Shoreline Drive (2 page)

“What’s your middle name, Doc?”

Ben frowned at Merry. His heart rate picked up—due to being startled, obviously.

“Why?” he countered.

Merry rolled her eyes. “I’m not planning to steal your identity or something. Come on, answer the question.”

Ben paused, debated. Couldn’t come up with a reason not to tell her. “Alexander.”

Her bright, open face went thoughtful.

“Alex. Ooh, or Zander. I like it.”

“Like it for what?” Ben ducked his head over his canvas satchel, staring sightlessly at the tidy array of medical instruments. He was holding his breath, and he didn’t even know why.

“For Baby,” Merry said, and Ben’s lungs contracted as if he’d taken a punch to the solar plexus.

“Alexander Hollister Preston,” Merry continued, oblivious to the fact that she’d just destroyed any hope Ben had of maintaining his emotional distance.

Rummaging unnecessarily through his kit had the dual advantage of allowing Ben to keep his expression to himself while he tuned out most of Jo Ellen and Merry’s conversation.

His overactive brain couldn’t help but latch on to the fact that Merry hadn’t chosen to name her son after the kid’s absentee father. She’d severed ties in a meaningful way by keeping Preston as the baby’s surname. And giving him the middle name of Hollister meant Merry wanted him to have a connection to her mother’s family.

Maybe all of that meant that Merry planned to move to Sanctuary Island permanently.

The intense flare of hope in Ben’s chest resisted any attempt by his brain to question why he should care.

Merry had named her son Alexander—nicknamed “Alex” within an hour of being born—for Ben.

At some point after Grady and Ella cleared out to let Merry get some much-needed sleep, Jo excused herself to take a phone call in the front parlor, leaving Ben to watch over her daughter and new grandson.

“Thank you.” Merry sighed, eyelids fluttering as she struggled to stay awake with her son lying on her chest under the sheet.

“You said that already,” Ben reminded her, but his usual sharpness was blunted around the edges. He felt … shaken. Unsure of how he felt about any of this.

Part of it was exhaustion—now that the adrenaline was draining out of his system, he was aware of every ache and pain—but even more unsettling was the simple happiness that suffused his chest as he gazed into Merry’s bright blue eyes.

Propping his hip on the edge of the bed, Ben struggled for his normal cool composure. “Besides, the hard part was all you. I was basically just here to be your catcher.”

Merry gave him a slight smile. “You’re not as much of a jerk as you want everyone to think you are.”

“No, I really am,” he told her honestly. “Doesn’t mean I can’t give credit where it’s due.”

Beneath the sheet, baby Alex snuffled against Merry’s breast and made a sound that was like nothing so much as a piglet rooting for its mother’s milk. Merry winced as he latched on, an odd expression on her face.

“Hurts?” Ben stood up, ready to dig through his canvas bag for … what? He didn’t exactly keep plastic nipple guards in human sizes on hand.

“A little. It’s weird.” She let her head fall back against the headboard with a muted thunk. “But also kind of satisfying.”

You’re going to be a good mother, he wanted to say. Ben clamped his lips shut stubbornly. Sentimental idiocy. There was no guarantee Merry would be any better at parenting than anyone else.

The only guarantee was that she’d mess up that kid the way all parents messed up their kids, even the loving parents. Maybe especially the loving parents.

But at least she’d have the chance to try and get it right.

A familiar ache swelled and bloomed under his breastbone, like a spreader inserted between his ribs, cracking him open wide.

Dr. Ben Fairfax stared down at Merry Preston nursing her baby for the first time, and all of a sudden, he knew exactly how he felt about having that kid named after him.

He liked it.

But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

Merry yawned, a real jaw cracker, without a trace of self-consciousness, her deep blue eyes hidden under the sweep of long lashes a shade or two darker than the spill of wavy brown hair over the pillow. Alex was an impossibly small, perfect bump under the sheets.

Ben stood there and felt all his careful walls and emotional defenses come tumbling down around him as he finally stopped lying to himself.

I want Merry and Alex to be my family.

