Sea of Love: A Bayberry Island Novel (22 page)

“How?”

“Well, for starters, I wish I hadn’t let those kids drag me to town square and into your mother’s clutches.”

Rowan winced and sucked in air through her teeth. “Yeah . . . about that.”

“Will you tell me why you got so upset?”

“Ehh.” Rowan dug her toes into the sand, trying to decide how to answer his question without sounding as crazy as her mother. “Well, remember how I told you that my last relationship didn’t end well?”

Ash nodded.

“That’s glossing over a few of the more pertinent details.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I met Frederick three years ago, during festival week, right here at the Safe Haven. He was staying there as a guest, just like you. And . . . well, he was the Man Grab that year, just like you. I fell for him really hard, the way I’m falling for you.”

Ash nodded slowly, his face showing nothing but patience. Rowan figured he was giving her room to say what needed to be said, and she appreciated it.

“He played me perfectly. I followed him to New York, where he headed an investment company, to his apartment, and to his bed. He proposed to me.” Rowan stopped, checking Ash’s reaction. She saw concern in his eyes and decided to keep going. “I do think he loved me, at least at first. I don’t think his intentions were a hundred percent awful from the start. But the truth is, once he’d hooked me, he went fishing for my family’s money. He convinced all of us that he could take what remained of the Flynn fortune—which wasn’t a lot, let me assure you—and earn us enough to restore the Safe Haven and never have money worries again.”

Ash’s mouth pulled tight.

“Yeah. I know. He’s serving time in prison for stealing from a lot of people, not just us. But my parents lost their retirement and my brothers and I lost every dime we’d inherited from our grandparents. It was all very tragic, and it was all my fault—because I was gullible and stupid and I let a man seduce me.”

“Rowan, sweetheart.” Ash placed a fingertip under her chin and lifted her face. “It wasn’t your fault. Truly. The man was a criminal and you and your family were victims of a crime. But I don’t think I fully understand . . .” Ash frowned.

“Right. The Man Grab.” She groaned. “I told you I don’t believe in the mermaid legend, right?”

He nodded.

“It’s deeper than that. I
hate
the legend.”

“Okay.”

She sighed again. “Right after I met Frederick, my mother kept telling me to go to the mermaid and ask for my true love. I did it—not because I believed in that crap but because I was sick of her riding me. I fell crazy in love with him, and, of course, her goofy group went off and had some secret ritual on my behalf and came back with the big news. The Great Mermaid had sanctioned my romance with Frederick and that I could be sure it was true love. He was my destiny. And she made a big, public deal of it.”

Ash’s eyes went huge.

“I know. It’s complete idiocy, but I was already so in love with him that I let it slide. Unfortunately, when everything fell apart with Frederick and I came slinking home, my screwup was just as big a public event as my romance had been. The whole thing has made me pretty skittish. So tonight, when I found out you were the freakin’ Man Grab . . .”

“Oh.”

“. . . the man who’s supposed to find his heart-mate as soon as he finishes the ritual, I lost my damn mind! If people see me with you . . .”

“I understand,” he said, his voice so soft she barely heard his words over the rhythmic waves of the ocean, now lapping at their feet. As if Ash knew what she needed, he opened his arms and brought her to his chest. He just held her like that for many long moments, occasionally kissing her hair or holding his hand to the back of her neck. “Rowan?”

She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the cotton of his shirt. Good God, he smelled so good! She closed her eyes tight.

“I don’t think any of that matters—not what your mother says or which fairy tales people believe or don’t believe. If you and I decide we want to enjoy each other, get to know each other, and maybe fall in love, it’s nobody’s business but ours. And the only magic at work is the magic the two of us create together.”

Slowly, Rowan peeled herself from Ash’s body, smiling. Honestly, that was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard a man say.

He continued. “So if we’re confident in that, if we know where we stand and why, then all the weird shit swirling around us is just noise.”

