On the Rocks (A Turtle Island Novel)

by Kim Law

  ALSO BY KIM LAW

  Montana Cherries

  TURTLE ISLAND SERIES

  Ex on the Beach

  Hot Buttered Yum

  Two Turtle Island Doves

  SUGAR SPRINGS SERIES

  Sugar Springs

  Sweet Nothings

  Sprinkles on Top

  THE DAVENPORTS SERIES

  Caught on Camera

  Caught in the Act

  HOLLY HILLS SERIES

  “Marry Me, Cowboy” novella, Cowboys for Christmas

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2016 Kim Law

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503950719

  ISBN-10: 1503950719

  Cover design by Laura Klynstra

  To my readers. Thank you for allowing me to have the best job I could ever imagine.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  With this ring, I thee wed.”

  Ginger Atkinson sniffed, managing to hold back her tears, but she couldn’t contain the sigh. She loved weddings. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.

  Sean Cagle, her date for the Labor Day weekend wedding, murmured in agreement at her side.

  No doubt Sean assumed she meant the bride’s dress, or the couple as a whole. Or maybe he thought she was swooning over the entire setup on the bow of the ship. Sprays of gardenias and lilies were mixed in with little white party lights and hanging crystal accents, all surrounded by a backdrop of sparkling ocean and clear blue sky. The ceremony was breathtaking. A vision created by Kayla Morgan, the event director for Seaglass Celebrations.

  But none of that was what Ginger was talking about.

  What she found so beautiful . . . what she couldn’t force herself to avert her gaze from, even for a second . . . was the sheer love shining between the two people standing in front of them. A love that—if she were to be honest—had become as tiresome to see as it was romantic.

  Over the last eighteen months, Ginger had watched both of her best friends get married—and move away from Turtle Island—as well as witnessed numerous other nuptials, either on one of her ships or on the island itself. Though Ginger didn’t personally know everyone whose maritime wedding she attended, she tried to be on board during the festivities as often as possible. As owner of the boating company, she felt it an important personal touch to be in attendance.

  Today’s lucky bride was Angie Townsend, who’d come to the small Georgia town for a one-month contract earlier in the year to teach ballroom dancing at the senior center. It hadn’t taken her long to fall in love, though. Both with the island and the bartender at Gin’s.

  She and her new husband would make their home on the island, and Ginger was happy for her. Love was a very special thing.

  Even when it seemed that every person in the world could find it but her.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister turned to the groom. “Kevin, you may kiss your bride.”

  The tears did well up then, and Ginger didn’t try to hide them.

  As the small crowd stood and clapped, the newly married Kevin cupped his bride’s face as if she were the only important thing in his life. It was honest and heartfelt. It was beautiful.

  And it made Ginger’s tears trickle faster.

  She’d turned thirty this year. She had wanted to be married by now, too. It had been the plan. Love, marriage, dream home, kids. Happily ever after. Only, the right man had yet to show up. And she was now building her dream home by herself.

  She kept a smile on her face through her depressing thoughts, and tucked her hand inside Sean’s elbow as he led them from their seats. Maybe Sean would be the one. She had high hopes.

  They followed the happy couple inside to the main cabin, where Kayla already had the champagne flowing and the DJ warmed up. It had been a beautiful wedding, and the reception was the icing on the cake. All that was left to do now was dance. And thanks to the seniors allowing Ginger to intrude on their spring classes with Angie, she could finally do just that.

  She turned to Sean, determined to show him what a great catch she was, and gave him the best smile she owned. The lace edging of the azure-blue dress she’d borrowed from her mother itched at the base of her throat, but she refrained from tugging at it. She had a man to win over. And her much more feminine mother had proven time and again that cute dresses provided a leg up in that department.

  “Please tell me you’re a dancer?” she asked, adding a hint of sauciness to her voice.

  It wasn’t the ideal first date—a wedding—but when Sean had asked her out last weekend, she’d jumped at the chance not to show up alone.

  “I can hold my own,” he answered. He held out a hand, added in a hot smile, and Ginger’s heart knocked hard against her ribs. He really was cute. And totally her type. Dark hair and a great disposition, he was perfectly nice and gentlemanly. No bad habits that she’d picked up on, nice to people and children, and he even had a good job as head of the island’s tourism department.

  And his voice was like heated body oil spreading slowly over her limbs.

  Or maybe you’re just hard up since you haven’t been naked with a man in over two years.

  She ignored the taunting in her head, and with firm determination to make this date turn into a second one, she closed her hand over his . . . and silently groaned at the quick look of repulsion that crossed his face.

  His gaze had landed on her fingernails.

  Dang. She’d forgotten to clean up her nails after working on the engine of one of her boats that morning. She had a small sunrise cruise scheduled for first thing tomorrow morning, and her mechanic had been called away for a family emergency. And, of course, today was the day the boat had given them problems.

