He laughed. “I don’t know. Are you still on your meds?” He held up his hands in surrender at the killing look she sent him. As a whole, the boys were doing better, but some things just never changed, it seemed. Family. Ugh. “I’m kidding. No one knows that marina better than you do. And no one loves it more than you do, either. I can’t imagine you wouldn’t ride herd hard on every detail.”
She didn’t know what to say. “Wow. Thanks.”
“Did Uncle Mike say something to you to make you . . .” He trailed off and gave her a scolding look. “You haven’t even talked to him about this yet, have you?”
She shook her head.
“I see.” He sighed. “You wanted me in your corner before you brought it up.”
“Aside from the fact you’re my favorite cousin and by far the smartest of the entire lot of Tanner boys—not to mention the best-looking, too—I wanted to run it all by you to make sure it was even feasible first.”
“Fine. I’ve got your back.”
She grinned at him. “And that’s why you’re my favorite.”
“The competition isn’t exactly stiff. When are you going to pitch this to your dad?”
“Today. While I’m feeling it. Any advice?”
Ryan blinked. “He’s your dad.”
“I know. But I don’t want to come across as the young upstart, out to change everything . . .”
“But you are.”
“But I don’t want to imply that I think he’s not running his own business properly. That it’s not enough somehow.”
“If you were talking about Uncle Dave, I might worry, but Uncle Mike’s not like that. He’s ridiculously proud of the way you run that place.”
“Really?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Disgustingly so. To hear him tell it down at the diner, you’re the love child of Neptune and Sam Walton, Queen of the Bay Breeze, and a better sailor, fisherman, and captain than any of the old guys running boats out of there.”
It was a little hard to believe, but there was truth in the resigned and disgusted tone of Ryan’s voice—this was something he’d both been forced to listen to and probably been compared against, too. Oh, that gave her a happy little giggle. Pride expanded in her chest. Daddy might not have said it to her, but he’d said it behind her back, and that was even better.
She’d been worrying herself for nothing. Trying to prove herself to someone who already believed in her.
Everyone else could go suck it.
“Whose handwriting is this?”
That jerked her back to the moment. He was looking at a page of notes that wasn’t even supposed to be in there. Since her handwriting looked like the scratching of a stoned chicken and Ryan knew that, there was no sense trying to claim otherwise. “Declan’s.”
She wanted—and tried—to sound casual, offhand even, but she wasn’t quite there yet. It caught up with her at the oddest, most unexpected, moments, wrapping steel bands around her chest. It was enough to almost make her wish Declan had never come to Magnolia Beach at all.
At least the owners of the Lady Jane had arranged for pickup pretty quickly. Seeing it there all day, every day, had done bad things to her emotions—even once she got past that point where she forgot he was gone and tried to visit.
But the hole it left in the neat lines of boats was appropriate, echoing the hole in her. She’d cried hard that day, scaring the dog.
And while making plans for the marina kept Declan close in mind, she’d learned to separate herself from it—some. She got to indulge her need to think about him, but in a way that kept her at a distance, too. It wasn’t a big distance, but it was something, at least.
Either that, or she was just some kind of glutton for punishment.
Ryan nodded. “I figured he was involved in this somehow. You probably saved a ton of money getting this much done for free. Not that a draftsman will be cheap, but this is a big start. That’s one good reason to hook up with an architect when he passes through town.”
There was an ugly undertone to that Shelby didn’t like, as if she’d traded favors. “I didn’t ask him to, you know. He did it on his own,” she snapped.
“Whoa, there. I never said you did. I just think it was nice of him.”
“Well, he had some spare time on his hands.”
“I liked him.”
So did I. “Yeah.”
Ryan looked at her evenly. “You miss him, don’t you?”
“Of course.” She went for an easy and light tone. She was getting better at it. “He’s a good guy. And we had a good time.”
“Did you fall for him?”
“What? No.” Well, that was a little too adamant.
Ryan seemed to agree. “Helena seems to think so.”
“I like Helena, and I know you think she hung the moon and the stars, but she’s not infallible.” And she needs to keep her opinions to herself.
“But she does know how she felt after she left, and I know how I felt after she left, and I hate to think of you feeling like that at all.”
That was sweet. “Thank you for worrying, but don’t. It doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No. You and Helena are an anomaly. The stuff of movies and love songs.”
Ryan looked a little sheepish and proud at the same time.
“Declan is in Miami,” she continued, “and I’m here. He’s not coming back and I’m not going there.”
Ryan started to speak, but she held up a hand. She didn’t need people throwing false hope at her, regardless of their good intentions. “I don’t regret the time we had together, but I knew going in that it was only temporary. I’ll be fine.”
If she kept saying that, eventually it had to be true.
“So instead, you’re going to rebound by building a giant freakin’ marina.”
“Actually, my plan is a little smaller and simpler than that. That was an opening gambit,” she confessed, “so I could negotiate down to what I really wanted.”