Chapter One

Four months later …

When his truck rolled up to the wide-open doors of Jo Hollister’s barn, Ben was conscious of a familiar lift in his spirits. It happened every time he came out to Windy Corner on a call. He didn’t want to understand it at first, but by now, he’d admitted the truth to himself.

Even the possibility of running into Merry was like a pair of warm hands taking him by the shoulders and shaking him, hard.

But in a good way.

He swung down from the cab carefully, avoiding the loose runner board by habit, and hauled his battered canvas medical kit over his shoulder. Rolling his shoulders, he blinked up at the puffy clouds billowing across the fading brilliance of the sunset.

Sanctuary Island, off the coast of Virginia, had satisfyingly defined seasons—cold winters with the occasional ice storm, rainy springs leading to profusions of blooming flowers, steamy summers cut by cool ocean breezes … but fall was by far Ben’s favorite.

The humidity of summer finally overtaken by the oncoming chill, the turning of the leaves from green to burnished orange, red, and gold. The air was so clean and clear, it almost sparkled. Breathing it in, Ben felt his lungs open up, greedy for more. After the strenuous work of the last two hours, vaccinating Pete Cloudough’s herd of weaning calves, his muscles twitched with the need to stretch.

He’d deliberately left his weekly Windy Corner visit to last on his schedule for the day, so he could take his time and maximize the chances of seeing Merry and baby Alex. The vaccinations had gone on longer than he’d planned, though, and now he was pretty sure he’d missed his window.

Jo’s younger daughter was almost as invested in the scheme to turn Windy Corner from a regular boarding and training stable into a therapeutic riding center as her mother was. When Ben came by to check the horses, Merry was often working in the barn office, with her infant son in a playpen by the desk.

Since that stormy night when he’d gazed down at the new mother and baby boy and realized how much he wanted to be a part of their lives, he’d worked to establish a fairly friendly rapport with Merry. He’d asked her about the process of learning to write grant applications and how much money they could hope for from government programs to supplement the bank loan the Hollister women had fought so hard for last spring. He’d shared his management woes when yet another receptionist quit on him, and heard Merry’s complaints about how hard it was to hire the perfect person to start building their therapy staff.

But that was about as far as Ben had gotten. Anything more personal, and either he froze up or said something cutting without even meaning to. It was intensely frustrating that he seemed to have no control over his demeanor when he’d always prided himself on his self-control. But then, all that so-called self-control was actually a conditioned response, a habit of behavior he’d developed at a young age to keep people at arm’s length.

He locked people out, behind the impenetrable wall of his sarcasm and cynicism. Sure, it meant he spent most of his time alone … but at least it was by his own choice. It worked for him.

Or it used to. But ever since he’d met Merry, ever since the night when he was the first person to hold Alex … well. He wanted to change. But change didn’t come as easily as he’d hoped. It didn’t help that he knew Merry had disliked him from the minute they met.

Not unusual—he had that effect on most people. And for the most part, Ben was happy to keep the world at arm’s length. A few folks made it their business to nudge in closer, like his friend and neighbor, Grady Wilkes. But when it was up to Ben to invite someone in because he wanted to be closer, he choked.

It just wasn’t something he’d learned how to do while growing up in that big, cold, empty estate just outside of Richmond. Esteemed surgeons Tripp and Pamela Fairfax hadn’t had a lot of time for personal relationships, including parenting.

And of course, there was Ashley.

Grimacing, Ben shook his head to dislodge the image of his pale, perfect ex-wife, and strode into the barn.

The welcoming scents of cut hay, leather, and oats enveloped Ben the moment his boots hit the rough concrete floor of the open corridor between the horse stalls.

An inquisitive, dappled gray head poked over the door of the stall closest to him. Ben took a moment to run a hand down the mare’s soft, whiskered muzzle, automatically using the caress to check that her nostrils were dry. All summer, this little lady had sported a runny nose like a sniffly kid, and Jo had been in a flap, worrying about issues like tooth rot, a sinus infection, or worst, strangles. But after Ben did some blood work and an endoscopic, he’d diagnosed the mare with allergies.

