Sea of Love: A Bayberry Island Novel (21 page)

Ash let his head fall into his hands as a series of scenes began to unfold in his mind’s eye, out of order and heading in no particular direction. Rowan naked and wet underneath him, tears streaming down her face; the laser of sunlight that tracked him in the storm; his mother’s loving face; a slate roof; the sight of Haven Cove framed by the sea; the sound of Brian’s laughter; “an imitation human being.”

“Shit.”

Ash stood. He pulled his smartphone from the pocket of his shorts, seeing that it was almost six thirty and that the Oceanaire offices had called him again. Shit. Again. He’d forgotten to call them back. Where had his head been lately?

He began to run. He ran to the edge of town, to Shoreline Road, and up the hill until he saw the broken and rusted gates leading to the Safe Haven. He encountered a frail old man in the circular drive of the B and B, shuffling his way toward the lawn. He wore a summer fedora that was frayed at the brim. For some reason, he clutched a butter knife in his hand.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“What?”

Ash yelled, “Can I help you?”

“Yes, goddammit! You can get Mona Flynn to shut her trap and hand over my money!”

Okay. That definitely wasn’t what Ash expected to hear. He yelled again. “Where are you going?”

“Stop shouting at me! Jesus! I’m going to the damn clambake, of course!”

“If you can wait a few minutes, I’ll walk you to the beach.”

The old man either didn’t hear him or didn’t feel like dealing with him anymore, and continued his slow shuffle toward the lawn, butter knife drawn for battle.

Ash headed for the carriage house. He was so late. Rowan was down there on the beach thinking he’d stood her up—which he had—and the truth of that twisted at his guts. In fact, his belly was in knots for more than that reason alone. Now that he’d decided not to leave, how the hell was he going to explain the whole story to Rowan? How horrible would it be for her to learn that he came to Bayberry and bribed her to stay at the Safe Haven under false pretenses? How angry and hurt would she be when she learned she’d been seduced by a man who wasn’t as he appeared? That he’d seduced her in order to get her family to sell their land?

It would break her heart. After what Rowan had been through with that idiot Theissen, hearing how he’d deceived her would rip her up. Ash prayed he would find the right time and the right words to ease her through the truth. He hoped she would sit still long enough to hear him out, let him walk her through to the happy ending—he was falling in love with her.

In record time, he ran up the carriage house apartment steps, threw everything out of his duffel and found the khaki trousers and button-down shirt he’d worn the day he arrived on Bayberry Island. His clothes were a little wrinkled. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t tolerate looking so disheveled, but these weren’t normal circumstances. Tonight, his outer imperfections would just have to reflect his inner ones.

When he returned to the lawn, Ash found the old man had made precious little headway. Though it would make him even later than he already was, he couldn’t just leave him there, hobbling along. Ash offered his arm, but the old man slapped it away. He sighed, deciding he could do nothing but walk along with him.

“My name is Ash Wallace.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

It was nearly seven by the time they made it to the wooden steps. Fortunately for his companion, they provided the safest and most level access to the beach anywhere along the cove. Ash stood on the landing at the top, scanning the crowd below. In typical Bayberry Island fashion, the beach was heavy with delicious smells and the air was filled with music. This time it was a reggae band complete with steel drums. He tried to spot her. Rowan would be wearing that white dress she’d wrangled from her closet, but he soon realized that knowledge wouldn’t help him find her. Half the people on the beach were in summer whites.

“Well?” The old man glared up at him. “Aren’t you going to help me down the goddam steps?”

Ash laughed loudly and looped the man’s frail arm with his, then held him snug against his side.

The pace was excruciatingly slow. It took five minutes to ease down as many steps. Ash was so focused on keeping his bird-boned companion upright that when he glanced up to check on their progress, he noticed Rowan chatting and laughing with a group of people not far from the steps. Suddenly, she turned her head and looked up, and her eyes locked with his. He couldn’t make out the nuances of her expression, but she didn’t look overly pissed off. Slowly, she began to smile. She turned her body to face him, standing with her pretty bare feet close together and her hands clasped at her front.

They made it down another step.

Ash couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her hair was loosely pulled up and to the side, clipped behind her ear with a delicate white flower, little tendrils falling around her face. Rowan’s white dress was incredible. The top was an old-fashioned halter, tied behind her neck, and it was cut into a low vee in the front. The dress cinched in her waist and flared out over her hips, falling in soft waves of fabric to just above her cute knees. Once again, the first word that came to his mind while looking at Rowan Flynn was
adorable
. Unlike most other times, however, a whole string of descriptive words and phrases followed. Some of them were not suited for a general audience. He took another step.

