First Time in Forever

“It was a text, and, no, she didn’t tell me anything. Is she still digging in Corfu?”

“Crete.” Emily’s mouth felt dry. “She’s in Western Crete.” There was something about those hooded dark eyes that encouraged a woman to part with confidences. “So you’ve known Brittany all your life?”

“I rescued her from a fight when she was in first grade. She’d brought a piece of Kathleen’s sea glass into school for show-and-tell and some kid stole it. She exploded like a human firecracker. I’m willing to bet they could see the sparks as far south as Port Elizabeth.”

It sounded so much like Brittany, she didn’t bother questioning the veracity of his story.

Relaxing slightly, she took a deep breath and saw his gaze drop fleetingly to her chest.

Brittany had once teased her that God had taken six inches off her height and added it to her breasts. Given the choice, Emily would have chosen height.

“You knew Kathleen?”

“Yeah, I knew Kathleen. Does that mean you’re going to open the door to me?” His voice was husky and amused. “Puffin Island is a close community. Islanders don’t just know each other, we rely on each other. Especially in winter after the summer tourists have gone. A place like this brings people together. Added to that, Kathleen was a close friend of my grandmother.”

“You have a grandmother?” She tried to imagine him being young and vulnerable, and failed.

“I do. She’s a fine woman who hasn’t given up hope of curing me of my wicked ways. So, how long are you staying?” His question caught her off guard. It made her realize how unprepared she was. She had no story. No explanation for her presence.

“I haven’t decided. Look Mr.—”

“Ryan Cooper.” He stepped forward and held out his hand, giving her no choice but to take it.

Warm strong fingers closed around hers, and she felt something shoot through her. The intense sexual charge was new to her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t recognize it for what it was. It shimmered in the air, spread along her skin and sank into her bones. She imagined those hands on her body and that mouth on hers. Unsettled, she snatched her hand away, but the low hum of awareness remained. It was as if touching him had triggered something she had no idea how to switch off.

Shaken by a connection she hadn’t expected, she stepped back. “I’m sure Brittany will appreciate you dropping by to check on the cottage, but as you can see, everything is fine, so—”

“I wasn’t checking on the cottage. I was checking on you. I’m guessing Eleanor. Or maybe, Alison.” He stood without budging an inch, legs spread. It was obvious he wasn’t going to move until he was ready. “Rebecca?”

“What?”

“Your name. Puffin Island is a friendly place. Around here the name is the first thing we learn about someone. Then we go deeper.”

Her breath caught. Was that sexual innuendo? Something in that dark, velvety voice made her think it might have been, except that she didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that a man like him was unlikely to waste time on someone like her. He was the type who liked his women thawed, not deep-frozen. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of people.”

“You won’t be able to help it. It’s a small island. You’ll need to shop, eat and play, and doing those things will mean meeting people. Stay for a winter, and you’ll really learn the meaning of community. There’s nothing like enduring hurricane-force winds and smothering fog to bring you close to your neighbors. If you’re going to be living here, you’ll have to get used to it.”

She couldn’t get used to it. She was responsible for the safety of a child, and no matter how much she doubted she was up to the task, she took that responsibility seriously.

“Mr. Cooper—”

“Ryan. Maybe your mother ignored the traditional and went for something more exotic. Amber? Arabella?”

Should she give him a false name? But what was the point of that if he already knew Brittany so well? She was out of her depth. Her life was about order, and suddenly all around her was chaos. Instead of being safe and predictable, the future suddenly seemed filled with deep holes just waiting to swallow her.

And now she didn’t only have herself to worry about.

“Emily,” she said finally. “I’m Emily.”

“Emily.” He said it slowly and then gave a smile that seemed to elevate the temperature of the air by a couple of degrees. “Welcome to Puffin Island.”

CHAPTER TWO

SECRETS AND FEAR. He’d sensed both the moment she’d opened the door, just enough for conversation but not enough for the gesture to be construed as welcome.

He knew when a person had something to hide.

