by Jean Oram
"Fine," Bobby mumbled. "I just want to get my life back to normal as soon as possible. My suspension is over, and I'm back on duty this morning. I was hoping that two weeks of being gone wouldn't mean my whole life would be upside down." He peppered the eggs Betty had brought him and moved them around his plate like a pouting child.
Betty smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder. "Well you weren't suspended from the diner, and in the words of a wise man 'move your feet, lose your seat.'" She leaned in and whispered loud enough for Piper to hear. "It's going to be all right Bobby, and if it means that much to you, go sit with her." He rolled his eyes up at Betty and put his hand over hers that rested now on his shoulder. He let the firmness in his jaw relax slightly but stopped short of smiling.
For no apparent reason, and without much thought, Piper was intrigued enough to chat with this man. "So what did you do? You know, what got you suspended?" Initiating a conversation with a stranger was completely out of character for Piper. She hated small talk. Why, she wondered, was she even bothering to talk to this guy?
"Who the hell are you?" he barked, and Piper shrank back, not expecting that degree of harshness from a man with such warm brown eyes. If this had been two years ago, if she had been back home still living her own life, then this man would have been in for the tongue-lashing of the century. She would have gone up one side of him and down the other, spouting expletives he probably had never heard before. But things were different now. Just like she had worked hard to lose her accent, she had worked hard to control her temper. Where she was from it was a weapon that proved necessary, but here all it would do was turn heads her way.
"Nobody," she whispered. "You can have your seat back." She was painfully aware of how drawing attention would undermine what she was doing here in the first place. She grabbed her things, left money on the table for Betty and hustled past him. He called something out, but Piper was already under the jingling bell of the door.
Bobby reluctantly peeled himself from the booth and jogged out to catch her.
"Wait," he called out to the girl as she crossed the street. He saw her turn and look back toward him and then increase her pace slightly. He was a high school track star and one of the fastest men in his class at the police academy. There was no way she was going to out run him. He hadn't been a perfect gentleman, but he wasn't so rude that she needed to run away. This all seemed a little extreme to him.
As he jogged up behind her she stopped abruptly, looking completely frazzled by his presence.
"What?" she asked, clutching her notebook tightly to her chest. She worried that perhaps he had glimpsed her notes or maybe Betty had tipped him off to her peculiar behavior.
Bobby ran his hands over the bristly stubble that covered his cheek and sighed loudly, looking utterly overwhelmed. "I'm sorry I was short with you. I'm not having a great couple of weeks." Piper caught a glimpse of his flexed bicep and felt herself drawn to it, staring for a moment. He stood nearly a foot taller than she was but, unlike some men of that size, he was warm not intimidating. He was the kind of man that made you feel safer when he was around. It was clear the blustery rudeness he had just exhibited was not his normal temperament. His face was tired but too gentle for that to be true. Still, Piper wasn't interested in his apology.
"All right," she snapped curtly, and began to turn away from him.
"That's it? That's all you have to say? I'm trying to apologize here." He may have chased after her partially out of guilt but also because she was captivating. Not gorgeous, not exotic, but there was something fascinating about her. His curiosity, however, was waning as her rudeness seemed to grow. He had thought that he might be able to redeem himself by the over-the-top gesture of running after her and apologizing. He was wrong. Much like the rest of his life right now, things weren't going as he had imagined.
He watched her impatiently tuck her silky brown hair behind her ear and he realized that maybe he had misread her. Back in the diner he thought her murky dark-brown eyes had been calling out to him in a haunting way. She seemed to have a depth that he had struggled to find in anyone lately. Maybe at first she seemed like something beautiful that had been knocked down and was waiting to be picked up and dusted off. Now standing on the sidewalk, with no words passing between them, he felt silly.
"Well, I guess that's it then," he said awkwardly, turning on his heels. It wasn't usually hard for Piper to watch anyone walk away from her. She normally found herself relieved to be alone. This felt different. She had to stifle a little tug at her heart as she watched this man leave, and all that did was annoy her. She didn't need butterflies in her stomach; she needed ice in her veins.
Piper didn't like the way he looked at her penetratingly, like he could see something that others couldn't—the heaviness she carried. Starting right now he would be someone she'd need to avoid.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chasing Justice by Danielle Stewart is a free download from Amazon!
Romance with heat set on a beautiful island in Maine:
Enjoy this sneak peek excerpt from Cali MacKay's
One Sweet Summer: A Mermaid Isle Romance
Chapter One
Riley fought to take a breath, the news hitting her like a sucker punch to the gut, her world crumbling out from under her. "You can't sell the inn. It's the heart of the island. It's my home."
She knew business had slowed with the downturn in the economy, but they'd managed to stay profitable, even if the numbers were down. She'd hosted conferences and booked more weddings, kept the numbers up for the artist retreats, and even held treasure hunts for the legendary Mermaid Isle pirate treasure. They'd all busted their butts to make sure the inn stayed afloat. It was just a rough patch they'd need to ride out, but they'd been through worse and managed to pull through.