Rowan raised her fingers to Ash’s cheek. “But you’re aware that Bayberry’s weird shit is weirder than most weird shit, right?”

Ash laughed. Rowan enjoyed the loose and comfortable sound of it and knew she’d never heard him laugh with such abandon before, without inhibitions. But even as she enjoyed his laughter, she couldn’t stop staring at his face. Then it dawned on her—he looked different.

Lines that had been there just that morning were gone, and it definitely wasn’t the moonlight playing tricks on her. The set of his mouth was kinder. His forehead was smoother.

“What are you looking at?” Ash grinned.

“You. You seem more relaxed tonight. Like a weight’s been lifted from you.”

“Ah.” Ash released his hold of her, took her hand in his, and directed her down the beach toward the Safe Haven. “You might be right. Walk back with me?”

“Of course.” Rowan leaned in to Ash and felt immense pleasure as he slipped his arm around her waist. They fell into a matching rhythm, Ash slowing his stride to accommodate her shorter legs. “I have a confession to make.”

Rowan’s head snapped up so she could see him. “About what?”

“Why I was late tonight.”

She groaned. “I’m really sorry about Hubie. He’s old and grumpy and he hates Mona with a passion. You know that knife he was carrying?”

Ash nodded. “Yeah. What was up with that?”

Rowan figured since Ash had already met Hubie Krank, he would know that he posed no real threat. “About a week ago he took a steak knife to all the tires on my family’s old Subaru. His daughter wrote us a check, marched over there, and removed everything sharp from his house—scissors, nail files, hedge trimmers, even the blades to his food processor—cleaned the place out.”

“She was thorough.”

“But not quite thorough enough. Hubie showed up a couple hours before you did Friday, waving around an old antique sword he’d found in the attic or someplace, saying he had to protect himself from the Flynns.”

Ash stopped walking. “Is all this about the resort plans? Does Hubie live on the cove?”

Rowan nodded. “Directly across Shoreline Road.”

“Huh.” He started up again, and they walked together in comfortable silence for a moment. “Well, swashbuckling Hubie wasn’t the reason I was late, Rowan. He just made me a little later than I already was.”

“Okay. Why were you so late, then?”

He glanced sideways at her. “Remember how I said I had almost convinced myself that I wasn’t the right man for you? Well, I made up my mind not to come tonight. I packed up and headed to the boat, deciding I’d sleep on the dock if I had to. I made it to town before I turned around and came back. I guess it took a little time to sort out how I felt.”

Determined not to make a face or say something snarky, Rowan kept strolling. She couldn’t blame Ash for having doubts—she’d been plenty conflicted herself that evening. They were both grown-ups with baggage, and things were moving fast between them. And what was happening wasn’t something either of them had been looking for. “So what made you come back?”

Ash sighed, pulling her tighter to his side as he slowed the pace. “This may sound crazy, but I heard my own voice in my head telling me what to do. Have you ever suddenly known what path to take, the right choice coming to you almost out of nowhere?” He looked down at her, moonlight sparkling in his eyes. “I mean, really
known
. From here.” He gently poked her belly with a finger.

Ash was about to pull it away, but changed his mind, spreading his fingers over the bodice of her dress, flattening his palm and holding it there. Rowan felt his heat penetrate the thin dotted Swiss cotton, and it spread through her stomach and down between her legs. If it were possible to press her thighs together while walking, she would have done it.

“I think I know what you mean.”

“When was the last time it happened to you?”

Rowan laughed. “Um.” She draped her hand over his hip. “About fifteen minutes ago, when you told me to stop talking and kissed the bejesus out of me. I heard a little voice tell me to let it happen, that it would be all right.”

Ash kissed the top of her head, then slowed to a halt. “Rowan Flynn, may I have this dance?”

She giggled, looking around the deserted moonlit beach. “The dance floor’s pretty crowded.”

“True, but this is my favorite song.”

“All I hear is the ocean.”

“Exactly.”

