by Lucy Kevin
WHEN IT’S LOVE
A Walker Island Romance, Book 3
© 2015 Lucy Kevin
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Once upon a time, Rachel Walker longed for—and sought out—adventure. But after her boyfriend found out she was pregnant and left her to raise her daughter Charlotte alone six years ago, she put her wild child days behind her. For good. So when Rachel’s sister needs her to step in to help film a TV show with professional surfer Nicholas Quinn on Walker Island, she isn't the least bit worried about losing her heart to him. Not until the first time she sees him smile and realizes that her heart isn't completely closed off to promises of breathless excitement after all...
Nicholas has spent his entire life chasing adventure, one wave at a time, becoming a major surfing star along the way. But for all the incredible challenges he's faced around the world, he's never faced one as exciting—or as important—as winning Rachel's heart. One stolen kiss is all it takes for him to be absolutely certain that his next adventure should be taken with Rachel and her daughter Charlotte beside him. First, though, he'll have to break through every one of Rachel's walls to convince her to trust in both her dreams and his never-ending love.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EPILOGUE
LUCY KEVIN BOOKLIST
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
“Charlotte, are you ready?” Rachel Walker stood on her front doorstep, waiting for her six-year-old daughter to come outside to head to school.
“Ready!” Charlotte ran up, backpack on, her blond hair tied back in one long braid.
While Rachel checked that her daughter had her lunch, snacks and the teddy bear she was taking in for show and tell, she said, “Remember to be careful at school, sweetie. Make sure your teachers know where you are all the time, and—”
Rachel’s sister Emily, who was standing beside them on the front step, coughed pointedly. “Do we have to do this every morning? Charlotte is a big first-grader now and will be fine.”
Emily was thirty-two, only two years older than Rachel, but she always radiated a sense of confidence that Rachel never quite felt herself, despite the fact that they both shared the same Walker genes—high cheekbones, deep blue eyes and golden-blond hair.
Emily smiled fondly at her niece. “Grandpa is waiting for us, so we should get going.”
William Walker III, whom everyone called Tres, was sitting patiently behind the wheel of his car in front of the house. As one of the high school’s English teachers, he’d only just returned from a school trip to Europe with his students one month ago when school started up again. It was good to have him back.
“All right, sweetie,” Rachel said. “Give me a big hug and then go with Aunt Emily and your grandfather.” They took Charlotte to school every day because it was just across the street from the high school where they both worked. Plus, Rachel knew that the three of them all loved having extra time together in the mornings.
Charlotte hugged her tight, the way she did every morning, then asked, “Do you think Grandpa will let me drive today? I know the way.”
The fact that Charlotte was extremely precocious and always wanted to explore and try new things was yet another reason that Rachel was glad that Emily and their father were both so close to the elementary school. Even though they weren't in the same building as Charlotte, it was close enough that they could fairly easily keep an eye on her.
Rachel gave her daughter a smooch on the cheek. “One day, you'll definitely be able to drive yourself to school. But not until you're lots older.”
“I’m almost six and a half now,” Charlotte protested as Emily took her hand and walked with her out to the car. She climbed into the backseat, then waved out the window. “Bye, Mommy!”
Rachel waved back. “Have a great day at school, sweet girl!”
Thankfully, Charlotte was doing very well at school. Her teacher had said more than once during the past month that she was an absolutely wonderful addition to the first-grade class. It was everything that Rachel could have hoped for.
Even so, she was looking forward to Christmas break so that she could have her little girl at home with her again. Their house seemed far too empty without Charlotte there all day.
Rachel's phone rang as soon as she stepped back inside the house. It was Mr. Timmons, one of the partners at Timmons and Webb, the small insurance firm where she worked as an actuary. Despite being a small local firm they managed to do quite well, and when Rachel came back to the island a little more than six years ago, she’d been lucky to land a job with them. Calculating the financial impact of risk and uncertainty for a living might not be the most exciting job in the world, but the work was steady and dependable. Just the way she wanted—and needed—everything in her life to be for Charlotte.
“Good morning, Frank. Is everything okay at the office?”
“Just checking to see if you could come in this afternoon rather than working at home for the full day? We’re meeting with some potential new shipping clients after lunch, and I would very much like to have my best actuary go through the risk assessment.”
“Sure, Frank, I'll be there at twelve thirty,” she said, more than a little pleased to be called the “best” at something.
With four sisters, it wasn't always easy to stand out. Emily was so capable as she took care of the family home, along with doing such a great job as a high school counselor. Paige was always so elegant as she taught dance classes at the studio that their grandmother, Ava, owned. Morgan was a bigger TV star than ever now that her makeover program had hit it big. And Hanna was so creative and full of energy as she filmed both her documentaries and Morgan's show. Whereas Rachel was as normal as they came, simply trying to do her best to bring up her daughter as a single mother.
