Reckless Hearts (3 page)

“The
best.” I can hear the happiness in her voice. “Finn’s
almost finished the new album, and I’m getting ready for
classes.”

“Next
week, right?” I swivel on the chair. “You excited?”

“Nervous,”
she replies. “I can’t believe I’m going back to
drama school after everything, but the teachers seemed really great,
and we’re studying really interesting plays this semester.”

“You’ll
be amazing,” I tell her, for the hundredth time. “Once
you get up on-stage, that’s all you need. The town still talks
about your Lady Macbeth in tenth grade.”

Eva
laughs. “Enough about me, what’s new with you? How’s
the empire-building?”

“It’s
being built.” My gaze lands on a stack of magazines on Marcie’s
desk.
American
Cruising
,
Boat & Berth
. “I
think Marcie’s going to retire soon.”

“You’ve
been saying that for years,” Eva reminds me.

“I
know, but this time, it’s for real,” I insist. “She’s
barely in the office anymore, and when she is, all she does is talk
about their boat and the place they just bought in the Florida Keys.
She’s got one foot out the door already, I’m telling you.
Maybe she was just waiting until someone could take over . . .”

“And
by someone, you mean you.” Eva giggles.

“Who
better?” I grin. “It’s her name above the door, but
I’m the only one bringing in clients anymore. If she wants to
leave, I’ve got some savings put aside, I could try and buy her
out.”

“You
think she’d go for it?” Eva asks.

“Who
knows? But imagine if it worked out . . .” I
feel a shiver of excitement at the possibility. “I would have
my name above the door before I even turn twenty-five.”

“If
anyone can do it, you can,” Eva says loyally. “And I’m
not just saying that because you’re my best friend,” she
adds, as if reading my mind. “You can sell snow to an eskimo.
Remember when you sold the Kellerman’s house three times in six
months—and got the buyers a profit every time?”

“Some
people called it cursed, I like to think of it as opportunity.”
I grin. “And the commissions didn’t hurt, either.”

“There
you go.” I hear a noise in the background.

“What
are you up to?” I ask.

“Just
making some dinner,” Eva says. “Finn would live on
takeout if it was up to him, but you should see this kitchen, it’s
a crime not to use it.”

“The
photos looked great,” I say enviously. It doesn’t hurt
that her fiancé is a multi-platinum musician; number one hit
singles buy a lot of counter space.

“What
about you?” Eva munches on something. “Hot date tonight?”

“Only
with my conditioning hair mask,” I reply, getting to my feet
and straightening up before I flip the lights out and head back to my
desk to grab my bag. “I’m going to pick up a pizza from
Joe’s, then head home.”

“Joe’s . . .”
Eva repeats, sounding wistful. “I miss his food.”

“You’re
in the pizza capital of the world!” I protest, laughing. “New
York isn’t exactly hurting for pie.”

“OK,
OK,” Eva laughs. “I can’t complain.”

“Go
cry to your gorgeous soulmate while you have hot sex in your cool
loft apartment,” I tease. “While I eat pizza and watch
Grey’s Anatomy
alone.”

Eva
laughs. “You? Alone? You’ve got every hot guy in a
hundred-mile radius on speed-dial—and you know they would all
drop everything and come running the minute you called.”

I
grin. “I wouldn’t go that far. Anyway, you have fun
tonight. Talk soon?”

“Call
me anytime.”

I
hang up, lock the offices, and head across town to Joe’s pizza
place. I live close by, so I walk to work the days I don’t have
viewings scheduled. I like the winding route through the town square
and the bustle of Oak Harbor in the evenings, especially now in the
height of summer, when the streets are full of dogwood trees in bloom
and tourists browsing the stores after a long day of sight-seeing or
grabbing some fresh seafood at the restaurant on the pier. Joe’s
is busy when I arrive, but he catches my eye and beckons me to the
front of the line with a cried greeting.

“Delilah,
carino!” he leans over the counter and kisses me on both
cheeks. “How’s my favorite chica?”

Despite
the Italian flag on the menu, Joseph Gonzalez is a hundred percent
Cuban, which leads to some delicious flavor combinations.

“I’m
great,” I smile back. “How’s Maria?” I ask,
naming his spitfire of a wife.

“Mad
at me again,” Joe sighs theatrically. He pushes a bowl of
breadsticks over to me. “She says I work too hard.”

