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

by Meredith, MK

  “Apologize to Claire,” Mitch gritted out. It was one thing to gossip about his exploits, but to comment about Claire within earshot was insulting, and he wouldn’t have it.

  “Now, see here.” Clint jerked his head to where Schmidty had been standing. “We were just making conversation. It’s none of your concern.”

  The man’s look of surprise was almost comical as he found himself standing all alone. Schmidty had melted back into the crowd as soon as the insolent words had left Clint’s mouth.

  “Is that so?” Mitch asked, taking a step closer.

  “Aw, that was great!” Blayne rushed forward with the drunk-on-love look of a woman just married shining from her eyes. Oblivious to the tension, she kissed Mitch on the cheek, laughing as he rubbed it away to get rid of any lipstick left behind.

  Jay joined her and clapped Mitch on the shoulder as they moved from the dance floor. “I don’t think I realized you had such smooth moves on the dance floor, man. Though I should have guessed with the way you sail through the ladies.”

  And there it was again. Jay didn’t mean anything by it, but the man had been back in town barely five months and had already joined the rest of the town on their opinion. Not one of them had it right.

  Mitch rubbed his chin with a chuckle. “Yeah, you should know better by now.” The truth of the matter was that he was more honest with any of the women he’d dated than anyone else in town. They knew from “hello” it was all about consensual pleasure, making a memorable moment, and not the beginning of anything long-lasting that would lead to a night like tonight.

  One too many times seeing his fun-loving mother all alone, lost in thought and staring out the front bay window when she thought no one was looking after their father had walked out on them, was enough to keep him from ever putting himself in the position to cause the same damage. Where his sister, Mae, avoided relationships for fear of being hurt, he avoided them for fear of hurting someone. It was a family thing.

  Janice Brennan was known for her red, bobbing curls, bright laughter, a nose for news and an eye for detail, not to mention the most beautiful gardens in Cape Van Buren.

  But most important, she was the best mother a man could ever wish for.

  Mitch let Jay’s comment go. “Great wedding, man. You look happy.”

  Jay gave his wife a long, drawn-out once over, leaving Mitch to feel like a peeping Tom. “I am. She scared me there for a minute. But we were meant to be together. No one else works for me.”

  “Blayne’s one of a kind, that’s for sure,” he agreed.

  “It was easy to see no one else would work for her either,” Blayne’s father, Noah McCaffrey, said as he joined the growing group. He smiled and listened to his son-in-law’s words in the way a father did once he was assured his daughter was happy. He looked more like an indulgent Viking than an Irishman with his great white beard and hair poking out from under his usual paddy cap. “I’m happy you’re both so happy, my boy.”

  Blayne gifted her dad’s cheek with a kiss as well. “Aw, thanks, Da.”

  “What about you?” Jay directed the question back at Mitch, snatching a moonshine from a passing server, taking a sip. “When are you going to let one of the fine ladies of the Cape snag the infamous bachelor?”

  Mitch glanced at where Claire and Blayne and now Larkin conspired in their low hum of whispers.

  Now why in the hell would his eyes drift to Claire with her pert nose and kiss-me lips at that question? As God was his witness, she was sexy as hell in that damn dress that skimmed over her curves and left her back bare so that no matter where he’d settled his hands when they’d danced he felt the burning imprint of her silky soft skin.

  But no way in hell was he going there.

  He loved giving the woman a hard time—she often asked for it, with her sharp tongue saved solely for him—but more times than not, he did it to see the fire in her eyes instead of the quiet, aching loneliness that often resided there. And for that reason alone, he’d never consider dating her.

  “Hell no. I’ll leave that for you and Ryker. Besides, everyone already has me pegged as a terminal bachelor. No reason to let them down.”

  “They only think it because you taught them to.”

  Mitch snapped his head up. Had anyone asked, he’d have said the rumor was born from expectation, not the other way around.

  His reputation with women really wasn’t the problem, but it was the residual effects on his character in general that wreaked havoc for him on the professional front. He loved his work with the Archer Conservation Park of Cape Van Buren. It had instilled in him a greater sense of purpose and accomplishment than anything else he’d ever been involved with.

  Which was why he’d jumped at the opportunity when Ryker approached him with a new project. It would help his chances to win the city attorney position, but there was more.

  He wanted to feel that way again. That sense of deep satisfaction from making a difference. Being of service was an unexpected but fulfilling calling. He had opportunities elsewhere, Portland as a matter of fact, but the Cape is where he wanted to stay.

  But when anyone in town needed help, they’d look right through him and call on someone else.

  Someone like Claire.

  This beautiful vixen might very well be a thorn in his side, but she was always doing for others. And he admired her for that. Among her various charitable pursuits, she helped the North Cove Mavens, a group of ladies who lived north of the Cape and sparred good-naturedly over superiority with the South Cove Madams. The feud’s history was as old as the town itself. He wasn’t clear on the specifics, just that it had something to do with two sisters who had lived on opposite sides of the town and a boy.

  Typical.

