Summer at the Shore (Seashell Bay Book 2) (4 page)

Fantastic—if this plan doesn’t blow up in my face
. “Sounds perfect. You can’t believe how much I appreciate this, Ryan.”

He shook his head. “It’s no big deal. Is eight o’clock too early?”

“Absolutely not. Sabrina gets breakfast started by six, and I’m usually in the kitchen helping her by six thirty. You like omelets?”

His lips curved into a sexy grin that left her short of breath. “I’ll eat anything that isn’t still moving.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Please, spare me the detail. Eight o’clock tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah, it should be . . . interesting.”

After that cryptic comment, Ryan gave the roof of her truck a tap and headed off across the lot.

In her rearview mirror, Morgan watched him all the way to his mom’s Jeep before she finally put her truck in
gear. Ryan Butler was hands-down the hottest man she’d ever known, and starting tomorrow night, he’d be sleeping under her roof.

That evening, Morgan wheeled past the Doyle home and trap lot and up the long driveway to Lily’s place. A sunset glow washed over the jumble of lobster traps, buoys, coils of rope, and the large steel shed that served as Lily’s workshop for repairing equipment.

She parked in front of the two-bedroom cottage Lily had built a few years ago at the back of her father’s acreage. The house was cozy as heck, with its wood-burning stove and warm, comfortable furnishings. Morgan had wonderful memories of countless meals and bottles of wine with her best bud here. In this cottage, they’d shared joy and heartbreak, and joked about island life and the trials of finding a suitable mate in Seashell Bay.

Surprisingly, Lily had finally found her true love among one of the island guys—Aiden Flynn, who had left Seashell Bay at eighteen and returned only a year ago. Soon, Lily and Aiden would be married, and the newlyweds would move into the historic Flynn family home on the other side of the island.

Lily threw open the screen door. “The beer is cold, the coffee’s warm, and Mom stocked me up with fresh-baked blueberry tarts this morning.”

Morgan gave her best friend a quick hug. “Oh, please. I gain a pound every time I even take a look at those darn tarts.”

“After what you said on the phone, I’m guessing you’ll take beer, not coffee,” Lily said as she headed back to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Her bare feet and
damp, curling hair meant she’d already showered after a hard day of hauling lobster traps.

“Yeah, like, move over coffee because this is a job for alcohol.”

They settled in the living room, where Morgan took an overstuffed armchair and Lily sprawled on the sofa, putting her feet up on the battered wooden coffee table. After taking a hefty sip of her Shipyard Ale for courage, Morgan told her about meeting Ryan on the ferry.

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell Aiden he’d be staying so long this time,” Lily said. “Not that Ryan is ever a fount of information.”

“No kidding. At least he told me a bit about what he’s been up to lately. He’s with some private military contractor now.”

“Really? Doing what? Chasing terrorists? Saving the world from an alien invasion?”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “Aiden’s got you playing too many video games. No, he’s been protecting diplomats and corporate bigwigs in foreign countries. I did a search for the company, Double Shield, when I got home.”

“Wait, you did an Internet search on Ryan? Seriously?”

“Yeah, busted.”

Lily laughed. “Oh, well, you could always make it your summer project to find out everything he’s been up to, I suppose. If anybody can probe that man’s defenses, it’s you. Especially after what happened between you guys at—”

“I prefer not to be reminded of that particular descent into insanity,” Morgan interjected. “It was a momentary aberration due to stress and alcohol.”

“Uh-huh. You stick with that story if it makes you feel better, girlfriend.”

Morgan tossed a throw pillow at Lily.

“Are you going to assault me or get on with it?” Lily said, after deftly catching the pillow. “There are some juicy bits, right? I bet all that wicked chemistry between you is still front and center.”

Off the charts
. But Morgan wasn’t yet ready to admit that. “Ryan doesn’t want to stay with his folks, so he’s going to try to rent a house.”

Lily smirked at the dodge but let it go. “That makes sense, though he must be forgetting how busy it is here in the summer.”

“I told him he’d have trouble.” Morgan tried to sound casual. “So I offered him one of the empty rooms at the B&B for a while. For free, of course. Just to help out a friend.”

Lily set down her beer. “Uh, well, that was certainly kind of you. Probably not the smartest move you’ve ever made but definitely kind.”

If there was one thing Morgan could always count on with Lily—though actually there were a lot of things she could count on—it was the unvarnished truth.

