Half-Hitched

Really glad you’ll be there next week. Seems to me we have a lot of catching up to do. Maybe some unfinished business to attend to, as well?

Addie drew in a huge breath. Forget guys in bars. Forget Mr. Gorgeous. And definitely forget the cats.

Next week Addie Sewell was going to blast out of her rut and sail over the moon with The One That Got Away.

After eleven long years she’d finally get a do-over with her first love, Kevin Ames.

2

LAND HO. Derek stood at the front of the Bossons’ fortytwo-foot cabin cruiser, Lucky, as she made her way from Machias to Storness Island, which Paul’s family had owned since the 1940s. First boat Derek had been on besides his own in a long time…seven years? Eight? Being a passenger felt strange. Or maybe it was the jet lag from the fifteen hours of travel, Honolulu to Portland, and the five-hour drive that morning, Portland to Machias, to meet Paul.

Lucky left the chop of open sea and purred into the protected cove on the island’s north side, a mile from the mainland. Derek had visited the Bossons here only once, several years earlier, but the place was as picturesque and familiar as if he’d just left. The cove boasted a sand beach—unusual along Down east Maine’s rocky coast—with the same driftwood branch he remembered lying across it. The white boathouse still stood among the birch, spruce and firs, its doors padlocked. Birds darted over the rocks on the cove’s other side. Peaceful. Remote. Hard to imagine any of the world’s constant turmoil still existed. Same way he felt leaving civilization and taking to the sea on Joie de Vivre, the eighty-foot yacht in which he’d invested—his parents would say wasted—a good chunk of his inheritance from Grandma and Grandpa Bates.

Paul directed Lucky’s bow toward the mooring, which Derek snagged with the boathook, inhaling the cool air’s clean pine-salt scent as he tied her on.

“Nice place you got here.” He and Paul were the only ones on the boat. Most of the wedding guests had already arrived, but Derek hadn’t been able to get a flight out of Hawaii until after his last charter ended yesterday. Or was it the day before? God he was tired. But he wouldn’t miss Paul’s wedding for anything.

“Yeah, it works for us.” Paul grinned and slapped him on the back. He had one of those eternally youthful faces, round cheeks, sandy hair and bright blue eyes. At twenty-nine he didn’t look a day older than when Derek found him ten years earlier vomiting up too much summertime fun, lost and disoriented in a not-great part of Miami. Derek lived there at the time, working jobs on whatever boats he could, in the years before he got serious about his maritime career and enrolled at the Massachusetts Maritime Academy. Since Paul had had no idea where his friend Kevin lived, Derek let him crash on his floor in the tiny apartment he’d sublet when he wasn’t at sea. Didn’t take him long to figure out Paul was a good kid caught in a bad situation—a delayed adolescent rebellion against real and imagined pressures of adulthood.

Derek got Paul a job on a boat for the summer, helped him get off booze and back on track to finish college at Notre Dame. In the ensuing years their friendship surpassed big-brother mentor and younger screw-up, and became close and satisfying. About as close and satisfying as any relationship Derek could have these days.

He helped Paul load last-minute supplies into the onboard dinghy and lower the boat into the smooth water.

“You won’t know a whole lot of people.” Paul climbed into the dinghy and manned the oars. “Sarah, of course.”

Of course. Derek settled himself in the bow seat. He’d emailed Paul’s sister before coming, hoping she’d put aside her grudge against him, but Sarah was a passionate woman prone to the dramatic, and apparently hadn’t forgiven him for thinking it was an extremely bad idea for them to sleep together. Her reply had been coldly formal, but at least she’d replied. “How is Sarah?”

“She’s Sarah.” Paul spoke of his twin with exasperated affection. “Two parts fabulous, two parts crazy-making. She has her best friend Joe here, and her friend from grade school Addie Sewell.”

“Addie.” Derek frowned, trying to get his tired brain to function. “That’s a familiar name, have I met her?”

“Nope.” Paul corrected his course with a few strokes of his right oar. “Grade school friend of ours. I was crazy about her for years.”