It was in his nature to want to unwrap secrets and take a closer look. He’d tried to switch that side of himself off, but still the instinct to ask questions, to dig and delve, persisted.

There were days when it drove him crazy.

To distract himself, he thought about the woman.

He’d woken her. One glance had told him she was the type who liked to be prepared for everything, and his visit had caught her unprepared. A few strands of silky hair had escaped from the clip on the back of her head and floated around smooth cheeks flushed from sleep. She’d been deliciously flustered, those green eyes focused on him with fierce suspicion.

She’d looked as if she were ready to defend someone or something.

Maybe that body.

Holy hell.

Ryan was proud that he hadn’t swallowed his tongue or stammered. He’d even managed to keep his eyes on her face. Most of the time. Then she’d taken a deep breath that had challenged the buttons on her sober shirt, and those full breasts had risen up as if hopeful of escape. The resulting jolt of sexual hunger had been powerful enough to make him lose the thread of the conversation.

It had been a struggle to keep his mouth from dropping open. Even more of a struggle not to press her back against the wall and prove that, even though they had Wi-Fi, not everything on Puffin Island was civilized.

If he was lucky, she hadn’t guessed how shallow he was.

Picking up the pace, he ran back along the coastal trail, dropped down to the rocky shoreline and then climbed up again, pushing hard until his lungs screamed for air and his muscles ached. No one looking at him now would be able to guess that four years earlier he’d died in a pool of his own blood. It was thanks to the skill of medics he hadn’t stayed dead.

He paused at the top because one of the promises he’d made to himself was to take time to appreciate being alive. Of all the places he’d traveled in his life he considered Penobscot Bay, Maine, to be the most beautiful. Forty miles long and ten miles wide, it stretched from Rockland on the western shore up around the Blue Hill peninsula to Mount Desert. The scenery ranged from wave-soaked rocky islands to lush national park. To a waterman it was heaven, to an outdoorsman a playground. To him, it was home.

On a day like today he wondered why it had taken him so long to come back. Why he’d had to hit the bottom before making that decision. He’d stared into the mouth of hell and might have fallen, had it not been for this place.

He’d swapped stress for sandy shores and rocky tidal pools, the smells and sounds of foreign cities for the crash of the sea and the call of the gulls, food he couldn’t identify and didn’t have time to eat for lobster bakes and hand-cranked ice cream. Instead of chasing the truth, he chased the wind and the tides.

He was smart enough to appreciate the irony of the situation. As a teenager he’d been so desperate to escape he’d fantasized about swimming the bay in the dead of night to get the hell off this island. He’d been trapped, imprisoned by circumstances, his cell mate the heavy burden of responsibility that had clung to him since the death of his parents. To keep himself sane, he’d dreamed about other places and other lands. Most of all he’d dreamed about being anonymous, of living in a place where the only thing people knew about you was what you chose to show them.

Taking a mouthful of water from the bottle in his hand, he watched a schooner glide across the bay, its sails plump with the wind.

On impulse, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Brittany. By his calculations it should be afternoon in Greece.

She answered immediately. “You’re calling to tell me you messed with my friend?”

“I offered the hand of friendship as requested.” He waited a beat. “You didn’t tell me there was a child.”

“It slipped my memory.”

Knowing that nothing slipped her memory, Ryan wondered why she’d chosen not to tell him. “I was starting to think you’d done me a favor. I might have known there would be a catch.”

“A kid isn’t a catch. You treat children like viruses, Ryan. Man up.”

He smiled. “So what’s the story? You said she was in trouble. Am I to expect a visit from an abusive ex-husband?”

“Why does it matter? You’d handle him with one hand behind your back.”

“I like to know what I’m dealing with, that’s all.”

“You’re dealing with my stressed friend. Keep her safe.”

Ryan thought about the fierce look in her eyes. “She’s not exactly embracing my offer of help.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” There was a pause. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t hurt for her to have another layer of protection.”

“It would be helpful to know what I’m protecting her from.”

