The Love Shack

by Christie Ridgway

  “Don’t I know it?” Polly grumbled. She inserted the key in the lock and then pulled open the heavy metal door, latching it on the doorstop set in the outside wall. The scent of new paint and raw wood reached her nose.

  “What—?” She made to step inside.

  Teague caught her arm. She winced and he instantly turned it up, inspecting the scrape he’d brushed with his thumb. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, so sympathetic she wanted to weep. “I should have looked you over before now. Let’s find your first-aid kit and I’ll take care of everywhere you hurt.”

  “No,” she said, pulling away. He couldn’t reach the place she was really wounded.

  “Pol—”

  She stepped across the threshold. “Tell me why we’re...” Her voice trailed off as her gaze fell upon the structure built into one corner of her room.

  “I planned for it to be done before I showed it to you,” he said. “But wuss that I am, I missed you too much to wait that long.”

  Surrounding the room’s bookcases was a floor-to-ceiling edifice made of plywood. “A castle?” On the outside, someone had inked in the suggestion of bricks on the turret and vines climbing the walls.

  “The artwork is thanks to my buddy Vin at the station. It’s just a suggestion for now. He’ll come back and do the details after I get the thing finished and painted.”

  Her imagination could picture it. A whimsical and appealing palace for the kindergarten princes and princesses, knights and warrior maidens who would pass through her door for years to come. “They won’t be able to resist reading time.”

  “That’s the plan,” Teague said.

  Her heart was swelling in her chest, no longer tucked into itself for protection. Still, there was pain. “It’s the kind of thing a...a friend would do,” she murmured.

  “It’s the kind of thing a person who loves you would do,” Teague corrected.

  “No,” she whispered, feeling the sting of tears.

  “Yes.” Teague pulled her around, then lifted her chin so her watery gaze met his. “I might have been saying the wrong words to you, Polly, but I’ve been doing the right things all this time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He slipped his free hand into his back pocket and pulled out a printed receipt. “Construction materials. Check the date. I ordered them the day you mentioned wanting a reading nook in your new classroom.”

  She had to take his word for it, because the tears made the numbers waver. “I don’t understand.”

  “It was a way of showing you how I feel—and it showed me how I feel, too. I’ve always enjoyed doing things for you. Bringing you muffins. Finding your keys. I’ve always enjoyed spending time with you, too.” He ran a hand over the back of her hair. “For over four years, you have been in the woman in my life, because you are the woman I love.”

  “But...but...”

  “I know what you’re going to say. Yes, it took me long enough to figure out. But we both had some trust issues to overcome.”

  His mother. Her father.

  Teague stared into her eyes. “But we did overcome them, didn’t we, sweetheart? I’ve never let anyone get closer to me than you.”

  Polly’s face went hot as she thought of him coming inside her, skin to skin, the ultimate, physical trust. But to give him a chance at her heart...?

  His voice softened, and his gaze turned tender. “You’ve trusted me so often and for so long. Please, take another leap of faith. Believe me when I say I’ll never give up on us.”

  A shiver worked its way down her back. “It’s so risky.”

  “You’re the one who pointed that out to me,” Teague said. “But I’m taking a real chance now, aren’t I?”

  When she looked away again, he brought her face back toward his. “I love you, Gator. I love you so very much.”

  She sniffed. “Are you...are you sure it’s not because I’m the unattainable one now?”

  “Of course I’m sure.” He laughed, sexy and low. “Because that’s exactly how I’ll disprove your theory.” Then he bent his head and took her mouth, kissing her with heat and passion and masculine intent. There was nothing friendly about it, and she melted against him. “See?” he said against her lips. “You’re perfectly attainable. Not to mention mine.”

  And because she’d once read that best friends made the best lovers—and now knew that to be true—Polly pulled him as close as she’d always dreamed she could. “And you’re mine right back.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SKYE WAS SITTING BEHIND the desk in the property management office, sifting through mail, when she heard a cheerful knock on the jamb of the open door. Gage? For a moment her heart shifted in her chest, but then it returned to its regular place. The way things had been left between them didn’t warrant anything “cheerful.” The ensuing twenty-four hours of mutual silence only cemented that fact.