“Oh, right, the woman who walked on water.” Derek had been curious about her. Paul was easygoing about pretty much everything—once he stopped drinking—but this Addie had him in knots. As far as Derek knew, Paul had never let on to Addie how he felt.

“Yeah, I had it bad.” Paul shook his head, laughing. “Ellen finally exorcized her completely. Addie’s a great friend now.”

“Okay. Sarah, Addie. Who else?” The boat nudged onto the generous expanse of sand exposed at half tide. Derek jumped out and grabbed the bowline, pulled the dinghy up onto the beach. At high tide, there was barely enough beach to walk on. At low, twelve vertical feet out, there was ample sand, then ample mud, sprinkled with rocks and starfish, clusters of mussels, and a hidden bounty of steamer clams.

“Some friends from college and a few from work in Boston. Nice people. Oh, and Kevin Ames, who can’t make it until tomorrow. I think you met him once.” He gave Derek a sheepish look and started unloading the skiff onto a waiting wheelbarrow. “Maybe not under the best circumstances.”

“Right.” Kevin had been the friend buying Paul booze in Florida in spite of his obvious issues with alcohol, and encouraging him to drop out of college and “find himself.” He’d reminded Derek of his own brothers: wealthy, self-centered and entitled, sure rules were for other people and that they’d automatically rise to the top—like most scum. If it wasn’t for the sea, which had started calling to Derek in middle school and soon after took him away from the life his parents planned for him, he’d probably be that way himself.

Years of hard work clawing up the ranks from deckhand to captain was enough to beat the entitled out of anybody.

They finished loading the wheelbarrow, secured the dinghy against the rising tide and made their way through the Christmas-tree smelling woods, then up a wide bumpy path through blueberry bushes to the back door of the house, a rambling two-story Victorian with weathered gray shingles and dark green trim and shutters. Pitched in nearby clearings were several colorful tents, obviously for overflow guests, though the house had six or seven bedrooms from what he remembered.

“Hey! Hurry up. Ellen needs the cheese you bought for nachos.” Sarah jumped down from the house’s back deck and strode to meet them, followed by a tall, dark-haired guy in jeans and a Green Day T-shirt. “Hi, Derek.”

“Hey, Sarah.” He smiled, relieved when she managed a chilly grin back. Apparently she’d be on good behavior for her brother’s wedding. “It’s good to see you. You look great.”

He wasn’t lying. She’d dropped the few extra pounds she’d carried, had shortened and shaped her curly blond hair, and moved with more mature grace, though she still evoked a tall firecracker about to go off.

“Thanks. You look…” She scowled at him. “Like you haven’t slept in years.”

“Not sure I have. Hi, I’m Derek.” He offered his hand to the guy hovering behind her, noting the wary look in his eyes. Was this Joe? Looked like Sarah had shared her I’m-the-victim version of their story with him.

“This is Joe.” Sarah pointed.

“Good to meet you.” Joe shook Derek’s hand then picked up a grocery bag under each arm. “I’ll take these up to Ellen.”

“Come on in. We’re having drinks, getting organized to take a picnic supper down to the beach.” Sarah turned and charged back up the stairs to the house, throwing Derek an inscrutable look over her shoulder that made him a little nervous. He’d had to put her off gently on that same beach five years ago, and he really didn’t want to go through that drama again.

The pine and faint wood smoke smell inside the house was instantly familiar. Paul’s parents were on the mainland, so instead of Mrs. Bosson at the stove, there was a blonde, attractive woman Derek identified as Ellen by the adoring look she sent Paul, and whom he instantly liked by the bright smile she sent him. The aroma in the kitchen was fantastic.

“Welcome, Derek.” She gave him a sincere hug, Southern accent warming her words. Paul had met her through a mutual friend in Boston two years earlier and his fate was sealed pretty quickly. “It’s good to meet the man who saved Paul’s life.”

“I don’t think it was quite that dramatic.”

“I know it was. He’s still grateful and so am I.” A timer went off; she grabbed lobster oven mitts and peered into the oven.