“It seemed to make sense in the moment,” Morgan said. “You know how much work needs to be done, and I’m so strung out financially that I can’t really afford to pay a carpenter or handyman to do it all.”

“And what did Ryan say after he picked himself up off the deck of the boat?”

Morgan waggled a hand. “He agreed, eventually. I insisted that he either had to take the room or I had to pay him for his work. I’m not about to take advantage of the guy that way.”

Though I’d like to take advantage of Ryan Butler in a bunch of other ways. Oh, yes, I would
.

“So when does he move in?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Mother Mary. Well, at least he’ll be sleeping upstairs in one of the guest rooms, not right next to you in the annex. Temptation will still be close though.”

“I’ll be sure to keep my bedroom door locked in case he comes down to the kitchen for a midnight snack and gets lost,” Morgan said.

Lily laughed. “Look, I totally get why you’re doing this, but if the shoe were on the other foot, you’d be giving me holy hell. You were like a mama bear from the moment you got a sniff of something starting to happen between Aiden and me.”

Morgan didn’t buy that comparison. “Not the same, Lily. You’d been in love with Aiden since forever, so I thought you’d get really hurt when he went back to his life in baseball. But all I’ve ever had for Ryan was some . . . uh, well, let’s call it hormone-related interest.”

“Had? Past tense? Hey, sweetie, you can’t fool me.”

“Okay, so maybe I do still have a certain lust for his fine form. But it’s not like I’d be courting a broken heart. It won’t happen, because Ryan and I are totally different.”

Lily lifted an eyebrow. “How so, exactly?”

“Well, what do we have in common? Nada, other than this island. And when it comes to Seashell Bay, Ryan steers clear of the place except for a few days a year, while I come home every chance I get. That’s a pretty fundamental difference, don’t you think?”

“That sounds like what I said about Aiden and me,” Lily said drily. “And I still remember how you called bullshit.”

“Okay then, how about the fact that he spends his life
toting a gun? You know how I feel about the gun culture, Lily. And while I support our troops, I don’t think war is a good answer to anything.”

“Forgive me for harping on the same theme,” Lily said, “but Aiden and I don’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of issues either. And yet our differences have a funny way of seeming totally insignificant when he’s got his arms around me. Or when he’s making my life easier in a thousand ways.”

“Did you just change your tune from a minute ago? I know you’re desperate to get me married off now that you’ve hooked Aiden, but really . . .” She gave Lily a wink in case there was even a remote chance her pal would think she was serious.

Lily pointed an accusatory finger. “Hey, if a little carefree sex was all there was to it, I’d be thrilled for you. But you know it won’t stop at that, and you
will
get hurt. Not because you and Ryan are so different, but because I don’t see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Loner settling down anytime soon, if ever. And not around here, that’s for sure.”

Morgan had the urge to hunch her shoulders. “You think I should withdraw the offer?”

Lily paused and then said, “What does Sabrina think about it?”

“She was leery at first, which didn’t surprise me. But once I went through all the work we needed done and how much money Ryan could save us, she was okay.”

“Sabrina appreciates everything you’re doing,” Lily said. “She understands how hard it was for you to leave your job and come home. It was a huge act of love on your part, Morgan.”

“Love
and
guilt.” Morgan hated that she still struggled
to come to terms with her messed-up feelings about her dad, Sabrina, and the B&B. It was like an anchor strapped to her chest. “And my sister isn’t nearly as positive about it when she’s talking to me.”

Lily shook her head. “Enough with the guilt trip, you. Cal had no right to expect you to give up your career and come running back after your mom died. Especially not when he had Sabrina to help him.”

Morgan grimaced. “But you remember how devastated he was. Losing Mom made him think he couldn’t run the place by himself. And Sabrina was an even bigger mess than he was after Mom died, so that weighed on him too. Dad pulled it together over time, but he never stopped needing my help. I let him down, Lily.”

“Oh, bullshit. The B&B is still alive and kicking.”

“Alive but hardly kicking. Anyway, he made me promise that, if anything ever happened to him, I’d take care of Sabrina. And he meant making sure the B&B would be there for her. If it were just up to me, I’d try to sell the place while it’s still got some loyal clients. If it keeps going downhill, it isn’t going to be worth much in a sale, and then we’ll be in real trouble.”

Still, she hated the idea of selling, because it would mean she’d failed her father and her sister again.

