Sweet Troublemaker

by Jean Oram

  No, he’d ousted himself, hadn’t he? He’d taken Roy’s patience for granted, assuming the man would never send him off to sleep on Jenna Mae’s couch—the place he’d found Nick eons ago. Nick wasn’t going there. He wasn’t sleeping on his mother’s couch again. He needed to figure out what was missing in his life and fix it.

  “Let me know where you want me to send the rest of your stuff,” Roy said casually, stepping away from the truck.

  The sting in Nick’s chest was one he hadn’t felt since his stepfather had handed him a duffel—the very one in the back of the truck—on his eighteenth birthday.

  All Nick could do was give a quick nod and put his truck in gear.

  Roy gently patted the door, his mouth in a tight line as though holding back regret. He spoke through the open window. “You know you always have a—”

  “Yup. I know. See you in Indigo Bay,” he said quickly. If his uncle verbalized how he’d claimed him all those years ago when he hadn’t known where to go, Nick would never get rid of the sorry lump forming in his throat.

  Chapter 2

  Polly stood in the short line for Indigo Bay Resort’s cottage check-in, eager to get to the little blue cottage she’d rented along the shores of the Atlantic. It had been a long drive to the airport that morning, followed by a long flight from Canada down to South Carolina. She wanted to break open the bottle of wine she had bought in the duty-free store, dip her toes in the ocean and just breathe.

  She only had to endure waiting for the man in front of her with the large duffel bag to finish asking if pets were allowed in the cottages and she could get on with it.

  As the man bantered with the woman behind the desk, his deep voice rolled with humor, welcoming and warm. Even though she was feeling a tad impatient, there was something about him that made Polly want to step a little closer. She wanted him to crack a joke that would make her smile, too. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t put her finger on who. The man was tall, his shoulders square in a lean, strong way that spoke of physical labor, his movements smooth and easy. Judging from his cowboy boots and hat, Wrangler jeans, and plaid, long-sleeved shirt rolled up to expose tanned, ropey forearms, he worked on a ranch. She would definitely remember him if she’d met him.

  Daphne’s parting words about having a fling fluttered through Polly’s mind, like the temptation of ice cream on a hot summer’s day when you were struggling to morph your body into a dress two sizes down from your current state of existence.

  And all you could think of was ice cream.

  Chocolaty goodness with bits of caramel and chunks of… Oh, why was she thinking about ice cream? She had booked an entire week away so she could work on figuring out who she was, not add more padding to her hips by indulging in sweet carbs and sugars.

  Or to have a fling. Her gaze trailed down the man’s strong back once again. She bet he knew who he was, as well as how to bring joy to a woman.

  Whoa, okay.

  She shook herself. She was not the kind of person who had meaningless flings.

  This was her life she was trying to put back together. There was no time for mistakes or distractions. She’d gone straight from high school to the University of Toronto, then off to become an investment broker. She had been flying through the ranks, determined to accumulate a sizable financial cushion even if it was leading her directly to burnout.

  Then she’d treated herself to a wonderful Italian vacation, and met her vacationing now ex-husband, Chuck, who had swept her off her feet, resulting in a swift marriage. She had believed it was love that had made her move so quickly, but in hindsight it had likely been more about partnering with someone who had already obtained financial security, as Chuck was an established real estate mogul who had promised her he would take care of everything. Mighty tempting when you were smitten with the man and facing burnout at work.

  Not long after their marriage she’d quit her job in the city to stay home and play the role of a High Society Wife. Meanwhile, Chuck had—unbeknownst to her—blown through most of their investments on too-good-to-be-true property deals. Her training had taught her better than to put everything in both their names, and yet she had still made that fool’s error of granting her partner entirely too much trust, and allowing her own insecurities about feeling as though she wasn’t contributing get in the way of her investor knowledge. Now the bulk of her income came from alimony, which was not the kind of safety net she had set out to create for herself.

