Sanctuary Island (18 page)

He could do this. He’d wait for her to come to him.

And in the meantime, he’d let Sanctuary Island work its magic.

CHAPTER 17

Ella yelped out a laugh and chased the cold dribble of ice cream that dripped from the cone onto her wrist.

Sweet, tart, creamy—she couldn’t help but moan appreciatively as the flavor of wild strawberries burst across her tongue.

She licked up the stray droplets of melting ice cream and wished she’d been smart enough to grab a paper napkin from the counter of the roadside stand.

“You really need to quit doing that.”

Grady’s rough voice broke into her haze of enjoyment. She blinked her eyes open to see him staring at her across the picnic table, his own forgotten ice-cream cone tilting precariously in his big hand.

Whoops.

Guilt—Ella’s constant companion, after four days of touring the island with Grady—tugged sharply at her, reminding her that she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do anything to make this harder on Grady than it had to be.

Licking herself right in front of him definitely counted.

“Sorry,” she said, feeling a blush heat the back of her neck. Or maybe that was the afternoon sun beating down through the shifting branches of the trees lining the road where Miss Ruth’s Homemade Ice Cream stand had stood for decades.

Forty-two years, to be exact, according to Miss Ruth herself, who scooped up the ice cream with a practiced twist of her wrist and packed it into a couple of cake cones without spilling a drop.

A trim, petite woman in her sixties, Miss Ruth moved slowly, with precision. She was a woman who took pride in doing things perfectly. Ella could relate.

Miss Ruth had winked at Ella when Grady turned to lead them across the grass to the weathered red picnic table set up under the trees beside the stand.

“Be patient with that one,” Miss Ruth whispered, tilting her head so her bobbed ash-blond hair swung against her pointed chin. “He’s sweeter than he looks. Trust me, I know about sweet things.”

Unsure how to answer, Ella had smiled back before hurrying after Grady.

Now, with Miss Ruth’s signature ice cream melting in her mouth, all Ella could think was that the ice-cream lady was right.

Grady was sweet. He was a good man. And merciful heavens, was he ever sexy. She looked at him, the heat in his gaze as she lapped up ice cream, and felt fire flash through her entire body.

She really, really wanted to lean across the table and lick the taste of strawberries off his lips.

But she couldn’t. Knowing what she knew, that this whirlwind tour of Sanctuary Island had only confirmed her decision to present Jo with a proposal to turn the Windy Corner house into a small inn. Knowing how much Grady would hate that idea, she couldn’t allow herself to kiss him.

Even though they both wanted it.

Swallowing hard against the surge of desire, Ella got up and hustled over to the stand to fetch a handful of paper napkins. Luckily, Miss Ruth was busy with other customers, a family with two little kids, so it was easy to avoid her avid, inquisitive eyes.

Ella used one napkin to clean up the rest of the dribbles from her cone as she walked back to the table. Tossing the wad of paper onto the table, she said, “You’re a mess, Wilkes.”

He muttered something that sounded like, “You have no idea,” switching his cone to his left hand and shaking sticky drops off his right with a grimace. The pale pink ice cream was stark and obvious against the brown leather of his gloves.

“Here, you’re going to ruin those gloves.” Ella reached for him. “Let me just—”

“No,” Grady said sharply, pulling away with an instinctive flinch that Ella felt like a punch in the gut.

They stared at each other, tension mounting until Ella was honestly afraid she might suffocate.

Making a big deal out of this was the worst thing she could do. Going back to her ice cream, she said, “I’ve seen them already.”

“I know.” Grady was gruff, defensive, but his eyes gave him away. When his gaze darted to the young family still chatting with Miss Ruth, who was leaning both her elbows on her scuffed wooden counter, Ella knew exactly what was bothering him.

“Those people are not going to care. They won’t even notice.”

He pressed his lips together grimly. “They might.”

“Well.” Ella concentrated on finishing off her cone, barely tasting it. Which was a shame. “So what if they do? What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

She watched the struggle play out on his face, all the fear and shame he’d built up around his scars. And suddenly, she couldn’t stand it for another moment.

