Swept Away for Christmas

by M. J. Fredrick

  “No offense,” Miranda said, “but I remember you as being more, um, structured. Color-coordinated notecards, class salutatorian, that kind of thing.”

  Shelby chuckled at the bride-to-be’s nervous tone. “Don’t worry. I know you had two other solid candidates for maid of honor duty. You won’t regret picking me.” For the most part, Shelby was organized. She wrote her lesson plans out months in advance, kept a tidy townhouse, and was goal-focused. By the time she was nineteen she’d known exactly what she wanted out of life: to be settled, part of a community; to teach kids and make every one of them feel as if they belonged; to get married and have kids of her own.

  Of course, knowing what she wanted and having all of it happen were two different things. You’re twenty-seven. It’s not like time’s run out on your biological clock.

  Pasting a bright smile on her face, she turned to her friend. “Let’s not worry about unloading everything right now. First order of business is getting me checked in, then finding a spot where we can sit and catch up. Plus, I haven’t had time to gush over that ring yet.”

  Beaming, Miranda extended her hand. “Isn’t it beautiful? Bruce is spoiling me rotten.”

  Someone who didn’t know Miranda might expect her to be spoiled. She’d always been pretty and popular, the only girl among three protective brothers who doted on her. Another female in her position might have grown up to be a diva. But Miranda had a generous, fun-loving disposition and a huge heart. Back when they’d all worked a summer job at a Starfish Shores resort together, Shelby had sensed that Bruce Wilder had a crush on the bubbly redhead. But Miranda’s dance card was perpetually full. Though Bruce had been a part of their regular gang, he hadn’t asked Miranda out until their paths crossed almost six years later. Shelby couldn’t wait to see them together—they were sure to make a cute couple. Judging by Miranda’s radiant glow, she’d never been happier.

  Shelby shut her trunk, only bringing her purse and her new, colorful backpack. “Are Amy and Charlotte here yet?” Charlotte had been the hostess in the resort restaurant where Miranda and Shelby waitressed when they weren’t lifeguarding. Amy was Miranda’s younger cousin from Detroit. She and her parents used to come to Starfish Shores for the annual Fourth of July celebration.

  “Charli doesn’t get in until early Friday morning—that’s the day after tomorrow, right?” Miranda shook her head ruefully. “I’m too keyed up to think straight, and my days are blurring together. Mom’s picking up Amy from the airport this evening, then letting Amy borrow a car. She’ll be here after dinner. Since the weather’s so nice, I thought we could go to The Pit. It’s an open air bar a few walkable blocks away. Despite the inauspicious name, the hotel manager highly recommended it. Amy’s excited she can legally drink with us.”

  Last time Shelby had seen Miranda’s cousin, Amy had been a freckled teen nervous about starting high school.

  “I talked to Charli around Thanksgiving,” Shelby said. “She kept saying that all of us being here together in Starfish Shores would be ‘just like old times!’”

  Miranda’s eyebrows rose. “With a few key differences. Bruce never so much as kissed me back then, and now we’re getting married.” Also, Charli was no longer dating Miranda’s brother. And Shelby hadn’t spoken to Finn McBride since that heartbreaking August night on a moonlit beach.

  “Personally, I resent the old in old times,” Shelby said. “What are we, in our forties? But when I called Mom to tell her your engagement news, she said the same darn thing. My parents hate that they can’t make the ceremony, by the way.”

  “Yeah.” Miranda nodded with sham sympathy. “Must be hell to go on a month-long tour of Europe.”

  It had been her parents’ Christmas gift to each other, although Mrs. James had fretted their plans would leave Shelby alone for the holiday. Shelby had insisted they finally take the trip they’d discussed for so long. She was a grown woman who planned to enjoy the two week vacation from work and the next few days with her best friend.

  The two women approached the nine-story hotel, which had been decorated for the season. Surrounding the entrance were palm trees strung with lights and a few ornaments; an artist had tackled the sliding glass doors, drawing an elaborate scene that included a Christmas tree topped with a smiling starfish. Shelby was so busy looking at the door that she didn’t pay enough attention to who was on the other side of it. If she had, she wouldn’t have been so caught off guard when the automatic doors parted and she found herself face to face with Finn.

