Pelican Pointe Boxed Set Books 1 - 3 (A Pelican Pointe Novel)

by Vickie McKeehan

  Lilly laughed. “Well, that makes two of us. I haven’t had anyone to talk to since I came back here. I don’t confide too much in my stepdad. He’s an ornery cuss. And I’m afraid to confide too much in the social worker for fear she might tell everyone in town my personal problems. She knows too much as it is. It seems the town has decided not to like me.”

  “Are you kidding? No one in Pelican Pointe wants anything to do with me. That’s something else we have in common.”

  “Really? Wow, we make a great pair.”

  After chatting away two hours, they walked out into the front yard just as Nick drove up and squeezed the SUV in beside the little Escort. He got out, smiling at the ladies, but when he spotted the three kids, his smile grew wider. “I see Hutton’s got her some new friends.”

  Jordan introduced Lilly and the kids to Nick.

  Nick asked Lilly, “You sample Jordan’s chocolate cake yet? I hope you guys left me a piece since she wouldn’t let me go near it before you got here.”

  Lilly giggled. This man was a hunk. “I think there’s some left. Jordan’s a good cook.”

  Nick locked eyes with Jordan. “She is that.”

  “Thanks for having us.” Lilly could see these two looking at each other as if she wasn’t even standing there. She cleared her throat nervously and started loading the kids into their car seats. “I was telling Jordan I could hire on after she opens, maybe maid duties, do laundry, or whatever to help her out around here.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. What did she say?”

  “She’s thinking about it.”

  Jordan smiled. “What I said was I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I can only imagine what I’ll need after I open. But you know what, in about two weeks I could use some help with the cleaning. You know keeping the furniture dusted, getting the place spiffed up before opening day.”

  “You just tell me when and I’ll be here.”

  “In the meantime though, why don’t you plan on bringing the kids back out? Hutton had a blast.”

  Lilly looked relieved to know this hadn’t been a onetime event. And the idea of a permanent job had her feeling downright giddy.

  After saying their goodbyes, Jordan watched Lilly back the car out of the drive while Nick busied himself at the back of the SUV. He began unloading tray after tray of brilliant blooming red tulips, sunny yellow daffodils, and an assortment of colorful lilies, lining them up along the walkway.

  Looking over the collection of flowers, Jordan was overwhelmed at the gesture. “Nick, they’re lovely.” Inhaling the fragrant blossoms, all of a sudden her excitement faded as she thought of the cost. She’d have to take the money from her grocery budget. Or maybe take them back. “Nick…did you get these at The Plant Habitat, the nursery at Beach and Main? I...my account there is past due…I…can’t afford these.”

  “They were on sale. And you need some color in that flower bed there. That sander took out a whole row of your best flowers.”

  She should have been embarrassed at discussing her sorry financial state with him but somehow after spending an afternoon with Lilly her troubles paled in comparison. Instead, she said quietly, “You shouldn’t have spent the money, Nick. I’ll go write you a check.”

  “You will not. Maybe if I hadn’t come riding up on the motorcycle when I did you wouldn’t have lost control of the sander.”

  She knew what he was doing. “It wasn’t the motorcycle and we both know it. But thank you for the flowers, Nick. They’ll look wonderful lining the front walkway, don’t you think?”

  He continued unloading the SUV, picking up a tray of lilies. “I do. Just tell me where you want these and I’ll get started.”

  She eyed the determined look on his face and hefted a tray of tulips herself, carrying it to the front flower bed. She set it down on the concrete. “Right here. I want these to line the walkway up to the porch. We’ll both get started. Hutton can help.” Turning to Hutton, she asked, “Want to play in the dirt, sweetie? Plant some of these beautiful flowers Nick brought us?”

  “I may not know much about kids, but if memory serves, even I know dirt and kids and dogs just automatically go together. I was a kid once myself.” He set another tray down on the ground at her feet, grinning.

  Getting into the rhythm, she teased back, “But that had to be light years ago when kids had nothing to play with but sticks.”

