Her Rugged Rancher

by Stella Bagwell

  “What are those garage-like buildings?” Noah pointed to a row of open fronted warehouses where boats were stacked four high in individual slots.

  “Those are dry racks. People pay to have their boats stored there to protect them from the elements. The marina uses a big forklift to move them in and out.”

  “Valet service for your boat?”

  She smiled. “I’ve never heard it put quite that way, but yeah, basically.” Getting out of the car, she checked that she had everything and let Baby out of the back. “Let’s head up to the marina store. I want to get some bottled water and we’re going to need bait.”

  “So what’s the deal? Are we renting a boat here?”

  “Nope, my Dad has one stored here. Well, I guess it’s the family boat, but he and I are the only ones that take it out. My sister is a workaholic and doesn’t make it down here much. And Mom likes to tag along, but she won’t take it out by herself.”

  With Noah carrying the gear this time, she walked with Baby, waving at a few of the people down on the docks. They passed the restrooms and a covered picnic area, and then the pool.

  Noah turned to take it all in. “I always thought a marina was like a parking lot for boats, but it almost seems like a campground or something.”

  “Well, it’s kind of both. Most people just store their boats here, but some live off them. For them, this is a neighborhood of sorts. And even the day trippers sometimes like to get a drink or something to eat at the restaurant.”

  “I wonder what that’s like, living on a boat.”

  “I’ve thought about trying it, but haven’t had the guts or the money to actually do it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe someday, though.”

  They reached the small bait-and-tackle store along the waterfront, and she reminded Baby to behave.

  “You can bring the dog inside?”

  “Everyone here knows Baby. They’d give me hell if I didn’t bring him in.” Once inside, she walked past the rows of shiny lures and the displays of custom-made rods to the coolers in the back. “You grab us some water and ice. I’ll get the bait.” She picked out a package of frozen shrimp and some squid. Usually she went with live bait, but given Noah’s lackluster reaction to the idea of a fishing trip, the frozen stuff might be a better way to ease him into the experience.

  Taking everything up to the register, she paid while Baby was fawned over by Frank, the owner. “How’s my favorite pup?”

  “She’s doing great, thanks. How are you and Marie?”

  “Oh, we’re good.” His smile crinkled the lines on his face. “The grandkids were down last week and about wore us out.”

  “And I’m sure you can’t wait for them to come back again.” The elderly couple doted on their grandchildren, and the feeling was mutual. The kids were often underfoot around the marina, enjoying the fresh air whenever they had a school break.

  “You got that right.” He tipped his head toward Noah, who was inspecting some handmade boat models. “Who’s the fella?”

  “Oh, he’s one of Jillian and Nic’s guests, someone Nic knows from work. I’m just showing him around a bit.” In a small town like Paradise, it was better to stop any rumors before they started.

  “Mmm-hmm. Well, you just make sure he treats you right. You never know with those tourist types. At least you’ve got Baby here to keep an eye on things.”

  She had no doubt the loyal dog would defend her from an attack, but what she really needed was protection from herself and the growing attraction she felt every time Noah was around. She wasn’t about to explain that to Frank, though, so she just nodded and headed for the door.

  “Hey, don’t forget me,” Noah called, putting down the replica sailboat he’d wandered over to.

  Forget him? She hadn’t stopped thinking about him since she saw him on the steps of the Sandpiper. No, the only thing she was in danger of forgetting was her common sense.

  *

  Noah followed Mollie out of the dimness of the bait shop, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun. Taking one of the plastic bags from her, he matched her pace down one of the long docks extending over the blue-green water. “Which boat is yours?”

  She pointed to a midsize vessel about halfway down, a picture of an orange and the words Main Squeeze emblazoned on the hull.

  “Cute name.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That was Dad’s attempt to suck up to my mom. He was trying to get her to like the boat more.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Nope. I mean, I’m sure she appreciated the gesture, but she’d rather stay on dry land and fuss with her plants. The garden is her happy place.”

  “And the water is yours?”

  “One of them. I’m not real picky. Anywhere outside works for me.”

  “And anywhere you can snap off some good shots?” He nodded to the camera bag she’d pulled from the car, now hanging from her shoulder.

  A quick smile of acknowledgment was replaced with a grimace as she stepped onto the deck, absorbing the movement of the sea like a seasoned sailor. “Someone must have left some bait on board.” Her nose crinkled, her freckles bunching up as she made room for him to join her. “Sorry, I’ll rinse out the bait wells if you’ll keep an eye on Baby.”

  At the sound of his name, the dog stood up from where he’d been sprawled on the warm wood planks of the dock, leaping across the gap between the dock and boat with much more grace than Noah expected from the oversize amputee. “Show-off.”

  Switching the bags to his left hand, he braced his right on the post beside him and swung down, a bit more clumsily than the dog but without falling on his butt, thankfully. Being out of his element was one thing; making a fool of himself was another.

