by Meredith, MK
She ran her fingers along the spongy moss carpeting a large boulder, braced for a fight.
“Fine.”
His acquiescence startled her more than if he’d yelled. She walked ahead, afraid to make eye contact, which burned her ass even more. It was time to buck up. Take charge. There was no other way to survive him. With a surge of rebellion, she glanced at him.
He was a giant in the forest, looking like a man determined to win.
Her heart sped up in her chest. She couldn’t think of a time that he’d ever lost.
“Dr. Stanton,” she blurted out.
With a nod, he stepped up beside her. “Good choice. I was also thinking Clint Fenwick.”
She rolled her eyes. “Really? That man patrols the good people of Cape Van Buren closer than Sheriff Davenport.” She didn’t even try to hide her disgust.
Jamie’s laugh was hard and swift and made her belly flutter.
“You just don’t like anyone telling you what to do.”
“Well, that’s because other people are stupid.” She climbed up and over a cluster of rocks, then jumped to another clearing. “They always think they somehow have the right to tell you how to live your life and what that should look like.” She shook her head, continuing forward.
The sounds of the ocean called to her. She loved the rhythm and flow of the crashing waves. The crisp spray of the sea breeze, almost like a cleansing, like starting anew. “I’ll never understand—
“Stop talking. Don’t move.” Jamie snapped in a fierce whisper.
She spun around. “Are you kidding?” Had the bloke gone mad? She certainly didn’t take orders from him.
But the look on his face had nothing to do with judgment and everything to do with concern.
A few rough bluffs came from up the path she was on.
Slowly, she turned her head until she was looking in the eyes of a huge moose. A cow with a small calf trailing behind it.
Adrenaline raced through her limbs, leaving her hands and feet stinging with pins and needles. “Jamie,” she whispered. Her heart thumped in her chest, making it hard to breathe.
The cow was too close to run from, but if it didn’t turn around, that was her only option.
She moved away, but the moose stepped toward her, and she froze.
Jamie carefully stepped down from the rock beside her. “Steady,” he whispered.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was barely a desperate breeze of sound, but the moose’s ears laid back, and the large animal licked her lips. A sure sign that she was not happy.
“I’m here.” His voice registered as if whispered from miles away.
The moose stomped on the ground. Jamie closed the space between them, now in the sights of the moose as well. She released a few hard bluffs, then charged.
“Drop!” In one hard push, Jamie shoved her to the ground then covered her body with his own. The moose stomped her huge hooves next to them. She couldn’t see anything with her head tucked and his body blocking out the light, but she felt the shudder and felt the spray of dirt.
The commotion continued for what felt like a lifetime.
Jamie kept cover over her body with a few grunts, swears, and a prayer, then the thundering of hooves faded off in the distance.
The two of them stayed wrapped tight in their little cocoon, heavy breaths and heartbeats all she could hear. Jamie adjusted above her, then slowly moved off her to the dirt at her side.
“Holy fuck.”
She peeked down the path to find their angry friend gone, and gingerly sunk to her backside. “Ohmygod.”
Jamie’s jaw was set, and he was holding the side of his right thigh as he watched to make sure the moose wasn’t returning for round two.
“Are you okay?” She slid closer to him, the smell of earth and sea mixing with his cologne.
With a nod, he sighed.
“What were you thinking?” she ground out.
He held her gaze with a stubborn glare of his own. “She wasn’t letting you move, and I wasn’t going to leave you out here alone.”
Her pulse refused to slow down, and tears of relief or fear or both burned behind her eyelids. What the hell had he been thinking? He could have been hurt.
She punched him in the arm, but before he could respond, she grabbed him and yanked him to her chest.
“Blayne.”
“Shut up. Just shut up.” She kissed the top of his head, keeping her arms wrapped around as much of his large frame as she could. “I can’t believe you did that.”
She’d never been so scared in her life.
He held her gaze. “I’m okay.”
“You got hurt.” She glanced at the tear in his cargos and the red skin visible beneath. Her throat constricted.
“And I’ll heal.”
“Don’t play it off. Oh my god.” She tried to get a better look, but he held her to him instead. She could hear the pounding of his heart in the silence of the woods.
What made him do it? Guilt for the past, a need to make things right? Whatever it was, she felt awful. She never wanted to see him hurt, especially not over her. There was plenty of pain going on in this world. What happened between the two of them didn’t need to add any more to it.
She grabbed his face and held it between her palms. “Don’t ever do something so stupid again.”
His eyes darkened with something that wrapped around her in a warm embrace. The corner of his mouth lifted in half-smile of understanding. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“I’ll worry if I want to.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but she covered it with her own.
The feel of his lips forced a small moan from her throat, and he tightened his hold.
She slid her mouth against the tempting fullness of his, relearning a terrain she’d known only too well so many years ago. His taste slammed her into a vault of memories, but with the potency of reality, the urgency of now.
Pressing into him, she took the kiss further, needing to feel what it was like to be in his arms again. Arms that were so familiar yet so changed. There was a fullness, a thickness to his body now that delighted her senses, weakened her knees, and set off a flutter of awareness so deep, no one kiss would ever be enough.