“You
do,” I agree, taking one and biting into the soft, fluffy
dough. I sigh with satisfaction. “But don’t ever stop.”

“I’ve
got your pie in the oven,” he tells me. “It won’t
be long.”

A
call comes from the window behind him. “Order up!”

“That
was quick,” I grin. Joe takes the box and checks the scrawl on
the lid. “Montgomery?” he calls out into the busy
restaurant. A voice comes, just behind me.

“That’s
me.”

The
hairs on the back of my arms stand on end at the familiar sound. It
can’t be . . . 

I
turn and find Will standing beside me.

My
mouth drops open in shock. He looks totally different to the last
time we met—wearing a faded navy T-shirt and jeans, with
stubble on his strong jaw, and his hair curling just a bit too
long—but those striking hazel eyes are unmistakable, and the
easy, charming smile on that skilled, perfect mouth.

“Hey
Delilah,” he says casually, like this is no big deal. “How’s
it going?”

I
blink, still remembering what that mouth did that last time I saw
him.

What?
How? Why?

“Will!”
I manage to connect my brain to my mouth again. “What . . . ?
I mean, what are you doing here?”

“I
took your advice.” Will pulls some crumpled bills from his
pocket and lays them on the counter, while I try to recover from the
surprise.

“You
mean, you’re visiting?” I ask. My pulse kicks up at the
possibility—and repeat performance of that amazing kiss.
“That’s great,” I exclaim, already imagining his
hands on me, and so much more. “I’d be happy to show you
around town.”

“Thanks,
I might just take you up on that.” Will smiles at me. “But
there’s no rush.”

“There
isn’t?” I’m distracted by his eyes. Were they
always this green?

“Nope.
I moved here.” Will grins.

Wait,
what?

“You
were right, I needed a change,” Will continues. “And this
place has one thing going for it that no place else does.”

“What’s
that?” I ask, still reeling.

“You.”
Will smiles at me. “See you around, neighbor.” He takes
the pizza box and heads out, weaving his way through the crowd while
I stare after him, dazed and most definitely confused.

The
hottest man I’ve ever met just up and moved halfway across the
country—for me?

“How
hot?” Eva’s sister, Lottie, demands the next morning at
our regular Saturday brunch on the pier. She feeds her toddler, Kit,
with one hand, but her excited gaze is fixed on me as I fill her in
with what happened with Will. “Are we talking ‘hot for
the bar on a Friday night’ hot, or ‘Chris Evans in a
tight T-shirt holding a puppy’ hot?”

“Chris
Evans hot,” I sigh, over a plate of French toast.

“I
love it! But wait, why the sad face?” Lottie frowns.

“Because
it’s weird!” I protest, feeling strangely unsettled. “We
met a couple of weeks ago for like, twenty minutes, and now he moves
across the country because of me? Doesn’t that scream ‘stalker’
to you?”

“That
depends,” Lottie muses, licking maple syrup from her fingers.
“Did he ask you out? Favorite fifty million of your social
media posts? Show up on your doorstep with a marriage license and his
mother’s wedding gown for you to wear?”

“No,”
I admit, confused. “He didn’t even ask me out. He just
said he’d see me around, and left.”

“There
you go, not a stalker,” Lottie declares. “And anyway, you
said it yourself, you told him all about how amazing this town is.
Can you blame him for wanting to check it out?”

“Booking
a weekend trip is one thing, but he said he moved here.” I
still can’t help feeling off-balance—although whether
it’s from the details of Will’s sudden appearance, or how
damn good he looked out of that suit and tie, I can’t tell.
“Who does that for a girl they don’t even know?”

“He
was probably just teasing.” Lottie waves my concerns away. “And
anyway, isn’t this a good thing? You said he was the best kiss
you’ve ever had, and now the universe just offered him up for a
repeat performance. I’d be breaking out the lip balm if I were
you.”

I
laugh. “We need to get you dating again if your bar is low
enough for stalkers and crazies to step over.”

“Hey!”
Lottie tosses one of Kit’s tater tots at me. “I have a
man in my life already.”

“And
he’s a cutie,” I admit, smiling at Kit. “But since
his conversation is limited to ‘duckie’ and ‘mama,’
I think we can do better.”