  Glancing up, she saw it was Polly hesitating on the tiny porch. “Busy?” the other woman asked, holding up a pair of to-go cups.

  “Nothing that can’t wait,” Skye said, and managed to smile as her friend handed over one of the coffees.

  Frowning, Polly dropped into the visitor chair on the other side of the desk. “What’s the matter? You don’t look happy.”

  “Of course I’m happy,” Skye countered. “It’s summer, you brought me a free beverage and...” Her words faded away, but her inner voice kept talking...reckless Gage is going back to danger—and doing it in the most dangerous manner possible.

  That was why she’d decided to put him out of her mind.

  She sipped at the hot drink. “Perfect latte.”

  Polly shrugged. “From your favorite barista at Captain Crow’s. He sends his best.”

  “Mmm.” Skye sat back in her chair, her gaze running over her friend. “You look energized.”

  “Yes. Well.” Polly shifted on her seat. “I have a confession to make.”

  “You’re going out with Maureen’s brother again.”

  “Who?” The other woman’s face went blank.

  “Your teacher friend. Her cute brother. That blind date?”

  “Oh.” Polly shook her head. “I’d completely forgotten about him.”

  Skye set down her cup to play with the envelopes she’d yet to open. “I can’t say I’m sad to hear that. While he sounded nice, I got the impression there weren’t any sparks.”

  Sparks. The word made her think of Gage and that final, fiery argument. After he’d slammed out of the house, the smoke of their last exchange had lingered in the air.

  Didn’t I say you wouldn’t want to know!

  I don’t want to know you!

  “Skye, what’s wrong?” Polly’s voice interrupted the memory.

  “Nothing,” Skye said. Using her letter opener, she slit the manila envelope on top of the pile. “Nothing at all.” She was forgetting about Gage.

  “So, I came to say...” Polly’s head bent over her cup.

  Frowning, Skye stared at her friend, sensing something amiss. “How was your bike ride this morning?”

  “I’m afraid I crashed your bicycle.” Polly grimaced, her face going red.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I... Yes. Fabulous, actually.” She glanced up, her expression sheepish. “Teague ran me off the road.”

  “What?”

  “But he was very sweet about it...well, no, he actually was very angry, though—”

  “Teague angry?” Even when he claimed to be heartbroken over Tess, he’d never shown a surfeit of emotion. Skye wasn’t sure the easygoing man had it in him.

  “There might have even been a whiff of rage,” Polly confessed. “Then he became very, very determined.”

  “Determined to do...what?”

  A smile broke over her friend’s face, lighting her eyes, lighting the whole room. She put her coffee on the desk, then fluttered her left hand. “Determined to get me to say I’ll marry him.”

  A diamond winked on Polly’s finger. Sky
e stared at it before lifting her gaze to meet her friend’s bright eyes. “Pol, this is great! He finally came to his senses?”

  She nodded. “He built me a castle.” Then Always Private Polly burst into tears.

  Of course tissues and hugs happened next, and Skye got the whole story from “friends with benefits” to the visit to a jeweler. She had to scold, however. “You didn’t tell me anything about going to bed with Teague.”

  “You’ve been too busy doing the same with Gage.”

  “Oh,” Skye said, returning to her seat without bothering to explain there’d been a change in circumstances. She wasn’t thinking about him anymore, she reminded herself, sliding a sheet from the envelope she’d opened.

  “I still haven’t gotten to my confession,” Polly said, her voice going quiet.

  Skye looked up. “What could be bigger than getting engaged to the man you were convinced you could never have?”

  “I’m moving in with him. With Teague. This is official notice that I’ll be leaving the cove.”