She skimmed the hard mounds of his shoulders and deep valleys and ridges of his back, an excitement of discovery fueling her curiosity.
On a growl, he leaned back, taking her with him. She pressed her breasts against his chest, trying to ease her wanting, and dove even deeper into the ocean of the kiss.
“Fuck, woman.” He grabbed her hips, holding her to him as he moved against her.
Her tongue slid along his, and he groaned low in his chest. Emboldened, she stroked her tongue against his again and again. She bit his lip with a gentle tug, then soothed the area with the caress of her mouth desperate to taste him, as if she’d never have the chance again. “Jamie,” she whispered against his lips.
“I’m here.” His voice rasped out as he caressed her sides until they found themselves tangled in her hair. The pins she’d used that morning to stack it high on her head fell to the dirt beside them and her hair tumbled about their faces.
The large, fingers of one hand massaged her neck, while his other slid to the exposed skin along the seams of her overalls, making her body scream to be touched.
A loud crack pierced through the sensual cloud of her brain, reminding her where they were and what they’d just encountered.
She kissed his lips, then his face, easing back just a bit.
His grip on her tightened. “Bean, wait.”
She stared into his eyes, always amazed by the transparency she found there. “Thank you.” She kissed him. “Thank you for protecting me.”
He pushed her dark hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Take it back,” he demanded, the timbre of his voice low.
She stiffened. “What?”
“Tell me we’re friends.” The need shining from his eyes was
more than attraction, it was more than a casual encounter.
Her head demanded she deny him, to protect herself. But her heart…her heart couldn’t beat so close to his and lie.
“We’re friends,” she whispered, but moved away, brushing the pine needles and dirt from her overalls. Once she was a safe distance from him, she added. “But only friends.”
His dipped his chin, but there was a stubborn glint in his eyes, and a fissure of excitement shot straight to her core. She’d almost forgotten how intoxicating it was to be wanted by this man.
Hiccup.
Chapter 8
Blayne walked with Larkin and Claire along the boardwalk in front of the Van Buren Boat Club, breathing in the cool, salty breeze and admiring all the sailboats entered in the Van Buren Wave Races. Seagulls called from the water’s edge, swooping to the surface then sailing high in the sky, and she followed their route, jealous of their view. She hoped to run into Cape Van Buren’s very own life coach, Clay Parrington, and nail down an interview for a board position. Then the list she and Jamie created would be complete.
“Look how vivid all the colors are.” She tilted her head to take in a particularly beautiful sail.
The one-design boat race was more than how fast the boat was in the water, it was also based on the best sail artwork. The boat that won the race didn’t necessarily win the competition. It made the event very unpredictable and, sometimes, quite volatile. Especially when the North Cove Mavens and South Cove Madams were involved. Art was very subjective, and the feud between north and south unfailingly stubborn.
Two years ago, a riot practically broke out between the North Cove Mavens and South Cove Madams over one particular boat. There was nothing scarier than a bunch of feisty AARP members battling it out with canes and swinging pocketbooks.
“The teal and fuchsia in this cobalt design are breathtaking.” She followed the line of a peacock on one sail. When the fabric was in full bloom, the peacock’s feathers spread in an amazing bouquet, and when it was folded, the peacock looked as though it peeked around the mast pole.
Noticing how quiet her opinionated friends were, she turned around.
Both Larkin and Claire stared at her with open mouths.
“What?” She glanced about, trying to figure out what in the world was going on.
Claire cocked her head. “Who the hell are you…?”
“And what have you done with Blayne?” Larkin finished.
Blayne chuckled, the feeling reverberating up her throat and across her chest. It felt good to laugh. “Are the two of you mad? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stepped close to Larkin and touched her arm. “You feeling okay?”
Larkin sputtered. “Me?! You just used the words vivid and breathtaking. Blayne MacCaffrey doesn’t use words like vivid and breathtaking. You’re more of a ‘badass’ and ‘that’s the shit’ kind of gal. The only thing I’ve ever heard you be even close to poetic about is one of your roller derby jams.”
“Jam? Who wants jam?” Evette Kingsley walked up, flanked by Maxine and Janice. Evette looked like Popeye’s wife, Olive Oyl, and grew the most amazing berries in the world. “I have a fresh batch ready to bring to your store.”
“Better save me some,” Maxine piped up. She’d been using Evette’s berries and Janice’s flowers in her moonshine for years, and there was no getting the recipe out of her. It was hard enough to get any of her brew as it was—unless there was a good amount of cash involved.
Blayne appreciated the interruption. Larkin and Claire’s assessment was disturbing. Why was she acting so sappy? Maybe it was surviving a moose encounter.
Moose.
Jamie.
Oh no. The image of Jamie popped into her mind with his delicious mouth and to-die-for sexy shoulders. Her lips tingled along with the rest of her body. Shit. She had to rein in those betraying thoughts, and fast.
But her heart had a mind of its own. She cared, and it scared the shit out of her.
They were friends. They worked together.
Doesn’t mean you don’t want him.
Oh, shut up.
Great, now she was talking to herself.
“That’s great, Evette. I know we were getting low. Your jam doesn’t last long on my shelves.”