Ella met Grady’s worried eyes and took his free hand in both of hers. Moving slowly enough to give him plenty of time to pull away, she tugged at the fingertips of the glove and loosened it, bit by bit.

Grady’s breath came in quick, shallow pants and his entire frame was rigid—but he didn’t stop her.

Trying to telegraph that it was all going to be okay, Ella set her jaw and pulled the glove off his right hand.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed, his naked hand clasped in hers. Sunlight flickered through the gently swaying branches overhead, dappling the paler skin of his right hand with spots of gold. Somewhere nearby, a child laughed, high-pitched and happy, but Ella was only vaguely aware that there was a world outside of the two of them.

A soft breeze ruffled Grady’s dark gold hair, sending a few stray tendrils to catch in his eyelashes. He blinked, swayed toward her.

Ella couldn’t deny him. She couldn’t deny either of them. Lifting his ungloved hand to her lips, she pressed a gentle kiss to the backs of his nicked, scarred knuckles.

She would’ve been tempted to do more, but the rest of the world was coming back into focus. The little family was still standing over by the counter, the mother talking to Miss Ruth while the kids, covered in the sticky remnants of their ice-cream treats, played in the grass in front of the stand.

Following her gaze, Grady glanced over at the family. He watched them for a long, tense moment. The husband, a nice-looking guy with thinning brown hair and glasses, noticed them and lifted a hand in greeting.

Grady hesitated, then pulled his naked hand from Ella’s grasp and lifted it in a silent wave.

Pride and tenderness swamped Ella, forming an aching knot in the back of her throat.

Careful,
she reminded herself.
Let it seem normal, ordinary.

Even though she felt like she could cry at being witness to Grady’s breakthrough moment.

“Come on,” she said thickly, standing up. “Let’s let that nice family have our table.”

Grady finished off what was left of his cone in two big bites, then got to his feet. He looked at Ella, who was still holding his right glove, and down at his own hands. A half smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “Might as well go all the way.”

Without another word, he stripped the glove off his left hand and gave it to her. Ella closed her fingers around both gloves and worked up a smile. Her throat was almost too tight for words, but she managed to say, “What’s the next stop on the tour?”

In one week on Sanctuary Island, they’d seen the tiny, one-room jailhouse, exclaimed over the well-preserved architecture of the small public library, listened to the local high school conduct a band camp practice on the steps of the gazebo, and gone to the square after dark to sit on blankets alongside what seemed like the entire population of the island to watch
The African Queen
projected on the blank white wall of the bank.

Grady thought about it for a second. “We could check out Wanderer’s Point.”

Ella narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Isn’t that where you planned to take me cliff jumping? Because I’m telling you right now, Grady—”

He held up his hands in surrender, laughing. “You don’t have to jump. But we should drive up there anyway. It’s the highest point on the island.”

“So it’s got a great view, I bet.” Ella started walking toward the Jeep, needing movement and time to get herself under control. “Let’s go.”

Grady got in the driver’s seat and curled his fingers around the leather steering wheel, flexing his hands.

As he drove up the narrow country road, Ella cleared her throat. It didn’t help. There were words stuck in there that she had to get out, or she’d choke on them. “Thank you. That was … amazing.”

He took his eyes off the road for a brief moment, and there was a flicker of answering gratitude in the green-gold depths before he said, “Yeah, it’s good ice cream, huh?”

Grady shifted gears and put his attention back on the road in front of them, and Ella smiled to herself.

“The best.”

They rode the fifteen minutes across the island and up the tall, pine-studded hill in silence, each locked in their own thoughts.

The Jeep bumped over the rocky single-lane road and crested the hill. The sky opened up over their heads, gossamer white clouds wisping softly across the blue expanse. Grady parked at the edge of the tree line and got out.

Slamming the Jeep door behind her, Ella turned her face up to the sky. The sun beat down on her cheeks, warm and bright, and when she opened her dazzled eyes, she had to blink a few times before the beauty of the vista in front of her really registered.

