Meet Me at the Beach (Seashell Bay)

by V. K. Sykes

This time, though, there was a difference. He was no longer a teenager but a man, with a hard, muscled body and a maturity about him that made him even more appealing. Heat flared in his dark gaze, and his right arm went firmly around her back, pulling her against him with a controlled, irresistible power. Lily rested her cheek on his broad shoulder and closed her eyes, breathing in his clean, familiar scent and letting the years melt away as she remembered how wonderful it had felt to be in his arms.

  The scary part, of course, was how good it still felt. It was even better, actually, because now she knew what she’d been missing. Their bodies meshed perfectly together, her curves fitting just right against his tough, masculine frame. Everything inside her went deliciously weak, and she leaned into him, instinctively seeking support.

  “You remember, don’t you?” he whispered, his warm breath caressing her ear. He dipped a bit, rubbing his bristled cheek against hers.

  She would have laughed at the idea of ever forgetting if her throat hadn’t gone tight with emotion. She remembered everything about their time together. No matter how brief those episodes had been, it had changed her forever. Aiden had rocked her world.

  “Of course I do,” she murmured back. “I’ll never forget it.”

  He pulled her even closer as they circled the floor. Her breasts rubbed against his hard chest, making her entire body tingle.

  “I feel the same way,” Aiden said in a husky tone that rumbled right through her. “Even after all this time.”

  His words robbed her of what little breath she’d managed to hold on to. What did he mean? Was this simply a walk down memory lane or something more meaningful? She leaned back against his arm, searching his face—now gone all serious and intent—for the answer.

  “Oh, Jesus, will you look at that.” Her father’s gruff voice, right next to Lily, had her practically jumping out of her shoes. She jerked her gaze over to see her parents dancing right next to them.

  “Oh, no,” Lily’s mother groaned, craning around. “Tommy, the old so-and-so’s got that look in his eye.”

  Suddenly, Aiden stiffened. He let out a low curse, loosening his grip on Lily. She whirled around to face the problem, already guessing who had “that look” in his eye.

  Sean freaking Flynn, his white shirt half-untucked and stained with what looked like mustard, standing at the edge of the dance floor and stabbing an accusing finger in their direction. Instantly, Aiden stepped in front of Lily and planted his big frame as a protective block against his father. She rested a comforting hand against his back and leaned around him to get a better view.

  When Aiden took a step forward, so did her father.

  Panic spiking, Lily grabbed at her dad’s hand, but he shook her off. “Stay out of it, Dad,” she warned.

  “No, you stay out of it, girl,” her father barked. “This isn’t a woman’s fight.”

  Her mother slid over and wrapped her arm around Lily’s shoulder. “Your father can handle himself, sweetheart. You know this isn’t the first time he and Sean have gone at it.”

  Lily gritted her teeth. “I am so sick of this bullshit.”

  But part of her acknowledged that maybe her mother was right. Maybe her father and Sean Flynn needed to have it out, once and for all. But this time Aiden was caught squarely in the middle. And “once and for all” never seemed to happen, not when it came to their hardheaded fathers.

  Sean staggered closer, his meaty fists clenched at his sides. His bloodshot gaze flicked back and forth between Aiden and her dad, his red, contorted features gleaming with sweat. The man looked like an absolute wreck.

  “I had to see it with my own eyes,” he slurred at Aiden. “My son with… with… her.” He pointed around Aiden at Lily. “My son chasing a damn little Doyle skirt.”

  When Lily’s dad plunged forward, Aiden restrained him with a blocking arm. “Don’t, Mr. Doyle. It’s me he’s after, not you or Lily.”

  He stepped between the two older men who were both snorting like mad bulls. When his father took another menacing step forward, Aiden shot out a warning hand. “You need to go home now, Dad. Right now.” His tone was glacial.

  “He can’t come in here like that and insult my daughter!” Lily’s dad fumed. “Damn no-good drunk. He’s been getting away with this crap for too damn long.”

  Aiden cut her dad a lethal warning glance over his shoulder. “That’s probably true, but I hear that particular door swings both ways, sir.”

