Kent stammered, “I…I…have money. I’ll pay you…and Jordan of course. This is a misunderstanding.”
“Shove your goddamn money. Why did you do this, Springer? Why?”
“I…I’ve wanted this land since before Phillips bought it. We can strike a deal you and me.”
“You piece of shit. I’ve already called the sheriff.” When Jordan wandered over to where he stood over Kent, he immediately stopped talking. Nick automatically reached for her hand, needing the contact. When she leaned in to him, he tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Thanks for the coffee, but I want you to head back to bed. I’ll wait for the cops to show up.”
She understood what he was doing. “I’ll leave you two alone…for now. I’ll go throw some clothes on. I want to make sure I’m around to watch them arrest this jerk.”
Nick nodded. “Then go get dressed. The sheriff should be here any minute.”
As soon as she’d disappeared down the hall, Nick turned back to Kent. “Just so you know I’ve been trained by the military. I bet I know fifteen different ways to maim and cripple a man…permanently. If I ever catch you anywhere near The Cove again, if I so much as see you anywhere near Jordan Phillips or her daughter after tonight, I’ll make sure you experience ten of them firsthand. Are we clear?”
Known throughout the county as a straight talker, a no-nonsense kind of guy who ran a clean department, Sheriff Brent Cody stood talking to the newcomer Nick Harris, watching as his two deputies, one of whom was his brother, Ethan, concentrated on taking a few more evidence photos and dusted for fingerprints. They’d found two gas cans and a set of footprints around the side of the house that matched the shoes Kent had on.
Brent turned to Pete Danson, his other deputy and a twenty-year veteran, and instructed, “Get those molds done, will you? We’re taking no chances this time around. And take pictures of his shoes.”
The minute his brother, Ethan, had arrived on the scene and learned the complaint involved the low-life, scum-sucking Kent Springer, he’d called Brent who had driven in from Santa Cruz to oversee Kent’s arrest personally, making sure there were no mistakes and the evidence gathered was by the book. If Brent intended to make the charges stick, his team had to be meticulous. None of them were taking any chances Kent might walk.
“What exactly do you mean this time?” Nick asked.
“I’ve been trying to get something on this guy for four years, ever since I took office. There have been rumors, complaints about him bribing county officials and the like. But this is the first time I have something concrete.” He slapped Nick on the back. “Good job. I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t caught him in the act. There’s enough gas in those cans to light up this place like a bonfire.”
Nick shuddered at the thought. “He’ll probably make one call to his lawyer and be out on bail by noon.” And if that happened, Nick wanted to make sure Kent wouldn’t be a threat to Jordan.
“Maybe. But this time I plan to throw the book at Mr. Springer. In this state first-degree attempted arson is a class B violent felony. After I talk to the DA we throw in trespassing, attempted burglary, maybe even stalking. Who knows? Maybe I can get the woman he beat up last Christmas to press charges now. I intend to make this a lot harder for him to talk his way out of than last time.”
“Sounds like a real prince of a guy.”
“Between you and me and the fence post over there, the guy is a scumbag. Not many people in Pelican Pointe know this, but it’s pretty much common knowledge around Santa Cruz. Lady he was having an affair with last fall went missing. Kent was the last known person to see her alive. And Kent had been stalking her, making threats, leaving nasty messages and sending her e-mails. She pressed charges for that, but before he went to trial the woman disappeared.”
“Wow, you think he killed her?” Nick’s blood pressure spiked. He looked up just in time to see Ethan Cody escort a now handcuffed Kent down the length of the driveway to the squad car. “Do you mind if I have one last word with him?” Nick asked Brent.
“You aren’t going to take a swing at him, are you?”
“If I were, I’d have done that long before I ever made the call to you guys.”
Relieved, Brent said, “Fair enough. By all means, be my guest.”
As Kent passed by, Nick fell in lockstep beside the two men, accompanying them on the walk to the car. Just as the three of them got to the squad car, just as Ethan pushed the handcuffed Kent into the back seat, Nick leaned down to whisper something in Kent’s ear.
When he was done, Nick walked back up the drive to where Brent stood.
“What was that all about?”
“I reminded Mr. Springer that if I ever catch him anywhere near The Cove again, I could guarantee he’d never be able to father anymore children and he’d walk with a limp.”
Brent busted out laughing, slapped Nick on the back again. “Remind me, Mr. Harris, to never piss you off.”
Later that morning as Jordan stood at the stove pouring pancake batter onto the grill, the phone rang. She picked up the cordless. “The Cove Bed and Breakfast, Jordan Phillips speaking. May? I’m so sorry but we’re full up for May. But how about the second weekend in June?”
Sitting at the kitchen table drinking his fifth cup of coffee, Nick watched as Jordan flipped through the reservation book she kept on the corner desk. Good, another reservation, he thought, as he remembered he needed to follow up with Charlie in L.A. Knowing firsthand how long it took a loan committee to act, Nick realized they were quickly running out of time. They had less than ten days. A lot was riding on that decision. If the committee refused to give her another extension he might be forced to confess his secret. Confessing his secret meant finally coming clean. Coming clean jeopardized their relationship. She’d know he’d been lying to her from the start.