Lottie
sticks her tongue out. She’s only twenty, but the girl’s
been a nun since Kit was born. I understand wanting to take some time
to adjust to motherhood, but having a kid doesn’t mean she
should give up on dating altogether. “This isn’t about
me,” she says virtuously. “You’re the one whose
love life got interesting. Although, it’s always been pretty
interesting,” she adds.

I
raise my mimosa in a toast. “I do my best.”

We
finish up brunch, then head back across the town square, pushing
Kit’s stroller. It’s another bright, breezy day, with the
sea winds from the harbor keeping the summer heat at bay, ocean
glinting clear blue beyond the weathered wooden boardwalk railings.
“So what are your plans today?” Lottie asks, yawning.
“I’m meeting some moms later for a play-date coffee, if
you want to come? I just met them the other week, they’re
pretty cool—and young,” she adds. “We pretty much
leave the kids in the playroom and just gossip all afternoon.”

“Thanks,
but I’ve got an open house,” I reply, already planning my
strategy.

“Fresh-cut
flowers and cookie dough?” Lottie grins.

“You
know it,” I beam. “The old tricks are the best—”
I stop, as my gaze catches on a now-familiar figure, sauntering
across the square. My pulse kicks. Lottie turns.

“What?
Ooh, is that him?”

“Yes,
but don’t stare—” It’s too late; Lottie is
already waving at Will with a bright smile. He sees us, pauses, then
approaches.

“Lottie!”
I hiss, flustered. “What are you doing?”

“Finding
out if he’s a crazy stalker,” she whispers back. “Don’t
ever say I don’t have your back. Hi!” she announces as he
reaches us. “You must be Will.”

“William
Wyatt Montgomery, at your service, ma’am.” Will puts down
a couple of bags from the hardware store and shakes her hand.
“Delilah,” he adds in friendly greeting, and I swear my
heart stutters a little in my chest. He’s wearing a plaid shirt
and well-fitting, worn jeans today, that stubble still giving him a
rakish, scruffy air that looks too damn hot.

“I’m Lottie,”
she continues beside me, as I drink him in. “And this is Kit.”

“Hey
there, little fellow.” Will actually leans down and shakes
Kit’s hand too, making him giggle and shriek with delight.

Lottie
gives me an approving look. “So, what brings you to Oak
Harbor?” she asks innocently, as if we haven’t just spent
a half-hour discussing it.

“Well,
someone gave me the hard sell, said it was the best place on earth.”
Will’s eyes meet mine, twinkling with amusement. “I
figured I should check it out for myself.”

“Where
are you staying?” Lottie keeps up her interrogation.

“I
bought a place out north of town,” Will replies, not at all
phased by the fifth degree.

“You
bought?” I echo, surprised. “Just like that?”

He
smiles back, easy in the dappled sunlight. “Just like that.”

Now
I’m really confused.

“So,
how are you finding it?” Lottie asks. “It must be a big
change after . . . where was it you lived
before?”

“New
York,” he says, “and, yes, it’s pretty different
down here. No takeout delivery at three a.m. But on the plus side, I
can cross the street without getting hit by a kamikaze bike
messenger, for one.”

“I
don’t know about that.” Lottie grins. “Watch out
for George Tompkins, he’s pretty lethal on his old bike. Gets
up to like, two miles an hour sometimes.”

Will
chuckles. “I’ll consider myself warned.”

“Well,
it was great to meet you, I’m sure I’ll see you around,”
Lottie says brightly. “We have to run, but if you have any
questions, just ask Delilah. She knows everything and everyone!”

“Lottie—”
I protest, but she’s already kissing me on the cheek.

“He’s
adorable. Go for it!” she whispers in my ear, before taking the
stroller and leaving us both there under the shadow of the cypress
trees.

I
try to catch my breath. What is it about this guy that throws me
off-balance? I can feel his gaze on me, those delicious hazel-green
eyes, and it makes my skin prickle with awareness, remembering the
feel of his body, his lips on mine.

“So . . .”
I start, feeling awkward. Then I decide to cut straight to the chase.
“You were just joking before, right—about moving here
because of me?”

“What
makes you say that?” Will is grinning, like he can see my
discomfort.

“Because
it’s crazy, that’s why!”

“You’ve
never had a guy move for you before?” he asks.

“No!”
I exclaim.

“Huh.
Surprising.” He shrugs, nonchalant, like this is a normal
conversation we’re having. “Then I guess they weren’t
that smart.”