There's Always a Catch: Christmas Key Book One

by Stephanie Taylor

  “I did. And I thought maybe I’d round it out by kissing a true island girl under a tropical moon for the first time. What do you say?”

  Holly dips her chin so that he can’t see her face. This good-looking stranger washed up on her shores, and in just a few short days he’s complicated everything. It isn’t even her lingering loyalty to Jake (although his presence is another kink in the hose), but more that she knows what a ridiculously short shelf-life this fling has.

  She turns her head up to him, lips parted, heart skipping lightly in her chest. After a lifetime of safety and stability, of choosing people and things that are solid and present, Holly desperately wants to choose excitement. Breaking things off with Jake was her first step towards trading certainty for adventure, and now River’s presence is making her feel like a champagne bottle that’s about to lose its cork. She’s determined to let loose, to bubble over. The unknown is—for the first time—a very real destination for her.

  “I guess after all of that, then I say if you wanna kiss an island girl, you’d better kiss an island girl,” she whispers.

  River pauses for one second, two seconds, searching Holly’s eyes as they silently acknowledge that split second before something happens for the first time—something that can’t be undone. Then River pulls her close, the heat of their bodies like a forcefield around them.

  Holly lips melt into his, her pulse quickening at the feel of his fingers tangling lightly in the loose hairs at the base of her neck. He pulls her even closer, the front of his hard body running the length of hers. She lets her hands explore his chest, then wraps her arms around his torso as his lips part questioningly. It is different than kissing Jake, and she lets the newness of River’s touch sink in.

  Holly can taste the root beer they sipped in the kitchen, and her knees feel like they might give way before River gently picks her up by the waist, holding her off the ground. He parts her legs and wraps them around his waist, holding her thighs in his strong arms. Before kissing her again, River looks into her eyes, searching deeply to make sure she wants him to keep going. She does.

  His lips still on hers, River backs her up against the part of the wall that she hasn’t yet plastered shells onto; she gasps as the rough stucco touches her skin, her hand reaching out and clutching at the textured mortar and shells like a rock climber searching for something to cling to. Her breathing is more insistent as River presses his body firmly into the crook of hers, pinning her to the wall. He is taut and hard against the bare flesh of her inner thighs, the lime green dress pushed up around her waist. River runs his hands over the knots of her bikini bottom where it ties on her hips.

  With one hand, Holly reaches for the collar of his shirt, pulling at him hungrily. The snap and crackle she’s felt between them since he first climbed into her golf cart at the pier is real, and she knows now that a kiss was inevitable—at the very least a kiss. She’s wrestled with doing what’s right as mayor, and now she’s giving in to what feels right to her as a woman.

  “Do you want me to stop?” River whispers into her ear, nibbling on her neck.

  “I don’t think I want you to stop,” she laughs throatily, the tingling chill of his kisses leaving a trail of goosebumps on her skin. “But I might need you to pause.”

  River pulls back, his eyes hazy as he looks into hers. “Pause? Okay, we can do that.” He sets her on the ground reluctantly, lowering her slowly so that her dress falls over her lower body again, covering her bikini bottoms.

  “That against-the-wall move was very forward of you, my friend,” Holly says, a huge grin on her face as she tries to pull together a few scraps of composure.

  “Hey, no time to waste here, Mayor. My ship sails in a few days.” River leans down to her, meeting her lips with his own again.

  Holly wraps her arms around him, setting her cheek against his chest. “I know,” she says, looking out into the darkness beyond her lanai. “That’s the problem.”

  River is quiet for a minute. “That I’m leaving?”

  She nods into him, her cheekbone rubbing against the warm fabric of his shirt. “It complicates things. Even more than they already are.”

  He wraps his arms around her more tightly in response. “I know it does.” After holding her quietly for a second, River’s body shakes with a silent laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Holly asks, pulling back to look at his face.

  “I just realized that I’ve never made out with a politician before,” he says, still laughing.

