by Shirley Jump
“Because it’s…complicated.”
The exact same thing she had said to Nona earlier. Darcy had moved to Fortune’s Island years ago because she wanted simple, easy. Not complicated. But everything about Kincaid Foster came wrapped in layers and layers of complications.
The curtain flicked again. Darcy glanced at Kincaid. “Did you bring a girlfriend on your vacation?”
He stilled, went a little pale, then recovered. “Since when do you care about my romantic life, Darcy?”
“I don’t.” She raised her chin, daring him to disagree. Because a part of her did care right now, very much. If he had a girlfriend with him, why had he kissed her? And if he didn’t, then why not tell her who the person in the kitchen was?
Kincaid reached for her then, in that easy comfortable way he had all those years ago. His hand curled around hers, a simple touch that nevertheless left her craving more. She didn’t pull away, even though she knew she should. Knew it was wrong to want him again. Knew it would complicate her life in ways she couldn’t undo.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Darcy. Haven’t in a few months.”
Her heart leapt a little at that. “Well, that’s…good. I guess.”
He smiled. “You are so stubborn. Why not just admit the truth?”
“Admit what?”
“That you still like me. That you haven’t forgotten”—he moved closer, took her other hand, and brought their clasped hands between them, against the warmth of his chest—“what it was like when we were together.”
Oh yes, she remembered. She remembered it all. And last night, her dreams had been filled with some very explicit memories of herself and Kincaid. All those thoughts bubbled to the surface when he touched her, and made her want to forget all those pretty little resolutions she’d had earlier. “We aren’t together anymore,” she said.
“I noticed.” He grinned.
“I meant, we don’t need to have these conversations. Past relationships are in the past for good reason.”
“Maybe some relationships come back when you are older and wiser, and more ready.”
She cocked her head. “And is that what you are now? Ready to settle down, have a bunch of kids and live in some cottage on the island?”
“I didn’t say that ready.” The grin returned. “Come on, have dinner with me.”
“I can’t. I’m late for work. I only stopped by to—”
He had reached up to brush a lock of hair off her forehead, and she stopped talking. She was pretty sure she stopped breathing, too. “Stopped by to what?” he asked when she didn’t finish.
The back of his fingers trailed along the side of her face, and her eyes closed a little. Of its own volition, her face turned into his touch. She told herself it was merely a reflex, but it wasn’t. It was a craving that started deep in her belly and radiated through every inch of her. She wanted Kincaid, wanted him bad.
But where was it going to go? There was no way they’d end up with the white picket fence life. Having that would mean telling Kincaid about Emma, and Darcy wasn’t going to do that.
If you tell my son about this child, I will drag you into court and sue you for custody. You’ll never see that baby again.
“I have to go,” Darcy said. She pulled her hands out of his and stepped back. “I’m going to be late.”
She started to walk away, but when he slipped into place beside her, her heart trilled a little. “Then I’ll walk with you,” he said. “I need to go get some dinner anyway.”
She let out a huff and increased her pace. With any luck, he’d get the hint and turn around. “The Love Shack doesn’t open until four.”
He started walking faster, too. Clearly, Kincaid couldn’t take a hint. “I can wait.”
She shook her head. Damn the man for not giving up. A part of her wanted to be pleased by that, but she stuck with annoyed and frustrated. “Kincaid, what are you doing?”
“Walking down the street with you. We just happen to be going to the same place.”
“That isn’t what I meant and you know it. We dated seven years ago. We broke up, moved on with our lives, and now you’re here just for a little while. Why try to get close to me again?”
He glanced over at her, and held her gaze for a long moment. “Maybe because we have unfinished business.”
“So that’s what this is? Closure?”
“Maybe.” He let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. “The summer I spent here with you was the happiest summer of my life. And right now, I’d like just a little of that back.”
The happiest summer of his life? Was that true? And why did she care? “We can’t—”
“I’m not asking you to marry me, Darcy. Just have dinner. Drinks. Catch up.”