  Though his voice remained calm, Lily could tell Aiden was probably itching to slug one or both of the potential combatants. She knew he never would—not unless absolutely necessary. Some abused kids grew up to be abusers themselves. Not Aiden. He had such a good, generous heart, and he understood the effects of violence all too well. He’d always made it clear how much he hated it.

  “Mr. Doyle, I want you to let me take care of this,” Aiden said before turning back to confront his father.

  “Doyle, you and that crazy daughter of yours are going to ruin me!” Sean shouted around his son. “You can’t stand it that I’m gonna be worth more than you. That’s why you want to screw me out of selling my land. All that yapping about saving the island is just a pile of horseshit. If it was about anybody but me and mine, you wouldn’t give a sweet damn about the development.”

  By now, the band had stopped playing, and everyone in the hall was watching the battle in stunned silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Lily could see Ryan gently move Miss Annie—who’d probably marched up to subdue Lily’s father—out of harm’s way. Most of the townsfolk looked tense, disgusted, or just plain furious the evening had been so rudely disrupted by yet another episode of the Doyle-Flynn feud.

  Suddenly, Lily was so sick of it all she couldn’t take it another minute. “That’s not true and you know it,” she snapped at Sean. “Not everything in Seashell Bay is about your family or your land, Mr. Flynn. Why don’t you just grow the hell up and get over it?”

  Aiden turned and shot her a glare. “Jesus, Lily, are you trying to make things worse?”

  She swallowed, her stomach hollowing out at the expression of bitter frustration in his gaze. For Aiden, this type of confrontation would be an all-too-familiar reminder of everything he hated about Seashell Bay, since Sean had often pulled these sorts of scenes when his sons were kids. It was awful and humiliating for all of them, but especially for Aiden.

  Lily scanned the faces in the crowd. Sean had a smattering of cronies in the room, and she wished those men would step forward and drag him away. She wished, too, that Micah was there, but he was on duty, and by the time someone called him to the scene, the confrontation would already be over.

  Aiden wrapped his arm tight around his father’s shoulders and whispered something to him. Though Sean tensed and tried to pull away, his son had him pinned solidly against his body. The older man jerked and cursed, but soon enough Aiden had walked him—dragged him, might be more accurate—out into the foyer.

  When her father tried to follow, Lily stopped him dead in his tracks with a furious glare. Then she rushed out after Aiden. She couldn’t bear the thought that father and son might wind up in a fight. Aiden would prevail, of course, but what would a public brawl with his drunken father accomplish but to sear more horrible memories into his brain?

  Aiden turned his head when he heard the sound of her heels clicking on the foyer floor behind him, but he kept an iron grip on Sean. “Go back inside, Lily, and stay there.”

  Startled, she had to force the words out of her tight throat. “Are you taking him home?”

  “Damn right I am. Unless he doesn’t shut up and I decide to throw him off the pier instead.”

  “Screw you,” Sean snarled.

  “Will you come back?” She hated how she sounded so forlorn and needy. As if Aiden didn’t have enough to deal with right now.

  “You’re damn right I am,” he growled. “I’ve already let this old man ruin too much of my life. He’s not going to screw up tonight if I can help it.�
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  Chapter 11

  Aiden pushed his father into the passenger seat of the rusty old Explorer, putting his hand over the old man’s head to prevent him clunking it in the process. Most of the rage seemed to have leached out of his dad in short order, something Aiden had learned to anticipate over many years of dealing with these episodes.

  It had been that way for as long as he could remember—explosive rage followed by glum silence and, occasionally, by a degree of remorse. Part of Aiden wasn’t surprised that his dad had followed him to the social and pulled his sad sack act. Not after their bitter argument tonight and what he’d said about Lily.

  God, he’d only been back a few days but he was already sick of the whole thing. Sick of the pressure, sick of the arguments, sick of everything on this island outpost except Lily Doyle.