  Claire had turned her creativity and love of helping people into a solid business and planned Larkin’s baby shower even in light of her own late-term miscarriage after her fiancé’s death. She had also planned the wedding they were all enjoying this very minute.

  He shook his head as he took in the edgy opulence of her design that fit both Blayne and Jamie to a ‘T.’

  But Jay’s words poked at the back of his mind like a pitchfork against the logs of their high school bonfires, sending hot cinders of ideas floating about in his head. As innocent as they seemed, if you didn’t pay attention to those damn white-hot ashes, they could start a fire.

  He followed the long line of Claire’s legs up past her hips and the impossibly tiny dip of her waist, past the straight line of her spine to the platinum hair topping her head like a damned halo. Her talent and artistic eye were never in question, but her candidacy as a viable dating prospect was.

  No way in hell.

  She was a woman to be cherished, long-term and steadfast.

  He was just fast.

  Chapter 2

  Monday morning at the Cape house, Claire closed her eyes, blindly feeling for the smooth surface of the large piece of paper in front of her on the desk. Drunk on self-satisfaction, she grinned.

  Blayne and Jay’s wedding had been a huge success with multiple event requests coming in from a bar mitzvah to a twenty-fifth-anniversary party. As hard as they may be for her to attend, weddings were great for business. Everyone loved happy-ever-afters, and every detail that she’d put together for Blayne and Jay’s big day, down to the red and black miniature roses in the centerpieces, acted as a living business card.

  One more milestone for her friends, one more beautiful accomplishment in event planning for her. Blayne was married, Larkin had her new baby, and she had...

  Her gaze roamed the front room of the Cape house where she looked forward to holding the art classes for local citizens—especially the kids. The new makeover was a mix of modern and nautical. Earthy tones of driftwood and rope weaved with the bright green of living plants and newly added seashells. It was a decor that invited guests to create their own beauty. Whether through the new bee-keeping club or her very own art program, the Cape was a place to heal
and hope and find happiness.

  She wanted to find her happy. And she would.

  It might be so quiet in the large house that she could hear Puzzle’s purr from the attic, but she had her programs at the Center. She had her purpose.

  On a small sigh, she focused her concentration and, with a blue crayon and a light grip, drew lines with an easy flow. No premeditated direction, no meaning, just her feelings.

  A soothing memory of a running brook filled the room, erasing time, and she lost herself in the ease of the movement. Her fiancé, Jimmy, used to hike with her along the creek in the woods that surrounded his family’s home outside of Cape Van Buren. Hand in hand, they’d pick their way through the trees, hopping along the rocks or resting on the banks. The smell of the earth and trees filled her senses, releasing her emotions like a strong breeze on the seeds of a puffed dandelion.

  They’d planned and conspired and dreamed, so in love that every single idea they’d had seemed so much more like reality than simply a possibility.

  It was where she’d told him about their baby, and she could see the sweet chubby legs of a little girl with a dusting of white hair and eyes bluer than a Maine sky toddling through berry patches, a delighted grin leaving a dimple in each cheek.

  It was where he’d asked her to marry him, and they envisioned a wedding of baby’s breath and the finest white silk leaving their life canvas blank to be filled with all their hopes and dreams for their little family.

  And it was where she’d run to when he’d died in the car accident three years ago...

  The familiar sound of water was both heaven and hell for her.

  Her hand came to a stop, and she opened her eyes. The silence was deafening, and the absence of earthly scents made her next inhale a disappointment.

  On a shaky exhale, she pushed back from her desk and hurriedly opened one of the large, panel, bay windows. Breathing in the comforting scent of the salty ocean breeze, the gentle rhythm of the crashing waves helped drown out the roaring silence left behind, and she leaned into it all for a moment in sweet relief.

  It eased her aching senses and calmed her heart.

  Grabbing tape from the art table, she secured her paper to the light gray wall, making her wonder how many different pieces of artwork had adorned that wall over the years.

  The house used to be the home of Maxine and the Van Buren family before her; then the whole Cape was purchased and almost turned into a housing development by Ryker. But Larkin had a strong tie to the land through her son, Archer, and in the end, she and Ryker had fallen in love, and through that, created a beautiful gift for the whole town.

  A place to grow, to heal, to learn.

  A place where love knew no bounds and that every citizen in town could call home.

  And Claire got to lead the art classes, including those on helping children learn to cope. That was the one closest to her heart.

  Since she’d never have any kids of her own, the opportunity to help teach those precious young souls how to handle the ups and downs of life would bring her incredible joy.

  She closed her eyes against the pain of her memories, or rather, what would never be.

  The sound of her obstetrician’s voice telling her that her baby was gone echoed against the prison walls of her memories, and the familiar, suffocating pain of loss compressed her lungs for an intense moment.

  Upon its release, she sucked in a breath and blinked until her scribbles came into view.

  She eyed them, tilting her head from side to side until she could pull out a few familiar shapes.

  A wash of frustration swamped her. How could she expect to teach these children when she couldn’t see anything beyond her own pain? All she saw in her drawings were broken baby rattles and car crashes.