“She’ll tell you that when she’s ready.” The line crackled, and in the background he could hear Brittany having a conversation with someone called Spyros.

“Who is Spyros? Are you planning on marrying a Greek man and moving to Crete permanently?”

“I’m not marrying anyone. Been there, done that.” Her flippant tone didn’t fool him. He knew how deeply she’d been hurt in the past.

“Listen, Brit—”

“I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon, Ryan.” She broke the connection and he stared out to sea.

People fascinated him. The choices they made and the stories that lay behind those choices.

He knew Brittany’s story. He wanted to know Emily’s, and he thought about it now, his mind sifting through possible scenarios as he watched the waves rolling in.

He could have watched the ocean until the sun set, but he was needed back at the Ocean Club. They had to drain every drop out of the summer business to see them through the long Maine winter. He’d plowed all his money into the business and he was determined to make it pay, and not just because living here required him to earn money.

The island had given to him, and now he was giving back.

He had people depending on him.

Driving would have saved time, but choosing to live on this island had been about saving his sanity, not saving time, so he ran instead.

He ran down to the waterfront, past the old fisherman’s cottage where Alec was no doubt absorbed in his research, and then took a shortcut inland.

The scent of the sea mingled with the smell of freshly mown grass and spring flowers.

This was his favorite time of year, before the flood of summer visitors swelled the population of the island, clogging roads and spreading across the beaches in a sprawl of people and picnic baskets.

Tourism poured welcome funds into the island’s economy, but still there were moments when he resented the intrusion. It was like having guests in your home, and even welcome guests came with an expiration date.

Alec teased him that he couldn’t give up those links to civilization—high-speed internet, phone signal—and it was true, but that didn’t alter the fact that his choice to move here had been driven by a desire to change his life.

He wondered what had brought Emily to this place. There had to be a reason. There was always a reason.

She had a city look about her. Pale and pinched.

On Puffin Island doors swung open for visitors.

Hers had almost closed in his face.

He took a detour to the school, ran in through the gates and pressed the buzzer. “It’s Ryan.”

The door opened, and he strode through the cheerful foyer, past walls lined with brightly colored artwork.

His sister bounced out of the classroom, a vision of curls and color. Her dress sense had always been eclectic, and today she’d chosen an eye-popping combination of red and purple. She claimed that color made her happy, but Ryan knew she just had a happy disposition. She saw light where others saw dark and found exciting possibilities in small, daily tasks that to others appeared boring.

If he’d had to pick the perfect teacher for first graders, he would have picked Rachel.

Looking at her, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t entirely screwed up her childhood.

“Something wrong?” The concern in her eyes made him wonder when his family was going to stop worrying about him.

He was used to being the one in the role of protector, and the reversal made him uncomfortable. Presumably this was the price he paid for frightening them to death.

“Can’t a man drop in to say hello to his baby sister? Why does something have to be wrong?”

“Because school starts in less than thirty minutes, you’re sweaty and you only ever come and see me when you want something or you want to lecture me.”

“That’s harsh.”

“It’s true. And if you call me your ‘baby sister’ again, something will be wrong.”

He looked at those bouncy curls and remembered spending impatient minutes trying to drag a hairbrush through the tangles when she was young. On more than one occasion he’d had to choose between dealing with the hair and being late for school, so he’d given up and bunched it back in a ribbon. It was lucky for him the kids at school hadn’t known about his stock of ribbons.

Eventually she’d learned to do it for herself, but not before he’d learned far more than he ever wanted to know about braids and bows and girls’ hair.

“You are my baby sister. And you still look as if you should be sitting in class, not teaching it.”

She gave him the stare she used to silence overexcited children. “Not funny, Ryan. It was even less funny when you made the same joke last week when I was on a date with Jared Peters.”

“I wanted to shake him up a little. The guy has a reputation.”

“That’s why I’m dating him.”

Ryan reined in the urge to seek out Jared Peters and make sure he couldn’t walk to his next date with Rachel. “That guy is all about having a good time and nothing else.”