  Finnegan freaking McBride, in the leanly muscled, sun-bronzed flesh. His dark hair, the color of freshly brewed coffee, was cut shorter than she’d ever seen it, emphasizing a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones that were unfair to women. His eyes, however, were exactly as she remembered, that ice blue gaze that could make her shiver on the hottest day of the year. He wore a dark blue T-shirt, a pair of black workout shorts and sneakers that looked as if they’d seen a lot of miles.

  Since she’d yet to move, Finn stepped forward, exiting the lobby and joining her and Miranda outside. “Donavan and James, together again.” He gave them a lazy smile, and there was far more warmth than Shelby had anticipated in those pale eyes. “Just like old times, huh?”

  Chapter Two

  The second the sentence left his mouth, Finn knew it had been a dumb thing to say. Despite the déjà vu he’d felt, seeing formerly inseparable Miranda and Shelby side by side, a hell of a lot had changed. For starters, in the old days, he would have scooped Shelby into his arms for a heated kiss hello; he wouldn’t be standing here floundering for a greeting while she incinerated holes in his skull with that glare.

  Darting nervous glances between the two of them, Miranda tried to salvage the situation with small talk. “You all settled into your room, Finn?”

  He nodded. “Unpacked an hour ago and hit the weights in the gym. I was headed out for a quick run.” He’d been eager for the physical release, but now he felt rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze from Shelby as he catalogued the subtle changes in her appearance. The light pink wrap top she’d paired with khaki capris surprised him. Shelby, more generously endowed than Miranda, had always been self-conscious about her curves, hiding them when possible and preferring modest, one-piece bathing suits to her friends’ bikinis. The glimpse of revealed cleavage hinted at a newfound ease with her body. Sexy. And he liked her hair, which was a lot longer than it used to be.

  She’d once told him it was easier to control when it was short. “Doesn’t take me as long to straighten with a flat-iron when I keep it at my shoulders.”

  Her dark blonde hair wasn’t straight today. It flowed down her back in kinky gold spirals that made him want to twist a strand around his finger. At twenty, Shelby James had been a very pretty young woman. Now she was hot, plain and simple. The uncharacteristically nostalgic what-ifs that had plagued him since he’d learned about the wedding suddenly morphed into something much more tangible.

  “You look great, Seashell.” He used the nickname without thinking, surprised how easily it rolled off his tongue.

  “Thank you.” She didn’t return the compliment.

  “Well.” Miranda cleared her throat in the ensuing silence. “Shelby just arrived, so she needs to check in. Guess we’ll see you tonight. For drinks.”

  He caught the sidelong glance Shelby shot her friend and Miranda’s fractional shrug. It didn’t take a translator to decipher the wordless conversation.

  You’re inviting him?

  Have to—he’s the best man.

  He’d wondered over the past couple of weeks what Shelby’s reaction had been when she’d learned they were both in the bridal party. Had it upset her, the thought of seeing him again, or had enough time passed that she could look back on their romance fondly? Another possibility was that she was so far over that chapter of her life that she simply wouldn’t care.

  She passed through the doorway, giving him a tight smile over her shoulder. “Tonight, then.”

>   A grin tugged at the corner of Finn’s mouth as he took in the irritated glint in her eyes and the stubborn lift of her chin. Oh, she cares plenty. And despite the professional success he’d accumulated, the house in Gainesville he’d helped his mom purchase, the major step he was about to take in his career—all legitimate reasons for satisfaction—it was knowing that Shelby James still had some degree of feeling for him that gave him the most pleasure.

  That couldn’t be good.

  ***

  Shelby crossed the marbled pastel tile with a purposeful stride. But instead of stopping at the registration desk, she kept going until she reached a row of seats. Shaky, she slumped into the closest one. Facing Finn had seriously dented her composure.

  Miranda took the chair next to her. “You okay?”