“Looks like I was right, yet again. Swapping out that old, dusty straw for clean wood-pellet bedding took care of those sniffles, exactly as I predicted.” There was nothing like the satisfaction of having a diagnosis proved right, and a patient on the mend. A feeling almost like happiness uncurled, warm and soft, in his chest.

The mare blinked her long-lashed eyes at him dreamily, nosing at his pockets for the peppermints he carried as treats. Ben gave her a grin as he unwrapped a piece of candy.

“You’ve got my number, huh? A little light flirting, some nuzzling, and I’m all yours,” he said, holding the candy on the flat of his palm for the horse to lip up.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The throaty, amused voice behind him squeezed at Ben’s heart, forcing it into an irregular rhythm.

Merry.

Ben froze, his ridiculous pulse racing as the mare crunched down that peppermint in half a second and went back to his empty hand for more. Finding nothing, the mare blew out a breath and removed her head from the stall opening, and Ben swallowed.

Time to face the woman who’d crashed into his well-ordered life like a comet exploding through the atmosphere.

“Or does flirting only work for your four-legged patients?” Merry asked as he turned and stuck his suddenly sweaty hands in his pockets.

“They
are
my favorites.” He shrugged, pleased at the cool steadiness of his tone.

Merry tucked her wavy dark hair behind her ears and gave him a knowing look. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Awkwardness stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he wondered if she’d figured out how he felt about his last human patient. The silence stretched for an embarrassing moment, broken only by the shift of horses in their stalls.

Finally Merry rolled her eyes, prompting Ben to notice the deep purple smudges of exhaustion in the fragile skin under them. “I meant Alex, Doc. Don’t worry, I know you don’t particularly like me—but I’ve seen you with Alex. You can’t pretend you don’t like him.”

Relief made Ben a little light-headed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t like anyone,” he reminded her. “But speaking of Alex, where is the little monster?”

Merry’s mouth quirked up at one side. “You want to say hi to him? And kiss his chubby little cheeks and rub your face in his pudgy belly. Because you don’t like him.”

She paused dramatically before poking him in the arm. “You looooove my kid.”

Ben stepped back hurriedly. When had he drifted close enough to touch her? “I like to see Alexander in a professional capacity. After I went to all the trouble of helping him into the world safely, it only makes sense to check periodically and make sure you’re not screwing him up too badly.”

He said it to tease her, trying to get into the swing of bantering. Merry made it look so easy with everyone else. But Ben proved, yet again, that what was easy for other people turned to crap in his hands.

Instead of laughing or poking him again, Merry reared back as if he’d slapped her face. “I’m not going to screw my son up!”

Torn between the desire to apologize and the need to correct an obviously inaccurate statement, Ben pressed his lips together, then shook his head. “That’s moronic. You’re a parent. All parents screw up their kids in some way.”

That one hit home—he saw it in the way her gaze suddenly darted to the door of her mother’s office on the left side of the main barn corridor.

“Why are you bringing this up?” She narrowed her eyes. “Did Mom say something to you?”

Ben was beginning to regret getting into this conversation at all. “I didn’t bring it up as a serious concern,” he said, impatience at being misunderstood sharpening his voice. “And I’m hardly the person Jo Ellen would unburden herself to, if she’s got an issue. What issue could she possibly have, anyway?”

Stubbornness firmed Merry’s soft, dimpled chin even as her lips curved up in a bright smile. “Nothing. Everything’s great.” She paused, tapping her lower lip. The playful expression on her face couldn’t quite mask the intensity in her voice when she said, “But you think I’m going to be a bad mother. Admit it.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Ben planted his hands on his hips. “Yes, studies show that single mothers are prone to using male children to replace the absent adult partner, attempting to tie the child so closely to them that bonds of codependence are often the result.”

Merry’s pretty cupid’s bow of a mouth lost its curve, going flat and thin. Ben didn’t like it.

Working to soften his voice, he tilted his head to study her. “Look. Statistically, yes, it’s likely you’ll smother Alex with attention and affection, and turn him into a classic mama’s boy. But I promise you, there are worse fates. Better too much love than too little. Everything else will work itself out.”

He wasn’t sure he believed his own words, but he could see from the struggle on Merry’s expressive face that she wanted to.