  “Keep it up and I’ll reconsider helping plant these babies.”

  An hour into the project, on bended knees, Jordan had just finished working her way down one side of the walkway, setting a nice balance of daffodils combined with red tulips in the bed when Nick pointed out, “I think we’re losing ground. For every flower we plant, we’re losing two.”

  Jordan glanced up in time to see what he meant. Hutton and Dog were alternately pulling up every flower she’d so painstakingly just put into the ground. “Oh, no, my tulips.” She jumped up and started chasing Dog trying to retrieve her precious buds before they were too far gone to replant. “Come back here you mangy mutt. That Dog’s a bad influence. Hutton stop that, put those daffodils down this minute.” But Hutton and Dog were having way too much fun to listen. Thinking what a great game they were playing, Hutton began giggling and yelling, “Dog. Dog.”

  Taking pity on Jordan, Nick tried to grab for the dog to keep him from stealing anymore of the flowers. “Dog. Sit. Sit. Heel.” But the harder Nick tried the friskier Dog got, destroying more of the stems in the process.

  “I see obedience school in Dog’s future. He’s a menace to my flower beds.”

  When Jordan finally retrieved the flowers, the stems were so broken, the roots destroyed there was no chance of replanting them. She sat down on the grass with slumped shoulders as Hutton toddled over. “Ma-ma.” She reached around Hutton and pulled her in for a hug. “It’s okay, sweetie, they were just flowers. I’m sorry, Nick.”

  Nick laughed. “Like you said, Jordan, they were just flowers. Have you ever considered one of those lighted walkways instead?”

  Kent Springer was so red in the face he looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel. “Damn it Gonzalez, you promised me. I drove all this way.”

  Despite Springer’s money, Ron Gonzalez, the county building inspector, wanted no part of his plan. “I said I’d think about it. I thought about it and the answer is no.”

  “The least you could do is hear me out. You can’t just change your mind like this.”

  “I can and I’m not doing it, Springer. I know what your angle is. I won’t do it to her. I found out her husband died in Iraq, I’m not doing it.”

  Kent removed a wad of bills from his pocket. “Okay, another five hundred but that’s it.”

  Ron shook his head. “Put your money away. It’s too late. The electrician called me out yesterday morning to inspect his work. I already signed off on the rewiring job.”

  Kent stepped further into Ron’s face. “Goddamn it. You promised me. You can’t do this to me.”

  Ron took a step backward and headed for his truck leaving Kent standing in the middle of the church parking lot spitting venom.

  “You’ll pay for this you son of a bitch.” But Ron just kept walking.

  Kent crawled back into his Seville. He hit the steering wheel with a fist. A setback, he thought, this was a setback nothing more. There were other ways to thwart the opening of that ridiculous B & B than bribing the building inspector. He wanted that property and no one was standing in his way this time.

  Kent decided to move on to plan B.

  Chapter 8 Book 1

  As Nick showered, the thought kept rolling over in his head and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t. He’d seen it in Jordan’s eyes when he’d brought the flowers. The beginnings of dependence, need, something. Whatever it was, it scared the crap out of him. He didn’t want her feeling reliant on him in spite of her situation.

  When he was finished here, when he’d fulfilled whatever promise he needed to fill, his l
ife was back in L.A. After he came clean, if he decided to head someplace else other than L.A., it certainly wouldn’t be Pelican Pointe. He wasn’t staying in this crappy little town any longer than he absolutely had to. It was time to make that clear to her the only way he knew how.

  Jordan climbed the stairs up to the garage apartment carrying a stack of clean towels and Nick’s laundered shirts. When she reached the landing, the door to the studio stood open and without a second thought, she stepped inside and came to a halt the minute she saw Nick. He stood with his back to the door, wearing nothing but his jeans. The man had obviously just taken a shower. His black hair glistened. Shirtless, she got a good look at his muscled back as the skin shone still slick in places. The rest of him was just as lean and well-built. The way she gawked, anyone would have thought she’d never seen a man without his shirt before.