  No. One look in those ice blue eyes and every memory she had of her and Finn had grabbed hold of her like a vicious undertow, dragging her out to sea. “Yeah, sure. I mean, I knew I’d be seeing him this weekend. I just wasn’t prepared to run into him in the first five minutes.” Wasn’t prepared to hear that ridiculous nickname that had started one night when they’d all taken drunken turns attempting “Shelby sells seashells…” Finn had turned the moniker into something more poignant during the conversation when he’d first told her he loved her.

  “If it helps, you knocked him for a loop, too,” Miranda said softly.

  “He didn’t seem flustered or at a loss for words.”

  “True. But that possessive once-over he gave you?” She let out a low whistle. “I had the urge to run to my suite and jump Bruce.”

  Shelby laughed despite herself. “Ew. Can you please not use my socially awkward moments as sexual aides?” Finn had no right to look at her possessively. Yet, for a second, he had. The approving warmth in his gaze would have made her twenty-year-old self’s knees weak.

  I know better now. My knees no longer weaken for the likes of Finn McBride.

  So your sudden urgent need to sit down again after already spending five hours in a car…?

  Shut up.

  Seemingly oblivious to the fact that Shelby had picked a fight with herself—and was losing—Miranda praised, “You handled the exchange well. Haughty, but not hostile. The kind of cool aplomb every girl hopes she can manage when running into an ex.”

  “Thanks.” Shelby blew out an exasperated breath. “Is it shallow that I suddenly wish I’d brought a date?” The invitation had allowed for a plus-one, but Shelby’s recent dates had all been casual and she wasn’t ready to change that. If she’d asked Patrick, the gym teacher at another elementary school in her district, to go away with her for the weekend, he would get the wrong idea about their relationship. Namely, that it could be classified as a relationship.

  Between the holiday season, when so many people had plans to spend Christmas with relatives, and her selfish desire to enjoy her time with Miranda as much as possible without worrying that an escort felt neglected, Shelby had decided it made the most sense to attend solo.

  Although the question took a serious chunk out of her self-respect, she heard herself ask, “Did he bring a date?”

  “Nope.”

  She digested this news with mixed feelings. At least a date would have provided a buffer of sorts. “All the better to scam on bridesmaids, I suppose.”

  Miranda guffawed. “You forget—I’m having a tiny beach wedding. The only bridesmaids are you and Charli, who actually is bringing a date. Amy’s singing at the ceremony. I guess he could hit on her, but I don’t see it happening. He’s an accomplished chef, and she’s a college kid. Not to mention I’d skin him with one of his own knives. If he upsets you, I might do that anyway.”

  “I appreciate the loyalty, but I don’t want you going to prison on my behalf. You and Bruce deserve more from your marriage than conjugal visits.”

  “Well, something more subtle than the knives then.” Miranda tapped her index finger against her chin. “We do have two different boat excursions planned. Maybe I can make it look like an accident.”

  “You focus on becoming Mrs. Miranda Wilder and don’t give this a second thought. I’m a big girl. I won’t let Finn upset me.” The truth was, he’d already done as much damage to her as he possibly could. She gave her friend a grim smile. “But, if circumstances got dire, I wouldn’t want you to dirty your hands, anyway. I’d kill him myself.”

  ***

  The magnificent view of indigo water that stretched to the horizon and foamy waves lapping at the white sand helped ease the rigid tension in Shelby’s neck. She loved that the hotel had been designed in such a way that all sixteen units had balconies overlooking the beach. There was no real sense of privacy, since the balconies were practically on top of each other, but it was too beautiful up here for that to bother her.

  The wind gusting on the sixth floor was whipping her hair into her face. She wrestled it into an elastic band while Miranda leaned on the railing, watching a majestic V of brown pelicans fly by.

  “I thought about trying to book us rooms at the Pelic-Inn,” Miranda remarked. “It seems like it would be such a fun, retro place to stay, but it’s under renovation. Figured bridal nerves would have me on edge already without adding the soothing sound of power tools.”

