Meet Me at the Beach (Seashell Bay)

by V. K. Sykes

  But she didn’t even know what she wanted Aiden to say or do. She’d spent hours last night trying to convince herself that her behavior on Sunset Beach had been a colossal, stupid, hormone-driven mistake. Still, it made her stomach hollow out every time she thought about his rejection.

  And about how good she’d felt with his arms wrapped around her when he’d sent her flying to the stars.

  Aiden pulled a bottle of Gatorade out of the ice. “Want some?”

  “Good grief, no. That stuff is kind of gross at the best of times. I’ll stick with good old caffeine, thanks.”

  She reached for her thermos of coffee perched on the bulkhead next to the GPS and depth recorder.

  Aiden sat on the rail and took a swig of the bright green drink. “I must have swallowed about five thousand gallons of this stuff in the last twenty years. I think my stomach’s probably neon green by now. I probably glow in the dark.”

  Lily couldn’t help a little laugh, even though she was still struggling to get past the wreck of last night’s humiliation. After filling her mug with coffee, she leaned back against the wheel and studied him.

  Though Aiden had looked solid working the traps, she warned herself not to be fooled. He obviously had a lot going on inside. She couldn’t bear the idea that he might hurt himself because he was tired or distracted.

  “How are you feeling so far?” Lily took a nervous sip, kind of dreading what he might say. He probably wouldn’t be honest about his feelings anyway. Men rarely were, in her experience.

  Could a solid and productive day of work—helping out a grateful friend—start him on a path that would allow him to release some of his long-standing resentment toward life on Seashell Bay Island? She decided it probably wouldn’t. That would be too much to hope for, at least for as long as Sean Flynn was alive.

  Aiden gave her a quick, questioning glance and then shrugged. “Ask me at the end of the day. I’m trying not to think too much. The faster we haul traps the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Oh, okay.” She wanted to believe it was the memories he wanted to escape, not her.

  “I just want to get into a zone where it’s just a day of mindless physical work, doing exactly the same mechanical things four hundred times, like on autopilot.” He tipped the bottle and took another big swallow. “I’ll think about lying on a white, sandy beach in Barbados instead of mucking around in Casco Bay.”

  Lily’s temper stirred at the casual dismissal of her work, her life, and her home. She turned away to stare straight ahead through the windshield at the rocky shoreline. “Welcome to my life,” she muttered.

  “What?” Aiden said.

  “Nothing.”

  He got up and came to her, his jaw set in a grim line. “Don’t give me that. You’re the one who asked me how I felt, remember?”

  She turned to face him. “Aiden, how do you think that made me feel? You just called my work mindless and mechanical, and you act like the bay is a… a sewer.” Anger suddenly boiled up inside her. “This from a guy who spends his life swatting the air with a bat.”

  His head jerked dismissively to the side. “Don’t go twisting my words. That’s not what I meant,” he said sharply.

  Aiden started to turn away, but stopped himself. He gave her a long, hard look and then finally let out a sigh as he pushed up the brim of his ball cap. “Look, I’m sorry, Lily. I was just talking about a way to help shut out some rotten memories. I didn’t mean to insult you. You do good, hard work that’s far from mindless. I totally respect you for that.”

  Lily slowly blew out the breath she’d been holding. Talk about overreacting. “Sorry, I’m a little wound up today. Billy really got me going.”

  Aiden’s raised eyebrows told her he didn’t buy that excuse, but all he said was, “I get it.”

  “Okay. Ready to set some traps?” she asked, screwing the top back on the thermos.

  “Aye, aye.” He put the Gatorade back in the cooler and started to do a final check of the traps and ropes.

  When Aiden gave her the go-ahead, Lily pushed the throttle forward, and soon the lead trap and buoy slid over the side, sixty feet of pot warp spooling out behind them. Tightening ropes yanked each of the remaining traps off the boat in succession until the tail trap and marker buoy went over the side. Lily breathed a sigh of relief. The first set had gone off without a hitch. But with sixty or so to go, it was going to be another very long day in the boat—a boat that pretty much felt like an emotional tinderbox about to blow up any moment.