“You think the money you’ll save from Ryan’s work will be a significant help?” Lily asked.

“Define
significant
. I have very little savings left, and the bank won’t extend Golden Sunset’s credit. So unless I get the work done free or on the cheap, the place is going to start looking even more like an old shack.” She hated that idea too. Golden Sunset didn’t deserve such shabby treatment.

“It needs some updating for sure, but that place has great bones.”

“Great
old
bones, Lily. And old bones break easily.”

Her friend eyed her doubtfully, then reluctantly nodded. “Well, if you really do need Ryan, all I can say is please be careful, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine—as long as I give Mr. Stud Muffin a very wide berth.”

R
yan parked his cart next to Morgan’s pickup and took a good look at Golden Sunset, the first in a long time. Man, the place did need work. For starters, the mailbox listed over, there was a missing baluster on the wraparound porch, and the weather vane atop the gabled roof looked as if the next nor’easter would rip it clean off and send the metal rooster winging across the yard. So far, three jobs had presented themselves before he’d even started a close inspection of the old Victorian house with its attached annex.

No wonder Morgan had been so vague about the extent of the problems. He had a feeling there’d be a hell of a long list of work to be done by the time they’d finished going through the place.

At least the paint job looked pretty good. The coastal Maine climate hadn’t yet weathered the eggshell-white siding or the hunter-green gingerbread trim. Ryan said a silent prayer of thanks to Cal Merrifield for keeping that part up, at least, because he sure didn’t want to have to paint the old barn from stem to stern. He sucked at
painting, probably because he’d always found it to be fiddly, slow, and boring. Give him a nail gun or a drill and he was good to go, but a paintbrush—no thanks.

Morgan emerged from the annex as he grabbed his duffel off the cart’s cargo carrier. “What time did you say you were going to be here?” she said with a teasing smile.

Ryan glanced at his watch. It was eight forty, quite a bit later than his original ETA. “I figured I should give you a bit of extra time. Didn’t want to barge in while you might still be getting breakfast on the table for your guests.”

He’d been awake since six. As if his brain had been hardwired at birth with a built-in wake-up call, his eyes popped open every morning at that hour, rain or shine, no matter whether he was tucked in at his dad’s house in Seashell Bay or grabbing some brief shut-eye in a wadi in Helmand Province. He’d used the extra time this morning to go for an even longer run than usual and had ended up completing a full circuit of the winding road that traced the circumference of the island. Then he’d had a quick cup of coffee with his dad, who delayed his normal castoff so he could spend time with his son. Though Ryan had never wanted to be a lobster boat captain, he’d always admired his father’s dedication to the challenging and sometimes dangerous life on the water. Kevin Butler was the most decent man he’d ever known, and Ryan was happy he’d be spending more time with him this summer.

“We’ve only got two couples, and they’re early risers,” Morgan said. “Everything’s already cleaned up and put away.”

Leaning against the doorframe, she looked so damn
beautiful that Ryan’s pulse rate doubled. Her red-and-white-striped top displayed a nice amount of cleavage, and her white capris hugged her trim figure, showcasing curves that never failed to draw his eye. Her blond hair looked like sunshine. Morgan might be in a world of trouble, but you’d never know it from looking at her.

He rolled his eyes in mock aggravation. “Damn. I guess that means I’m out of luck for breakfast.”

A small notebook in her hand, Morgan sashayed across the gravel drive to meet him, her sweet smile holding more than a hint of mischief. “Oh, maybe we can rustle you up something. Granola and yogurt? Herbal tea, perhaps?”

He hoped she was kidding but decided not to push it. “On second thought, maybe we should start right in on the inspection.”

“I’m in your hands. Do you want to start outside or inside?”

Babe, I’d like to have you in my hands, all right
. Ryan tossed his duffel up onto the porch. “Might as well start out here, I guess. I’ve already noticed a few things—the mailbox, the weather vane, and that missing baluster over there.” He pointed to the side of the porch.

“Baluster? I just call it a post,” Morgan said, “but I must bow to your obvious male wisdom.” She followed her wiseass comment up with a flourishing mock bow that gave him an even nicer view of her breasts. Then she tapped her notebook. “And those three items are already on my project list, by the way. I’m afraid it grows almost daily.”