  “I can drive myself home, boy,” his dad slurred after Aiden got him buckled in. He seemed to have finally become aware that Aiden had stuffed him into the passenger seat. “Just leave me be.”

  Aiden had already reached into his father’s pocket and confiscated his car keys. “I’ll be more than happy to do just that—after I get you home.”

  He slammed the door shut and, as he rounded the front of the car, saw Lily still standing in the foyer of the VFW, her palms plastered on the glass of the door as she stared anxiously out. He was going to flick a hand in good-bye to her when a police cruiser—the only police cruiser on the island—pulled up right behind the Explorer, blocking it in.

  Had Lily called the deputy? He didn’t think she had her phone when she’d followed him to the foyer. Anyway, she must have seen that he had the situation under control. Somebody had called, though, and that sucked because he didn’t need or want Micah Lancaster butting in.

  Micah slid out of the cruiser, adjusting both his gun belt and hat before pulling out a big flashlight and aiming it at the Explorer. “I got a report of a disturbance at the social,” he said to Aiden over the hood of his cruiser. “I presume that’s your father in there?”

  “Everything’s under control, Micah. Dad’s in no shape to drive, so I’m taking him home as soon as you move out of the way.”

  “Hey, not so fast. Your father drove here, didn’t he?” Deputy Pain-in-the-Ass strode around to the passenger side and shone his flashlight in at Sean.

  For about a second, Aiden thought about claiming that he’d driven his father to the social. But that lie would fall apart if Micah talked to anyone inside. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, then how much did he have to drink inside?”

  When Aiden hesitated, Micah shook his head with disgust. “He didn’t drink inside, did he? He was already drunk when he got here.”

  Aiden shrugged. There was no point lying. All Micah had to do was go inside and talk to one person—any person—to discover the truth.

  “Well then, I’ll just have him blow in my little machine right now,” Micah said. “If he’s over the limit, he can spend the night behind bars. Probably do him some good, don’t you think?” The deputy opened the door. “Please get out, Mr. Flynn.”

  Ever polite to his elders, our Micah, Aiden thought grimly. Though his father deserved what he was about to get, some latent and stupidly protective Flynn instinct prodded him into reluctant action. “Come on, Micah, why don’t we just let him go home and sleep it off? He didn’t hurt anyone, and this isn’t the big city.”

  When Aiden was growing up, it had been standard practice on the part of the deputy on duty to give slightly buzzed islanders a stern warning and then escort them home in the cruiser. Except in egregious cases of drunk driving, of course, but those were infrequent enough.

  But maybe Aiden had gotten so used to seeing his father half in the bag at all hours of the day and night that he hardly thought of him as being drunk anymore. Not even tonight, when he’d barged into the social in his fit of rage—it had just seemed par for the course. But he had been slurring his words, hadn’t he? Not to mention unsteady on his feet. Christ, now that he thought about it, it was lucky the old man hadn’t driven off the road on the way to the VFW. Or worse, hit some poor person walking along the verge.

  “You don’t know shit about Seashell Bay anymore, Aiden,” Micah said, sounding weary more than anything else. He looked back down into the car. “Like I said, Mr. Flynn, get out. I won’t say it again.”

  Why am I trying to save the old man from one night in the slammer? Aiden couldn’t come up with a single good answer.

  “Whatever,” he said. “Maybe you’re right that he could use a night in jail.” He glanced back up toward the hall. Lily still stood there, huddling as if she were cold. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to fold her into his arms and warm her with all the fire he felt for her.

  And maybe that heat would chase away the sick chill he felt deep inside his chest, a coldness that never seemed to completely fade away.

  The deputy helped Sean out of the car. After steadying him and then leaning him against the side of the cruiser, Micah took out his breath tester and shoved a little plastic tube in it. Sean bitched for about five seconds, questioning Micah’s parentage, but then reluctantly blew into the mouthpiece. Micah glanced at the reading on the cell-phone-sized device, then pushed a button. A second later, he nodded to Aiden. “Okay, he’s coming with me.”