  Aiden had almost forgotten how much crap lobster traps dragged with them on their journey up to the surface. Muck, slime, seaweed, and every type of creature that slithered along or swam near the bottom, edible and inedible, hitched a ride. At the end of the day, it made for a hell of a stinking mess. He’d just finished hosing down the deck of Miss Annie after giving it a quick scrub with a mop and liquid detergent. Now it was time to hose down his Grundéns, although he knew the smell would linger in his nostrils for hours afterward.

  Lily had skillfully brought the boat back to the mooring and finished tying her off as Aiden completed the last of his assigned chores. Her clothes were dirty, her hair had whipped itself into a tangled-looking mess, and her lips had started to chap from the wind and salt air. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked strong and earthy but still feminine, with her damp T-shirt plastered to her sweet curves and her pretty face flushed and glowing.

  There was something incredibly appealing and sexy about her when she was in her element, so skilled and competent and confident in every facet of her work, from boat handling to navigation, to cleaning and setting traps and making sure both captain and sternman stayed safe. Her love for what she did shone through so crystal clear he’d have to have been blind to miss it.

  And that made it even harder to stay away from her. All day long, he’d fought an almost primal urge to yank her into his arms and kiss the little sun freckles sprinkled on her nose and cheeks, moving on to her lush mouth and getting an even longer taste of her sweetness than he’d had last night.

  He didn’t do it, and not just because Lily probably would have kneed him in his junk and then kicked his ass back to work. No, he couldn’t take the chance of repeating the mistake of fourteen years ago. He’d hurt Lily back then by leaving the island and not even coming back to Seashell Bay for a visit. He hadn’t called her or written a letter. He’d lived his new life, and he’d tried to forget everything about the island, even sweet Lily Doyle.

  Though Lily and he had never formally dated, that didn’t mean they hadn’t bonded. On all those ferry rides back and forth to high school every day, at town dances, and just hanging out with their friends on long summer evenings, Aiden had been more open with her than with any living soul except his mother.

  But then he’d let Lily down.

  So he just couldn’t do that again, no matter how much he ached to be with her. No matter how much he burned for her touch.

  “A great day’s work,” Lily said as she came up behind him. “Well over three hundred traps, and more than six hundred pounds of lobsters.”

  Aiden knew how badly she needed the cash and felt a surge of satisfaction that he’d helped her. She’d make over fourteen hundred dollars for the day before expenses.

  “Then I think a good day’s work deserves a reward,” he said. “How about we get cleaned up and I’ll buy you a beer and a burger at the Pot? Eight o’clock sound good?”

  It was already seven, and the sun was dropping steadily toward the horizon.

  Lily shook her head, looking regretful. “Sorry, I’m afraid not. I’ve got choir practice at Saint Anne’s tonight. Can’t miss that or Father Michael would have my head.”

  “Choir practice?” Aiden echoed. Church choirs had always struck him as a refuge for the blue-rinse set, but apparently not. Just as apparent was how deeply Lily was involved in island life.

  “Uh-huh. I’ll probably have a hard time staying awake, thou
gh. But even if I didn’t have the choir, I wouldn’t be heading to the Pot in any case. Not when we need to get a good rest so we can haul even more traps tomorrow.” Her gaze cut nervously down to the deck. “That is, if you want to do this again. You know you don’t have to, Aiden. Really, you’ve already done more than enough to make good on a silly bet.”

  Aiden took off his gloves and tipped Lily’s chin up so that she was looking at him instead of her boots. Her cheeks flushed an even brighter red, but her gaze held steady.

  “But you still need me, Lily,” he said. “And if you still want me, I’ll be back tomorrow. You deserve the help, you know.”

  With a wistful smile, Lily moved his hand away. But then, in a gesture so quick and fleeting that Aiden barely registered her lithe movement, she went up on her tiptoes and brushed the lightest of kisses across his cheek.

  “Thank you, Aiden,” she whispered. “For everything.” Then she turned and picked up her gaff hook from under the rail.