  At the check-in counter, she leaned around the man in front of her to address the clerk, giving up on her mental vow to eat healthy this week. “Excuse me? Is there somewhere nearby that I could buy an ice cream cone? Preferably chocolate with chunks of good stuff in it.”

  Polly could have sworn she felt the man beside her smile, but she didn’t dare look to see if his expression matched the way his body language had opened up to her ever so slightly.

  The woman pointed toward a gift shop not too far from where they were standing.

  Polly thanked her, then reconsidered ditching the line as a large group came in behind her.

  “Hello!” A woman took the station to her right, having come over from the guest services desk. “Welcome to Indigo Bay. I’m Zoe. I can help you over here.”

  Polly stepped forward, standing beside the cowboy as she gave Zoe her reservation info. While waiting for her to pull it up on the computer, she took a quick visual sweep of the cowboy, collecting data.

  Sexy stubble. He hadn’t shaved today, meaning he was either a bit of a slob who didn’t care about his appearance or he knew exactly how sexy a dusting of facial hair looked on him.

  Laugh lines.

  Oh, she loved a good set of laugh lines on a man. Happiness was like an aphrodisiac that pulled her in every single time.

  He had a familiar profile that was likable, friendly and open, like his body language. The cowboy probably had women swarming to him like seagulls to a packet of abandoned French fries.

  And apparently he traveled with a dog, too.

  He’d definitely be swarmed.

  Despite the possibility of a lot of female competition that likely had made him a touch cocky over the years, Polly liked him—not that it mattered. Their paths weren’t likely to cross while at the resort. She had several fix-your-life and who-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up workbooks tucked into her suitcase that had her name on them. As did a beach chair and a bottle of wine. This was her holiday and she was looking forward to it.

  She let out a long sigh and the cowboy glanced over at her. As their eyes met a spark of recognition flared to life within her, stronger than the one before.

  She rested a hand over the warm spot that had formed in her belly. She felt an urge to launch herself into his arms, but still couldn’t quite place the hatted, stubbled stranger. “Do I know you?”

  “I’m that memorable, am I?” His lips were twitching in amusement and she wavered on the brink of discovery.

  “Apparently not.”

  He propped himself against the counter, resting an elbow there while crossing one booted ankle over the other. He tipped his hat up, his grin growing. “You told me I was your first kiss and that you’d never ever forget me.”

  Polly felt every cell in her body light up and she had an incredibly strong urge to explode into his arms. So not cool. They hadn’t seen each other in what? Twenty years? Twenty-two? She couldn’t scream like a teenager and launch herself at her first love.

  She said primly, hoping she came off as incredibly flirty and sophisticated, “The Nick Wylder I knew had better manners than to wear a hat indoors.”

  He quickly plucked his cowboy hat off and set it on the counter with a crooked, not-quite-apologetic grin. “Been on the ranch too long.”

  The man didn’t even have to try. Even with hat head he still looked sexy. He probably looked even more delicious after rolling out of bed in the morning.

  She smiled up at him, placing her hands on his arms to hold him in
place so she could take him in, wishing it hadn’t been so long that she couldn’t just give him a tremendous hug.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.” Her eyes began tracing their way over him again, cataloging the changes, despite willing her focus to stay on his face. She had a feeling if he clued in to how hot she found his adult self she’d never hear the end of it.

  Not that he hadn’t been hot as a teen, but he was manly hot now. Capable. Raw. And…she really needed to stop thinking about him or she’d end up having to fan herself despite the room’s very capable air-conditioning.

  She noted that his gaze was trailing leisurely over her curves, and she felt a flash of self-consciousness that made her want to wrap her arms around herself like a shield. What had once screamed high-maintenance, envy-inducing beauty—her hair, her nails, her clothes, her jewelry, her eyelashes, her lithe and toned, plucked and tanned body—was now a middle-aged train wreck.

  No. That wasn’t fair. She still looked okay, just…rounder and more…plain. Nondescript. Just a woman with a ponytail lacking highlights, and roomy travel clothes that looked as though she’d borrowed them from the man that should still be in her life.