She was
juicy.

So fucking hot.

Radiant.

Another step. Ash wondered if it would be considered disrespectful to flip this old man over his shoulder and carry him down the rest of the way, because he was going crazy. He had to touch her.

Silky.

Luscious.

Soft, welcoming, sexual.

He wanted to lick her across the top of her breasts and drag his tongue down the front of her body.

He wanted to reach up under that full skirt.

He wanted to hold her in his arms.

He wanted to tell her everything and beg for her forgiveness.

Another step.

“Hey, you! Clark Kent! I’m talking to you!”

Ash shook some sense into himself, realizing the old man had been trying to get his attention. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“You must be stone
deaf
!” The old man looked up to the sky and rolled his eyes. “I asked you if you had a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Ash didn’t know how to answer that. He couldn’t call Rowan his girlfriend. There were a few things standing in the way of that. For example, they’d only just met. Then there was the fact that he’d been lying to her since the moment they laid eyes on each other. But the idea appealed to him. “Not technically.”

“Well, you’d better watch out. That Flynn girl is looking at you like she wants to dip you in drawn butter and suck the meat off your bones.”

Another step.

Rowan smiled at him.

He smiled at her.

That’s what he would do, the first opportunity he got. He would lay her down, spread her legs, and put his lips on that perfect pink, wet pussy of hers and suck her until she couldn’t breathe.

Another step.

Her little tongue licked at her lips.

Ash thought his fingers would ignite in flames if he couldn’t touch her.
Now
. The wait was agonizing. Only two steps to go. The people Rowan had been chatting with had wandered off, and she stood alone watching the two of them hobble down the steps. Just then, Ash heard someone cough behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see about a dozen people waiting to get to the party. He glanced to his right to see one impatient couple sliding down a steep dune to the beach.

It would be only another minute or two. Ash and his new friend were almost there.

That’s when he managed to drag his eyes from Rowan.
Oh.
She was with a posse—police chief Clancy, mayor dad, mermaid mom, BFF Annie, and the man who was obviously Annie’s fiancé. Rowan was the only one of the bunch who looked pleased to see him.

The instant they reached the sand, a middle-aged woman ran up and took the old man from Ash’s control. “Thank you! I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all.”

The woman gasped. “Give me the knife, Daddy!”

“No!”

“Come on, now.”

“How will I protect myself?” As his daughter wrestled the blunt piece of silverware from his hand, he glared at Mona Flynn. “Nothing but sharks on the beach tonight!”

And then there they were. He and Rowan were barely a foot apart. All Ash had to do was reach out and touch her. He was nothing but a living, breathing force of desire. Need. Hunger. He raised his nose into the breeze and realized he could smell the intoxicating scent of her skin.

You belong with her
.

“Hi, Ash. Glad you could make it.”

He needed to stay focused. “I’m truly sorry I’m so late. Please accept my apologies.”

She tilted her chin toward her chest. Ash could tell she didn’t want to forgive him right away but was having trouble sticking to her principles. He knew that if he, himself, had any principles, he’d be similarly challenged. Damn! He felt helpless around her. The only thing he was sure of was that he needed her and would do anything to win her.

“It’s okay.” She grabbed his hand. Ash felt a hot bolt of energy travel up his arm into his chest, and he knew that wherever she led, he would follow. “You know my mother, father, and Clancy, of course.”

Ash nodded pleasantly at everyone. “Great to see you all again. It’s a beautiful night for a beach party.”

Clancy and Frasier scowled. Mona looked extremely worried. Obviously, they’d assumed Ash had stood Rowan up.

“And I want you to meet some very special people.” Rowan nodded toward her best friend. “This is Annie Parker. You said you were in her shop.”

Ash smiled. “I was. Very nice to formally meet you.”

Annie smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Uh-oh
.

“And this is Annie’s fiancé, Nat Ravelle.”

“We’ve met.” The snappy dresser held out his hand and Ash shook it.

“Of course. The documentary filmmaker. Very nice to see you again.”

For about ten seconds, time seemed to freeze. Ash felt something began to boil just below the surface of the group dynamic. It was a feeling of anticipation, hesitation, and just plain discomfort. Ash had no idea who was thinking what and who would say something to crack the frozen ice of their social intercourse, but he did know this:
He
was the problem here.

Could they possibly know?

“So.” It was Nat. He gave a casual shrug and took a sip from his plastic beer cup. “Been doing anything interesting since the Man Grab?”