Ryan liked that she seemed so upbeat this morning. When they talked on the boat yesterday, he’d found it hard to see her so weighed down by her troubles. That wasn’t the girl he was used to. She always looked put together
and gorgeous, but when she had that lively sparkle in her blue eyes, Morgan Merrifield was damn near irresistible.

But when she opened the notebook and he caught a glimpse of the long list she’d prepared, Ryan had to steel his features not to show his concern.

“Lead the way.” He pulled a small, spiral-bound notebook out of the back pocket of his cargo shorts and a stub of a pencil from behind his ear. “I’ll make some notes on the materials I’ll need.”

Morgan eyed the pencil, worn smooth and round at the tip. “I guess that outfit you work for doesn’t pay too well. I could get you a real pencil if you like. Or maybe even a pen?” she asked. “So far, I have to say your tools aren’t too impressive, Butler.”

He laughed. Yeah, that was the Morgan he’d always known—smart, funny, and always ready to rub a little forty-grit sandpaper over his ass.

“Just wait till I bring out the big guns,” he said as she led him along a well-tended flagstone walkway bordered by a row of flowering plants in weed-free beds. The only plants he could identify by name were the hostas. “Then you won’t be laughing.”

Her eyebrows lifted a bit, but then she turned and pointed at the corner of the house. “Well, Mr. Secret Agent Man, the next item on my exterior list is that loose drainpipe. Think you can handle that assignment?”

“Easy.” Ryan made a note in his book. The brackets, some of them bent, had given way and created a gap between the siding and the drainpipe. “I’ll replace all the brackets. Otherwise, a strong wind might rip the pipe right off.”

“And that would be bad,” Morgan said.

“Especially if it whacked somebody in the head as it came down.”

She exhaled a sigh, and some of the fun went out of her. “That’s all I’d need—a lawsuit.”

Ryan gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Look, I’ll take care of that and anything else that could give you grief.”

She startled slightly at his touch. “Um, thanks. Let’s go around back so you can see what else we’ve got.”

He pondered her interesting reaction as they headed under a vine-covered trellis that led to the expansive rear yard. It sloped gradually toward the rocky shoreline where the B&B’s dock jutted out into a shallow cove off the Atlantic. “What does your sister think about me staying here?”

He and Sabrina barely knew each other. They’d been two years apart in school and probably hadn’t exchanged more than a couple of dozen words back then. Mostly he remembered Morgan’s pretty little sister as a shy, awkward girl who would sometimes lash out big-time when some jackass kid flipped her switch with too much teasing.

“She’s really grateful that you’re going to help us out with the work,” Morgan said in a neutral voice. She stopped as they reached a big concrete patio nestled in an angle formed by the big main house and the smaller annex. Four sets of white metal tables and chairs, each with an open, green umbrella that matched the house trim, formed a loose circle.

Ryan raised his brows. “And?”

She gave a little shrug. “Almost anything new or different makes her a little nervous, Ryan. You know that. We’ll just have to see how it goes, okay?”

“No problem.”

He’d been doing a visual check of the roof as they talked. The asphalt shingles were a disaster. In a few areas, pieces had ripped off. On a section of the roof above the corner of the patio, a horizontal strip of plywood sheeting had become visible.

“Okay, that’s a serious problem,” he said, pointing up. “You need to get the entire roof reshingled as soon as you can afford it, but that section needs to be fixed fast unless you want your guests taking unscheduled baths in rainwater.”

Morgan craned back to look. “That’s the first item on my checklist. Those shingles blew off in a thunderstorm two days ago. And wouldn’t you know it, some water leaked down through the attic onto the ceiling of one of the guest bedrooms.”

“How much water?”

“Enough that the ceiling will have to be patched and repainted.”

“Was there damage in the attic too?”

“Just a wet floor, and we only use the attic for storage. Anyway, I told you there was a lot to be done around here. I could keep you busy most of the summer.” She dropped her gaze down at her sandal-covered feet. “Naturally, I won’t ask that of you.”

“Let’s see what else needs to be done,” he said. “Then we’ll take it from there, one step at a time.”

She gave him a sheepish grin. “You’re more than welcome to stay here all summer whether you’re still working or not.” Then she shook her head, as if remembering something. “But I would need to kick you out for a week at the beginning of August because we’ve got a wedding
party coming in. They need all the rooms. It’s the only time all summer that the place is fully booked, so it’s really important.”

