Summer at the Shore (Seashell Bay Book 2) (3 page)

R
yan spotted his mother on the landing when the ferry was still a quarter mile out from Seashell Bay. She wore a red-and-black plaid shirt, one of a half dozen or so she’d lovingly preserved since her college days in the seventies. They must have cost about five bucks each back then, so he had to give them credit for their staying power.

His mom had never yet failed to be waiting for him on the landing when he came home. Not once in thirteen years. And in muggy heat and bitter cold, in pelting rain and blinding snow, she wore those same plaid shirts that barely retained a fraction of their original vibrant color. Sundays and religious holidays provided the only exception to her hilariously rigid clothing routine, since she wouldn’t be caught dead at Saint Anne’s morning Mass in anything other than a dress. Julia Butler might be a bit eccentric, but everyone loved both her and his dad. They were hardworking, God-fearing folk who would do anything to help a neighbor or anyone else in need.

“I’ll bet that red speck on the dock is your mom,”
Morgan said. She moved closer to him as she leaned against the rail and didn’t flinch when he automatically laid a casual, friendly arm across her slender shoulders. The ocean breeze whipped her hair into a tangle of shimmering gold and made her dangly earrings do a little dance.

“She never misses,” he said.

“It’s pretty great to have someone waiting for your boat, isn’t it?”

Ryan caught the wistful note in her voice, which said all there was to say about her recent loss. Had Cal met his eldest daughter every time? He knew Morgan came home a lot and always spent most of her summer on the island helping her dad and hanging out with her girlfriends.

Not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, he reluctantly pulled his arm away. But, man, he had to resist the urge to keep touching her. “Is Sabrina picking you up?”

“No. My truck’s at the landing, so it seems we’re both all set.”

“I’ll help you load up.”

“No need. I’ve got it covered.”

There was that girl-power pride again. Ryan thought her response was more automatic than honest, and he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “Hey, you know my mom. She’ll kick my ass if I stand around with my hands in my pockets while you’re lugging all that stuff.”

She flashed him a wry grin. “Well, since you put it that way.”

Ryan narrowed his gaze over her shoulder and gestured to a lobster boat motoring just off Paradise Point. “Isn’t that Lily’s boat—
Miss Annie
?”

Morgan peered at the boat. “None other. She’s coming
in early today.” She waved, but neither Lily nor her sternman looked in their direction.

“That’s a girl on the stern.” Ryan thought he should recognize the young woman but couldn’t quite nail it down.

“Erica Easton. She’s been working for Lily since Forrest Coolidge went down with a stroke last fall.” Morgan made a little grimace. “Poor Forrest. He survived the stroke, but his days on
Summer Star
are over. It’s such a shame because that’s about all he ever lived for. The man fished lobster for over sixty years and pretty much loved every minute of it.”

Ryan felt an odd pang in his chest. It was terrible that old Forrest had a stroke, but any man who’d been able to work at something he loved every day for more than six decades must have been a happy guy. He wished he felt the same way about his own career. He was damn good, which was why Double Shield had been only too eager to sign him up. But did he still love soldiering? Though he’d loved it when he was fighting for something he believed in, that happened less and less, especially since his shift to private security. Even in Spec Ops, his missions had sometimes been murky, and buddies had died for no reason that made sense to him. “That’s a shame about Forrest, but I’m glad Lily found a sternman.”

Morgan turned and flipped up her sunglasses, fixing a serious gaze directly on him. Ryan stared back, falling into the big eyes that were framed with thick, soft lashes. Morgan’s blue eyes, silky hair, and killer body were a potent and dangerous combination.

“Ryan, listen,” she said earnestly, “because I’m going
to suggest something that you’ll probably think is batshit crazy.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he joked, trying to get her to relax a little.

She managed a hint of a smile. “I got an idea when you were telling me about trying to rent a place for the summer.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, there are plenty of empty rooms at the B&B these days. So it would be no problem for you to have one as long as we’re not full up. And I wouldn’t charge you anything, of course, so you’d save the cost of renting.” Her gaze skittered away over the water. “But look, I certainly won’t be offended if you tell me it’s a nutty idea.”

