Ocean's Surrender (3 page)

Her own body ached wearily, but it felt good. She loved their long Sunday walks, not least because they left Jason so exhausted he took a long nap afterward, every time. She loved him more than anything, but Jason’s ceaseless energy meant she did look forward to her few moments of quiet.

Sitting to take off her own hiking boots, River smiled as Jason instantly started snoring like a chainsaw. He was like a cat with his ability to sleep anytime, anywhere. She usually envied him that talent.

But not right then, as she moved into the kitchen to pour herself a dram of the Laphroig sitting on the island separating their small kitchen from the living room. She poured the golden brown liquor into a glass, raising it to her nose for a greedy sniff.

It smelled of the earth and the sea, a combination she couldn’t resist.

Taking her dram, River walked out of the house she shared with her brother, across the lawn and through the little gap in the small line of trees that separated their property from the public beach. She only stopped long enough to grab the folding chair she kept tucked against her porch.

Once at the beach, River took her usual spot staring over the ocean. She settled back into the little chair, stretching her legs out in front of her. Her layers of sweater cuddled around her, and her jeans were warm against the slightly cooler evening air. Raising the dram to her nose again before taking a sip, River sighed happily as the warming liquid slid down her throat.

She relished these moments alone, sipping her favorite drink and watching the waves roll in. Only then did she have the chance to stop, assess and think about whether or not she was meeting her goals.

River’s own needs were few, but her ambitions for her brother had always been focused and a little audacious.

Ever since Jason was born, when River was six, she’d been his real caregiver. Her mother and father were very loving, in their own way, but they were also selfish—too wrapped up in their constant drama to give Jason what he needed. They’d been incapable of creating any stability, for themselves or their children, and it’s that stability that her brother so desperately needed. As a little girl, River had promised herself that she’d provide for Jason what her parents couldn’t: a safe environment full of both love and routine, so that he could thrive.

Her whole point in coming to Eastport and starting her business had been to bring that dream to fruition. She’d first come to the sleepy, seaside village after visiting a boyfriend who worked for the Coast Guard and had been transferred there. Her relationship with the young man had never gone anywhere, but her feelings for Eastport had been love at first sight. As soon as she’d inherited her uncle’s money, and discovered the now ex-boyfriend had long since moved to another base, she had immediately packed her and Jason’s things and set off for Maine.

In Eastport, all her dreams of stability had come to fruition. She’d bought them a house, and their shop, and she’d had enough of a financial cushion to keep it going till she could figure out how to make it viable. She’d made all her dreams for them come true, for a while, till she made one huge mistake. She’d done the same thing her mom always had, and fallen in with the wrong man. In just hours, everything she’d fought for had been undone.

She’d never let that happen again.

Staring at the sea, River did her customary mental exercise in which she got rid of everything she didn’t need. It started small: little luxuries she denied herself so that they could afford Jason’s beloved adult daycare, including the little field trips that cost extra. She thought of how much Jason had loved the last trip to Bar Harbor, lingering on the pride he’d felt for his off-centered pictures of the event. He’d been beside himself with delight when the daycare center had hung an enlarged photo he’d taken that day, framed beautifully, in their cafeteria.

Next she put aside the other things she didn’t need. She didn’t need her mother or her father’s help, as they had very little to give and what they did have came at a price. She didn’t need a lot of friends, as social lives cost money that was for Jason. And she certainly didn’t need to date, as that only brought chaos.

As usual, when she thought of dating, she thought of Leo.

Maybe we could…?
a tentative part of her heart suggested. But it was quickly shot down by the rest of her.

No more men. Ever. I’ll end up just like Mom. Or Dad, for that matter. I’m obviously no better at judging the opposite sex than they are.

Mulling her parents, she took another sip of scotch.

And nearly choked on it.

For there, walking up the beach, was a man. A stranger.

My shotgun
, River thought, cursing herself for having let her guard down.
Where is it?

It was where it always was, of course, on the top shelf of the closet next to her bed. Loaded and ready for someone to try to hurt her, or Jason, again.

River frantically calculated how long it would take her to get to the house if she needed to, even as she stood up so fast her knees cracked alarmingly.

And just as quickly, she calmed. River wasn’t sure why–after all, the man coming towards her was no less a stranger. But there was something about him…

“Hello there,” the man said, as he drew closer.

She appraised him with steady eyes, not trusting that feeling in her gut that made her want to invite him in for a drink. He might look clean cut and handsome, with the golden hair, ruggedly handsome features, and sun-kissed skin of a Hollywood sufer-Viking, but she reminded herself, again, that she didn’t know him.

Men were dangerous.

“Sorry, I’m interrupting you. I was on a walk. I thought I’d ask you for some advice on trails?” The stranger had an accent River couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t quite Irish, but close. Nor was it Scottish, although that was close too.

River continued to stare, not speaking, until the silence became uncomfortable even for her.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’ve been rude. I can leave you alone…”

The man took a step back, then turned as if to walk away.

“No,” River said, feeling guilty for being so rude. “It’s fine. I’m the one who should apologize.”

The man turned back to her, and River noticed his eyes were a stormy greyish-blue. For a second they flashed larger and darker in his face, and she got the impression his hair was wilder and more exotically golden, flowing upward like a crown. Then the vision faded, and her sight was normal again.

Feeling suddenly off guard and inexplicably curious, River couldn’t help but take the hand he extended. His skin was very warm, his palms callused, and River shivered at the rasp of his skin against hers.

“I’m Fen,” he said.