After she hung up the phone, Rachel began to work her way around the house, tidying up after the joyful chaos that was Charlotte. Six-year-olds were busy people, and there was no shortage of evidence that her little girl had been enjoying herself, both last night before bed and then again this morning before heading off to school.
Rachel smiled as she picked up a colorful drawing. Her profession might be as an actuary, but Charlotte was her real job. Being a mother was a full-time job, 24/7, and Rachel wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.
For a moment, she stood in the middle of the living room, just listening. It was so quiet in their small house with the view out over the bay, especially during the past month. It was hard to believe that her baby girl was growing up so fast. It felt like the last six years had passed in a flash. At this rate, in just the blink of an eye, Charlotte would be a teenager, dating boys, graduating…
“I think she gets to enjoy elementary school first,” Rachel reminded herself. It wasn’t as if her little girl was going to vanish from her life now that she was in first grade.
Rachel had often heard that it was a mother’s job to worry. Well, if that was the case, she was more than qualified, considering that she coul
d remember accident statistics the way her sister Hanna remembered Oscar nominees. As Charlotte got older, there would be boys to worry about, along with the rates of drunken driving among teenagers, not to mention the risks that would come if she and her friends started to hang out in the caves by the beach.
Again, Rachel forced these thoughts away as she went to hang up the drawing in Charlotte's bedroom, nearly tripping over the makeup kit her daughter had borrowed from Morgan the previous weekend. As far as she knew, her sister wasn’t due on set to shoot an episode of her show today, and given that it had been nearly a week since she'd last seen her sister, Rachel decided to carve out a few minutes this morning to head over to Morgan’s to return the kit.
The drive over to her sister's house wasn’t far, but then nothing on Walker Island was too far away. That was one really nice thing about being back on the island—no matter how badly things had turned out with her ex, her family was always nearby.
The house Morgan shared with her fiancé, Brian, who taught science and coached football at the high school, had views out over the ocean and plenty of space for them to raise a family one day. Rachel loved to sit on her sister's front porch, staring out at that view and imagining all the places the ocean led to. The property also had a large garden where her sister spent much of her time. In fact, it was such a pretty day on the island that when Rachel pulled up to the gate and parked the car, she was a little surprised that Morgan wasn’t out tending to the plants.
Rachel was about to knock on the front door when she heard Morgan coughing inside, hacking away as if she was about to bring up a lung.
“Morgan?” she called out. “It's Rachel. Are you okay?”
“Come in, Rachel,” Morgan said a few moments later when she'd made it to the door. “It’s not as bad as it soun—” Morgan started coughing again before she could finish her sentence.
Normally, her sister was a model of perfectly made-up beauty—her hair glossy, her makeup camera ready, her clothes the latest in fashion. Today, however, she was wearing faded leggings and a T-shirt, her hair was a mess, and she wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup.
“Why didn't you tell me you were sick?” Rachel asked. After years of looking after Charlotte’s colds and sniffles, she was quite good at dealing with them. “I could have picked up some medicine for you and brought over some chicken soup. You should be tucked up in bed, at the very least.”
“I’m fine,” Morgan insisted. “Really, I’m absolutely…whoa.”
Rachel caught her sister as she staggered, then helped her back to the big couch in the living room. “Come on,” she said in the same gentle voice that she used with Charlotte whenever her daughter wasn't feeling well. “Why don't you lie down, and I'll make you a cup of tea?”
“I'm just a little dizzy. It’s nothing.” Morgan clutched her temples. “All right, maybe it is pretty bad. But I can’t afford to be sick. Not today.” She looked up at Rachel with pleading eyes. “Is there any chance you could postpone heading into work for a bit to do a favor for me?”
“I'm not going in until after lunch, so whatever you need done, I’m sure I can take care of it for you with no problem at all.”
Morgan coughed again, before saying, “I told you that Nicholas Quinn is coming out to the island, didn't I?”
“Yes, you said something about it on the weekend. He's a surfer, isn't he?”
“The best in the world, actually. The same people who produce my show want to do an extreme sports show with him as the host,” Morgan explained. “The only problem is that he doesn’t have any experience presenting or working in TV. So the idea is that he’ll work with me and the production crew for a week or so to shoot some test segments for his show that will hopefully get the network on board. I'm supposed to meet him at the ferry”—her sister checked her watch—“in five minutes. Could you go pick him up and take him up to the house? It would be a total lifesaver.”
“To the house? Isn't he staying at one of the hotels?” Because Walker Island had a thriving tourist trade and a large population of marine biologists and artists, it had plenty of hotels and small guesthouses.
“It was Grams’ idea,” Morgan explained. “When she heard that a colleague—and friend—of mine was coming, she insisted that she not only had plenty of space, but that a hotel was no way to get to know the real island. Nicholas is a great guy, so I figured he'd probably have fun with Grams and the rest of the gang. So can you go get him from the ferry?”
