* * *
Shelby’s words hit hard, and if not for the tension he could see in her jaw and the pained look in her eyes, the blow probably would’ve been fatal.
“Shelby—”
She held up a hand. “Declan, please. I can’t choose between you and the entirety of my life, so please don’t ask me to. Just go back to Miami. It’ll be better that way. Easier.”
He understood. She just didn’t know that yet. “I’m not asking you to choose, Shelby.”
She blinked. “Pardon me?”
He grabbed a chair and dragged it over, sitting knee to knee with her. Her hands were deep in the pockets of her hoodie, so he placed his hands on her knees instead. “All I want to know is, do you love me?”
Shelby’s eyes widened in surprise at the bald question, then she quickly dropped her gaze to her lap. He nearly laughed. Shelby, who lacked a filter and had no problem asking personal, prying questions, had been made uncomfortable by his bluntness.
“You came all this way just to ask me that?” she finally said, still not making eye contact.
“Yeah.” She’d avoided answering, sending the ball back into his court instead. He had nothing to lose except his pride, and he was willing to risk that rather than risk losing out by playing it safe. This was new territory for him, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He just hoped the gamble would pay off. “Because I’m in love with you.”
That got her attention. Shelby’s head snapped up like it was attached to a bungee cord.
“It took me longer than it should have to figure that out, but once I did, I had to come tell you. I had to find out if you felt the same way.”
She swallowed, hard, as tears welled in her eyes. “I do. It nearly killed me to let you leave.”
Relief poured into him. The possibility that he’d been reading this wrong, letting his hope attach a feeling to Shelby that she didn’t actually have, had nagged at him the whole trip up here.
“But—”
He knew where that “but” was heading and cut her off. “Do you remember telling me about the drifters that come through Magnolia Beach?”
Her eyebrows knitted together as she thought. “Um, not really.”
“You wondered if they were looking for a place that felt like home. Well, this feels like home to me.”
“You can’t mean Magnolia Beach.”
“Did you not hear the part about how much I hate Miami? Me, a city boy, can’t stand the city and wants to move back to Magnolia Beach. I miss this place, and the people and . . . you. This place feels like home because you’re here. And so I want to come home.” Her eyes were wide, but he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. “If that’s okay with you,” he said, giving her an out while praying she wouldn’t take it.
Shelby launched herself at him with a force that rocked his chair back on its hind legs and nearly caused them to overbalance. Catching her, he shifted his weight forward to keep himself from falling and cracking his head open on the concrete, then settled her in his lap, her thighs on either side of his.
Shelby cupped his cheeks in her hands and lowered her mouth to his. It was the sweetest, most important, most memorable kiss he’d ever participated in, and he didn’t want it to end. But it eventually did, and Shelby was grinning at him. “I take that as a yes.”
“Yes. I love you, and yes, I want you in Magnolia Beach.” Shelby punctuated each “yes” with a quick kiss. “I missed you so much it hurt, and I wasn’t sure it would ever stop hurting.”
He slid his hand into the warm, soft hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her in for another kiss. A split second before his lips touched hers, though, she pulled back, her eyebrows furrowing. “What are you going to do, though? You just moved to Miami. And what are you going to do for a job? We don’t build a lot of new buildings here.”
“I’ll pack it all back up and come back. As for the job, Mobile’s not that far, and I’m sure they have a need for architects. But I’m not worried. I’ll figure something out, even if I have to design fancy doghouses and sell the plans on the Internet.”
She looked at him strangely. “That’s oddly specific.”
He shrugged. “I had a two-hour delay at the Miami Airport, a four-hour trip, and an hour-and-a-half drive from Pensacola today. I’ve had a bit of time to think about things. The point is, I’ll make it work. I’ve spent my whole life working towards a goal, and I only just now figured out I really didn’t want it. What I want, what I’ve been looking for, is you. Everything else, all the other pieces . . . they’ll all fall into place.”
“You really mean that, don’t you?”
“I do. And trust me, that surprises me a hell of a lot more than it surprises you.”
“Thank you,” she said seriously.
“For what?”
“For not making me choose. I would’ve been miserable no matter what.”
“Well, I can’t have that. My main job now is to make you happy. Any and every way I can.”
She smiled and traced a finger along his jaw. “You can start by taking me home.”
“That would be my pleasure.”
Epilogue
Shelby stuck her arm through her shirtsleeve and banged her funny bone against the cabinet. The long string of curse words that erupted from her mouth were partly from the pain in her elbow, but were also fueled by the frustration of living on a stupid boat that was so damn small she could barely turn around without running into herself.
Declan grinned at her as he shoved his shaving kit into that same cabinet and closed the door. The facilities on the Castaway were very basic, so they used the marina’s bathhouse for showering and such. They’d never be able to both get ready in the mornings otherwise. Getting dressed at the same time was difficult enough. “You like boats, remember?” he teased.
“I do like boats,” she said, rubbing her elbow and looking for her shoes. “I also like having a little bit of space to breathe. And I know,” she said, forestalling what she knew Declan was going to say, “it’s only temporary.”
The problem was that everything was temporary right now. The small trailer serving as the Bay Breeze office was temporary, too, and she wasn’t dealing well with that, either. On the one hand, she was completely thrilled that the work had begun, that the marina was on its way to bigger and better things, but the first step had forced her out of the main building as it was gutted and the third story—which would be her new living space, as she still wasn’t willing to move off-property—added on.
The Castaway was smaller than the Lady Jane, but it beat the other option, which was moving back into her old room at her parents’ house. And although Mom and Dad would tolerate, if not ever condone, Shelby living with Declan in her apartment at the marina, they would not allow Declan to move into Shelby’s room with her. So she’d borrowed a boat. Declan had managed to live just fine on a boat for several months, and he’d practically never even been on one before.