Ryan nodded, impressed. “You frighten me, Shelby Tanner. You really do.”
“Good.” She stood and stuck out her hand. “I thank you for your time, Mayor Tanner.”
Ryan returned the handshake professionally. “My pleasure, Miss Tanner. Good luck with your project. The citizens of Magnolia Beach appreciate your desire to improve our town and the benefits it will offer both the tourists and the people who live here.”
“I’ll see you at Gran’s on Sunday.” On impulse, she grabbed him into a quick hug. “And thank you,” she whispered, “for supporting me.”
“Always.”
Chapter 17
“If you ask me, you should go to Miami.”
Shelby had asked Charlotte nothing of the sort. “Do you want another drink?” wasn’t even in the same ballpark as any question that might be answered with, “I think you should go to Miami.”
“There is plenty of beer right here. If not behind the bar, someplace in Magnolia Beach—or at least someplace in Mobile County—will have more beer. There’s no need to make a beer run to Miami.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Shelby lined up her shot. “Three ball, left corner pocket.”
“I mean, really, Shelby, why not?”
“I do not want to go to Miami, I have not been invited to visit Miami, and I haven’t even spoken to Declan since he left.”
“Have you tried?”
“No.” The three rolled in and she lined up the six, hoping Charlotte would take the hint.
“I broke up with Jacques, you know.”
Shelby delayed her shot. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“He’s going back to LSU.”
Shelby gave her an innocent smile. “Maybe you should go to Baton Rouge with him.”
“Good Lord, no. It�
�s too humid in Baton Rouge. And he was allergic to Chester anyway.”
“Then I rest my case.”
“But it’s different,” Charlotte insisted.
“How? If you’re dating a guy who’s only in town temporarily, you don’t get to follow him home when he goes. You’re not some kind of lost puppy.”
“I was just a pleasant diversion for Jacques. I knew that.”
“Ditto.”
“Nah. You can try to lie to anyone else in this town, Shelby Tanner, but don’t you dare try to lie to me. I know you. It was more than a fling.”
“Not to him.” Charlotte knew she was hurting; there was no sense trying to hide it from her.
“I’m not so sure about that. I saw how he looked at you. The boy was crazy about you. Probably still is.”
“Regardless, he is currently about eight hundred miles away. It puts a real damper on the romance. And no, long-distance is not an option.”
“Miami is not a bad place.”
“For other people.”
“I’m sure you’d adjust.”
“Need I remind you that I wasn’t invited to go to Miami. I’m not some stalker to follow him to a different city.”
“Well, did you ask?”
“What? No!”
Charlotte sighed. “Then how do you know—”
“Look, it goes both ways. Declan could have said something about staying here, but he didn’t.”
“And again, I must say, ‘Did you?’”
“He was a little too busy actually leaving, you know. The closest thing to anything was a ‘look me up if you’re ever in Miami.’”
“Maybe he’s shy and needed you to make the first move. Guys like Declan don’t just wander into Magnolia Beach every day. You got lucky on that. You can’t expect God to send you a great guy who’s also a mind reader.”
Argh. “New topic,” she declared. “I’m done with that and am not going to talk about it any longer. Or ever,” she stressed when Charlotte opened her mouth to argue. “It’s over. It’s done. Now, six ball, side pocket.”
She hit the ball a little harder than necessary, but it made a satisfying sound as it slammed into the pocket.
“Yeah. Over and done,” Charlotte muttered. “I can tell.”
Shelby felt a little bad about snapping at Charlotte like that, so she missed the next shot and left a duck for her to take. Charlotte meant well, Shelby knew that, but that kind of talk just wasn’t helpful. Maybe she should have spoken up, been honest with Declan about how she felt, but aside from the obvious ground rules of any no-strings-attached affair, she’d been broadsided by Declan’s gleeful willingness to get the hell out of Dodge the moment the opportunity presented itself. Confessing some deeper emotion would have been outside of the rules and unfair to him—not to mention potentially traumatizing to her.
And what could she have possibly hoped to gain? Declan sweeping her off to Miami to the orchestral strains of big-budget movie soundtracks where she’d know no one and have to build a life from scratch? Had Charlotte, lost in her wild romantic notions, not realized that she just couldn’t do that?
At best, a declaration from her would have led to awkwardness and a lack of direct eye contact for the entirety of the short time it would take for her to die of shame.
No, it was brutal and heartbreaking, but it was the right way for things to be, all things considered. She’d be just fine, damn it.
Charlotte sank the easy shot then, high on her own success, tried for a harder one—and nearly made it. “Can I have a do over?” she asked.
“Of course,” Shelby answered, resetting the balls. “This time think about trying to make the cue ball just barely kiss the fourteen right . . .” She trailed off because Charlotte looked pale. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Look, honey, don’t yell at me, and I promise I’ll never broach this topic again, but I just want to make sure I’m really clear on one thing.”
Shelby prayed for patience. “Okay, what?”