  “So you hit on me just to see if the power and prestige would rub off on you, huh? Are you trying to get us caught by the paparazzi—do you want me to get impeached for misconduct?”

  “Paparazzi?” River ducks in mock worry, his eyes darting around the pitch blackness of the tall trees. “Do you think they’re out there?” he whispers loudly.

  “Maybe,” Holly giggles, still holding his arms.

  “Then we’d better go inside.” River gives her a serious look, then bends over at the waist, butting his shoulder gently into her stomach like a linebacker and folding her in half. Holly cries out in surprise as he stands up, holding the backs of her thighs as she dangles over his shoulder.

  With a show of unnecessary bravado, River throws open the door from the lanai and carries her into the house. Holly’s laughing too hard to protest when he carries her back to her bedroom, and she realizes that she doesn’t really want to stop him as he lays her softly on the bed.

  “Oregon is about as far away as you can get from Christmas Key and still be in the lower forty-eight. You do know that, right?” She’s looking up at his face.

  River pulls his shirt over his head in one swift move, standing over her as he considers this fact. “I can come back anytime.”

  Holly nods, biting her lower lip. She knows there’s a good chance that he might never make the trip all the way to her remote island again, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting to make the most of the time he’s there.

  “Or you could come to Oregon.” He puts his knees on the bed, one hand on either side of her head. “They don’t make too much of the Mets-Yanks rivalry out there, so we probably won’t get tomatoes thrown at us if we walk down the street together.”

  Holly reaches her hands up and runs her fingers through his hair as she pulls him lower. A night with River might make things more tense with Jake, but Holly’s already decided that she’s ready to deal with the outcome—whatever it might be.

  “Shhh, just come here,” she says, eyes shining in the darkened bedroom.

  He does.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Holly coasts through the next day, fielding calls from various magazines and newspapers that she plans to advertise with. She and Bonnie are both lost in their own worlds, and they work across from one another all morning without their normal banter. It’s a contented kind of silence, with each woman stopping every now and then to gaze out the window or into the distance.

  The memory of River’s face that morning is burned into Holly’s mind. He’d been watching her with a lazy smile when she rolled over in bed, covered only by a sheet. Now she smothers a grin with one hand, hoping to keep the details of their night together under wraps.

  “So what time will the guys be back from the Dry Tortugas? Eight?” Bonnie asks, double-checking the details of the fishermen’s day trip.

  “Yeah, they’ll be here and hungry, I’m guessing. I was planning on having dinner set and ready for them at eight sharp. Do you think we should push it back any later so they can shower first?”

  “No, I think they’ll want to dive right in,” Bonnie says.

  “Mmmm, right. Good call,” Holly says distractedly. She’s squinting at the fine print on an advertising contract that’s just come through as an email attachment.

  “So what’s up, sugarplum?” Bonnie asks from across the desk. “You’re acting like a woman who’s just stumbled into a state of nirvana. That smile on your face looks permanent.”

&nb
sp; Holly tucks her pencil into the bun on top of her head and leans back, putting her bare feet up on the desk. “It feels like it might be.”

  Bonnie takes off her reading glasses and sets them on top of her laptop’s keyboard. “Details, please.”

  Holly can’t help it: her face cracks into a satisfied smirk. “He came to my house last night.”

  “OH MY GOD!” Bonnie shouts, clapping her hands together. “I knew it was going to happen!”

  “But he’s leaving in a few days, Bon.” Holly chews on the side of her thumb nail. “So, I don’t know…it’s kind of like a combination of nirvana…and purgatory.”

  “Yuck,” Bonnie says. “Is there any way to ignore the fact that he’s leaving and have some fun right now?”

  Holly stands up and paces across the small office. “No. Of course not,” she says. “I can’t ignore it. And that makes me wonder if it’s part of the fun, you know? That he’s leaving and so everything is more…” She flails around, searching for the right word.