  She’d fixed it. Then she’d made it home in time to shower and change for the wedding. She’d just overlooked cleaning the grease from the cuticles of her nails.

  Unable to do anything about it now, she did her best to shield the sight from Sean’s eyes, and laughed and flirted as he twirled her around the floor. At the first opportunity, she excused herself and hurried from the room.

  As soon as she was out of sight, she dashed to the lower level to rummage through the compact office. There had to be so
mething there she could use. Hand sanitizer, maybe.

  She took a peek at her fingernails and groaned out loud. It wasn’t only that they were dirty, but two on her right hand had the appearance of being chewed on by a ravenous mouse. She needed an emery board. Badly.

  “What are you doing down here?”

  Ginger looked up from her frantic search to find Kayla standing in the doorway of the confined space. Her eyes darted to the drawer Ginger was rummaging through before coming back. Worry tightened the skin around her mouth.

  “I saw you run out as if there was a problem,” Kayla said. “Is something wr—”

  “My fingernails,” Ginger interrupted. “I had to work on an engine this morning.”

  That sent Kayla into action. “Your purse?” she asked, moving into the small room and grasping Ginger’s hands in hers.

  “No purse,” Ginger admitted. She rarely carried one.

  Kayla shot her a look. “You’re on a date, Ginger Atkinson. What about lipstick? A mirror? Money in case your date forgets his wallet. Mace in case your date isn’t very nice.”

  “I forgot,” Ginger whispered frantically. “I have one, I swear. But I was running late.”

  Kayla clucked and disappeared from the room. Like a true event director, or maybe a Boy Scout, she was back within seconds, carrying an unrivaled assortment of items—hand cleaner, tissues, a four-sided nail file, a cuticle stick, and even clear polish. Within minutes, Ginger’s nails were cleaned and buffed, and Kayla had the bottle of polish open.

  “No time for that.” Ginger curled her fingers inward. “I need to get back to my date.”

  “But it’ll help.”

  “You’ve already performed magic.” Ginger shook her head. “This will do. Thank you.” And hopefully, it wasn’t already too late. The island was lacking in the available-young-men department, and every single female in the area knew it. Some of those females were on that very boat today. It wouldn’t do to spend too much time away from her date.

  Kayla’s mouth pinched as she looked at Ginger. Kayla was only a year older, but her frequent state of agitation aged her. “Next time, carry a purse,” she instructed.

  Ginger took a moment, forcing a deep breath and a smile. “A purse. Got it. With Mace.”

  “Yes. You never know what—”

  “With Mace,” Ginger repeated gently. “I promise.” As far as she knew, there had been no reported needs for Mace on the island in at least the last decade, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Or so Kayla would inform her if asked.

  She blew Kayla a kiss and hurried back up the stairs, glancing at herself in the mirrored backsplash of the bar as she passed, hopeful she hadn’t managed to mess up anything else about herself. She tried, really she did. She dressed in cute clothes when she went out on dates, and she took the time to curl her hair and paid special attention to her makeup. And her body was popping, even if she did say so herself. Larger-than-average breasts, curvy behind. She could attract a man. But regardless, on the inside she remained her father’s daughter.

  The man had died while she was in her sophomore year of college, which had brought her home to take over the business. Staying hadn’t been the plan—she was supposed to be a kindergarten teacher by now. But what she’d discovered was that she was adaptable. And that she had a real knack for running the company.

  Since taking over, she’d grown the business from ferries only to dinner cruises, dolphin and nature tours, and fishing expeditions. Basically, if it could be done on the waters off the coast of Georgia—and there were people willing to pay for the adventure—Ginger made it happen.

  She was happy, her mother was doing great, and business was thriving. Her dad would be proud.

  But she was lonely.

  She sucked at dating, at being a girly-girl specifically, and that interfered with the one thing she wanted the most. To be a wife and mom.

  Pulling up short as she made her way through the crowd, her gaze landed on Sean dancing with a blonde. Her heart sank. Was that what he preferred? Ginger had recently gone back to her natural copper red after being blonde for the last several years. She supposed she could—

  She cut her thoughts off midstream. No. She wouldn’t dye her hair. Not to win a man.

  And Sean shouldn’t have asked her out if he preferred blondes.

  Of course, it might not be the hair color that had attracted him to the other woman. Ginger eased to the side of the crowd and watched the two of them dance. Sean seemed to have forgotten that he’d come to the wedding with someone else.

  The blonde was the complete opposite of Ginger. She had a total Southern-belle type of charm going for her with her flirty off-the-shoulder dress and the bold orange necklace dipping to her breasts. The sleeves of her dress ballooned just above the wrists, ending in lace—giving it a vintage look—and the overall image was one of a sorority girl. The type of person everyone loved and whom Daddy bought a convertible for just because she was so darned perfect.