Ryan tried not to show his surprise. Shock, really. Morgan’s offer was generous, but he wasn’t a B&B kind of guy. He liked peace and quiet and even solitude, because he’d gone very long periods when there was little of that in his life. It was the main reason he didn’t want to spend weeks at his parents’ house with family and friends coming and going all day long.

“Uh, that’s real sweet of you, Morgan. It’s just that I don’t—”

She looked back at him and waved a hand to cut him off. “I understand. You’d rather be on your own somewhere. I just thought it could turn out to be a good arrangement for both of us.”

As he stared into her eyes, trying to read her, her expression told him nothing. Was there something going on here? He hadn’t forgotten how their dance had almost flared into something a whole lot more last summer. Later, when he tried to analyze what had happened, he’d put
Morgan’s amorous reaction down to stuff going on in her life, including seeing her best friend, Lily, falling in love. In the past, despite some strong physical signals Morgan had let slip, she’d always carefully maintained her distance from him.

“Well, it’s obvious what would be in it for me,” he said. “What about for you?”

The ferry slowed and started to make its final turn to line up with the dock. “Your mom’s waving,” Morgan said. She smiled at Mrs. Butler and started to wave back.

Ryan gave his mother a quick wave and turned back to Morgan. “Well?”

“To be honest, I was hoping for a little skilled labor,” she admitted, looking sheepish. “Sorely needed labor, I might add.”

Okay, that at least made sense. Though the proposal still didn’t appeal to him, every instinct told him to help her out. “Morgan, I can do basic labor, but if you’re looking for skilled work . . .”

He didn’t finish, because Morgan flashed him a wide, sweet smile that thumped him hard. That smile, so genuine and open, had always done it for him.

“Oh, don’t be so modest,” she said. “Everybody on the island knows you’re great with tools.”

Great with an M4 or an HK416, maybe. Just okay with a hammer
.

Ryan wasn’t sure if her remark contained any additional meaning but swore there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. He decided not to go there right now. “What do you need help with?”

“I think the better question would be what don’t I need help with.” She exhaled a sigh. “Right now I’ve got to deal
with the immediate problem of a leaky roof on top of dozens of small jobs that need to be done. I’ve been planning on asking Brendan Porter to do some of the work, but he’s always so busy. Besides if I could get it done via a . . . a barter arrangement . . . I wouldn’t have to shell out money I can’t really afford.”

Ryan sure hadn’t planned on spending his time on the island doing handyman work. But how could he leave one of his oldest friends in the lurch? And from the anxious look on her face, he could tell it had practically killed her to ask. While she’d tried to sweeten the proposal by offering him a free room, saving money wasn’t the issue for him. What mattered was that someone he cared about needed help during a rough time.

And since help was something the resolutely independent Morgan Merrifield rarely sought, that told him how rough things must be for her.

“Okay, I should be able to handle that kind of job—if I can do it in bits and pieces and still get in my kayaking and other stuff.” Stuff like maintaining his intensive daily workouts so he didn’t get soft and slow. “But you don’t have to give me anything at all. I’ll do it to help out a pal.”

She twisted her mouth sideways and then shook her head. “No, I can’t let you do all that work for nothing. If you don’t want a room, then we’ll just have to agree on an hourly rate. I won’t have you working for free. I’m touched by your offer, but I just can’t allow it.”

Morgan’s body language and the conviction in her voice told Ryan she meant what she said. So what now? She was clearly hard up for money, while he was pretty flush. So it would make no sense for her to pay him wages
for his work. That wasn’t a realistic option. Nor was working for free. He totally got what she was saying about that—it would eat away at her pride and maybe even end up damaging a friendship that he truly valued.

Would it kill him to stay for a couple of weeks at the B&B? The handyman chores shouldn’t take longer than that. And who knew if he could even find a decent rental house anyway? Until he found a place, Golden Sunset would be preferable to living in his parents’ cramped house.

Stop trying to kid yourself, you moron
.

He knew the biggest reason he shouldn’t take a room at the inn was Morgan. He’d been stifling his lust for her for years, and after the slip last summer, he knew he had to be extra careful. He had to keep some space between them, and that would be pretty damn hard if they were sleeping under the same roof, wouldn’t it?