  She must have made a noise because he turned. His movement sharp and quick, he reached to get his shirt. But not before Jordan saw the ugly, red scars that streaked across his chest and down his stomach. Staring at the damage, she sucked in a breath. Nick’s head whipped in her direction. Their eyes met. As he slipped into the shirt, he continued to stare and so did she. Finally, Jordan found her voice. “I...I brought your laundry. I didn’t mean to...the door was open.” “You startled me. I left the door open because it gets hot in here. The AC doesn’t work.”

  She didn’t miss the brusque tone in his voice. “Oh. Well. I’m sorry.” If he stayed she’d have to fix the AC come summer. Then she realized a man like this would never stay here in such a rundown studio apartment. He was out of place here and they both knew it. Trying to think of something to say, she blurted out, “You get the ocean breeze at night.”

  It was then her eyes landed on the plumbing book on the nightstand. She picked it up. “You know, I have other books, novels, mysteries, thrillers at the house, a sight more interesting to read than this. You’re welcome to them when you can’t sleep.”

  He continued buttoning his shirt. “Thanks. I may take you up on that.”

  It felt intimate to watch the man dress. And awkward. But when she saw him start to tuck the button-down shirt into his jeans, she realized he was getting dressed to go out for the evening. “Are you…going someplace?”

  “I thought I might go into town.”

  It was ridiculous for her to feel let down but she did. “But you haven’t had dinner.” She sounded needy and hated the fact that he recognized it, too.

  It was the perfect opportunity to make his point. “You don’t have to fix me dinner every night, Jordan. In fact, I’ve been taking advantage of that. It’s time I went out and got my own supper.”

  Disappointed for some inexplicable reason that he wasn’t staying to have dinner with her and Hutton, she started to babble. “Of course. I wasn’t thinking. I forgot you might be interested in Pelican Pointe’s night life such as it is. For a single guy like yourself, you’d want to know that. I should have mentioned it before now.” Clearing her throat, she went on like any good hostess might and explained the local attractions to her guest. “There are a couple of bars in town. One’s located inside The Pointe which sits right on Main. It’s more upscale, mostly geared to tourists, used to be an old fish hatchery though before Perry Altman, a chef visiting the area from L.A. decided he could turn the place into a five-star restaurant. You can’t miss it. Then there’s McCready’s. It’s mostly for the locals. It’s located west of Main, in the area known as Smuggler’s Bay near the waterfront. Then there’s The Hilltop, the diner serves a terrific steak or chili burger, and you can order a beer there with your meal but they don’t serve mixed drinks.”

  “Thanks.” He pointed to the stack of clothes she’d set on the bed. “And thanks for doing my laundry. It feels like I should be paying you rent or something.”

  Awkward. The room reeked with it. But the suggestion brought her back from her embarrassment enough to speak. Appalled at the notion he pay rent when he was doing so much of the work, she all but seethed, “No. No, you’re working here. And I can’t pay you yet… Laundry is the least...”

  Feeling the uneasiness, he made the mistake of looking into her brilliant chocolate-brown eyes. His mind suddenly went blank. He couldn’t remember why he’d wanted to go into town in the first place, or why he’d wanted to act so cold toward her. Feeling more and more like a jerk, he admitted, “Jordan, it’s okay, I didn’t mean anything by it. Thanks for the clean clothes that’s all I meant.”

  But the damage was done. She turned and all but ran from the apartment leaving him feeling like the slithering snake he was.

  McCready’s turned out to be a cross between a pub and a dimly lit pool hall owned by an ex-Irish boxer from Dublin named Flynn. The place sat between a bait and T-shirt shop amidst a series of vacant storefronts along the wharf overlooking Smuggler’s Bay.