“Wow,” she breathed as Grady shut his door and rounded the Jeep to stand beside her. “I asked for a view, but I didn’t expect you to give me a peek into heaven.”

Grady stood shoulder to shoulder with her, his long legs bracing both of them against the wind buffeting the rocky bluff where they’d parked. “This is one of my favorite spots on the whole island.”

His voice was full of quiet satisfaction and pride. Ella edged as close as she dared to the side of the cliff. “It’s glorious.”

Below their feet, the rocky hillside sheared away to a fifty-foot drop, straight down to the white-capped waves crashing into the cliff face. The air smelled of salt and honeysuckle, a beachy perfume rushing into Ella’s lungs and filling her with a sense of freedom and serenity as she stared out over the endless blue horizon.

Part of her mind couldn’t help but note that this would make an excellent end to a nature trail. The B and B wouldn’t attract serious hikers—Sanctuary was too small to provide long, challenging trails—but there were lots of nature walkers out there who’d pay plenty for the chance at a view like this.

Ella sighed. It seemed like no matter which way she turned, she found some new aspect of the island that she could envision as part of a marketing proposal to tempt investors to develop Sanctuary.

Which was a good thing. Of course it was.

“Most people, when they get up here and see that view, they don’t scowl. What are you thinking about?”

Grady’s voice shattered her train of thought. Hurriedly smoothing out her features, she dredged up a smile for him. “Nothing, really. Just … wishing I had a little more time here.”

With a few more weeks, she might be able to come up with an alternate plan for Jo Ellen, something that would let her keep the house without turning it into an inn.

“You could stay longer,” Grady pointed out.

And as he shifted behind her, the hard length of his rock-solid body brushing against her, Ella closed her eyes and admitted that she was worried about just what might happen to her heart if she spent too many more afternoons like this one.

“No. I really can’t.”

*   *   *

King Sanderson and Pete Cloudough spent most summer days playing checkers in front of the hardware store and arguing about whether this particular vista was the most beautiful place on Sanctuary Island or not.

Personally, Grady had always agreed with the island’s unofficial royal highness that no swan-speckled pond or wide field of waving reed grass and blooming mallow could compare to the view from Wanderer’s Point.

It was one of his foolproof ways to quiet the rumblings of nightmares in his brain, to calm himself down and even himself out. Usually, one look out over the ocean and he was transfixed. He’d sat up here for three and a half hours once, without even realizing how long it had been until the sun kissed the far horizon in an explosion of orange and red splendor.

And then he’d taken a running leap off the side of the hill, letting the endless seconds of free fall and the shock of the cold water jump-start his heart. There was nothing better.

But today, the view he couldn’t take his eyes off was the woman at his side.

A week on Sanctuary Island had been good for Ella. The prim, buttoned-up beauty he’d rescued from a hole in Jo’s front porch stood on the rough rock outcropping over the water in jeans and a blue tank top that bared her smooth shoulders and the upper swells of her small breasts. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, but the wind up here caught at the flyaway tendrils and lashed them against her flushed cheeks.

Grady decided he deserved a reward for taking off his gloves in public. He reached up and swept his fingers through the small, loose curls at her temples.

Soft. Her hair, her skin, her eyes when she tilted her head and gave him a look from underneath her sooty lashes.

So unbearably soft, softer than anything Grady was used to in his life—but there was a core of steel running through her, too.

“It’s nice,” she murmured. “Without the gloves. I like your hands.”

A warm wash of satisfaction poured through him, even when she pressed her lips together as if frustrated with herself, and turned away.

“Still trying to keep your distance,” he observed, letting himself grin a little. “No problem. I’m wearing you down, I can tell. Funny that of everything I’ve tried, it’s these ugly paws of mine that have come the closest.”

“They’re not ugly!” The protest was immediate, almost annoyed, and Grady’s grin widened.

“Well, they’re not going to win any beauty contests.” He studied his ravaged hands as impartially as he could, finger by finger, scar by scar. “But I guess they’re not going to make any little kids run away in terror, either. You were right—they’re part of me now. They’re only as big a deal as I make them. I might as well get used to them.”