Just the thought made him edgy. He got up to take over for her at the stove while Hutton amused herself inside the bottom cabinet digging into Jordan’s assortment of plasticware. The baby hadn’t yet had breakfast but under the circumstances of the morning sensed that she needed to somehow be patient with the adults where food was concerned.
One-handed, he plated scrambled eggs then scooped up Hutton from the floor. After struggling to get her into the high chair with one hand, he poured milk into her sippy cup. Two months ago if anyone had dared to suggest he could make a toddler happy or knew her routine almost as well as her mother, he would have laughed in their face. But somehow this whole domestic picture worked.
When Jordan hung up the phone, Nick went over to where she stood, leaned in and kissed her hard on the mouth. With his one good hand, he tipped her chin up for better access and just for good measure because he could, he kissed her again.
“What was that for?”
“That was for me.”
“You need sleep.”
“I’ve gone without sleep before.”
Jordan sighed and rested her head on Nick’s chest. “I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t gotten up when you did. You must have heard him, Nick. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”
He’d spent the morning thinking the same thing. But then he remembered he’d heard Scott’s voice just before he’d gone after Springer. Maybe Scott had somehow prodded him to get up and go outside. “I don’t want to think about what would have happened if that son of a bitch…” He glanced quickly in Hutton’s direction, knowing she was prone to repeating everything that came out of his mouth. Thankfully, she seemed to be engrossed in her food. “Sorry. I need to watch my mouth.”
“Nick, why do you suppose Springer did this now? I’ve been out here alone for almost two years. Why didn’t he do something before now?”
Thinking about what Springer had said to him, Nick visibly paled, but he knew she deserved the truth. “Springer wanted the land, Jordan, since before you guys bought the place. The closer it got to you opening the B & B, making it a reality, the more desperate he
got.”
“He wanted our land? I’m so glad you were here, Nick.”
“Sheriff Cody hopes to put him away for a long while. Try not to worry about it.”
“Why would I worry when you’re here to protect us, our knight in shining armor?”
“I hate to tell you Jordan but that armor’s a little tarnished.”
“Not to me it isn’t.”
He looked into her eyes then, saw his own soul. He touched his lips to hers. The kiss started out slow, but soon built to red-hot longing. Just as stirred, Jordan ran her fingers through his hair, doing everything she could to make sure he knew how she felt. Before the morning was over, she wanted him to know this was what she wanted, he was what she wanted.
Thinking she was worried about getting the place ready to open on time, Nick misread her intent. “It’ll be okay Jordan. We still have almost two weeks. I’ll work round the clock if I have to.”
“No you won’t. There’s no need for that. You have one good hand. I don’t want you opening up those stitches. We’re as ready as we’re going to get. And if we aren’t, it doesn’t matter. You’ve done all you can. I want you to know, I’m glad you came to Pelican Pointe. I want you to know how happy you’ve made me these past months. In fact, because of you I’ve been happier these past months, more so than I’ve ever been in this house. You brought me back to life, Nick. Remember that when you’re practicing that stubborn, sulky mood of yours.”
“You humble me Jordan. I don’t deserve you.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Nick. Because Hutton and I definitely know we deserve you.”
At that moment Lilly appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She stood there anxiously holding Joey on her hip while Kyra held on to her mother’s skirt. Self-conscious at the intrusion, Lilly cleared her throat, hoping to get someone to look her way. “Sorry to interrupt. I stood out there on the front porch and knocked for five minutes but no one answered. Is everything all right out here?”
Jordan tugged out of her infatuation-with-Nick-trance. She had a business to run and no more time to spend stroking Nick’s fragile ego. If he didn’t know how she felt, she didn’t have time to draw him a map.
“We had a little excitement around here this morning,” she told Lilly. “Get the kids settled around the table and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Chapter 19 Book 1
Easter Sunday arrived with a pastel-blue sky and plenty of official spring sunshine. Jordan left Nick in bed sleeping while she got up with Hutton in time to squeeze fresh orange juice, prepare pecan waffles and cinnamon rolls from scratch. She even fixed a tray with whipped cream and fresh strawberries. When Nick walked in a little before seven, the kitchen smelled like a French bakery. Hutton sat in her high chair already stuffing her face with a mixture of Cheerios and gooey pastry the evidence of which was plastered in her wisps of blonde hair.
Eyeing the spread on the table, he said, “Someone’s been busy.”
“Take a seat.” She handed him a steaming cup of hazelnut coffee. “There’s warm maple syrup.” She smiled and added, “A feast fit for a king, payment for going to church with us.”
Nick dug into the waffles. “What kind of reception do you think we’ll get.”
“You mean besides mouths dropping and whispering?” She snickered. “Who knows? Who cares?”
“You really don’t?”
“Not in the least. As far as I’m concerned, this town doesn’t deserve either of us.”
After breakfast Jordan cleaned up Hutton and wasted no time getting her dressed in the brand-new lavender dress trimmed with white daisies she’d purchased online two months earlier. Hutton was easy. It was getting herself outfitted that might be the problem. Hunting through her closet proved to be depressing. Everything seemed familiar and outdated. She struggled to find something sensational to wear. She tried on outfit after outfit until finally settling on a buttery sundress she’d forgotten all about hidden in the back of her closet.