Ash watched Rowan’s face blanch white. Her eyes widened, and she began to slowly shake her head side to side. “What?” Her voice was so soft, it was almost a whisper. “No.” She looked around at her family and friends, then at Ash once more. “Please tell me this is a joke. Please tell me you’re not the Man Grab.
Please
.”

“Uh, well, I guess I am. Not that I had much say in the matter.” Ash smiled, but his smile was lost on Rowan. Her usually cheerful face had fallen flat. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Rowan spun around in the sand and walked away, leaving Ash perplexed. He went after her, and her family and friends went after him. So a convoy of people began to follow Rowan as she stomped off past the buffet setup and down the beach.

“Rowan! Wait! I don’t understand why you’re upset!”

She straightened her shoulders and ignored him. He caught up with her and touched her arm. “Please talk to me.”

Rowan pulled her arm away. “I need some space. Give me room.”

He attempted to lean down so he could see her face, but she turned away. He even thought she might be crying. “Sweetheart, please talk to me.”

“Talk to him!”

Both Ash and Rowan turned toward the peanut gallery. Mona had clasped a hand over her mouth and muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“My God.” Rowan shook her head. “Am I not allowed to be alone for five minutes? Would all of you just back off?”

“Yes. That would be appreciated,” Ash said, assuming he wasn’t included in her group dismissal.

“That means you, too! I don’t want to be around you right now.” She spun away and headed down the beach, her shoulders becoming more rigid as her steps quickened.

Ash turned to search out Annie. Rowan’s best friend was holding Nat’s hand, sadness in her eyes. For some reason, Nat looked guilty. Ash had no idea what was going on.

“Annie, why is she so upset? What is this all about? Somebody help me out here.”

She shook her head. “Only Rowan can explain why she feels the way she does. Give her some time.”

R
owan held her ground. Annie had been relentless in her attempts to get her to “talk about it,” but Rowan didn’t want to
talk about it
. She’d managed to fulfill her duties at the buffet—dishing out massive quantities of coleslaw and potato salad—but she really didn’t want to discuss any of this crap. She’d fallen in love with this year’s Man Grab? It couldn’t get any worse.

“More slaw, please.” Annie attempted to look pathetic as she held out her Chinet dinner plate.

“No more slaw for you.”

“But isn’t it supposed to be all you can eat?”

“I told you I can’t deal with this right now.”

Just then, Rowan felt her mother’s hand on her bare shoulder. “Please take a break, sweetheart,” she whispered into her ear. “Go on and have fun with Ash. Maybe dance a little bit. I want you to be happy.”

Rowan tossed the serving ladle into the stainless-steel catering pan, and the loud
clang!
made quite a few people stop talking and look her way. She turned around to face Mona. “Mother, do you really think that another round of your ‘help’ is what I need right now?”

Though Mona jerked back like she’d been slapped, Rowan couldn’t stop. She knew it was wrong to unload on her mother like this, but she couldn’t stop herself—the anger and hurt were exploding inside her chest. “I am completely, utterly miserable, Mother. Don’t you get it? I hate the Safe Haven. I hate my life here on this stupid island. I know it’s my punishment for losing all the money, and I get that, but you know better than anyone that this isn’t what I wanted for myself!”

That stung. Rowan saw the pain in her mother’s eyes. But to her credit, she said nothing.

“And my love life? Ma, are you freakin’ kidding me? Your last attempt to guide me in love was a complete disaster, remember? But let’s not even go there. You’re the last person in the world who should be giving anyone advice because your own love life is a joke. You and Daddy still love each other but you’re both acting like children—stubborn, selfish, angry little children. It’s painful to watch.”

Mona’s face had turned to stone. Rowan watched her mother take several deep breaths before she spoke. “Take a break, Rowan. I think you’ve done enough tonight.”

Annie had wound her way through the buffet crowd and now joined Mona behind the line of serving tables. She stared at Rowan like she was a wounded bird, or a patient in a mental hospital.

“I’m outa here.” Rowan untied the apron from her waist and whipped it off over her head.

Annie touched her arm. “Wait. Listen to me. I did see some of Nat’s footage, but I swear I didn’t realize Poseidon and the Man Grab were one and the same. If I’d known, I would have told you, Row. You know I would have.”

Mona nodded, her face still tight. “And I would have told you as well, had I known he was staying here and you were falling for him.”

“I am
not
falling for him! What the hell?”

Mona and Annie shared a quick glance in each other’s direction.