Ryan had a vision of his leisurely summer plans evaporating like morning fog on the bay. Sharing a house with Morgan, her sister, and a slew of guests was not going to cut it for long. “I’ll definitely be out of your hair way before then. I should be able to find a place to rent soon enough.”

“Don’t count on it, pal.” She took his arm and gently pulled him with her as she started across the patio. “Let’s finish up out here so we can get you a real breakfast—I was just yanking your chain about granola and tea.” She ran her gaze over his body. “A hardworking man of your size needs a healthy dose of protein to start his day, right?”

Ryan swore he heard a catch in her throat after she conducted her little physical check. Maybe that brief flash of fire they’d ignited at the social last summer was ready to flare up again given half a chance.

He smiled. “Morgan, you have no idea how big my appetite can be.”

Ryan followed her up the porch stairs and into the center hallway. If Morgan didn’t miss her guess, his gaze was probably glued to her butt. A few minutes ago, that same gaze had made a slow perusal of her entire body, which had sent the blood rushing from her head directly to points south. He was clearly appreciating her outfit. Or more likely, what he imagined was underneath it.

Then again, she’d made a little more effort today, unlike her usual and decidedly more casual early morning
routine. Her top was kind of tight and showcased her cleavage without being trashy, while her capris were a snug fit. A little understated makeup had been in order too. She kept telling herself that she was simply making up for her sweaty, harassed, and rumpled appearance on the boat yesterday. After all, she didn’t want Ryan to think she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown or anything.

Ha, ha. Nice try, Merrifield
.

Besides, how could she object to him giving her a few once-overs when she’d been doing exactly the same thing to him? When he got out of the golf cart, it had hit her all over again that Ryan was truly a prime piece of rampant masculinity—more so every time she saw him. His soft, form-fitting Red Sox T-shirt and cargo shorts displayed a fabulous expanse of carved, tanned muscle, enough to make her start mentally fanning herself. Add in ruggedly handsome features and a dark, mysterious gaze, and everything about him screamed hot, powerful male, a guy who knew exactly what he wanted and how to take it.

And it looked like he might just want to take her.

Morgan knew her self-control was in for a very rocky time. Keep him busy all summer? Yeah, her suddenly filthy mind could pull up about a thousand ways to do that—some of them probably illegal and all of them insanely stupid, at least when it came to protecting herself from hurt.

But she knew the wild ride would be worth it.

Almost
.

Passing the parlor and dining room on the left and the sitting room/library on the right, she led Ryan back to the junction between the house and the annex. Only when
she reached the door to the kitchen did she realize he’d stopped and crouched, carefully inspecting an electrical outlet. He made a note, then rose and strode down the hall to join her.

“Morgan, just how old is the wiring in here?”

Her lovely Ryan fantasies crumbled under the onslaught of reality. “All I know is that everything passed inspection when Dad bought it.”

“Getting through a home inspection doesn’t necessarily mean that much, and that was years ago anyway,” he said in a somber voice. “If the rest of the house is like this, you need to fully upgrade as soon as possible.”

Morgan stifled a pathetic whimper. “That would cost a fortune.”

“It would cost a lot more if the place went up in smoke.”

Crap. She couldn’t possibly afford new wiring now, but she’d build it into her already awful calculations of what she’d have to spend at some point to keep her increasingly bloated whale afloat.

After a quick nod of acknowledgment, she headed into the kitchen, where her sister was working at the center island, cutting up vegetables for a country-style soup. Ever deliberate, Sabrina would probably take a good half hour or more to work her way through the carrots, beans, onions, turnips, butternut squash, and celery. Though Morgan always offered to help, her sister tended to push her away more often than not. Cooking was one of the few things Sabrina felt comfortable doing, and it gave her a much-needed measure of pride.

“Sweetie, say hello to Ryan,” Morgan said with an encouraging smile.

Her sister wore a white chef’s apron that covered her
from her chest almost down to her knees. Underneath was a blue T-shirt, faded jeans, and black Converse running shoes with purple trim.

“Hi, Ryan,” Sabrina said without looking up.

He extended his hand across the island countertop. “It’s really good to see you again, Sabrina.”

Sabrina wiped her right hand on her apron. Morgan had little doubt her sister’s palm was damp since all through breakfast she’d been as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. After some hesitation, during which Ryan patiently waited, Sabrina extended her hand for a tentative shake. Thank God he’d remembered Sabrina’s aversion to hugging—hugging men anyway—and hadn’t tried to embrace her.