As Hutton entertained herself by trying to put on a pair of mismatched high heels, Jordan fussed with her hair, wondering when she’d last had it cut. “Up or down, Hutton? Which looks better?” Through the baby babble, Jordan nodded, “Right. As shaggy as I am, I should wear it up. I haven’t got time to fool with it too much anyway. But a couple of twists here and a pin there, and voila, we have the California version of a French twist. These people don’t even like us anyway so why should we try so hard to look good for them.” But it wasn’t Pelican Point she wanted to impress. She wanted to look good for Nick.
Glancing at the clock, she snatched up Hutton’s matching lavender hat and grabbed the baby. They both ran out into the hallway where Nick stood in the foyer dressed in a charcoal-gray suit and a crisp, white dress shirt he’d picked up the previous Friday at Cranston’s, the only store in town that sold men’s clothing.
Jordan sucked in a breath. The man looked as though he’d stepped off the set of one of those reality bachelor shows. She looked him up and down. “For a former investment banker turned carpenter slash contractor you clean up awfully good.”
Nick eyed the yellow sundress. And her long legs. “Right back at you,” he squeaked out, trying to downplay his reaction because his knees had wanted to buckle at the sight of Jordan in that dress. The woman looked good enough to eat. As they walked out the front door, he caught a whiff of her scent and whispered to her on the way to the car, “You sure you don’t want to change your mind. I think I could come up with a more interesting way to spend the morning.”
“Oh, sweetie, that’s my plan for when Hutton’s taking her afternoon nap.”
As he crawled behind the wheel, with his one good hand on his heart, he muttered, “Who knew the quiet ones would turn out to be insatiable?”
Twenty minutes later, they were greeted with plenty of stares from the other freshly scrubbed parishioners as the three of them settled into a wooden pew in the last row near the door.
Holding Hutton on her lap, Jordan wasn’t surprised when Ethel Jenkins turned in her seat, leaned over the back, and offered to take the baby into the nursery. “Pastor Whitcomb has a tendency to be long-winded especially on Easter Sunday.” Her raspy voice was not the least apologetic as she went on to explain, “Actually the man prattles on most Sundays as a matter of record. Trust me when I say that baby will be better off in the nursery.”
Jordan politely declined, telling Ethel, “No thanks. If she gets restless we’ll just take her outside. That’s why we’re sitting in the back by the door.”
Ethel looked anything but placated, but said nothing more as the organ music alerted the congregation to the Easter processional.
For Nick, sitting in church was surreal. It seemed since coming to Pelican Pointe, since getting mixed up with a widow and her baby daughter his life had become something he didn’t even recognize, nor would anyone else. He hadn’t been inside a church since Ben Latham’s wedding six years earlier. But his awkwardness at being there vanished as soon as he looked over at Jordan. Her big chocolate-brown eyes met his. His heart beat a little faster as he slid his hand into hers. As they stood up together to join the rest of the congregation in singing a hymn, he assured himself of one thing. This wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. He could do this. He looked around at the stares they were getting and widened his grin. Jordan had been right. They had shocked everyone just by showing up.
As it turned out Ethel Jenkins was correct about Pastor Whitcomb’s long-winded sermons. Long before the service officially ended, Nick and Jordan had to slip out the backdoor with a restless Hutton, never knowing the stir their presence in church had caused until much later.
Over the course of the next week, Nick and Jordan poured everything they had into getting The Cove ready for opening day. With Lilly showing up every day, there was no shortage of finishing touches to be done.
They framed Lilly’s beach drawings, as well as several photographs Scott had taken at Big Sur and along the Ca
lifornia coast. They dusted and polished every stick of furniture, sanded and re-stained hardwood floors, and even replaced the glass in the bathroom window without slicing open another wrist.
They fitted beds with soft, cotton sheets and draped them with brand-new, downy comforters, plumped pillows, coordinated rugs and throws, and accessorized the rooms. They stocked the bathrooms with plenty of fluffy white towels, put out baskets of potpourri and little soaps and made sure the place had all the personal touches that made B & Bs homespun and special.
But with one a week to go before their first guests arrived there was still a long to-do list. Even though Nick’s hand was on the mend, he still couldn’t hang drywall, still couldn’t bend his wrist, still had trouble gripping certain tools like a claw hammer and saw.
After an especially grueling Saturday spent setting tile, stopping drippy faucet leaks, and making sure there were no other major plumbing problems, Jordan and Nick were exhausted. Sitting outside on the front porch taking a rare break enjoying a pitcher of lemonade, Jordan lifted her glass to Nick and said, “It’s been a good run, Mr. Harris. I’m so proud of us.”
When he just sat there without raising his glass in a toast, she put her glass down and asked, “What’s wrong, Nick?”
“The loan committee in L.A. wouldn’t go for another extension. I’m sorry, Jordan. I’ve known for a couple of days. I just didn’t want to say anything.” He couldn’t believe they’d turned him down. It had to be because of his extended leave of absence. So much for long-term loyalty, he thought miserably.
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