  “Thrilling. Intense. Passionate,” Bonnie offers knowingly. “Yeah, it does make things a little steamier when you know you’ll never be picking their laundry up off the bedroom floor while they nap in front of a football game, doesn’t it?”

  “Probably. But it was the first time I’ve been anywhere near a naked man other than Jake since college, so it was pretty exciting anyway.” She opens the drawer of the filing cabinet closest to her and pretends to search for a file.

  “Good for you, honey!” Bonnie says. “I’m not even going to do the math on that one, but it’s about damn time.”

  “And he makes me laugh, Bon.” Holly slams the drawer and spins around, leaning her back against the filing cabinet. “He keeps me on my toes, and we have a sort of…”

  “Chemistry?”

  “Exactly. It’s like when we’re together I’m always the best version of myself, you know? And last night was amazing.”

  “I get it. Believe me, you don’t have to sell me on this.” Bonnie holds out one hand and shakes her head back and forth like she’s hearing the gospel from the mouth of a preacher. “I am one hundred percent in favor of any man who makes you laugh and have a good time.”

  Holly walks to the window, staring out at Main Street. “I’m just weighing the pros and cons, that’s all. You know how I am.”

  “I do.” Bonnie picks up her reading glasses and slides them back on. “But don’t overthink it, sugar. Just let the man make you happy.”

  Holly pulls the pencil out of her bun and puts on her Yankees cap, sliding her feet back into her espadrilles. “You’re right, Bonnie. Listen, I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be here,” Bonnie says, beaming at her boss as she hurries down the hall.

  Jake is standing next to his cart at the curb in front of the B&B when Holly pushes through the front door. He’s sipping a cup of coffee and making small talk with Cap.

  “Mornin’, kid,” Cap says to her. “Hey, I’ll see you later, Jake.” Cap salutes casually before looking both ways and crossing Main on his way back to the cigar shop.

  “Hi,” Jake says.

  Holly kicks the tire of his cart with the toe of her shoe.

  “That’s police property, you know,” he says sternly, nodding at where her foot connected with the tire.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “I’m kidding.” Jake nudges her with one arm, cup of coffee still in hand. “What’s eating you this morning?”

  “Nothing, I just wanted to come and say hi.”

  Jake takes off his sunglasses. “I was going to see you home after the barbecue last night, but you disappeared.”

  “Yeah, I ran some stuff back here to the B&B, and since everything was under control on the beach, I just went home. I was tired.” She tugs on the brim of her cap, pulling it down to shade her eyes so that he won’t look into them and see her lie.

  Jake nods slowly and swirls his coffee around in the cup.

  “Anyway, I have a few things to do, so I’ll see you around.” Holly takes a few steps away from him, wishing she’d had the good sense to stay inside the B&B.

  “Hey, Holly?”

  “What?”

  When she turns back to him, Jake is staring at her, a serious look on his face.

  “Don’t make a fool out of me. If you want to see this guy, then see him—I can’t stop you. But don’t expect me to be waiting around when he picks up anchor and sails off into the sunset. Understood?”

  Holly nods once, her eyes focused on Cap’s front door across the street. When she looks back at Jake, he’s already climbed into the cart and punched the gas. His cart jerks away from the curb.

  The dock at the end of Main is quiet. There’s no ferry anchored there and no one coming or going. Holly ambles to the end, stopping at the weathered navigational sign to admire the handiwork of friends and neighbors both past and present. She touches her grandfather’s painted sign, feeling the way the sun and rain have warped and battered the wood over the years. There is a hardy strength—a tenacity—to the sign that brings her comfort; these are the qualities she most admires, they are the things she wants to carry in her own heart.

  Holly walks down the dock and sits at the end. In the distance, a boat of undetermined size moves slowly on the water. She wraps her arms around her shins and pulls her legs into her chest, resting her chin on her knees. Life on the island is usually so calm, so without drama, that the past month feels like a bumpy plane ride through stomach-churning turbulence. From the last village council meeting, to all of the work she’s done for this group of fishermen, to suddenly finding herself with not one but two men to choose from, Holly feels like her world has tilted on its axis.