  And suddenly she was all business again, gaffing the skiff and pulling it alongside the lobster boat, leaving Aiden more confused than ever.

  Chapter 13

  The wind ruffled Aiden’s thick, black hair as he started a wide turn around Wreckhouse Point. He looked thoroughly comfortable at the helm. Perched on the starboard rail, Lily watched his every move, not because he might do something stupid, like run over another fisherman’s trap lines, but because she just couldn’t help looking at him. Really, what sane woman wouldn’t want to look at him?

  This morning he wore a tight-fitting black T-shirt, tan cargo shorts, and sports sandals. After their first day on the water, Lily had suggested he stow his Grundéns gear on the boat and change when they reached their first trap line. Aiden had been totally down with that idea. So now as he piloted the boat, she got to take a good, long look at his very fine ass. Well, why shouldn’t she? He’d been zeroing in on her butt every day, hadn’t he? He maintained his hands-off policy, but that didn’t stop him from looking—a lot.

  Despite the off-the-charts sexual tension, Lily and Aiden had established an efficient fishing routine. They’d hauled every one of Lily’s eight hundred traps in their first three days together and were starting all over again this morning. To her relief and joy, they’d been—as Gramps liked to say—ass deep in lobsters. If they could keep up the current rate for a while longer, Lily had visions of not only making her boat payment this month, but possibly even putting aside some cash toward her dream of someday owning a house that wasn’t at the back of her father’s lot. As much as she loved her family, there were days when she could use a little more privacy.

  But she’d still had no luck finding a permanent sternman and likely wouldn’t during the prime fishing months of August and September. So as soon as Aiden either got good news from his agent or just decided he’d had enough of Seashell Bay, she’d be back to fishing on her own and struggling to make a profit.

  That was a very depressing thought, for many reasons.

  Still, Aiden was growing more comfortable on the boat every day. There were times when his expression would go grim and he might even stop work for a few moments. When that happened, she was pretty sure he was reliving some bitter memory from his father’s boat. But he always came around quickly. Lily had done everything she could to encourage him, praising his work—with good reason—and letting him take over the boat’s controls, something he clearly enjoyed. He was just like any man in that respect—he always wanted to drive.

  Aiden eased back on the throttle and slowed Miss Annie as they neared the buoy that marked one end of her trap line. To starboard, Sea Glass Beach was deserted as usual at this early hour. Sometimes though, Dottie Buckle and her best friend, Nancy Peck, would take an early morning stroll to check out whether any interesting glass had washed ashore with the overnight tide. Their little canvas bags in one hand and sticks in the other, they would poke at clumps of seaweed, looking for hidden treasure.

  Seeing those ladies strolling and chatting happily in the distance often made Lily’s heart ache a little, wondering if she’d ever have a friend to walk the beach when she was older and done with hard labor on the sea. Though she was really close to Morgan and tight with Holly, too, her best pals weren’t likely to come back to Seashell Bay to live. Maybe someday they’d change their minds, if she was lucky, but not as long as they were pursuing careers off-island.

  Just like Aiden.

  She shook off the moment of melancholy. “I’ll take over now,” she said as she stood up.

  Aiden cut the engine and let go of the wheel as Lily grabbed it. He reached down into a locker below and pulled out his oil pants and rubber boots, slipping on the gear in seconds and then stowing his sandals in the locker.

  “You’re looking a little, uh… blue all of a sudden,” he said.

  Lily shrugged. She wasn’t about to talk to him about loneliness or her fears about growing old alone. They’d been doing fine, talking only intermittently and mostly about the weather, movies, and music, with a little politics slipping into the conversation too. She hadn’t been surprised to discover they still shared similar tastes in music—country and some pop rock—but absolutely none in movies. Lily enjoyed serious drama and romantic comedy, while Aiden went for guy movies like The Fast and the Furious. As for politics, she liked that they shared a healthy cynicism in most everything and everyone political. When he’d asked with a raised eyebrow how she squared that orientation with her leading role in the Smart Development Coalition, she’d retorted that she viewed the island development issues as ones of survival, not politics.