“Oh, please, and you’re not?”

“He’s too old for you.”

“He’s the same age as you.”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Is there some reason I shouldn’t have a good time as well or is this a ‘man only’ thing? Last time I checked, women were allowed to have orgasms.”

Ryan swore under his breath and ran his hand over his face. “I can’t believe you used that word in this classroom. You look so wholesome.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“I’m looking out for you.” For some reason an image of Emily’s anxious face was wedged in his brain. She’d looked wholesome, too. And out of her depth. “That’s my job.”

“When I was four years old, maybe, but I’m all grown up. Your job is to let me make my own choices and live my life the way I want to live it.”

Ryan wondered how parents did it. Wondered how they stood back and let their kids walk slap into a big mistake without trying to cushion it. “I can still step into the parent role when I need to.”

She grinned. “Okay, Daddy.”

“Don’t even joke about it.”

“We both know that raising us, me in particular, was the equivalent of being injected with a lifelong contraceptive.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” It had been exactly that bad, to the point where there had never been a time in his life when he hadn’t carried condoms. “I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Do you think you have a monopoly on that feeling? Do you think I enjoyed seeing you leave for all those dangerous places? It killed me, Ryan. Every time you left I wanted to beg you not to go, and then when I got that phone call—” Her voice broke. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Hey—” He frowned, unsettled by the emotion in her voice. “I’m still here.”

“I know. And I love you. But you don’t get to tell me how to live my life any more than I get to tell you how to live yours. You’re my brother, not my keeper.”

He held up his hands. “You’re right and I’m wrong. You want to date Jared, then go ahead.” But he made a mental note to have a deep and meaningful conversation with Jared next time he saw him.

Not that he had anything against him. Jared was a skilled boat builder who was also a paramedic. Because of the rural nature of the community, most of the emergency care provision came from trained volunteers, and they played a vital role in island life.

“I don’t need your permission, Ryan.” There was a glint in her eyes. “Do I interfere with your love life? Do I tell you it’s time you stopped thinking a relationship is all about sex and settled down? No, I don’t. I love you, and I believe that eventually you’ll figure out for yourself what you really want.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You think I don’t know what I want?”

She gave him a pointed look. “I have no comment on the way you live your life.”

“Point taken.”

Relenting, she stood on tiptoe and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re alive. I’m even glad you’re living here, but I look out for myself.”

She’d been demonstrative and affectionate as a toddler, and she hadn’t changed. She held nothing back. She didn’t guard herself or search for the truth behind the surface people presented. She took them at face value. She trusted. She gave love freely and asked for nothing in return.

It frightened the shit out of him.

“Just don’t say ‘I love you’ to Jared. Those words either encourage a guy to take advantage, or they send him running.”

“You mean send you running. Not all men are like you.”

“Hey, I used to cut up your food and walk you to school. You can’t blame me for being protective.”

“I’m protective, too. How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s fine.” Dismissing it, he glanced at the walls of her classroom, pasted with the colorful artwork. “There’s a woman staying in Brittany’s cottage. I wondered if you knew anything about her.”

“Ah, so now we’re getting to the reason for the visit. A woman.” There was a gleam of interest in her eyes. “Why would I know anything?”

“Because there’s a child.” Ryan thought about the little face he’d seen peeping around the filmy white curtains in the upstairs bedroom. Was the child the reason Emily hadn’t opened the door fully? That didn’t make sense to him. In his experience children made people eager to connect, especially when they were new to a place. “I thought maybe you had a new pupil starting.”

“Not before summer. There’s just two weeks of school left.” Rachel turned away to finish preparing for her lesson. “Why would you be interested in a woman with a child? We both know you’ve had enough of child rearing, and yes, I might just feel a tiny bit guilty about that, given that I’m the reason you can’t stand the thought of settling down and having kids.”

“Not true.”

“Yes, it is. You were stuck looking after three little kids when you were a teenager. You couldn’t wait to get away.”