"Riley, you've done an amazing job running the place, and it's because of you that we've managed to hold on as long as we have. But the roof will need to be replaced in the next year or two, and the entire place needs to be updated. We just don't have the money to keep up with everything that's needed, and the truth is, we're getting old. We want to retire while we're still young enough to enjoy it." Jack reached over and took Ava's hand, giving her a smile. Married forty years and still in love like they were teenagers.
She could only be so lucky to find love like that someday.
Ava's easy smile could normally part the grayest clouds, yet today, it did little to take the edge off Riley's nerves. "We weren't looking to sell just yet, but we got an offer out of the blue. We couldn't refuse, Riley, but we negotiated your position into the sale, so you'll have nothing to worry about. You have the option to continue working at the Siren Song Inn or you can take the generous severance package they're offering. We're hoping you'll stay, though. It'll be easier for us to leave the place if we know you'll still be here to take care of it."
At least she could still stay if she wanted to. Not that it would be the same with Jack and Ava gone and new owners at the helm. They'd want to change it. Turn it into another cookie-cutter hotel. Gone would be her artist's collective and the herbalist conference. And who knew what they'd do with the century-old cottages.
Maybe if it was an individual or a couple rather than some corporation. They might stand a chance then. "Who's bought the Siren?"
As if reading her thoughts, Jack frowned. "Holt Enterprises. They're big, but promised to let you take the lead on the changes they'll be making."
Yeah...and dreams were made of cotton candy and gumdrops. She bit back a groan, not wanting to make this anymore difficult on Jack and Ava than it already was. "Where will you go?" Now that she'd made Mermaid Isle her home, she couldn't imagine living anywhere else.
"Honey, another Maine winter will do us in." Jack sat back and laughed. "I want sun and warm waters. Sandy beaches that I can walk on without getting swept out to sea. Drinks I can sip out of a coconut or pineapple and are loaded up with rum."
Riley wanted to protest that they could h
ave those things here, but knew it wasn't the same. And Jack was right—the winters could be harsh this far north, even if they were still in the southern part of Maine.
"Might do a bit of traveling before we settle down." Ava looked at her, her motherly concern still worrying her brown eyes. "But we'll come back during the summers. And we'll stay in touch. We'll only be a phone call or email away—not to mention all the current technology. What's it called? Swipe?"
That made Riley laugh. "The world must be coming to an end then, if I'm going to finally get you two to go online and actually answer emails."
"You'll manage just fine, my dear." Ava got to her feet and Jack followed suit. "If anything, you might finally get the funds to do all those things you've been wanting to do here at the Siren. Change is good."
"When? When will the sale be finalized?" Riley's breath hitched as she waited for an answer. She'd come here every summer as a child, worked at the inn during her vacations once she'd turned eighteen, and then full-time straight out of college. It was where she'd grown up, where she'd fallen in love for the first time. It was all she knew, all she loved—and she'd given it her all.
"In two weeks. And don't worry—we'll tell the others." Ava gave her a big hug. "Just remember, this will always be the Siren Song Inn. As long as you're here, the heart of it will never change."
"I hope you're right." She couldn't bear to think of the Siren changing so much it no longer felt like home.
Riley waited for Jack and Ava to leave her office and then collapsed into her chair, tears stinging her eyes as she tried to swallow down the golf ball-sized lump in her throat. She knew they'd been looking to retire, but she hadn't expected them to sell the place. Not that she held it against them—all their money was tied up in the inn, and they'd never be able to retire without freeing up those funds.
She thought of what the Siren meant to so many people. Cultivated over the years to be an artist's retreat, there was a long list of people who came year after year to meet with other like-minded folks, and be inspired by the rugged natural beauty and colorful town.
Unlike other places that catered only to the rich and well off, Mermaid Isle was more approachable and far more unique than any other resort town Riley had ever been to, especially given its long history. Legend had it that thieves and pirates had stashed their plunder in one of the many caves that could be found on the island, and later, it was settled by a small group of women who'd come north to escape the witch trials that reached far past Salem. Add to that the commune that blossomed in the sixties and the artisans that flocked to it in the last few decades, and it would be impossible to duplicate the character of the island and its people.
But with the Siren under new ownership, everything might change, and it could easily devastate the island's economy. There were a handful of small bed and breakfasts, but the inn was at the heart of the island and it was their constant influx of guests that kept the money flowing—guests that could appreciate the island's quirky nature.
She'd just have to make sure she held onto the reins. There was more at stake than just the inn or her job.
Checking the time, she went to the front desk and grabbed the keys to the van, hoping that the drive into town would help clear her head. "I'll go grab the next group of visitors coming in on the ferry."
Logan gave her a small frown, his blue eyes filled with worry, though handsome as he was, he even made devastation look good. He stepped away from the front counter where'd he'd been dealing with some paperwork, and pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. "I just heard. I'm really sorry, Riley. But it could be good, right?"
She managed a smile, knowing it was important to stay positive for the troops. Slipping out of the comfort of his arms, she did her best to push her concerns and apprehensions aside. "Exactly. Everything will work out fine. And just think of all the things we can do if we have a bit of money coming in. Might finally be able to give the rooms that remodel we've been dreaming of."
