in Cape Van Buren—including her own. And once she made the launch successful, her most fervent hope was that she’d finally be able to show her face in Ireland and see pride instead of heartbreak in her da’s eyes.

  “Okay. It’s now or never.”

  A pang of loneliness squeezed her as she pushed open the door and rolled through ahead of Larkin. The familiar tsk tsk tsk of each hardwood seam under her skates eased the ache. She missed her da most of all. His full white beard, his deep blue eyes slightly faded but clear as ever. At least that’s how they looked in the pictures her little sister sent. If not for Emma, she’d never have known his beard went all white and lost the stripes of black he’d had when she was a teen.

  When she’d been ten, her ma had died of complications from her brother Dylan’s birth. She’d always been da’s little girl, but after the loss, she and her da had grown a bond so strong she never thought it could be broken.

  Back before she’d devastated her family by following a boy to America.

  “Sorry we’ve kept you waiting.” Larkin approached Ryker with her hand on her perfectly round tummy and the look of a well-loved woman on her face.

  “Kiss-up,” Blayne teased. “We’re right on time.” She glided into the kitchen and spun one full circle in front of Ryker. “I left the rink early just for you.” She tapped him on the chest.

  He glared through a dark, furrowed brow. “How many times have I told you—”

  “Not to skate in the house?” She smirked and gently patted his cheek. “But you’re so bleedin’ handsome when you’re growly.” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at Larkin. “This one’s been keeping you so happy lately I missed the old grumpy Ryker we used to know and love.”

  He shook his head with a grimace and slid his arm around Larkin’s thickening waist, drawing her in close. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

  Blayne curtsied with her arms spread wide. “Thank you, sir. But don’t you lie, I know you’re mad for me.”

  She glided toward the sliding doors then pivoted to return. “I’m excited to jump in on this launch. I’ve a lot of ideas and promise not to let you two down.”

  “Blayne.” Larkin stepped from Ryker’s side with concern shining from her eyes and reached out to her. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

  Blayne shrugged, the rush of a challenge fueling her more than the organic energy drink she’d consumed that morning. “I’m all ears. You can relax and focus on the baby. I may be a one-woman show, but I’m all Team Van Buren. It helps that I work best alone.”

  “About that…” Her friend’s chest flushed red again.

  Something was up. Larkin only blushed when she was nervous, embarrassed, or…guilty. This sounded a heck of a lot like guilt.

  Her stomach twisted, but she wasn’t sure if it was from determination or irritation. She would manage the opening of this enterprise better than any shiny-shoed number-pusher any day of the week. They knew it, and she knew it.

  So, what the hell was going on?

  She stared from husband to wife and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know I’m the best fit for this job.” She shoved off a foot and skated toward them.

  The front door slammed, making her flinch. She threw her arms out to catch her balance, teetered, then over-corrected just as a someone walked through the kitchen door.

  “Sorry I’m late.” The deep, husky voice sliced through her, hurtling her back a decade to a time when she’d believed in true love and happy-ever-afters, right before she slammed into a rock-hard chest.

  “Umph.” She grunted on impact, and the two fought to stay on their feet, but her skates had a mind of their own and raced out from under her as if running for their lives. “Bloody hell!”

  “Shit.” The word vibrated against her cheek and skittered along her spine as they crashed to the kitchen floor in a tangle of limbs.

  For a moment, no sound was heard except the whir of spinning wheels.

  “Oh my God.” Larkin rushed toward them.

  Disbelief lodged in Blayne’s throat with all the words she’d never been able to say.

  It couldn’t be him.

  Not now.

  She shoved back, fighting to gain solid ground and cursing her fucking skates. Why of all days had she chosen today to tease Ryker? Karma was meaner than Ryker’s grandmother
Maxine Van Buren when someone threatened her moonshine.

  She shoved the dark hair that had escaped its pins from her face and sucked in a breath.

  “Are you alright?” Larkin grabbed her arm, trying to help her up.

  But she could barely hear over the roaring in her ears.

  As the bloke straightened, she took in the thick head of sun-kissed brown hair that reminded her of digging her toes into the sand off the north side of the cape, and light gray eyes that had always seen too much and said too little, and her heart stopped. For the second time in her life.