“And I’m River.”

“Is this your beach? Is that why you looked at me like I was an invading horde?”

River ducked her head. “No, I’m sorry about that. This is a public beach. But no one ever comes this way besides me or my brother, at least not until it’s fully summer.”

“Then no wonder I startled you. I’m sorry.”

River felt he was sorry, which startled her as much as his sudden appearance.

“So you have a brother?” Fen asked, although he knew he had the right woman. He would have bet his sealskin on that fact, not least because of the miasma of negative emotions she was radiating. Loneliness vied with guilt, which was currently slap-fighting anger, which had sadness in a rough headlock. Hers had to be the pain that had called him.

And although it was shallow of him, he couldn’t help but be pleased he had answered. No matter what, he would have helped. If it had turned out to be Jason who was in such pain, or an eighty-year-old, or a nun, Fen would have done everything he could. No one deserved to live in such pain.

But that didn’t mean Fen felt nothing at the fact it wasn’t Jason, or an eighty-year-old, or a nun who had called him, but a beautiful young woman who housed her pain in a voluptuous body. Her sort of soft curves were made for sensuality, for enjoyment, not as a binding for such agony.

“Do you mind if I sit a spell?” he asked, going ahead and doing so before she answered. His long legs folded neatly on the sand a few feet away from her chair, which she resumed, if warily.

“So are there good walking trails around here?” Fen asked in his curious accent. She instantly felt at ease. And yet, she forced herself to remember, he is still a stranger…

“Yes, there are tons.” She leaned forward to use a finger to write in the sand. “Here’s where you are now…”

Fen feigned careful attention for River’s moving finger and her low, throaty voice. But he was really listening to her emotions.

They were as conflicted as any he’d ever felt.

Meanwhile, he’d been very careful to let her feel what he was feeling–to make sure she could sense how he meant her no harm, and actually wished her well. It wasn’t a manipulative glamour–he wasn’t making her feel anything that didn’t originate in his own heart. Selkies, except for the very few who were born wrong and turned worse, were incapable of lying about their feelings. After all, all they really did was sense and radiate what was already there. That’s why River’s continued skepticism surprised him. Being able to feel another person’s essence and know their intentions was powerful stuff, and yet she was able to shrug it off like he really was a random stranger.

“That’s great,” he said, when it was clear she was finished telling him about the trails he already knew well. “I think that last one will be perfect. I don’t suppose you’d like to join me? If not now, at some point?”

Again, he radiated his interest and his good intentions.

“No,” she said, as automatically as if he’d been sending out the wholly opposite vibe. “Thanks for asking, but I have commitments.”

Her own emotions clarified on that last word, “commitments”. She meant it, with a passion he couldn’t quite understand.

“That’s all right, then,” Fen said. “But do you mind if I sit here a moment or two longer? The view is beautiful.”

Fen purposely kept his eyes on River as he spoke, so that she knew he was speaking about her and not just the ocean in front of them. Backed up by his empathic ability to share his interest in her, his words would normally have had a mortal woman falling into his arms in seconds. River merely frowned.

“I suppose,” she said, not sounding thrilled about it. “Although I wasn’t doing anything.”

“You look like you were thinking.”

“Well, yes, I was.”

“Is there something you’d like to talk about?” Fen hoped, for a split second, that it would be that easy.

But when River’s lush mouth bowed to give him that same cynical frown, he knew it wouldn’t be. That said, cynicism and all, River still charmed Fen in a way he hadn’t felt for a while. She was obviously bright, and strong. Plus, she was a challenge. River’s natural barriers were far stronger than a normal human being’s, posing a pleasant challenge. Of course, it also didn’t hurt that she was petite and succulent, startlingly curvaceous for a woman so small. Equally enticing was the long ebony hair that swirled in dark waves to her shoulders, and the velvety brown eyes that made him think of tobacco or aged wood.

“To be perfectly frank, I was thinking about all the things I need to get done today and tomorrow,” River said, pointedly.

Ouch.
Fen thought, amused.

“Oh. Well, I see. Are you working tomorrow?”

River’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, why?”

“No reason. It was nice meeting you, River. I hope to repeat the pleasure, soon.”

And with that, Fen took himself down the beach towards that last path River had told him about.

River watched him go, feeling an unaccountable urge to call him back. She resisted, however, knowing such feelings were childish.

He’s just some tourist
, she told herself.
Nothing special.
And with that, she shrugged Fen off with practiced ease to return home, back to her brother and her responsibilities.

Fen, meanwhile, stopped walking as soon as she stood from her little chair, making himself invisible to watch her silent ascent up the beach. He could feel that she’d dismissed him, that she thought she’d never see him again.

But Fen had other plans. The selkie would get to the bottom of her hurt and help her, for to do otherwise would be like leaving a wounded animal bleeding in the forest. She didn’t realize how close she was to a real emotional catastrophe. The control she exerted over herself was a dangerous lie—a desperate attempt to keep a bomb from exploding by duct taping over it as tightly as possible. One didn’t need to be an empath to imagine the results when that bomb exploded.

Fen wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d get through that self-destructive armor and see to the wounds underneath. He just needed to figure out how.

I need to think outside of the box
, he thought, one of his favorite human expressions. The thought sparked another, and another.

Or maybe inside the skin?

For if River had proved so adroit at throwing off Fen, the man, he could always see what she made of Fen, the selkie.

Chapter Four

“These smell absolutely gorgeous,” Fen said, inhaling deeply the candle he held to his perfectly chiseled nose.