He should dig in his heels and say no to the room and no to accepting any money from her either. She’d have to accept help on his terms, or there would be none. That was the smart way to handle it.

Stupidly, Ryan found himself saying the opposite. “Okay, I guess I could stay at your place for a little while. Just long enough to get most of the work done.”

Her head jerked a bit, as if she was surprised. Then she held out her hand. “Deal, dude. And thank you.”

Morgan should be happy. She
was
happy. Then why did her stomach feel like it was doing cannonballs off a high dock?

The answer was obvious. Ryan Butler was a very dangerous man. Until last year, she’d firmly stashed him in a
mental box labeled totally off-limits. It sounded silly, but to her, Ryan was almost a James Bond or Jason Bourne type of guy, a crazy-hot mystery man who did wild, top secret stuff he never talked about. He acted like a normal guy when he was home, except for the sky-high emotional walls he’d erected around himself. Ryan
never
talked about himself or his life. If that didn’t spell danger, she didn’t know what did.

And now she’d flat-out invited Mr. Sexy Mystery Man into her life. Into her
home
.

“For goodness’ sake, Morgan, why didn’t you put all that stuff in cargo?” Julia Butler asked after she finally relaxed the fierce squeeze she’d put on her son. They stood in the center of the dock as disembarking passengers parted like a wave and flowed around them.

Ryan grinned. “Because our girl had to do a forty-yard dash to make the boat, Mom. The boat crew got the gangway back in place real fast though. It looked to me like those guys knew they’d be in deep trouble if they didn’t.”

Morgan stuck her tongue out at him. “No, they did it because they’re nice young men. Oh, and because I always slip them a good tip when they cut me a break.”

Julia’s eyes twinkled behind her wire-framed glasses. “You always were a very practical girl, Morgan.”

“Glaring at the crew has always worked for me,” Ryan said.

“Yeah, but I’m not some six-four, jacked hunk who looks like he was carved out of a granite cliff,” Morgan scoffed.

Ryan’s dark brows politely arched up, while his mother’s eyes popped wide. Morgan mentally winced.

“Ah, I hope business is getting better at the B&B,” Julia
finally said into the awkward pause. “How’s it looking for the Fourth?”

The July Fourth celebrations in Seashell Bay brought boatloads of visitors. The B&B had always been fully booked during the holiday when her dad was in charge.

Not this year.

“We’ve still got some space, Mrs. Butler,” Morgan said. “We usually get some last-minute bookings, so I’m hopeful we’ll fill up.”

“Let’s load up your stuff,” Ryan said. “You’ll need to get that beer in the fridge soon.”

When the three of them reached the parking lot, Julia took Ryan’s duffel and headed off to her car, an ancient Jeep Cherokee even more rusted than most of the island beaters. After Morgan opened the tailgate of her dad’s red Toyota pickup, Ryan helped her get everything stowed.

He opened the driver’s door and handed her inside. “I’ll talk to Mom about our arrangement later,” he said after she rolled down the window. “I didn’t want to spring it on her here.”

“Sure.”

“She’s obviously not going to be thrilled that I won’t be staying with her and Dad,” he said.

“Well, take your time. Your room at the B&B will be ready for you whenever you want to move in. In fact, you can have a choice.” He’d be staying in the main house while her bedroom was in the attached annex. Though that wouldn’t put much distance between them, every little bit helped. “You can have the biggest one we’ve got. We usually reserve that room for families—”

“Morgan, all I need is a bed and a closet,” Ryan interrupted, leaning on the window frame and looking
impossibly tough and handsome. Her heart skipped a few beats just looking at him. “Big and fancy are wasted on me.”

She laughed. “Well, none of our rooms are very big, and we definitely don’t do fancy at Golden Sunset Bed-and-Breakfast.”

She didn’t often refer to the B&B by name because she hated “Golden Sunset.” While the sunset view from the inn was often spectacular, she thought the name made it sound like a retirement home. Morgan still hoped to adopt a fresher label, but her sister was balking. Sabrina’s greatest desire was for everything to stay the same. Change—almost any change—filled her with anxiety.

“I’ll spend tonight with my folks,” Ryan said, “and tomorrow morning we can start by going over what you want done. How’s that work for you?”