  “Jamie.”

  One thousand one, one thousand two…lub dub, lub dub. Okay, she was still alive.

  “Blayne. Blayne!” Snap, snap. Larkin’s fingers made the jarring gesture in her face until she finally blinked.

  The bloke lost all his golden boy color as his eyes took her in from head to toe like a starving man would a table of food. He reached for her. “Blayne, I had no—”

  She jerked back, the motion almost landing her on her ass for the second time that afternoon. “Don’t.” Her voice was stern but soft. She thanked the universe for hiding the tremble surfing the edge of her words.

  Ryker joined Larkin and laid a hand on Blayne’s arm. “Are you okay? I told you wearing those damn things on this floor wasn’t a good idea.”

  Looking from Blayne to the new arrival, Larkin gently led her husband away. “Ryker. Now’s not the time.”

  “Not the time for what, Cupcake? Wearing the damn skates?” he grumbled, shaking his head in irritation.

  The deep clearing of a throat caught Ryker’s attention, and he glanced at his friend. “Jay, you alright, man?”

  Blayne could only stare as Jamie brushed off the front of his tailored shirt, giving a hint of how hard his abs remained and dousing her head with a waterfall of memories.

  The gentle glide of his thick fingers through her hair, the hard pressure of his chest against hers. The way he’d promised to get her back to Ireland someday.

  Her heart ached at the sight of him. Why was he here, now, after all this time?

  Anger and devastation and an annoying layer of awareness wrapped around her in a binding sheath of emotions, making it difficult to breathe.

  Jamie ignored Ryker’s question and approached her, keeping his hands to himself this time.

  He’d always been a quick learner. Back in Ireland, he’d had her big sister, Ruby, wrapped around his finger, always getting the first bite of her bread pudding when their little brother, Dylan, never even stood a chance. And it was well known in Glengarriff that the miracle baby of the MacCaffrey family always got what he wanted when it came to Ruby.

  The memory tugged at her heart, making the poor organ feel as though it were engaged in a game of tug o’ war.

  “How are you?” His voice poured over her like warmed caramel, but there was more to it than the silky timbre she’d dreamed of for years. There was something deeper with age and raspier with his own emotions.

  If he still had any.

  She frowned. That was unfair. His openness with his feelings had always been one of her favorite things about him. That and the way his full lips felt as they slid across her collarbone.

  But that was once upon a time.

  And she’d learned the stone-cold truth about fairy tales.

  Pulling from her strong Irish reserves, she squared her shoulders, locked her eyes with his, and stood as confidently as she could in her barely-there practice skirt and derby skates. She’d have killed for her Wiggle dress in that moment.

  “I’ve never been better.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  * * *

  If James Alexander Wilmington Astor III had woken up in the emergency room and been told he’d taken a sledgehammer to the head, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

  And it would have hurt a helluva lot less.

  He rubbed the ache in his chest as he took in the sight of the only woman he’d ever loved.

  To say the years had been kind to her was an understatement. Blayne looked more gorgeous than ever. Even with the pain in her expression that she so desperately tried to hide every time she glanced in his direction.

  He cleared his throat. “I can see that.” His voice still came out in a husky declaration.

  She stared at him as if contemplating how to kill him, then turned away.

  He didn’t take his eyes off her, drinking in every inch of flesh he’d missed over the years.

  He’d always been a selfish bastard, and regarding this woman, worse than most.

  And here he was again.

  Returning to Cape Van Buren to fulfill and reclaim the love of his life was loaded with risk. Especially since it had been that sense of duty and his selfish tunnel-focus on success that had cost him her love in the first place. But he hadn’t counted on crashing headfirst into her on the very day he moved home.

  Holding the woman who’d haunted his dreams for over a decade in his arms once again had been worth the pain of their earlier mishap.

  “You’ve been busy.”

  She spared him a fraction of a glance over her shoulder, then turned to face him head-on. “That’s what people do.”

  His low chuckle had her tensing so tight that anyone else would have snapped, but not his Blayne.