Marry him? Once upon a time, she had dreamed of that. Wanted to be with Kincaid for the rest of her life. That was the silly romantic side of her, a side that knew better now. Well, she knew better until he kissed her, then all her sensible thoughts disappeared and she was eighteen all over again. “Is that what that kiss was?” she asked him. “Catching up?”
“That kiss was…closure.”
The word stung a little this time. Which made no sense. If Kincaid got closure, then he would leave her alone and she could go back to her regular life, and Emma wouldn’t have to stay in the house every day, and the constant worry in her gut would abate. “Well, good. I’m glad.”
But was she? Or did a part of her want another kiss? And another after that? More?
The happiest summer in his life. She wanted to say, it was for me, too, but doing that would open the door to Kincaid, and she couldn’t do that. Not now. Not Ever.
The Love Shack came into view. Darcy didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. “Who was staying at your house?” Because if it was a wife or something else, she would have a clearcut reason to leave him in her dust.
Kincaid let out a long breath. “Can I trust you?”
“Of course.” It hurt a little that he even had to ask the question, but they hadn’t been together in a long time, and she wasn’t trusting him a whole lot, either.
“My sister was in an abusive marriage. She’s pregnant, and I brought her to get away from him and have some peace until the baby is born.”
It was such a sweet, wonderful thing for him to do. “Wow. Really? But Abby always seemed so strong.”
“She is. And I think she’s finding out just how strong she is now.” Worry reflected in his eyes.
Darcy put a hand on Kincaid’s arm. “She’s lucky to have you.”
He shrugged, like it was no big deal. “She needed me, and I was there. Simple as that. I’m sure you would have done the same thing.”
Would she have? Kincaid had stepped into the middle of what was probably a firestorm, whisked his sister away and put his entire life on hold to take care of her. Not to mention, she was pregnant, which added a whole other dimension of concern and responsibility.
It made Darcy wonder—if she had told Kincaid the truth all those years ago, would he have done the same for her? Risked everything, for her and their baby?
Maybe he was a far better and stronger man than she had ever given him credit for. “What about your job?”
He shrugged again. “It’ll wait. And if not…well, there’s always a need for lawyers.”
She shook her head. This was a more mature, more considerate and caring Kincaid than she had known before. “I don’t know that a lot of people would walk away from their job like that. It’s a good thing, Kincaid.”
“Thanks.” He seemed almost embarrassed by the praise. That endeared him to her even more, damn it.
They were standing in the parking lot of The Love Shack, and she knew she should leave. That she shouldn’t let this one kind thing he had done sway her toward him. Because right now, she was swayed—very swayed. So she did what she knew how to do best—she walked away before things got any more complicated. “I’m sorry, but I have to get to work.”
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She started to walk away, when Kincaid caught her hand. She spun back into his chest, colliding with him, and just like that, the electricity that had always sparked between them erupted in her veins. It was as if just touching him flipped a switch inside her. Time had not eased that reaction. If anything, it was more powerful now than years ago.
“Wait, Darcy.”
Before she could say a word, he was kissing her again, and she was melting into him, and her hands were roaming over his back. A hot, crazy rush of desire roared through her, and she found herself letting out a little mew when his tongue darted into her mouth, and his touch tightened on her waist. She pressed against him, her hands going to the back of his neck, then that mop of dark hair. She could feel his hard chest against her softer one, feel the erection that said she wasn’t the only one swept up into this. She closed her eyes, and for a moment—one long, hot, sweet moment—just kissed Kincaid as if she was eighteen again and they were stealing away for a moment.
Because damn it all, she still wanted him.
There was a sound behind her, car tires on crushed shells, and Kincaid and Darcy broke apart at the same time. She could feel the flush in her face, hear the rapid patter of her breath. “That didn’t happen.”