  She cleared her throat and took a step back, struggling to keep her smile from fading.

  “How’ve you been keeping?” Nick asked.

  “Okay,” she replied. “How about you? I didn’t realize you were going to be here. But of course you are—it’s your uncle’s wedding and you’re practically one of his many sons.”

  “Family’s still important to me,” he said softly.

  She was taken back to their last summer, where he’d been struggling with the idea of his new stepdad not really caring for him. It had been just him and his mother, Jenna Mae Wylder, for so long that he’d been as close to his uncle Roy and his boys as though they were immediate family.

  Polly was touching Nick again, unable to help herself. The flesh hiding under his shirt was taunt with muscles, alive with vitality and slightly irresistible. With a jolt of pleasure she realized she was happy to see him, happy that his sweeping look had been one of approval rather than disregard, like it often was when she ran into people from what she called her “old life” with Chuck.

  “Gosh,” she said, wincing at how the word made her sound like an overwhelmed, innocent preteen. “Those were the days, weren’t they? Summers. Here in Indigo Bay.”

  Old memories were flooding her now. The feel of wind in her hair as they rode their bikes around the small oceanside town, eating ice cream without a thought to the size of her thighs, pranking the uptight socialite Lucille Sanderson and summoning the courage—thanks to Nick, of course—to jump off a very small cliff into the ocean at high tide. The two glorious Julys she’d spent in Indigo Bay had been freeing, and some of the most fun she’d ever had. And a large part had been due to Nick’s easy and fun-loving company, and the way Roy had simply added her to the large Wylder family vacation like she’d always belonged with them simply because she was spending time with his nephew.

  Those summers she’d felt as though she’d been able to live and breathe, her arms stretched out, her head thrown back. Carl Stowe, her mother’s cousin in Charleston, had generously welcomed the two of them into his oceanside summer home for a few weeks each July, not questioning the amount of time Polly spent with the Wylders, who managed to slip away from the ranch each summer while relatives took over.

  The night before Polly had left Indigo Bay for the last time, Carl had taken her down to the beach to roast marshmallows over a fire. Her mom had dozed on the blanket as Carl told Polly the story about how he’d once been poor. She’d asked what had happened, as the man had two homes, numerous cars and a wardrobe stuffed with expensive clothes.

  He’d simply said, “I partnered with the right people and changed my life.”

  It was then that Polly had realized she had a choice. She could choose to have more. And she could find a man who felt the same way.

  “Are you here with anyone?” Nick asked, breaking into her thoughts, his eyes slipping to her bare ring finger.

  Polly gave a small shake of her head, dreading the look that would certainly follow. But which one would it be? Pity? Judgment? Curiosity? Or would Nick assume there was something wrong with her for being single at their age? Unlike in her twenties, nobody seemed to assume she was alone by choice.

  He caught her rubbing the empty spot where a large diamond used to sit. She’d sold it and invested the proceeds. The amount hadn’t been as high as Chuck had always bragged it was, either.

  “I’m here alone, too,” Nick said softly.

  His kindness was disarming, and despite herself, Polly laughed at his earnestness. “Are you?” She’d overheard the check-in clerk mention he was expecting other guests—likely his usual entourage of Wylder cousins. There were nineteen in total, although she recalled that Nick mostly hung out with Roy’s five back home, as well as here in Indigo Bay. There had been some sort of arrangement between Roy and his brother Danny, where one of them would take the ranch so the other one could take off for a while. It had always seemed kind of perfect to her.

  “Well,” Nick said, then paused as though just remembering, “I am here with a friend.”

  “A friend?” she teased, knowing he meant a dog.

  “Four-legged.”

  “You brought your horse?” she said.

  He muttered a quiet correction, “Well, three-legged.”

  “They don’t count as pets, you know—no matter how many legs they have. And they really should be kept outdoors. They’re too hard on the floors.”