  Ryker had reached out to him about teaming up with a local businesswoman to ensure a successful launch of the Archer Conservation Park of Cape Van Buren, and when he found out it was her, he couldn’t refuse.

  Now here she was, even more stunning than the night he’d witnessed her washing a beer down with a shot of whiskey at the Blue Loo Pub during his graduation trip to Ireland. That night, life as he knew it had changed forever.

  He swallowed hard, ignoring the unbearable feeling of his heart crumbling under the weight of accusation in her stare. The precision in her arched brows and the crystal-clear seafoam green of her eyes had always ignited a fire in him like nothing else.

  At the same time his heart was dying, his damn dick was rising to an occasion that had no chance of happening.

  He put a real effort in keeping his gaze latched on hers, but the temptation was too great, and he took in the miles of toned thighs that popped out from a derby skirt that had the letters XXX on the front and back.

  She had a tattoo on the outside of her left thigh of a Celtic knot weaved with yellow roses—her late mother’s favorite flower—and dripping with ivy. He’d spent many nights tracing the design with his tongue. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

  Fucking-A.

  Ryker yanked open the refrigerator door and peered inside. “What can I get you, Jay? Want a beer?”

  He slid onto a stool at the large island with the white granite top. He forced himself to act like nothing was wrong when it was about as wrong as it could get. Guilt slithered its way up his spine to sit like a lead brick on his shoulders, making the considerable weight of regret grow even heavier. It was going to be a long time before he’d be able to walk free of it. If ever.

  Popping the top off two beers, Ryker took in the group with an uncharacteristic grin. Married life must have given the man permanent beer goggles because he was oblivious to what was going on here.

  “This partnership will be easier than we thought with the two of you already knowing each other.” He nudged Larkin. “And you were worried.”

  His wife visibly blanched, watching Blayne with worried eyes. She knew every incriminating detail of the day Jay left—and then some.

  “Partnership?” Blayne ground out while she bent at the waist to unlace her skates. The round profile of her fishnet covered ass peeked out from her skirt with her efforts, leaving him to shift in his seat once again. If she kept it up, he’d be permanently chafed.

  Jay exhaled roughly. Man, this was going to be a long couple of months. He owed Ryker, he owed the Astor family name, and most of all, he owed Blayne.

  It was time to pay up his debts.

  But more than any of
it, he was determined to win her back no matter how hard it was to face the woman he’d exchanged for a taste of success.

  He’d jumped at the opportunity to attend university abroad while helping expand the family investment business into Europe, setting a precedent as the youngest on the team, and showing he was more than just an heir. He was a leader like his father.

  The moment he’d been tempted, he knew she’d deserved better than an ass like him. And the morning he’d woken up back in Europe, he’d realized leaving her in the states was a grave mistake.

  But after what he’d done, it had been too late to ask her to take him back. Not until he could stand on his own two feet and prove that leaving had been worth something, be a success in his own right instead of simply because he held the Astor name.

  “You always did like to do things on your own. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed,” he said.

  She stilled for a moment, then unlaced the second skate. She slid them both off, stepping down to the floor and a height that would have been less intimidating in any other female. But not her. She was fierce.

  Now to remind his brain of that fact because the sight of her in bare feet ignited every protective instinct deep inside, catching him off guard. Especially since she’d only ever needed protecting from the likes of him.

  With a lift to her pert little chin, she slid onto a stool, so close he felt the heat of irritation radiating from her skin. No doubt, it was the last place she wanted to be. Tough and stubborn. That was his Irish warrior, his Bean laoch. He’d called her Bean ever since learning Bean laoch meant “woman warrior” in Gaelic.

  She’d kick him for that thought, too.

  “Enough of the small talk. What’s going on, Ryker? The last time we spoke, I was launching the center. I’ve the skill and the experience. And you know it.” She glared through impossibly long lashes.

  Jay dipped his chin. “And I have the financial knowledge to ensure the sustainability of your plan.”

  She scoffed. “Knowledge I can attain. I’m not without connections.”

  “Neither am I,” Ryker pointed out, nodding toward Jay. “What’s the problem?”