“I’m going for a walk.” Rowan turned in the sand, already shaking her head. “And no, I do not want company.”

She got away from the crowd and the food tent, steam pots, and beer wagon as fast as possible. Once her feet reached the hard-packed sand near the water’s edge, she knew she could put some serious distance between herself and the party. That’s what Rowan needed—distance. She wanted out. She wanted out of this life, this job, and she wanted off this island. It felt like she was positively
cursed
by it.

If she’d hated that fish bitch before, Rowan
really
hated her now. The ridiculous superstitions that ruled the island did nothing but mess with people’s heads and set them up for misery. And who gave Mona and her friends the right to run around proclaiming deeper meaning where there was none? It was no different from someone who alerts the media because they’ve seen the face of Jesus on a potato chip!

Enough. She’d had enough of this bullshit. The mermaid legend wasn’t harmless and it wasn’t just a cutesy tourist attraction, and she’d be happy if she were never again forced to utter the syllables
mer
or
maid
as long as she lived.

Rowan walked, her heels thudding on the hard sand. It was total darkness now, but it didn’t matter. She’d been walking this beach from the day she learned to put one foot in front of the other. She knew every rock, ever wayward tree trunk, every eddy in the sand. She could safely stroll blindfolded all three miles of the cove, all the way to the privacy fence at the edge of Lena’s property.

By now Rowan was far enough from the clambake that she could go entire minutes without encountering a rogue fire pit, the faint whiff of pot in the wind, or a couple making out in the shadows—including one of the Tea Rose Room bimbos. Ha! At least someone was getting lucky around here!

It wasn’t fair. For two hours now, ever since Nat had announced that Ash had put the “man” in this year’s Man Grab, she’d been battling back the rush of adrenaline from the shock of it. She’d also been battling back the tears. All of it had exhausted her.

Rowan shut her eyes and groaned out loud. Then she shouted her frustration into the roar of the surf. “Un-fucking-believable! The Man Grab! Please, God—give me a break!”

Rowan knew what she had to do. It was painfully obvious. If Ash was the Man Grab, then in the eyes of her mother’s psycho sect, the tourists, and about half of the island’s year-round residents, he was ground zero for the mermaid’s magic. And Rowan wanted no part of it.

There was no effin’ way she’d slow dance with the Man Grab at the clambake, putting herself on display again like that. Never again would she snuggle with him on the love magnet or go out with him for ice cream or kiss him on the dock. Because Ash had a big-assed bull’s-eye on his back, and Rowan had suffered enough public humiliation for several lifetimes.

And it wasn’t like she could just up and leave the island and follow Ash to where none of this Bayberry Island drama mattered. Because she was stuck here. She had made a commitment to run her family’s B and B. Unless her mother changed her mind about the resort, Rowan would be trapped here for the foreseeable future. The irony was so blatant, it made her dizzy—her mistake with Frederick had ruined her chances with Ash.

She felt her chin tremble. She
would . . . not . . . cry
. . . .

It was a warm night. The breeze was light. Rowan realized she’d begun to perspire and wiped her face, but found tears instead of sweat. It pissed her off. She decided to run, telling herself the exertion would take her mind off Ash.

But she wouldn’t lie to herself. It would take a lot more than a jog to rip him from her heart.

A couple hundred feet down the beach, she saw a form coming toward her, and she found comfort in the fact that another lost soul had wandered far from civilization that night. It was sometimes awkward to cross paths in the darkness like this, but Rowan was a master at beach etiquette. She knew that on the off chance the person coming near was a Safe Haven guest, she should be prepared to at least nod in their direction.

Rowan slowed to a walk again, wiped the tears from her face, and felt gratitude for the privacy night provided. The form came nearer, and Rowan could tell it was a man. A rather big man. And just then, the moon decided to peek out from behind a cloud, and she turned her head to see the first ray of light play upon the black water.

When she refocused her gaze straight ahead, she saw Ash.

“Rowan.”

She stopped. Ash’s shoes dangled from his hand. His shoulders—those straight and strong shoulders she loved to touch—had become rounded. She noticed that his face was shadowed in sorrow, but it might have been a trick of the moonlight.

She shook her head. “You need to keep walking, Ash.”

“You need to talk to me.”

Standing near him in the increasingly bright light, Rowan knew she needed more than just a couple hours of space. “Please let it go, Ash. It’s for the best.” She felt her heart thud too fast and too hard under her ribs. Her knees shook and her throat tightened. It was like her body was telling her to stop talking and continue walking.