  That had ended that brief discussion on a slightly uncomfortable note.

  “It’s nothing,” Lily said, as they took their positions along the rail. She reached for her gaff hook. “Just a stray, fleeting thought. Doesn’t that sometimes happen to you too? You think about something innocuous and get a little sad for a moment?”

  He nodded as he pulled on his gloves. “Sure, especially when I think about baseball these days.”

  Lily didn’t reach for the buoy. Not yet. Something felt different, like he wanted to talk.

  “Did your agent call again?”

  “No. And when he does—if he does—it’ll likely be with some crappy offer to play in the minors or an independent league.”

  Wow. No wonder he avoided talking about his future.

  Lily didn’t know what words of comfort she could offer, because she knew so little about the inner workings of pro baseball. But she had to say something. “If you decide it would be better to quit, will you be okay financially?” It hadn’t occurred to her before this moment that he might actually need the money from the sale of Flynn lands.

  Just then, the boat rocked in the swell of another lobster boat heading farther offshore. Distracted by the conversation, Lily hadn’t been prepared for it and had to grasp Aiden’s shoulder for balance. Instantly, he wrapped an arm around her waist to make sure she was steady. She felt the zing of his touch clear down to her toes.

  After a couple of tense moments, he slowly let her go.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he said, as if nothing had just happened. Too bad she could barely catch her breath.

  “I’ll get some pension money eventually, in about thirty years,” he added with a cynical laugh. “I still have some investments, but I got hammered by the real estate crash, like a lot of people.”

  Lily winced in sympathy.

  “Anyway, it’s not like I have enough to be able to sit on my ass and do nothing for the rest of my life,” he continued. “Not even if I wanted to, which I don’t. So, one way or the other, in baseball or in something else, I’m going to need a job.”

  She decided she might as well confront the elephant lumbering around the deck since Aiden was, for once, in a mood to discuss his life. “The money from selling your land would come in handy then, I guess.”

  Aiden gave her a puzzled glance. “Sure, but I don’t think of it in those terms. Regardless o
f how much I get from the land, if I wind up selling, I’m still going to work. I need to work. I’d go crazy if I didn’t.”

  “People are saying that the sale will net you guys a bundle,” she said, pushing it. “Though everything in that regard seems to be a state secret.”

  He stared at her, his expression carefully bland.

  Nothing to see here, lady. Keep on moving.

  “You might be able to live off the proceeds of the sale,” she prodded.

  A wry smile touched the corners of his mouth. “You don’t give up, do you? Well, I suppose I could do that, if I lived in a place like Seashell Bay. But not in Philly. Or in San Francisco, which is where I’d really like to end up someday.”

  Lily didn’t miss the faint note of contempt in his voice when he said Seashell Bay. She had never been to either Philadelphia or San Francisco, but she supposed they were nice. The latter had always sounded so exotic to her, with its hills and cable cars and foreign lifestyle—foreign to her, anyway. She still found it hard to think of Aiden Flynn as a big-city kind of guy.

  “If you stop playing, you’d like to get some kind of job in baseball?”

  “What else? It’s what I love, and it’s all I know.” He shot her a glance full of meaning. “Lily, you know what it’s like to do something you love. You can’t imagine doing anything else.”

  Oh, yeah, Lily knew, all right. She knew how awful she’d feel if she could never fish again.

  Aiden smiled. “Besides, I’m a little old to retrain as a plumber.”

  She matched his smile. “People are always going to need plumbers, Aiden. But you’re hardly old. You turned thirty-two at the beginning of June, right?”

  “You remembered,” he said.

  “June fifth.”

  “Wow. Really good memory.”

  The date had remained engraved on her brain. Or on her heart. “Do you remember what I bought you for your eighteenth?” she asked softly.

  There was a moment of silence with only the gentle slap of water against Miss Annie’s hull. The sound was rhythmic and peaceful. “How could I forget? You gave me a Stetson and a road map of Texas.”