  Shadows invaded the corners of the room. Had a cloud passed over the sun? “O-of course,” Skye managed to say, casting a wary glance over her shoulder. “I’m so happy for you both.”

  Polly bit her bottom lip. “Thank you...and I’m sorry. I realize I’m breaking our friends-before-men pledge.”

  “Oh.” Skye tried to laugh. “I didn’t take that seriously, no worries. I’m just thrilled you worked things out with Teague.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as hollow as her stomach felt, and she dropped her gaze to camouflage her sudden dread.

  Come fall, she’d be alone.

  “Skye...”

  She pretended to study the piece of correspondence in her hand. “Hey, look at this,” she said. “It’s an early copy of the Crescent Cove article being published in Sunday’s paper.” Thrusting it toward her friend, she jumped from her chair.

  In the doorway, she inhaled great gulps of sunny, salt-laden air. “Tell me I don’t come off sounding like an idiot.”

  She’d done so many idiotic things lately. Going to bed with Gage, not just once, but many times, letting him into her—

  No, she had put him out of her mind.

  “It’s a great article, Skye,” Polly said after a few moments. “Hits all the right notes. The devoted romance of your great-great-grandparents, the mystery of the jeweled collar. I predict you’ll be getting bookings for next summer as soon as it comes out.”

  “Fabulous,” she replied, without enthusiasm.

  Polly got to her feet and came to stand in the doorway, as well. “What are you looking at?”

  Nothing. Skye was staring, unseeing, down the beach, trying to erase memories and fears from her mind.

  “Uh-oh,” Polly said. “Someone’s climbing the bluff, despite those new signs you posted.”

  Frowning, Skye narrowed her eyes. From here, the figure was of indeterminate size and had no distinguishing features, but it was definitely a person scrambling up the unstable side face. There was another route, leading directly to the top of the bluff, that most people used to enjoy the view. Those taking the alternative track were likely intent on cliff-jumping, not sightseeing.

  “Hell,” she muttered, digging for her keys. She pushed Polly out the door and locked the office behind them. “I’m going to put a stop to this once and for all.”

  “Once and for all” might be an impossible order, but that didn’t prevent her from stomping down the beach. It was time to get control of something in her world.

  She didn’t spare a glance for Beach House No. 9, breezing right past it and starting up the side-winding trail better suited for goats. It stopped at several different outcroppings that intrepid visitors used as launching pads for their leaps into the sea below. Sharp rocks gathered at the base of the bluff, and while there weren’t a lot of them, a careless move could cause real harm.

  There was no sign of the figure she’d seen before, but the person could very well be tucked against the cliff-face at a higher elevation or around the other side, out of her view. She was certain no one had jumped yet.

  Fingers curled around the fibrous branch of sagebrush for stability, she sidled around a rock toward the next flat position, one of the lower and more popular jumping points. As she planted both feet on the shelf of rock, a strong breeze buffeted her, and she wobbled. A lean arm caught at her waist and pulled her into the shelter of hard, muscled warmth.

  Another gust of wind tore at her startled cry.

  “Relax, honey,” Gage said in her ear. “It’s me.”

  She struggled against his hold, but it only tightened. Turning her head, she glared at him. “Let go.”

  “There’s not a lot of room,” he said.

  She answered with an elbow in his belly. His arm loosened as he oofed, and she sidestepped away from him. There was enough space for both of them on the ledge, and it had a protruding overhang that gave it the feel of a shallow cave. Refusing to look at him again, she directed her gaze out across the water. It stretched before them like liquid silk, rippling in colors that ranged from silver to blue to green. “I thought you told Rex cliff-jumping was stupid kid stuff.”

  “You really were eavesdropping.”

  “I admitted to it,” she said, defensive. “Now it’s your turn to confess. You came up here to jump, didn’t you?”

  “What’s the big deal? I’m nostalgic, okay?”

  “You’re...you’re something,” she shot back as the breeze blew her hair across her eyes. Gathering the long strands in her fist, she held them away so she could face him down.