Admitting she was not loving this was simply not an option.
Whenever she felt like she was going to lose it and start screaming, she’d go sit on the bench up by the trailer and make note of how things were coming along and dream about how wonderful it would be once it was finished. It was going to be slow going, as things were planned in specific stages on a careful timeline to keep the marina open and functioning during the busiest parts of the year, but it was happening, and she could take pleasure in that.
Today, though, she didn’t have time to sit and breathe calmly in the midst of her construction site. In fact, she wondered if she’d ever have time to sit and do nothing ever again.
Be careful what you wish for.
To her drop-jawed surprise, Daddy had been on board for this idea practically before she’d finished making her opening statement. He’d wanted to make changes, but didn’t know if Shelby wanted
to, and since he was soon to be retired, he didn’t feel it would be right to make them since he wouldn’t be dealing with it after. Then to top it all off, Daddy had been more than happy to retire completely, becoming simply a silent partner, leaving the Bay Breeze entirely in Shelby’s hands. He’d have done so sooner, he said, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her if she hadn’t wanted to take it on—especially since Jamie was hands off, and she’d be running it alone.
And it had been a bit overwhelming at first. Extremely validating and good for her ego, but still overwhelming and quite a pain in the ass.
“I’m probably going to be late getting home tonight,” Declan said, draping a tie around his neck and letting it hang. But he’d let his hair grow back out a bit, offsetting the stuffiness of his work wardrobe. “I’ve got a late meeting. I’ll just meet you at the Bait Box.”
Although Shelby had been worried that Declan wouldn’t be able to find a job he liked and that, without one, he’d begin to resent her for it, he’d surprisingly found work in Mobile pretty easily. It seemed like a bit of a commute to her, but Declan was used to big-city traffic dragging out his commute anyway, and he insisted it wasn’t that much of a difference, timewise—and far less maddening than inching through bumper-to-bumper traffic.
But he had, during the weeks it had taken him to find a job, designed and built a pretty amazing doghouse for Cupid—who far preferred it to joining them on the Castaway.
During those first few weeks, Shelby had been on edge, worried that Declan would wake up and realize he didn’t want to live in Magnolia Beach and just move on. All of his stuff was in storage, so it wasn’t like it would have been difficult for him to beat feet quick out of town.
But he hadn’t.
It took a little longer for her to accept that he wouldn’t tire of her, either, or regret his choice, but she figured if the last four weeks on this tiny, silly boat hadn’t pushed him over the edge and out of town, he might just be here for the long run.
While they might be all in each other’s pockets and tripping over each other, the last four months had been incredible. And living on this boat might suck, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be glad to move off the boat and back into her building, though. Hopefully very soon.
Shelby dropped her brush and it skittered under the small table. On her knees, she crawled after it, bumping her head hard as she did. She lifted her hand to rub the sore spot, and the back of her hand brushed against something soft. She jumped at the strange and unexpected sensation, then tried to see what it was.
A felt bag had been duct-taped to the underside of the table. What the . . .
“What are you doing?” Declan dropped to a crouch next to her.
“There’s something under here,” she replied, picking the tape loose with her fingernails.
“Don’t! Do . . . that,” he finished with a sigh. They were both under the table now, and Declan looked extremely uncomfortable—but not because of the tight squeeze. He took the bag out of her hands.
“What is that?” she asked carefully. Taping it up under the table seemed to be something to do with drugs or guns or other illegal things, but she couldn’t imagine Declan involved with anything like that.
“Well, it was supposed to be a surprise.”
“For me?”
“Yes, for you. I assumed you wouldn’t find it under here.” He opened the bag and took out a small box. As he started to open it, Shelby recognized the logo from a jewelry store in Mobile, and her heart began to pound hard in her chest. “I was going to wait until we got moved back into the building, but . . .”
He put the ring in his palm, and held it out to her. It was lovely, almost delicate, a simple band with inset gems all the way around catching the light.
“I picked this so that you might actually be able to wear it. I know a solitaire is more traditional, but it would get caught on everything. This should be small and smooth enough not to get in your way while you work.” He smiled self-consciously. “Do you like it?”
“It’s . . .” Her throat was tight, so she swallowed and tried again. “It’s beautiful.”
Declan slid the ring on her finger. It was a good fit. When he didn’t say anything else, she finally asked, “Does this mean you want to get married?”
“More than anything. Tomorrow even, if you want.”
She tried to hug him, but the space was too small to maneuver, and she bumped her head again. Laughing, Declan scooted out and helped her to her feet when she followed him out, then met her halfway for a kiss.
“Will you marry me, Shelby?”
“Yes.” She kissed him again. “But not tomorrow. And probably not until the fall when things calm down some. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine.” He kissed her nose and shrugged. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Then he cursed. “Except to work, and now I’m going to be late. This is so not how I planned this.”
“Things don’t always go as planned.”
Declan took a long look around the tiny boat and laughed. “Tell me about it.”
Shelby smacked his arm. “Hey, now—”
He pulled her in close. “I certainly never planned on you,” he said quietly before kissing her one more time—a kiss that was equal parts love and lust, want and need, that left her legs shaking and her heart beating triple-time.
Who said nothing exciting ever happened in Magnolia Beach?
Kimberly Lang is the USA Today bestselling author of the Magnolia Beach novels, including Everything at Last and Something to Prove. She is a Southern belle with a troublemaking streak and a great love of strong heroes and even stronger heroines. A former ballet dancer and English teacher, she now does yoga and writes the kind of books she always loved to read. She’s married to her college sweetheart, is mom to the most amazing child on the planet, and shares her office space with a dog named Cupid. Visit her online at booksbykimberly.com, facebook.com/AuthorKimberlyLang, and twitter.com/BooksByKimberly.
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