She'd have to make it work. Failure wasn't an option—not when there was so much on the line. She'd put far too much of herself into the inn to have it all go to hell. And if Holt Enterprises thought they could just come in and bulldoze everything she'd worked so hard to build and care for, then they had better get ready for a fight.
Stay positive, she reminded herself. It didn't have to be all doom and gloom. Holt might only make a few changes while providing a good infusion of much-needed cash to remodel the place.
With new plans and ideas running through her head, Riley drove the van down to the center of town, taking in the late summer sun and the bustling shops as she made her way to the port. It really was a special place, the brightly colored shingled cottages playing up against the blue sky and sea, while riots of flowers poured out of window boxes. She pulled up by the landing just as the ferry docked and started to unload its passengers. Perfect timing.
There were two ways to get to Mermaid Isle. There was a ferry that left Portland and was convenient for those guests coming from Boston or other points south, and then there was a bridge that connected the island to the mainland an hour north of Portland. During the summer, most opted for the ferry. Some even brought their cars, though most made do with the hotel's bikes or rented a scooter from a shop in town. But in the winter time, Riley usually recommended the bridge since the winter seas could be rough and unpredictable, and service was limited.
With the hotel's name emblazoned on the side of the van, she waited for her group to arrive, clipboard in hand. One newlywed couple, three writers who'd signed up for their Romancing the Isle writer's workshop, and two other individuals who had booked separately. Watching the crowds come in off the ferry, Riley knew there would be a fair number of people who would day-trip it, and take the evening ferry home, but it was the ones who stayed, even just a night or two, who usually came back time and again.
A group of women, ranging from their forties to sixties, laughed and chatted their way off the boat and wandered over, wide-brimmed straw hats atop each head and sundresses flowing in the summer breeze. Her romance writers—the ones who had been to the inn previously and decided to add a few days to their workshop by coming early. "Welcome to Mermaid Isle. Jan, Pat, Diane—so nice to see you again."
One after another, the trio gave her a big hug. Pat took the lead. "Not a chance in hell we'd miss this workshop. And I hope you still have that cutie, Logan, working for you. He's the inspiration for my next hero. Tall, dark hair, those blue eyes—not to mention that build."
Jan nudged her friend. "You haven't stopped talking about him since we were last here. Riley, you best warn the poor man. This one here's up to no good. She'll be dropping things left and right just to get him to bend over and pick them up."
Riley had to smile, her worries drifting away on the women's laughter. She leaned over for a mock whisper. "Well, he does have a nice butt, but don't tell him I said so or I'll never hear the end of it."
"I don't know what you're waiting for, honey. If it were me, I'd be trying out a new scene every night of the week with him in the leading role." Diane threw her head back and laughed, before turning to the other writers. "That man is book cover material."
Riley would not tell them that she'd dated Logan on and off, knowing the writers would attempt to get them back together, when they were better off just being friends.
Pat put a hand on Diane's arm. "Don't go forgetting the rest of them. What were their names?"
Diane shrugged with a laugh. "Couldn't tell you. My eyes weren't on their nametags."
The writers laughed their way onto the bus as a good-looking couple in their early thirties approached and introduced themselves. "Ken and Emma Murray."
Riley welcomed them to the island and checked them off her list when her attention was pulled in a completely different direction. Given the constant stream of visitors they got on the island, there weren't many men who could have her doing a double-take, but damn if this one didn't have her hear
t forgetting how to beat properly. And he was walking towards her, his long stride eating up the distance between them.
The man was...tall. And...words failed her. Despite the cotton tee and worn jeans, he looked like a Viking god, his honey-colored hair just long enough to make a girl want to run her fingers through it, his strong jaw covered in several days' growth. There was an ease to his step and demeanor despite his muscular build, like he was comfortable in his body and knew how to use it.
He shifted the large duffel he was carrying and gave her a smile that had her blushing, while his blue eyes held her captive in his gaze. "Hey there, darling."
Darling, eh? She liked it. And he had an accent—something European. Well-schooled and definitely English but with a little bit of something else thrown in.
"Welcome to Mermaid Isle." Her heart nearly stuttered along with her mouth. She glanced at her clipboard. The name wasn't familiar, but there was something about him...those eyes, the accent. And there was only one person who'd ever had such an immediate effect on her. "Thorsen Black?"
"That would be me." His smile kicked up a notch, his gaze making her feel like she was the only person there. "And you could only be Riley. Riley Carter."
"That's me. Have you been to the Siren Song Inn before?" She must have had her head stuck in a hole to not notice him the last time he'd come to the inn. Even the writers were opening the windows on the bus and jostling for a better view.
"You don't remember me, do you?" The humor in his smile had her wondering when they'd last met. "Think back to when we were teenagers. You got yourself stuck on the cliff..."
"Oh, god..." She squeezed her eyes shut and cringed.
That had been one of the most embarrassing moments of her life, and one she thought she'd left behind along with her braces and training bras. Memories of that summer flooded her head as she thought of the teenage boy who'd saved her that day. He'd ended up being her first true love—and her first. But...she looked at the name. It was different to what she remembered.