  Nick smirked as he replied, “These days cowboys tend to ride trucks when they come to town.” He leaned closer, his tone confiding in a way that made her all too aware of how near he was standing, as well as how good he smelled. “My dog came along for the ride.”

  “Man’s best friend,” she said softly. “Can’t leave home without him.”

  A shadow crossed his eyes and he leaned away, his flirtatiousness gone. “You checking in?” he asked, indicating with a casual wave of his hand that Zoe was still waiting.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry.” How had she become so wrapped up in Nick that she’d forgotten about the check-in clerk? She turned to Zoe. “How rude of me.”

  “Meet you for a drink later?” Nick asked, tapping her arm and sending her heart racing. He’d taken a step away from the counter, pocketing his cottage key.

  “Name the place and I’ll be there,” she replied, realizing from the twinkle in his eyes and the grin that widened his mouth that she’d probably sounded way too eager. “You know, if you have time. I’m sure you have family commitments.”

  Nick gave her a questioning glance.

  “With the wedding,” she added quickly, doubting herself. What if he was married? What if he wasn’t waiting for the Wylder boys, but for his wife and a gaggle of kids?

  Nick gave a sharp shake of his head. “Nope. Nobody else has arrived yet.” He lowered his voice, and said meaningfully, as though reading her thoughts, “No family.”

  Despite the odds, Nick Wylder was single, too.

  He glanced questioningly at Zoe, who flicked her attention to her watch, then suggested, “The Tiki Hut bar on the beach is open. There are drink specials all this week to celebrate its reopening after last fall’s hurricane.” She knocked on the counter and added quietly, “Let’s hope this hurricane season takes it easier on us and the beach.”

  “Tiki Hut it is,” Nick said smoothly to Polly, his eyes locking on hers and causing her to forget her surroundings again. “Thirty minutes?”

  She nodded, adding breathlessly, “I’ll be there.”

  As Nick strode through the lobby like he owned the place, Polly realized that there was definitely no doubt about it: Nick Wylder could still make her pulse race, and where good judgment was concerned, he was probably still trouble.

  Nick sat in his truck for a moment, his large bag resting in the back once again. The m
ap that directed him to the outer reaches of the resort lay spread over the steering wheel, but instead of studying it, he stared into space.

  “Polly Morgan got hot.”

  Beside him, his dog panted, his head out the open window.

  Polly had always been cute. But now? It would be impossible to ignore how gorgeous she was. How utterly perfect she looked even in baggy, casual clothes. She was indescribable. Like she had a polished side, but also this conflicting vibe, as though she’d be happy to sit on the beach, laughing and sharing a beer. Tough but real, with a hint of something else that made him want to protect her, hold her generous curves against him on a cool Texas night.

  She’d never gotten that barely-noticeable chip on her incisor fixed, either. They’d been trying to create a human pyramid with Penn, Melanie and Dallas outside Sweet Caroline’s café and she’d slipped off his shoulder. He’d caught her, but the chunky seashell necklace she’d been wearing had flown up and knocked off a tiny piece of her tooth. He’d insisted she go to a dentist, but she’d felt the area with her tongue, said it didn’t hurt, and that it was simply something to help her remember the summer.

  “I invited her for a drink,” he told Ralph. The dog licked his nose, as though uncertain. “Yeah, I know. Probably a bad idea.”

  Wait. Why was it bad? They were barely even exes. They’d been kids the last time they’d seen or kissed each other. She’d been a good kisser. Tentative and nervous at first, like the late bloomer she was, but then sensual and teasingly patient, driving him a tiny bit wild every time their lips touched.

  He cleared his throat and centered his thoughts.

  A woman like Polly was too smart and sophisticated to start kissing a cowboy while on vacation—especially a homeless one at that.

  And what was with the poorly disguised spooked look darkening her eyes when he’d asked if she was here alone? It hadn’t been discomfort, thanks to the way he’d been flirting with her—she’d started it, anyway. And even if she hadn’t, she had that something that made it impossible not to flirt with her.