Ash tipped his head to the side, studying her. He really was a gorgeous man, but that wasn’t the point. Rowan needed someone who’d never set foot on this scraggy rock—better yet, a man who had never even heard of Bayberry Island or its legend. She needed to meet a guy the normal way—if there was such a thing these days—and steer clear of any type of mermaid-man connection. She might not believe in the mermaid’s powers, but she knew she needed to keep her love life as far away as possible from the legend and its associated flakiness and drama. She’d learned the hard way that they didn’t mix.

Ash straightened his shoulders, leading Rowan to suspect that he’d been as caught off guard by this meeting as she had. He sighed. “There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

“There’s no point. Sully will have your boat fixed soon and you can leave. No regrets.”

He chuckled sarcastically. “So that would work for you? You want me to sail off not having the faintest idea what happened with us? What
could
have happened with us?”

She shook her head sadly. “There is no ‘us,’ okay? Let’s just leave it at that.”

Ash’s body stilled. He stared at her intently for a moment, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then said three simple words: “I will not.”

Rowan burst out with a startled laugh. “What did you just say?”

“I said I’m not going anywhere, which is kind of funny, since I’d almost convinced myself that I’m not the right man for you—not loving enough, decent enough—and that leaving would be the nicest thing I could do for you. But I’ve changed my mind.”

Rowan’s body felt numb and the inside of her head sounded like the roar of the sea. When she finally spoke, her voice came out small and soft. “Why?”

Ash shook his head. “No more words, Miss Flynn. I’d rather show you than tell you.” Ash walked toward her, moving slowly and confidently, a slight smile twisting his lips. Ash had just refused to play by her rules. Clearly, he had his own agenda.

He reached her, stopping so close he almost brushed up against the front of her body. His blue eyes appeared black, intensely locked with hers as he looked down into her upturned face. Rowan heard the sound of his shoes dropping to the sand. That’s when he grabbed the back of her neck, pulled her to him, and took her mouth with his.

Oh hell. How could she argue with
this
?

His lips—hot and demanding and without words—laid out the rules that would apply here, on the beach, under the moonlight, between the two of them.

Rowan went limp. Why didn’t she have the strength to push him away? How did he have this power over her and why did she let him? As her mouth yielded to him and she grabbed onto his upper arms, Rowan’s brain was flooded with dire warnings
. You will regret this; he is the Man Grab; your mother will ruin this; the whole thing is pointless because his life is in Boston; you must stay smart and in control.

But none of the warnings took hold.

And then the strangest thing happened—suddenly, Rowan didn’t even care. The warnings dissolved into harmless background noise. All Rowan wanted was this man who was kissing her, claiming her, making her forget that her heart had ever been broken.

Ash’s kiss mellowed, but he was just changing it up. While his lips never left hers, he angled her head the way he wanted, slipped his tongue into her mouth, and cupped her head in his hands with tenderness. Rowan felt as if she were floating, falling, giving herself over to him in a way that she’d never done with Frederick, or with any man. She felt the bindings break. This wasn’t about predicting the future or reliving the past. Ash was here with her, right at that moment, and it was perfection.

That had to count for something, right?

He ended the kiss slowly and gently, then brushed the side of her face with his fingertips, his gaze traveling from her mouth to her hair, then back to her eyes.

“You are so pretty, Rowan. I really like your hair up like this.”

She felt her cheeks go hot. “Thanks, but it’s probably a little messed up.”

“It’s lovely. You’re lovely.”

Rowan looked out over the water, smiling to herself, then refocused on Ash. “You’ve known a lot of lovely women, I’m sure. I bet Nanette was one of them.”

He laughed. “Only on the outside. But I’m not talking about Nanette or anyone else. I’m talking about you.” Ash traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “You know what struck me about you right away?”

She shook her head.

“You’re so
alive
, Rowan. You sparkle. Your skin, hair, eyes—everything about you shines. When you smile, I forget my own name.”

She froze, not wanting to say anything that might ruin the moment.

“I just wish we could start all over.”

“No kidding.” She laughed. “I wish we’d met at a bar in Iowa. Or a baseball game in, I don’t know, Alaska, or something. Anything, anywhere but here.”

He smiled. “Baseball in Alaska?”

“You know what I mean. Somewhere very far away.”

Ash placed his hand on her shoulder and caressed her, then stroked her back with long, gentle passes of his palm. It felt so incredibly good. “I kind of like it here on the island, Rowan. I only wish I’d gone about things differently from the beginning.”