  Baby sat calmly a few feet from his mistress, not needing any minding that Noah could see. Mollie had her back turned, a hose in her hand as she bent over the bait wells hidden inside a set of bench seats. He wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, but he wasn’t going to distract her as long as he had such a nice view. Long, tanned legs ended in a trim bottom with just the right amount of curves, displayed nicely in a ripped pair of cutoffs that had him looking at denim with new appreciation.

  “There, that’s better.” Mollie stood up, tossing the short hose back onto the dock. Kicking off her flip flops, she stepped up onto the gunwale, stretching to reach the spigot sticking out from a mooring post.

  “Careful!” His breath caught at the way she was leaning out so far over the edge—and not just because of the way her tank top was riding up.

  Ignoring his warning, she turned the water off and then hung the hose up neatly on the hook next to it. “Relax. I’m not going to fall overboard. I promise.”

  As if to prove her point, she balanced for a minute, hands free, before hopping down beside him. “See, totally safe.”

  She might not be worried about drowning, but with her standing only inches away neither one of them was safe. She was close enough to taste, and he’d like nothing better than to kiss that cocky grin off her face. But she’d set the ground rules, and he wasn’t enough of a jerk to break them. He hoped.

  Backing up, he put some breathing room between them. “All right, so, what do we have to do now? Tell me how I can help, and don’t say watch the dog—he obviously doesn’t need a babysitter.”

  Amusement flashed in her eyes. “You caught on to that, huh?”

  “That you were just giving me a job to salve my ego and keep me out of the way? Yeah.”

  Unrepentant, she shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I really didn’t need you to do anything, and a lot of guys would get offended if I did everything myself and didn’t let them help.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m on my vacation. Or honeymoon, whatever. I think my ego can handle sitting here and watching a pretty lady take care of things. But,” he added, more seriously, “I’d love to learn, so maybe you can explain what you’re doing, and then next time I really can be of some help.”

  “You’ve got a de
al.” She took the bags from him and dumped ice into a cooler located under yet another seat, stowed the drinks, and then put the frozen bags of bait in the now clean bait wells. “No ice on these. We want them to thaw a bit so we can use them. If we were using live bait, we could fill these compartments with seawater, and then turn on the air pump to keep the water oxygenated.”

  “So noted. Drinks and bait separate, and live bait should be kept live.” He leaned his weight against the tall captain’s chair, enjoying watching Mollie work. “So what’s next?” She was an excellent teacher, and he was definitely an eager student.

  “Next you get out of my seat so I can start the boat.” She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow, and even that contact was enough to have his body reacting in ways that were not particularly appropriate. Glad he’d worn baggy shorts, he eased past her, careful not to let their bodies touch.

  She inserted a normal looking key attached to a bright orange foam keychain and the engine rumbled to life. “We’ll let it idle for a bit while I text my dad our float plan. Then we’ll untie the lines and be on our way.”

  “Float plan?”

  “It’s like a flight plan, but for boating. Whenever any of us go out, we let someone know when we are leaving, where we plan to go and when we should be back.”

  “That’s smart of you.” He relaxed a bit; he should have known she’d take the proper precautions. As impulsive as she claimed to be she also had a level head on her shoulders.

  Mollie stared for a minute before seeming to accept his compliment at face value. “Thanks. All right, now, time to cast off. I’m going to untie this line, if you want to get the other one.”

  Pleased that she’d given him a job, no matter how small, he carefully unwound the rough rope from the anvil-shaped metal cleat bolted to the dock. As soon as he was done, Mollie pushed off, freeing the small craft from its moorings before returning to the captain’s seat. A minute later they were slowly motoring out of the marina towards the Intracoastal Waterway.

  Looking back at Mollie, a peaceful smile on her face, the breeze blowing her hair as she effortlessly steered the boat through the channel, he couldn’t help but think it might not be just the fish in danger of being hooked.

  *

  Mollie focused on steering the boat down the center of the channel, pretending that whatever this feeling was that sparked around Noah was nothing more than the normal response to being around someone as famous as him. Of course, it, whatever it was, had started before she’d known his identity. Which would mean it was something else entirely, something more primitive, more basic.

  She certainly felt more primal, more aware of her own body around him. Cutoffs and a tank top had never felt so revealing, not that he’d done or said anything inappropriate. He was sticking to the terms of her agreement, but that didn’t stop the air from almost crackling when they touched. Not that she planned on touching him again, but the boat was only so big and casual contact was hard to avoid.

  “What’s that?” Noah broke into her musings, pointing to a large wooden platform perched atop a post at the water’s edge.

  “A nesting platform. The power company builds them for the osprey, to try to keep them from nesting on utility poles. If you keep an eye out, you should see a few with actual nests on them. The ospreys around here are a bit unusual in that they don’t migrate, so the breeding season goes on all year.”

  “They live in Paradise, literally.” He gestured out over the clear water towards the picturesque sandy shore. “I wouldn’t want to migrate, either. What could be better than this?”

  “Adventure? New things, new places, new people? Stores that stay open past nine p.m.?”

  “Whoa, where did that come from?” Noah’s eyes crinkled in concern, his lazy slouch against the railing belying the edge beneath his words. “I thought you loved this place. Isn’t that why you’re showing me around? So I can see how great it is?”