Charlotte laid her stick on the table and walked to Shelby’s side, grasping her arms and making Shelby stare her directly in the eye. “You’re positive Declan didn’t have feelings for you? And you’re sure he didn’t know how you felt about him?”
Boy, the knife just didn’t get any duller no matter how many times it stabbed into her heart. “Yes, and yes.”
“Then why is he here?”
That simply wasn’t possible. “W-w-what?”
Charlotte tightened her grip on Shelby’s arms, making it impossible for her to move. “Look at me. Don’t look over there yet. Just look at me for a second. Tell me if this is a good thing or not.”
Caught in surprise, shock, and wonder, she couldn’t quite form a thought, much less a sentence. “I . . . I don’t . . . I guess. Maybe?”
“If you don’t want to see him or talk to him, you don’t have to.”
That brought her right back into focus. “Why? Does he look angry or something?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No.” A little smile quirked her mouth. “I just want to make sure you want to open this up again.”
Shelby took a deep breath. “He came all the way here from Miami. I think I should at least find out why.”
“I think you know why.”
A girl could dream. And on the really slim, off chance that Declan was about to offer her that impossible dream of a happily-ever-after on the beaches of Miami, at least she’d have the one really nice, really romantic moment when he asked to remember for the rest of her life. She nodded.
Charlotte turned her around, and she saw Declan. Her first silly thought was, It’s January, why is he not wearing a jacket? but that was quickly replaced by the easier to process, but much more fraught, I’ve missed him so much.
He looked tired, with a two-day stubble and a wrinkled, untucked shirt. He also seemed very hesitant, hanging next to the door in a very un-Declan-like manner, as if he wasn’t sure whether to approach her. He gave a small wave when he caught her eye, but he still hung back.
He came all the way from Miami. I could at least cross the Bait Box.
While things seemed to be continuing on around them as normal, Shelby couldn’t help noticing the subtle staring of people trying to hide behind normal-looking conversations. Everyone was watching, even as they pretended they weren’t—well, except for Charlotte, who was flat-out staring—and Shelby hadn’t felt this conspicuous since . . . well, ever. Then Declan smiled at her and her heart flipped over almost painfully. She’d only thought she was getting better about this.
Guess not.
And, damn it, now she was standing right in front of him and she didn’t know what to do. A hug? A handshake? What the sweet hell was she supposed to say?
She ended up hugging her own arms and settling for a lame, “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Yeah.” He took a breath like he was going to say something, then stopped and shook his head slightly. Finally, he said, “I wanted to thank you for the Christmas present.”
That was unexpected. And a little disappointing. “You’re very welcome. But you didn’t have to come all this way for that.” She tried to break the tension. “A phone call or even an e-mail would have worked just fine.”
He didn’t laugh at her joke. “Can we talk for a second?” He looked around at the small crowd in the bar, many of whom had given up even attempting to be sly and were now openly staring. “Privately?”
“Um, sure. I guess outside will do. Let me grab my sweatshirt.”
She started back toward the table, but Charlotte met her halfway, practically throwing the hoodie at her. Yeah, this wasn’t embarrassing and awkward at all.
The Bait Box had a few outside tables and chairs for when the weather was nice, and Shelby let Declan
lead her over to one of them as she zipped up against the chilly night air. Before she could sit, though, Declan grabbed her hand. He pulled her close and held their clasped hands against his chest. His other hand came up to stroke her cheek. “God, I’ve missed you.”
The longing in his voice choked her. “I missed you, too.”
The smile she got in return nearly broke her heart. “Really?”
“Of course.” And this was the now one perfect moment where Declan stared deep into her eyes, and she felt the subtle change in his body that meant he was going to kiss her . . .
Shelby knew then that she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. Again. This was going to break her heart for sure, and she wouldn’t survive it.
She took a step back, seeing the flash of disappointment in his eyes, but forcing herself not to soothe it. She released his hand and shoved both of hers deep into the pockets of the hoodie, restraining them from the temptation of reaching for him. Sitting in one of the chairs and feeling the cold seep through her jeans, she tried to put an emotionally neutral yet interested smile on her face and strove for a normal tone. “So how’s Miami?”
“I hate it.”
She blinked. “You hate it?”
He dragged his hands through his hair. “I hate my job, I hate the people I work with, I hate the noise and the traffic . . .”
“But you’ve got a great apartment, right?” she teased, still trying to break the tension.
“Well, I kind of hate my apartment, too.”
“Why?”
He took a deep breath. “Because you’re not in it.”
How was it possible to have one sentence fill her heart with joy and smash it at the same time? She allowed herself to wallow in the joy for just a brief second before getting real again. “Declan, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say anything else.” She took a deep breath, hating the fact she was going to be the one to have to actually say it. It would be totally real then, and she wouldn’t be able to take it back. “You and I are just not meant to be. We had our thing, but now it’s done. I don’t regret anything, but it’s best that we both just make a clean break and move on.”
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