“Of course I'll go get him. And if you need anything else, call me right away.”
Giving her a grateful smile, Morgan said, “Thank you so much, Rach. I'll text him right now to let him know you're on your way instead of me.” A few seconds after sending the text, her eyes closed. She was already snoring by the time Rachel made it back to the front door and closed it behind her with a soft click.
* * *
Rachel made her way carefully over the winding roads of the island, never breaking the speed limit to get to the docks, though traffic was virtually nonexistent at this time of day. It was better to arrive safely and late than speed and possibly get into an accident.
From the magazines Morgan had left around the house while she was doing research on Nicholas, Rachel knew he had finely honed muscles, windswept blond hair and a couple of tattoos. Not to mention a gorgeous grin that had probably done more to get him this TV deal than anything else. His smile seemed so confident, so easy. A little too easy.
Or maybe it was just that Nicholas’ carefree grin reminded her a little too much of another man with a similarly easy grin. One who had been quick to smile as long as things were fun, but who had walked away the moment things got serious. Because when Rachel had told Guy that she was pregnant with his child seven years ago, he hadn’t even had the guts to say good-bye to her face. He’d simply hopped the next plane to Thailand and disappeared out of her—and her unborn child's—life forever.
No, you definitely couldn’t trust a grin like that.
Bang!
The sound of her front right tire popping came a beat before the car went into a skid, swerving onto the dirt shoulder. Thankfully, she knew to steer into the skid, lightly touching the brakes until she was able to bring her car to a juddering halt by the side of the road. She sat there for a moment or two, letting the adrenaline fade, as much as it was likely to for the time being. Then she groaned. Having a flat meant the odds of making it to the docks by the time Nicholas’ ferry arrived had gone from bad to nearly nonexistent. Unless, of course, she could do the world's fastest tire-changing job.
“There’s no point in complaining,” Rachel reminded herself aloud. “Just do the next sensible thing.” She’d lived that motto for the past six years, knowing firsthand that no matter how hard things got, wishing things were different never changed a thing.
She got the spare out of the trunk along with the jack and the wrenches. One good thing about being cautious: It meant that she was generally prepared for those moments when something did go wrong. Rachel set about getting the jack into the special chassis socket, then began cranking the car up bit by bit. When she'd finished jacking up the car, she started work on taking the old wheel off so that she could switch it out for the spare. The nuts holding it in place were tighter than Rachel had anticipated, and the wrench scratched her palms as she worked them loose. Finally, she wrestled the old wheel off, stowing it in the trunk before hoisting the spare into place and bolting it on.
The whole operation probably took ten minutes, and though she was pleased with how much easier the job had been than she'd expected, Rachel winced when she looked at herself in her car’s rearview mirror.
How was it that grease and dirt always managed to get into places she was sure they hadn’t touched? There was grease in her hair and on her cheeks, her clothes had tire tread marks on them, and her palms were red and chaffed from her efforts with the wrench.
In other words, she looked horrible. On the other hand, as a mother she was
pretty used to being covered in paint or food or worse, so she supposed that by those standards a little grease was nothing.
Rachel got back on the road, heading toward the docks. Now that she was way behind schedule, it was incredibly tempting to go a little faster than the posted speed limit. Nothing major, just maybe take a few corners a little harder than she normally would have. That urge became almost overpowering when she found herself stuck behind a tractor. Rachel crawled along at a snail’s pace, waiting for it to pull over to let her pass. Mere minutes seemed like hours now that she was officially fifteen minutes late.
She was considering the idea of pulling out into the oncoming lane and passing when, suddenly, a car zipped past going in the opposite direction. What if she had pulled out just then? And what if she’d been going faster when her tire blew out? What would happen to Charlotte if something happened to her?
It was the perfect reminder to Rachel not to take unnecessary risks just so she could gain a little time.
Finally, the tractor pulled into a field, and she was able to get past, making pretty good time for the rest of the journey to the ferry terminal. As she pulled into the parking lot, she sent up a silent prayer that she wouldn't bump into anyone she knew. Between the grease and the dirt, she definitely wasn't looking her best.
She soon spotted Nicholas at the end of the jetty, and her stomach immediately knotted up. He had looked impressive enough on magazine covers, but seeing him in the flesh?
Oh my...he was gorgeous!
Nicholas had a couple of bags at his feet, and he was holding on to a surfboard. There was a small crowd of onlookers around him, people who had clearly been caught up by his charisma. As Rachel began to make her way over, she realized Nicholas was telling his adoring crowd a story.
“So there I was, I’d lost sight of land and I wasn’t sure which way I was supposed to be heading. All of a sudden, this crew of oceanographers shows up, and we get to talking about the waves over on the next island, so I end up taking a ride out with them to go check them out. Only, when I get back, I find out that half the Coast Guard was out looking for me, thinking that I’d drowned.”