The North Cove Mavens could not even get a hint of her rekindled attraction for her ex or they’d be scheduling her wedding over at The People’s Church.
“That’s all fine and good,” Larkin butted in. “Let’s get back to why our Blayne is so full of smiles and sunshine.”
“Blayne?” Maxine asked, suspicious.
“Oh, please. It’s a beautiful day and the designs are spectacular.” She arced her arm out toward the rainbow of color floating on the North Cove waters.
Maxine played at adjusting the collection of silver bangles at her wrists. “Ah, I see what’s going on here. Things going well with Jay Astor, are they?”
Every flight or fight instinct she possessed charged through her system. How the hell was she going to get out of this one? “As a matter of fact. Yes. Jamie and I settled on our list of potential board members. We start our interview process on Monday.”
All three women lifted their chins and fluffed up like the peacock on the sail.
“Well, I hope I hear from the two of you,” Maxine gave them a pointed stare.
Evette shook her head. “A local business owner would be the perfect addition to the community center board.”
“Oh really, and does that include Shelly Anne Mills?” Maxine teased. Shelly Anne was the proud owner of the Flat Iron Coffeehouse. The best coffee along the east coast, but they never dared admit it in front of Evette. She owned The North Cove Confectionery on the north side, while Shelly Anne was a South Cove Madam, and with the feud and all…
Evette huffed. “Clearly, a North Cove Maven holds the more desirable characteristics for a responsibility such as this.”
Janice shook her red curls. “Please, ladies. Why don’t you be more obvious?”
The three women fell into a good-natured argument, and Larkin nudged Blayne’s arm. “Tell me what happened.”
Claire stepped closer, put her fingers over her mouth, and gasped as if in disbelief. “Tell me more,” she said louder than necessary.
Blayne shushed her. “I can’t believe you.”
“Oh, believe me. I can do way worse.” Claire folded her arms over her chest.
Phantom sensations of Jamie’s hands and lips ignited her skin, caressing, demanding…promising. She held her breath to prevent the sigh that rolled up her throat.
“Nothing happened.”
Claire opened her mouth to holler.
Blayne grabbed both ladies and tugged them farther down the pier. She tucked their arms in hers. “We met at the lighthouse to work. We climbed a tree.”
“What are you, Paul Bunyan’s sister?” Larkin laughed.
“I didn’t want to work in the lighthouse.”
“Ahhhhh…” Claire said. “Now that is an interesting fact.”
Blayne yanked them along, then slowed, worried it was too fast in her friend’s delicate condition. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”
“Do,” they answered in unison.
She sucked in a breath. “We came across a mama moose with her calf.”
“Oh, crap. Mama’s be crazy,” Claire teased.
“Long story short, the moose charged, Jamie knocked me down and shielded my body with his own.”
Larkin’s eyes lit with surprise. “Oh. Wow. That’s not the story I was expecting.”
Off the hook.
Blayne all but sang hallelujah that she didn’t have to admit to the kiss. “It was terrifying. The cow stomped a bit, hit his leg, but then left.”
“How’s Jay?”
That was what she wanted to know as well. “Last I heard, he’s okay. We were shaken up, his thigh had a nasty bruise on it, but otherwise okay.”
Claire shook her head. “My dad used to warn
my brothers and me all the time about how dangerous the moose can be. They’re just so big.”
“A couple years ago a bull moose took on a Jeep. The Jeep didn’t make it,” Larkin added. She studied Blayne for a second. “So, you’re telling me that Jay saved you? How does that make you feel?”
Everything.
Confused.
Terrified.
She waved to dismiss the question and tried to redirect their attention to the sailboats. “What time is the race?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Larkin challenged.
Claire piped up. “Six p.m. They’re finishing all the sail art judging by four, then transitioning to the start of the race. Who do you think’ll win?”
“Now that is a question I can answer.” She stuck her tongue out at Larkin. She didn’t want to think too much about how selfless Jamie’s actions were. She had to admit they were friends against her heart’s better judgment, but anything beyond that was impossible. Pondering any of it too closely would only make the next few weeks harder. So she decided to live in the moment while he was here.
There was no way she was sharing that with Larkin. At least not now.
“I think Dr. Stanton’s team has the greatest chance. Max is an expert sailor.”
“Are you seriously going on again about Max Stanton?” Jamie’s deep voice washed over her like the bubbling waves upon the cove beach.
Blayne spun around. “Jamie.”
She hadn’t seen him in almost seventy-two hours, and the fact she had the time down so accurately meant she was in a heap of trouble.
* * *
Jay inhaled the sight of Blayne like he would a pizza after an involuntary fast. She must have come over to the Wave Races from work since she was sporting one of her vintage dresses and stockings with the seam up the back that drove him insane.
He wanted to dive under that skirt and follow where that seam disappeared with his eyes, his hands…then his tongue.
From the lighthouse until spotting the little crew on the boardwalk, he’d repeated over and over to keep his hands to himself. A few days apart would surely help his self-control. But they needed to get moving on their interviews if they were going to make the deadline, so it was time to get to work whether he liked it or not.