  She needed to work through this process with someone else to make sure it was ready before the program opened. Since coping skills might touch on sensitive topics in general, Ryker wanted the program vetted for any possible liability. Claire understood, but she also worried.

  The program launch was in less than a month, and she wanted it to be a success more than she’d wanted anything since she’d lost everything.

  “You aren’t going to stand on your head, are you? I might have to call Dr. Stanton if you do.”

  Claire startled at the sound of Mitch’s voice and spun around. “Jesus Christ! You scared me. What are you doing here?” She swore, every time she turned around, his big, broad chest was obstructing her view.

  “I have some documents to pore over. It’s easier to do in the office here than my loft in town. Too many distractions.”

  “Ha! Like what, your porn collection?” The immediate rush of heat to her face accompanied her outburst, but she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment that the sight of him made her think of porn or her natural inclination to give him a hard time. It really wasn’t her style...except with him.

  She shook her head, feeling like an ass.

  Mitch aimed an inquisitive look her way that left her toes curling in her boat shoes. “A collection I clearly need to let you borrow if your wrapped-too-tight, joyful personality is any indication.”

  His sarcasm washed over her, and she kept silent. She hadn’t meant to be rude, but everything with him was a knee-jerk reaction. Letting it go, she asked, “Documents?”

  “I’m the Center's attorney, remember?”

  “Oh, right.” She tapped her head as if she were a dunce. Sometimes, she was pretty sure she was. Then right on cue, a realization dawned. He would be the person Ryker would have analyze her program.

  Fucking great.

  As he looked about her room, she let her eyes roam over his tall, muscular form. A dark cotton t-shirt was stretched across his broad shoulders, and his chest filled out the front so well she could make out the shapes of his pecs. On a swallow, she forced her eyes back to his, only to find him watching her with a bemused expression on his face.

  Crap.

  She was still trying to get over the shock of seeing him in her space.

  He stepped next to her to take a closer look at her drawing, and as his scent wrapped around her, she stiffened poker-straight.

  A little shudder ran through her as he ran a finger along one of the lines left by her crayons. “What’s going on here?”

  With a shake of her head, she sighed. “Not as much as I’d hoped. I’m working through my process for one of my coping-through-art strategies, but I’m blocked by my own issues.”

  “Your program. That’s right. I need to talk to you about that. But first I have to ask, blocked or enlightened?” He ended the question with a challenge in his tone.

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Blocked.”

  “I don’t think so.” His gaze drifted over her face, then back to the paper. “Look here.” He pointed toward the middle of the drawing. “See these arcs? They look like a rainbow. And everyone knows a rainbow stands for our hope in tomorrow, that the troubles of today will pass.”

  She squinted at the lines and stepped closer. A rainbow? Hope?

  Confusion clouded her brain. Mitch was the last person she’d ever accuse of being philosophical. But she could see it.

  A definite rainbow.

  The heat of his body enveloped her, and her own buzzed with awareness. Maybe she felt this way around him because she knew he was a man who lived for pleasure. Something she hadn’t experienced much of lately.

  She turned her head to find him studying her face, so close, their lips but a few inches apart. Her lungs quit working suddenly, neither taking in nor releasing any air, and the strain of it all burned in her chest.

  His mouth was shaped with chiseled edges, full but masculine. And those lips? They looked soft, but she’d bet her next event paycheck they were firm and demanding. She licked her lips.

  What she wouldn’t give for just one taste...

  Mitch cleared his throat, and she sucked in a breath as the sound startled her from her daydreaming and stepped away.


  What in the hell was wrong with her lately?

  “I have a lot of work to do.” She snatched the picture from the wall as she headed back to her work table. She lowered to the chair with her chin in her hand. “This is never going to work unless I can find someone to work through the process first. I refuse to present any half-assed activity to our kids. They deserve better than that.”

  Mitch gave her a salute. “Good luck with that, sweetheart, and let me know when you do.” He threw her a wink, and she imagined it was the same one he threw his dates the next morning when they left his loft.

  “It looks like we’ll be spending some time together,” he went on to say. “And if the irritated look on your face is any indication, you’re not any more thrilled about it than I am. But like it or not, I’ll be analyzing the steps of your program to watch out for any liability the Cape might face.”

  “I’ll tell you what I told Ryker; this is silly.” It wasn’t, not really, but fear of losing the program she wanted so strongly made her stand her ground, no matter how shaky. She understood the reasoning behind it; she just didn’t want it to be over before it began.

  “Let me know when you find your guinea pig. I’ll be in the office.” His easy strides took him to the door.

  And then, just like that, inspiration struck. A spark of intrigue picked up the pace of her heart. It would save time and simplify things. “What about you?”

  He slowed, resting a hand on the door frame. “What about me, Claire Adams?” His voice was a quiet rumble, and the way he asked the question hinted at so much more than she was able to accommodate.

  For some reason, the sound of her name rolling off his tongue sent a wash of goosebumps over her skin. “Let me put you through the paces of my coping strategy.”

  His eyes widened in surprise.