Ash gently turned Rowan until she faced him, slipped an arm around her back, then laced his fingers with hers. Rowan gazed up into his eyes and knew, without a doubt, that finally—at the age of thirty—she was having one of those impossibly romantic moments that seemed to happen only to other women. She’d always imagined that if this sort of thing ever happened to her, it would take place in Paris, or Rome, or even Boston. Not here on the Bayberry Island beach, the most unromantic place on earth.

Until tonight. Until Ashton Louis Wallace III had made it romance central.

He leaned down and gently kissed the side of her neck left exposed by her hairstyle. He nuzzled her as he swayed back and forth, bringing her even tighter to his body. He handled her like she was precious to him, like he didn’t want to let her go. Unbelievably, he began to sing to her, his voice tender and sweet. She recognized it—some of Ray LaMontagne’s most haunting music and lyrics, where a man assures his woman that she’ll forever be his lover and friend.

Her entire body took a deep breath and held it. Wouldn’t that be just wonderful?

*   *   *

Ash would start to set things right in the morning, but for tonight, he simply wanted to keep dancing with Rowan under the twinkling lights of the clambake’s dance floor, allow himself to marinate in the strange sensations that had somehow penetrated his defenses. He didn’t think much of pop psychology, but even he admitted that all the loss he’d experienced in his life had left its mark. It had settled around his heart like layers of silt, the shell growing harder and thicker with each blow. But on this magical night, that shell had cracked open enough that an entire world had forced its way inside.

Rowan was in his arms, and she felt perfect against him as they swayed in the warm glow of tiki torches and the thousands of tiny white lights strung overhead. The musical stylings of the clambake DJ seemed a little schizophrenic to Ash, veering from hip-hop to country without warning, but the beer-lubricated crowd enjoying this pleasant seaside night didn’t seem to mind. Annie and Nat were dancing right next to them, and Annie had just said something that made Rowan toss her head back and laugh.

Ash stared at her in wonder. He wasn’t the only one taking a risk. This resilient, funny, and beautiful woman had been willing to open up to him, and the stakes had been just as high for her. He knew when he told her his whole story it would take every one of his persuasive sales techniques to get her to sit still and hear him out. But Ash had faith in himself, and in Rowan, and in their willingness. He knew they would get through this.

The music ended and Ravelle gestured for Ash. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.” Ash kissed Rowan quickly. “Be right back.”

In the last hour or so, Ash had decided Nat Ravelle was a great guy, despite the Los Angeles–isms that occasionally slipped from his mouth. His view of the world was just slightly askew, a by-product of his years working as a producer for a paranormal reality series, no doubt. But he had a wicked, dry sense of humor that Ash enjoyed. It was a relief to Ash that he genuinely liked the man who would soon be Annie’s husband. Anything less could have caused some problems.

“Tell me more about your foundation,” Ravelle said, pulling the keg lever and filling another plastic cup.

“Thanks.” Ash accepted the beer and took a sip. “Oceanaire is an educational nonprofit focused on marine ecology and preservation. We fund a lot of research, provide scholarships, and sponsor marine biology camps for younger kids.”

Ravelle nodded, his brow arching. “Nice. So is marine biology your background?”

Ash chuckled. It was obvious that Annie had sent her fiancé out to do a little man-to-man fact finding. He didn’t mind, and even appreciated Annie’s concern for Rowan.

“My background is mostly sales and business consulting. My best friend was the marine biologist, and the foundation was his family’s undertaking. When he died, his will specified that I should take his place as chairman of the board.”

Ravelle shook his head. “Sorry to hear about your friend, man.”

“Thanks.” Ash took another sip of beer.

“So what does a chairman of the board do, actually?” Ravelle started walking back to the dance floor, but at a leisurely pace. Ash suspected he couldn’t return to Annie unless he had something substantial to report.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, laughing. “I’ve been at it only a few months. Right now the board is trying to find a place to locate a research and education institute, along with its headquarters. I’m supposed to be looking around for them, since I’ve had some site acquisition experience.”