  Her hair was slick and shiny, her makeup only enhanced her beauty, and her fingernails were polished and long. She even looked like she was comfortable in the heels she wore.

  Exhaustion suddenly pulled at Ginger. She was so tired of trying to date “right.” Of laughing and flirting, and wearing the appropriate clothes. And all for what? More often than not it didn’t go the way she’d hoped. Either the guy lost interest, she had no interest, or the occasional relationship that went longer than a couple of weeks quickly sank.

  Sean’s hand slipped lower on the blonde, continuing its path until it landed on her butt, and Ginger closed her eyes. Clearly, the date was over. At least it was for her.

  She returned to the office below. There was always paperwork to be done. The computer on the lower level was hooked into the server at her office, so she might as well take care of some business until they returned to port.

  “Hey, Mom. You home?” Ginger called out later that night as she entered the midcentury, Tudor-style home she shared with her mother.

  “In the kitchen.”

  Ginger kicked off the heels she’d worn to the wedding, wiggled her toes in freedom, and headed to the oversized kitchen. Her mom had remodeled the room a couple of years ago, and since then, if she wasn’t at work at the bank or out on a date of her own, she could often be found whipping up something sinful.

  “What are you doing home so early?” Pam Atkinson asked as Ginger entered the room. Her mother had her arms elbows deep in dough and her platinum hair pulled out of her face with a hand-painted silk scarf. And she looked as vibrant and dainty as always. Even with the smudge of flour outlining one cheekbone.

  Her mother, without a doubt, had that girly-girl trait that Ginger was lacking.

  “Sean had other plans for the evening,” Ginger explained. She wasn’t in the mood to provide details, nor to share that the man hadn’t so much as sought her out before leaving the ship. She’d already moved past it.

  She leaned in and kissed her mom’s unfloured cheek, and ignored the fat orange tabby at her feet who was actively ignoring her. The cat was the only feline Ginger had ever known who would tolerate wearing accessories, and currently sported a purple daisy-shaped bow at the back of her neck. It made a statement against the orange fur.

  “Thought maybe you and I could hang out tonight,” Ginger said. “I’ll help with dinner.”

  Her mother’s hands slowed.

  “What?” Ginger popped a waiting blueberry into her mouth.

  “Clint’s back in town.” Clint was her mom’s boyfriend.

  Unlike Ginger, her mother never had trouble keeping a man, and in fact, had been known to have more than one calling on her at the same time. She and Clint were monogamous, though, and had been for over five months. It was as serious as her mother got.

  After being devastated over the loss of her husband, Pam had finally turned the corner a few years back, working hard to drag herself out of the hole of depression. Since then, she’d learned to enj
oy herself. She’d especially mastered reveling in the attention she received from men. And, from Ginger’s point of view, tended to be a little naughty at times. But, good for her. Everyone should have fun in their lives.

  “I’ll cancel,” her mom added. “Clint and I can see each other tomorrow.”

  “Absolutely not.” Ginger swiped a muffin off the cooling rack, ignored the woe-is-me attempt at self-pity vying for attention in her head, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “You have a hot date with a man who adores you. Whom you haven’t seen in a week. I won’t get in the way of that.”

  “We’re just having dinner in. You could join us?”

  Ginger chuckled drily. “No.” Playing third wheel had never been fun. “But thanks.”

  She’d change and head to the bar . . .

  She quickly retracted the thought. She wasn’t in the mood for any more of the opposite sex tonight, and being a holiday weekend, the bar would be hopping. Grabbing an apple to round out her dinner, she shifted to plan B. “I’ll check on Julie, then head over to the house.”

  “The house” being the one she’d begun building shortly after her birthday four months before. It was an impressive two-and-a-half story with a 180-degree view of the ocean from the top deck. Only, it wasn’t finished. Work on the inside had stalled—the delays, hers. She wanted everything to be just right, but she’d begun to question what exactly “right” even meant. She hadn’t even been able to pick out a countertop for the kitchen.

  The stall had gone on for so long that the construction crew had been forced to move on to other projects, but that didn’t mean she stayed away. There was a pier at the north end of her property, and she had a stash of fishing rods tucked away in her basement. She’d fish off the pier until late tonight. That would give her mom and Clint plenty of time to catch up without Ginger having to hear evidence of it through the too-thin walls of the house.

  “Tell Julie I said hi,” her mother called out as Ginger exited the room. “I’ll take a casserole to her tomorrow. And invite her over for a cookout on Monday night, will you?” With Labor Day being Monday, Clint would be at the house, and the grill would be fired.