  “You shouldn’t be up here. Didn’t you see my warning signs?”

  “Oh, baby,” Gage said, in his best Prince of Hell imitation, “surely you realize I’ve been ignoring all those ever since I came to the cove.”

  Heat prickled across her skin now, as she remembered—no, she was pushing him out of her mind, kicking him out of her thoughts. “Just shut up,” she grumbled, and this time he did, subsiding into silence.

  She stood without speaking, too, unsure of her next move. If she left, he’d probably follow through on his intention to leap into the water. Worse, he’d think she was running away from him.

  Setting her jaw, she stood her ground and leaned against the warm rock at her back. The ocean’s wet rush filled her ears, the breeze blew cool against skin her temper had made hot. She found herself closing her eyes as the moment turned oddly peaceful despite the discord between them.

  Gage was the first to break the quiet as he began singing in a low croon. “‘Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song...’”

  Her heart lurched in her chest. She pressed tighter to the rock, her eyes still shut, frozen as if under a sudden spell. Those were lyrics to Stephen Foster’s classic “Beautiful Dreamer.” In a fit of whimsy, she’d written them to him in a letter, relating how her mother had sung the song for her and her sister, claiming it was the anthem of the merfolk of the cove.

  “‘List while I woo thee with soft melody; Gone are the cares of life’s busy throng.’”

  Skye felt him move, and the light on the other side of her eyelids dimmed; the wind no longer stroked her body. He surrounded her, protecting her from the breeze, her face delicately caged by his hands. Then it was he who stroked her, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones.

  “‘Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me,’” he murmured in that soft, musical murmur.

  And Skye obeyed, opening her eyes to take him in, his attention focused on her face. He was so impossibly handsome, a thousand times more beautiful than in the fantasies she’d woven when they were only paper acquaintances.

  He smiled at her now, then sang the final line a second time. “‘Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.’”

  That’s what she’d done, she thought, struck by the sudden truth. She’d been slumbering, her whole self in hiding, until Gage had arrived at the cove and shaken her from sleep.

  She stared into his eyes, knowing that all the warning sign
s in the world could not offset the essential attraction of some things. As risk takers were drawn to the bluff, Skye had no protection against Gage’s cell-deep allure.

  I’m in love with him, she thought, unsurprised, and already half resigned to it. I’ve fallen in love with him.

  “Skye,” he whispered, and she read the words on his lips. “You’re my very own mermaid.”

  Then he bent his head, and the kiss was tender and slow and she floated away on the sweetness and the possibilities. When they came up for air, her fingers were curled in the soft cotton of his shirt. She gazed up at him, bemused, and maybe more than a little be-spelled.

  “There’s something I need to ask you,” he said.

  “Mmm?” The wind caught at his hair, lifting the back of it into a rooster tail. She smiled at how boyish it made him look—so like her long-ago summer friend.

  “You won’t tell Griffin or anyone about my little...uh, event, right?” He kissed her nose, her right eyebrow and then her left.

  “What?”

  His lips feathered across her brow. “God, I’ve missed you. Let’s not fight ever again.”

  “What?” she repeated, her fingers tightening into fists.

  “Missed you.” He drew his mouth along the edge of her cheekbone. “Let’s not fight.”

  “No. The other,” she said, pulling away from his distracting kisses.

  He still wore a half smile as he caressed her face again with his thumbs. “I’m just saying the family knowing about the...the...”

  “Kidnapping.”

  “Could ruin the we’re-about-to-have-a-wedding mood.”

  She looked at him, temper beginning to rekindle. “Oh, I can see that it would. Not to mention the truth about the way you handle yourself when you’re on assignment. I’ll bet that would worry the whole lot of them just as you’re about to embark again.”

  He looked relieved. “I knew you’d understand. Thank you, baby.” His lips bent toward hers.

  She held him off, her palms pressed to his chest, both disappointment and fury now roaring through her. He was Satan, all right. The Prince of Hell. Or maybe just a plain old dog.