  After stowing Sean into the back of the cruiser, Micah straightened up and cut Aiden a not-unfriendly glance. “Go back to the party, Aiden. I’ll take care of your dad. Just forget about him for a while and try to enjoy yourself.”

  Lily hadn’t been able to turn away from the horrid little drama playing out in the parking lot, terrified about what might happen. And terrified that Aiden might be so sick of his screwed-up father that he’d sprint for the first boat leaving the island. She couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving, and not just because she needed a temporary sternman. All it had taken was a couple of minutes in Aiden’s arms for her to be swamped with a longing she couldn’t even describe. The tangled mix of emotions had her all twisted up inside. Physical passion, a yearning for simpler times, regret for what might have been… it was all that.

  But there was something else, something that frightened the hell out of her—a sense that Aiden was somehow a last chance for her.

  But a last chance for what? It seemed crazy to think that some part of her might be expecting a future with Aiden. Still, she couldn’t deny that his return to Seashell Bay had stirred up some very powerful and dangerous emotions, given that he would never stay on the island.

  She glanced over her shoulder back into the hall. Morgan and Holly were hovering not far away, watching her with concern. They’d followed her out, wanting to stay with her in the foyer, but Lily had shooed them back inside. Right now she needed to be alone with her thoughts. And she needed to be with Aiden, even if only from a distance.

  She peered again through the glass door, her heart aching for him as he watched the police cruiser pull out of the parking lot. What must he be thinking? That nothing had changed, even after all his years away from home? Lily had to admit that, if she were in his shoes, she’d want to get the hell off the island as soon as she could too.

  As Micah’s cruiser disappeared, she saw Aiden stick his hands in his pockets and stare out into the starlit darkness of the bay. Lily’s heart told her to run to him, but she held back. He needed a few minutes to choke down the shame and anger of dealing with his drunken, abusive father, like he’d had to do so many times in the past. For that, he wouldn’t want a witness, or even comfort.

  After what felt like forever, he turned and started back to her.

  Lily pushed the door open and rushed down the steps of the hall to meet him. He towered over her, his gaze narrowed as he studied her face. The parking lot lights cast an eerie fluorescent glow, bleaching them to the shades of a faded black-and-white photograph. Aiden’s eyes were cast in shadow, obscuring his expression, but there was no mistaking the taut line of his jaw or the grim set of his mouth.

  She
swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to her silly, gold-sparkled flats. “I’m so sorry that had to happen,” she said, sick with shame about her outburst at Sean in the hall. “Micah’s taking him home?”

  He raked his hair back with an impatient hand and then wiped his brow with his forearm. Between the warm evening and the stress of the situation, it was no wonder he was sweating. He was clearly furious but also clearly doing his level best to bottle up his anger. She’d always known Aiden hated the idea that he might be like his father, so he did everything he could to keep his temper locked down.

  “No, to jail for the night. Micah’s obviously fed up with him too.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry, not you.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t change your father. Everybody knows that. And it wasn’t entirely his fault either. My dad didn’t exactly help matters.” She sighed. “And neither did I.”

  Aiden studied her for a few moments, as if weighing what to do next. Then he reached out and took her hand, sliding his fingers through hers. “Let’s just go for a walk, okay? I don’t think I can face going back in there right now.”

  Her heart started to thud at the idea of being alone with him, even under such crappy circumstances. “Sure, but nobody thinks badly of you, Aiden. The opposite, actually, especially after how well you handled things. It could have been a lot worse.”

  He didn’t answer, simply tugging her gently through the parking lot and down a flight of wooden steps toward the VFW’s small dock. As they passed the pier, hand in hand, Lily gazed at the lights of the town landing on the other side of the shallow cove. The only noise was the faint echo of music coming from the hall, and she could hear the steady slap of small waves against the pilings beneath the pier. They seemed to echo the beat of her heart, because she knew exactly where he was taking her.

  The graveled path continued through scrubby bush to Sunset Beach, the smallest of the island’s five beaches. Despite having the best sand—meaning more sand than pebbles—Sunset was less popular because of the nearby dock and volume of boat traffic passing close by.