Okay, so maybe not the smartest thing she’d ever said. But maybe if she said it out loud, the both of them would believe it. Before Kincaid could say anything else, Darcy ducked into The Love Shack and pretended her mind was on her job, and not on the last man in the world she should ever get involved with again.
Kincaid skirted around to the back of The Love Shack, trundling down the old wooden steps to the beach below. A family was picnicking a little ways down on the sand, two parents, two kids, and a beagle. They had a basket of food spread out on a plaid blanket, the parents snacking while the little boy and his younger sister worked on one last sandcastle. The dog circled around the kids, tail wagging, ready to join in at any moment.
It was the kind of scene that made a man like Kincaid, someone who’d had every single thing a person could want, long for a family like that. To have a do-over of his childhood. Living with his parents had been like an ongoing shopping spree, filled with gifts but not the kind of traditions that created the images of a Rockwell painting.
He wasn’t foolish enough to think this family, or any other family he saw for a snippet of time, was living some happy fairy tale life. But it sure looked good from the outside, and for a moment, Kincaid wished he had a little of that.
Of course, having a family would mean settling down. Actually dating someone and having a real relationship, rather than the fly-by one he’d ended with Leslie. Kincaid had only considered marriage once, and to one woman—
Darcy Williams. That summer, he’d been head over heels, insanely, crazily in love, and he’d decided he was going to marry her before he went to college. He didn’t think through the consequences or the logistics. But then she had broken up with him before he could ask her to be his forever, and the dream Kincaid had died.
Then why was he back for more? Why was he trying so damned hard to spend time with her, to kiss her, to resurrect something that was, as she’d said, in the past?
Maybe he wanted answers. Maybe he wanted to know why a woman he dated seven years ago still lingered in his mind. Why every time he saw her, he felt nineteen again. If he spent some time with Darcy, he’d get her out of his system. Yeah, that was it. That was all it was.
But if that was so, then why did that kiss linger in his mind, occupying his nights, becoming the starting scene in his fantasies? He still wanted her, damn it. Even more now than before.
And he was older now, wiser, and the consequences that his father had threatened him with when he was younger held no power over Kincaid now. He’d done his part working for his father, and it had yielded no improvement in their relationship. It was past time Kincaid tried so hard to get close to Edgar Foster, and instead started living his life separate from that Foster mantle. Maybe started writing again. See where that led him.
Kincaid turned on his heel and strode back up the little hill and into The Love Shack, just as Whit was opening the doors. Whit gave him a grin. “Back again?”
“The food’s too good to resist. And I can’t cook.”
“Hell, neither can I. Why do you think I opened this place?” Whit chuckled, then led Kincaid back to the same table as before.
KF + DW.
Kincaid didn’t have to pick up the napkin holder to see those letters again. Whit was either a closet romantic or a serious sadist. Good Lord, didn’t the man know how hard that breakup had been on Kincaid? Whit was a good man, one who wanted the best for those in his life, and Kincaid knew that. Didn’t make seeing those initials any easier, though. Either way, Kincaid thanked him and slid into the booth.
The kitchen door swung open, and Darcy and Jillian strode into the dining room, laughing and talking. Darcy was wearing another pair of denim shorts, topped this time by a pale pink v-necked T-shirt that stretched tight over her breasts, and of course, those sexy-as-hell cowboy boots. Darcy saw him, and her step hesitated, but then she went on as if he didn’t exist.
What the hell was he doing here? Chasing a woman who clearly didn’t want to be chased. He shook his head, and started to get to his feet, when he saw a dog outside the window. It was a scrawny thing, all bones and fur, and it was nosing at the trash barrel by the front door. A guy on a motorcycle roared into the lot, skidding past the dog, scaring it, and damned near running it over. The dog yipped, then cowered, terrified.
Kincaid scrambled to his feet and out the door. “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled at the motorcycle rider. The dog stayed low, in the shadows of the other cars.