  Mollie bit back a defensive retort; it wasn’t Noah’s fault she felt so conflicted. Taking a few deep breaths of the salty humid air, she tried again. “I do love it here. I can’t imagine a better place to grow up, or anywhere else ever being home.”

  “But?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

  “But I want more!” She felt her cheeks heat at the outburst. Great, now she sounded like a spoiled brat. “That sounds awful, doesn’t it?”

  He grinned. “Not awful. Just sounds like you have a bit of wanderlust, that’s all. Nothing wrong with wanting to travel a bit, strike out on your own.”

  “You get it.” He put her rambling thoughts into words so easily it was like he could read her mind. “My family, my friends… They think I’m crazy to want to leave, I don’t even have anywhere in particular I want to go. I guess I just don’t want to end up tied down like my mom did.”

  Noah waited for her to explain, not pushing, but letting her know he was listening if she wanted to share. Funny how it was so much easier to talk about this stuff with a near-stranger than her friends.

  “My mom was a dancer, a talented one. She had a chance to go to New York and dance with a major company. I’ve seen the newspaper clippings, the old programs—she has a whole scrapbook full. She could have been famous.”

  “What happened?”

  “She met my dad.” And that had been the beginning of the end when it came to her mother’s dancing career. “They fell in love, one thing led to another and a year later she had a ring, a mortgage and a baby. By the time I came along, she had given up on it completely. Once Dani and I were old enough for school, she started working at my father’s law office as a secretary. She’s never done anything else.”

  “Does she regret leaving dance?”

  “She says she doesn’t.” Mollie shrugged. What else could she say? That she wished she’d never given up her career to have kids? Not exactly something you could tell your daughter. “She says she’s happy, that having a family was always her real dream.”

  “But that’s not what you want.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know if I ever will. I’m not like her. I can’t even think about it. I want some adventure in my life, a chance to test my limits, make my mark on the world. I can’t do that if I never leave the island.”

  “So then go, chase your dreams.”

  “What, just pick up and leave? Now?”

  “Why not?” he challenged.

  “Because…I’m not ready yet. I’m going to leave, at some point. But right now there’s school, and my job, my family—”

  “Those are excuses, not reasons.” She started to argue, but he held up a tanned hand, silencing her. “You could apply to school somewhere else, transfer your credits. Or take a semester off. There are jobs everywhere. And your family, assuming everyone is in good health, isn’t going to wither up and die if you leave the zip code. As far as I can see, there’s nothing keeping you here, assuming you really want to leave, that is.”

  “Of course I do.” Didn’t she? She wasn’t making excuses; she was waiting for the right time.

  “Then trust me. Just do it. Do whatever it is that makes you happy, that makes you whole.”

  He made it sound so easy. “Is that what you’re doing?”

  He was silent for a moment. Maybe she was getting too personal, too heavy, but he’d started it. Hadn’t he?

  “I don’t know.” His eyes were clouded, as if he were seeing something other than the water and mangroves around them. “In some ways I always have, if only out of self-preservation. There wasn’t much point in trying to impress my parents. Even if I’d made one happy, the other would have disapproved, just on principle. And I moved too often to make any real friends, let alone worry about impressing them. I guess that was the only good thing about growing up in chaos—you learn to rely on yourself.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know. For a little while, I had thought maybe it was time to reach out, build some real re
lationships. Maybe even settle down with someone special.” He looked out over the water, his body tense. “Obviously, that didn’t work out very well, and honestly, I don’t think I’ve got it in me to try anymore.”

  *

  Noah knew his words sounded cold, but there was no point in lying to her. He was done pretending, done trying to be someone he wasn’t. He’d done that with Angela, and that hadn’t done anyone any good. Besides, Mollie had said she was known for telling it like it is; the least he could do was return the favor. Even if it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

  She seemed to consider his words as she scanned the horizon. “So you’re just a lone wolf, huh?” She didn’t seem upset by the idea; her shoulders were still relaxed, her limbs loose, as she steered the boat away from the main channel and into a narrower, winding section of water. Of course, why should she be? He was just one more temporary tourist to her; his views on life didn’t have any importance for her.

  “Yup, didn’t you hear me out howling at the moon last night?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind. Not sure I’m ready to break from the pack though. When I go—and I will go—I want to do it right. I don’t want to have to come crawling back, tail between my legs, as it were.”

  “Being prepared is good,” he conceded. “But there’s a fine line between planning and procrastination. When I’m working on a big project, I sometimes find myself bogged down in the details, sketching out every angle when I need to just jump in and trust the details will work themselves out.” He flashed her a grin. “But enough philosophy. Tell me about this place.”

  She’d slowed the boat while he was talking, nosing them into a quiet cove surrounded by a dense thicket of low-slung trees, their bare roots making a tangle above and below the clear water. It was like something out of a movie, exotic and yet somehow peaceful, too.

  “Well, it’s my favorite fishing spot. Other than that, what do you want to know?”

  “For starters, what are those?” He pointed to the alien-looking trees that surrounded them. “I didn’t know trees could grow in water like that, let alone salt water.”