  Nick sat at the long, scarred mahogany bar, nursing a beer, listening to Dwight Yoakum on the juke trying to sort out his feelings about guitars, Cadillacs and hillbilly music. He brooded over the earlier scene with Jordan. He’d put her off all right, enough that she hadn’t even asked about his scars. Most women did. They wanted to know what had happened. Usually all he had to do was mention the word “Iraq” and he was flooded with sympathy. He didn’t want sympathy from anyone, least of all from Jordan. And she hadn’t given him any. She’d run from the room away from him so fast, and it had had nothing to do with his scars. His coldness had not only surprised the heck out of her, coming out of the blue like it had, but it had hurt her feelings. Remembering the shattered look on her face, if he could manage the logistics of it, he’d like to kick his own ass. When he tried to direct his attention to the basketball game on the big-screen TV, all he saw instead was the wounded look he’d put on Jordan’s face. He simply couldn’t get that picture out of his head.

  The bar started to fill up and get noisy. He watched men and women pair off and head over to play pool. As he sat there nursing his beer, he eyed the people around him, listening to their banter. He couldn’t explain why but suddenly the entire crowded atmosphere started to annoy him, started to make him edgy.

  He thought about going home and realized for the first time in weeks he wasn’t thinking about L.A., but going back to the Cove. Damn, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want a woman like her, not that girl next door thing she had going on. She had a baby for God’s sake, Scott’s baby. Hell, a blind man could see she was still pining for her husband. And why wouldn’t she be? Scott had been good, solid, husband material. While he was… What was he anyway, a man with secrets and problems? Christ. He ran a hand over his face. Thinking about Jordan had him wanting to be there when she put Hutton to bed, wanting to read Hutton a story, wanting to share more than he had a right to.

  What was happening to him? The bar was getting to him. Annoyed with himself and the fact that he no longer found solace in a crowded, stuffy barroom, he decided he might as well get the hell out of there.

  At that moment, however, a bleached-blonde woman with bright red lips sidled up next to him and slid onto the bar stool, making sure her ample breasts rubbed up against his arm. Any other time Nick would have been all over her, but for some reason all he could muster was disgust at her being so damn close and so different from Jordan. What was wrong with him? Isn’t this why he’d left Jordan tonight for this very thing? He sized up the woman from head to toe. Wearing a tube top that showed off enough cleavage to showcase her mindset and a short skirt that bared skin up to her ass, he watched her lean farther into his space.

  And felt nothing. Okay, so he couldn’t very well blame his non-interest on Iraq.

  The woman, however, had no idea what he was thinking and leaned seductively into him. Twirling her hair with a finger and licking her red lips, she managed, “You’re Nick the new guy in town, the one that rides that big-assed Harley, aren’t you?”

  Nick leaned out of her range and drained his beer. “That’s me.”

  “I’m Sissy. T
he banker’s my daddy. And just so you know, that job you’ve got isn’t going to last much longer. The little widow will never be able to turn that rundown house into anything but spare lumber.”

  If he wasn’t interested before, her high-pitched voice ended any and all hope, especially the nasty bite in her tone. “Is that right? And do you get that firsthand information from your daddy?”

  “Among others.” She stuck out her chest in his direction again and all but purred out every word, “I’ve just been dying to go for a long ride―on a Harley.”

  “Maybe some other time, I was just about to head out.”

  Recognizing a rebuff, Sissy didn’t take kindly to being put off. “Don’t tell me you’re more interested in that prissy Jordan. I went to high school with Scott, grade school too. And if he were here, Scott would tell you firsthand you don’t know what you’re missing.” Seductively, she licked those thick ruby lips again. “You can bet I’m so much more inventive than that boring little housewife ever could be. And I don’t have any bratty kids to get in the way. Jordan’s life is pretty much a screwed up mess, too.”

  Now that just pissed him off. And Nick was pretty sure what Scott would say if he were here. In fact, Nick could almost hear Scott’s voice telling him to run the other way, like maybe back to The Cove and back to Jordan. “Lady, you don’t even know me. Why would you say such a thing about Jordan?”