The guy slipped off the bike, flipping out the kickstand and setting it half-in, half-out of a parking space. “Damned dog shouldn’t have been there in the first place.” He turned toward the mutt and waved a hand. The dog just ducked down more, ears flat, tail tucked between her legs. “Go on, get out of here. Go, go!”
Kincaid stepped between the guy and the poor scared animal. “That dog isn’t doing anything but looking for something to eat. Maybe you should be the one to get out of here.”
The guy puffed out his chest, as if he were a rooster spoiling for a fight. But it didn’t bring him any closer to Kincaid’s six-foot-two height, and did nothing to move Kincaid from his place. After a long staredown, the guy cursed and turned back to the bike. “Food here sucks anyway.”
Then he was gone, spitting shells in his wake. Kincaid turned back to the dog. The mutt was crouched down, wary, her eyes wide and scared. Kincaid cursed the man on the motorcycle again.
When he looked up, Kincaid noticed Whit, Jillian, and Darcy all standing on the front deck of The Love Shack, watching him. Whit gave him a thumbs-up. “Thanks for running that guy off. We don’t need people like that here.”
Darcy bent down and put out a hand toward the dog. It trembled, its scrawny body against the car, tail tight under her body. “It’s okay, baby. We won’t hurt you.”
Kincaid slid in next to Darcy. She kept talking to the dog in that soft, sweet voice. He watched her with the animal, thinking this was a whole other side he’d never seen in her before. A nurturing side. He liked that.
“Anyone know whose dog that is?” Whit asked.
“I think it was Jimmy Miller’s,” Darcy said, still keeping her voice soft so she wouldn’t scare the dog. “But he’s been dead for…six months, maybe even seven. I didn’t realize he didn’t find a home for his dog before he got sick.”
They all looked at the mutt. “He looks like he’s been on his own for that long.” Kincaid shifted his weight, glanced down the street to make sure the guy on the Harley wasn’t coming back to stir up more trouble. As he did, Kincaid felt something press against his knee.
The dog. It had come out from the shadows and now stood right beside him. The pooch wagged its tail, slow and hopeful, and looked up at him with big brown eyes that
begged him to care. It wasn’t much as dogs went, one of those tan mutts with pointy ears, and a brush of a tail. But it had a diamond-shaped patch of white on its muzzle, and four white paws, or at least he assumed they were white beneath all the dirt and grime.
“Seems she’s taken a shining to you,” Whit said. “Maybe you should bring her ‘round back. We’ll get her something to eat, and then you’ll have a best friend for life.”
A best friend for life? All Kincaid had been trying to do was get rid of a bully. He wasn’t looking for a pet in the process.
“Are you saying I should keep this dog, Whit? Because I can’t do that.” But as Kincaid moved away from the dog, she moved along with him, her body tight to his.
Whit chuckled. “Seems you don’t get a say in the matter.”
“But I’m only here for…” Kincaid didn’t actually know how long he was staying on Fortune’s Island. Until Abby had her baby, for sure, and maybe for a little while after, to be certain she was fine and safe. “A limited time.”
“Then that gives this little beauty a place to stay until we find her a forever home,” Whit said. “That keeps her out of the shelter—“
“Which shut down last spring, so we’d have to ship her to the mainland,” Jillian added. “Who knows what would happen to the dog in a place like that?”
Whit nodded. “That’s right. I forgot about that.”
Kincaid moved again, and the dog kept with him, giving him that love me, feed me look. “I can’t—“
Whit put a hand on his arm and gave him a pointed look. “Might do you good to have a dog around. They’re good at noticing stuff. Barking. That kind of thing.”
Whit was right. A dog would be good company for Abby, and if the mutt was any kind of guard dog, she’d be good for giving Abby peace of mind. Not that Kincaid worried about Gordon—the man weighed about a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet—but it would make Abby feel less anxious. And that in turn was a good thing for the end of Abby’s pregnancy. The last thing his sister needed was anything else to worry about.