  Unlike Shelby’s parents, Miranda’s had stayed local, but they’d sold the house where they’d raised four children and moved into a tiny condo. Mrs. Donavan claimed it was much easier to keep clean, but she regretted that she couldn’t offer room and board to Miranda’s bridal party. Miranda had mourned that they couldn’t stay at the resort where they’d all worked, now replaced by rental beach houses, but Shelby was almost relieved not to be walking the same hallways where Finn had first kissed her.

  “This place is perfect,” Shelby assured her friend. “It’s not too big, but we all fit, plus it has an award-winning seafood restaurant on the top floor and an on-site spa. What more could you want?” Friday morning, Shelby, Charli, Miranda and Amy were scheduled for massages and mani-pedis.

  While they were being pampered, the guys had planned an off-season parasailing expedition. In addition to Finn being best man, Miranda’s brother Jake was serving as a groomsman. Her other two brothers would be ushers. Bruce was an only child; Miranda reported that Mr. and Mrs. Wilder were deliriously happy to be “gaining a daughter.”

  Shelby had left the sliding glass door onto the balcony open, so they clearly heard the knock at the front of her hotel room.

  Miranda grinned. “Bet that’s Bruce with the wine.” There was a definite bounce to her step as she went to greet her fiancé.

  With his shaggy light brown hair and Hawaiian print shirt, the good-looking man looked more like a beach bum than a brilliant accountant. When they used to go out in a large group, he’d been the one who could instantly calculate what they each owed on the bar tab or what the right tip was for dinner. The years hadn’t altered him at all—except the shy, sweet smile Shelby remembered had been replaced with a wide grin that signaled a man who couldn’t be happier with his life.

  “Chilled chardonnay and a corkscrew,” Miranda said. “My hero!” She threw her arms around him, her heeled sandals making her two inches taller than her soon-to-be husband. On the day of the wedding, they were all going barefoot in the sand. That announcement had made Shelby laugh out loud since she didn’t know anyone who owned more shoes than her friend.

  Bruce grinned. “If all I have to do to keep you happy is bring you the occasional bottle of wine, this marriage is going to be a piece of cake.”

  “You make it sound like I’m using you for booze when we both know I’m marrying you so that I never have to do my own taxes.”

  Laughing, he released Miranda so he could come give Shelby a bear hug. “Seashell! It’s been too long.”

  Rather than point out that she no longer answered to the silly nickname, she returned his embrace and tried to get into the spirit of the weekend. “Way too long, Wild-Man.” The nickname Charli had bestowed on the quietest membe
r of their group may have been ironic, but it was meant with affection. Bruce had always seemed amused by it.

  The true wild man had been Finn, the life of every party, ready for any dare from illegal skinny-dipping to participating in January “Polar Bear” swims. Nothing scared him.

  Nothing except spending his life in Starfish Shores.

  He’d hated it here—hated his poverty-stricken childhood, hated the kitschy souvenirs his family had sold, and hated that his father had died of a heart attack without ever leaving a hundred-mile radius from where he’d been born. Unlike the rest of them, twenty-two-year-old Finn hadn’t been working a summer at the resort between college semesters. He’d held his job as a cook there all year round, along with some shifts working a fishing charter and helping his mother sell those despised tchotchkes. From what Shelby had heard second-hand, Finn’s culinary career had taken him through dining services at National Parks onto cruise lines that sailed the world and, finally, to opening a critically-acclaimed restaurant in Mobile. Through it all, he’d kept in touch with Bruce, who helped him invest wisely.

  “We need a toast!” Miranda had located three glasses and filled them each halfway with white wine.

  Bruce raised one of the glasses. “To my beautiful bride?” he suggested. “The woman who outshines the stars, the woman who is my North Star.”

  “Too sappy. We have to pace ourselves around our friends, or they’ll be sick of us by Saturday,” Miranda said. But her brown eyes sparkled in obvious pleasure at his words. Given that both of them had the same chocolatey eyes, it was easy to imagine what their children might look like. Doe eyes, his lopsided smile, her smattering of freckles.

  Shelby swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. In their teens, she and Miranda babysat together on occasions like New Year’s Eve where a group of parents all needed childcare simultaneously; they used to giggle about the day when they’d have kids of their own. Miranda would make a great mom.