  And the strangest thing about all of this upheaval is that she actually kind of likes it. She’s always labored under the illusion that security brings a sense of calm, when what she really needs in her life is some commotion. A pinch of uncertainty. A few projects where the outcome isn’t guaranteed.

  The sound of the waves lapping against the pier lulls her as she watches the light dancing on the gentle waves. Eventually, the boat on the water disappears from view completely. Holly squints at it until it looks like a piece of dust on a camera lens. The boat takes so long and turns into such a tiny speck before it vanishes that it looks like it’s reached the edge of a flat Earth and simply fallen off.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Holly is standing at her kitchen sink after having drinks on the lanai with Fiona, who bid her adieu and then walked directly over to Buckhunter’s place. It’s kind of a trip watching her best friend carry on with her next door neighbor, but Holly is happy for them, and she loves seeing Fiona glow with the promise of a new relationship.

  She’s rinsing dishes absentmindedly, setting each one gently on the rack in the dishwasher, when she catches a glimpse of her own image reflected in the kitchen window. Her face goes up in flames at the memory of River pinning her against the wall on the lanai, his strong hands holding her up while he kissed her. He’d been gentle but commanding, insistent and tentative at the same time. It had been so long since she’d had a “first time” with someone other than Jake that she’d nearly forgotten how passionate it could be.

  Holly rests a cobalt blue shot glass on the counter and bends to pick up a dishtowel that’s slipped from her shoulder to the floor. When she stands up abruptly, her elbow knocks the shot glass off the counter and sends it flying. As she reaches for it helplessly, it skitters across the counter, rolls off the edge, and hits the tile floor, shattering on impact. Holly stands where she is, looking at the shards of blue glass near her bare feet. In order to get around them, she shakes out the dish towel the way she might unfurl a blanket on the grass for a picnic, then sets it gingerly on the tile. She steps onto it, scooting across the room with both feet on the towel so as not to step directly on the glass.

  The collection of blue glass dishes and glassware had been her grandmother’s, and breaking a piece bothers her. Holly
always loved seeing the sunlight filter through her grandma’s blue dishes as they rested in the cupboard, the glass doors on both sides letting the light shine through. She’d been thrilled to use them again when she moved back into her grandparents’ house after Frank’s passing, and seeing the glass all over the floor fills her with regret. She should have been more careful.

  As Holly pulls a broom and a dustpan from the narrow closet in the hall, she bumps into the wall and a piece of paper flutters down from one of the two shelves overhead. She glances up: there, on a shelf just above eye level, is a three-ring notebook peeking out at her from between her photo albums and her framed college diploma. Printed on the spine in her grandfather’s blocky handwriting are the words Christmas Key: A Long-term Prospectus for Paradise. It’s the collected ideas of Frank Baxter, something he worked on for years as his vision for the island grew and changed. Holly has memories of him pecking away at his typewriter, and she runs her fingers over the indented letters that her grandpa lovingly pressed onto the pages with the hard punch of the typebars on his sky blue 1968 Royal Aristocrat. She picks up the piece of paper that fell from the shelf; it’s a note, written in Frank Baxter’s hand.

  January 13, 1994—$5,000 First Union Bank, Miami. Call L.B.

  She reads it over and over, wondering what it means. What was going on in 1994? She was nine that year, and probably racing through the mangroves and pines with Emily, chasing imaginary unicorns and pretending to be princesses. In 1994 her mom had been twenty-six and living in Georgia with two other girls, cocktail waitressing and bar-hopping. Her grandparents were still alive and well, inviting their friends to move to the island and vetting strangers who wanted to come and live with them on Christmas Key.

  It’s strange, but the one thing that strikes her most about the memories of that time isn’t that her grandparents were still alive, but that her mother had been away from her, and she hadn’t even really missed her at all. She’d been so happy with her grandma and grandpa and their idyllic island life that she never bothered to question their living arrangement.