“Not because I didn’t love you.”

“I know that. All I’m saying is that I’m the reason you run from the idea of settling down. When we lost Mom and Dad, you had to do the serious stuff without any of the fun, so now you’re having the fun. It’s part of the reason you used to keep your bag packed, so you could run at a moment’s notice.”

He looked at her, his sweet-natured sister who had been orphaned at such a young age. “Hey, I’ve been living here for four years. That’s stability.”

She placed a large sheet of paper on the center of each low table. “There are still times I wonder if one day I’m going to wake up and find you gone. Not that it would matter if that’s what you wanted,” she said quickly. “You paid your dues.”

He discovered that guilt could feel like sandpaper on a raw wound. “I didn’t ‘pay’ anything. I did what needed to be done and I was happy to do it.” If you ignored all the times he hadn’t been happy and had complained like hell at the world for putting him in that situation. “And I’m not going anywhere. How could I after all the effort you put into saving me? I owe you.”

“No one owes anyone anything, Ryan. We’re a family. We help each other when we’re in trouble. That’s what family does. You taught me that.” She walked across the classroom and picked up a bucket of seashells.

Even as a very young child she’d loved everything about the sea.

He’d spent hours with her on the beach, hunting for sea glass and building castles out of sand.

Ryan had always envied her calm contentment, a direct contrast to his own restless energy and burning desire to escape.

“What are you doing with those?”

“We’re making a collage using things we found from the seashore on our trip last week. I still don’t understand why you’d be interested in a woman renting the cottage, especially if there’s a child in tow.” She added paints and glue to each table. “Why the mystery?”

The mystery was that she’d been scared.

“I’m curious.”

She flicked him a look. “Curiosity killed the cat, Ryan.”

“If you can’t come up with something more original than that, then there is no hope for the younger generation.”

But he understood the reason for the tension. She was worried this wouldn’t be enough for him. That he’d wake up one morning and decide to go back to his old life.

Since she’d been the one to clear up the mess last time, he couldn’t blame her for hoping that didn’t happen.

“Miss Cooper?” A small voice came from the doorway, and Ryan turned to see the Butler twins, Summer and Harry, hovering with their mother. Lisa Butler had moved to Puffin Island the summer before and had taken over the ice cream parlor, Summer Scoop, near the harbor.

While his sister worked her magic on two excited children, Ryan smiled at Lisa. “Gearing up for the summer rush? How is everything?”

“Everything is good.” Her expression told him everything was far from good, and instantly he wanted to know why. He couldn’t help himself. Some might have said it was his passion, but he knew it was closer to an addiction, this need to find the truth buried beneath the surface. He wanted to know who, what, why, when. In this case he suspected the “what” was the state of the business. After a harsh Maine winter when the mention of ice cream was a joke not a temptation, Summer Scoop had to be suffering. The business had been limping along for years before Lisa Butler had decided to sink her life savings into it.

“I’ll leave you to mold young minds, Miss Cooper.” He nodded to his sister. “Talk to you later.”

And in the meantime he was going to find out more about the woman in Castaway Cottage.

“HAS THE MAN GONE?”

“He’s gone.” But his face was still in her head. Remembering the encounter, Emily felt heat rush through her body. “I’m sorry he woke you.”

“He didn’t.” Those pale green eyes were ringed by tiredness, and Juliet’s long hair fell in tangled curls of gold past narrow shoulders.

Emily looked for signs of tears, but there were none.

The girl seemed remote. Self-contained.

That was good, wasn’t it?

She tried to ignore the simmer of unease in her belly that told her it wasn’t good.

“Was the bed uncomfortable?” Emily had tucked the girl up in Brittany’s old room the night before, covered with the patchwork quilt.

“It was noisy.”

“That’s the sea. You can sleep in a different room tonight if you like.”

“Can I sleep with you?”

Emily swallowed. “Sure.”

The little girl stood, staring up at the shelf in the kitchen. “Why are there jewels in a jar?”