Derek looked around the large, airy eat-in kitchen, amused and pleased so much of it was exactly the same as the last time he was here. The loon sculpture, the blobby painting of a seal Sarah had done as a girl, sand dollars and sea glass, a tide clock hanging next to an iron candle holder forged by a local blacksmith. He’d only been here a week, but would never forget the strong sense of love surrounding the Bosson family, and their joy at being together. He hadn’t had much of that in his life, still didn’t, and he’d unapologetically eaten it up. Paul had invited him back a few times, but their schedules never seemed to mesh.

“Can I help, Ellen?”

“No, no.” She set a pan of fragrant rolls onto a cooling rack. “I just got rid of my army of helpers and am finishing in here. Grab a beer and go on outside, I’ll join you in a minute.”

“Here you go.” Paul pulled bottles of beer and lemonade from the old gas refrigerator and tossed the beer to Derek, who was afraid drinking would send him into a coma of exhaustion, but hell, it was a celebration. He’d risk it.

He followed Paul outside, where Paul was immediately pounced on and dragged into conversation. Derek paused on the front stoop, newly entranced by the Bossons’ view. The house sat high on a hill. The land in front—you couldn’t really call it a yard—was covered by juniper bushes and sloped to a steep cliff with a breathtaking panorama of ocean and islands. More tents were pitched to the west of the house, and a tiny cabin, built for the twins to overnight in, perched to the east. At this hour the sun’s full strength had started to wane and colors were deepening—the blue of water, the dark green of firs, graybrown shades of the rocky coastline, and the puffy white of clouds. One of his favorite places on earth. And given that he’d been all over the world and was working out of Hawaii these days, he had plenty of Edens to choose from.

Taking a deep breath of the cool, salty air, he shifted his focus to the other guests, in groups on the front porch and down on the grounds. Fifteen to twenty people. At thirtyfive, he probably had five to ten years on most of them. It had been a long time since he’d been in this type of social situation. On his boat, he was the authority, keeping just enough distance from guests and employees, making the ship’s safety and smooth operation his first priority, the comfort of his passengers a close second. Onshore, he was a temporary or occasional friend to whomever he knew or met wherever he was.

He took a bigger slug of beer than he needed. Paul caught his eye and raised a finger, indicating he’d be right back. Derek waved him off and took another drink. He was a grown man; he could introduce himself to—

“Hi.” The woman was right under his nose, smiling at him, about to come up the steps as he’d been about to go down.

“I’m Addie.” She pointed to her chest, as if he might not know for sure she was talking about herself.

So this was Addie. To put it mildly, she was not what he expected.

The way Paul had described her beauty, wealth, breeding and untouchability in his besotted way had Derek imagining a chilly, elegant brunette dripping sophistication and disdain. The kind who’d show up at a casual island wedding like this one in stiletto heels, linen and pearls. The kind Derek had taken around the world in his boat, the kind with rich older husbands they were always looking to cheat on.

This woman was wearing soft-looking midthigh black shorts, a casual rose-colored scoop-necked top half covered by a gray hoodie, and flat natural color sandals on slim feet. She had deep coffee eyes and striking dark brows, curling short dark hair—a sexy-schoolgirl fantasy come to life. She reminded him of a down-to-earth version of the French actress Audrey Tautou.

He had major hots for Audrey Tautou.

“You’re Addie Sewell.”

“Yes.” The expressive brows lowered in amused confusion. “How did you know?”

“You’re world famous.”

“Ha!” Her wide mouth broke into a smile that took away a good deal of his weariness. “You must be a friend of Paul’s.”

“Derek Bates.”

“Oh.” Her smile faltered, her eyes clouded over, the temperature around them dropped forty degrees. Brrrrr. “Sarah’s told me a lot about you.”

“That’s funny.” He forced himself to chuckle, visualizing a roll of duct tape over Sarah’s mouth. “Sarah doesn’t know a lot about me.”

He expected an insult, an argument, a stinging defense of her friend, and was surprised to find her considering him thoughtfully. “I just know what she told me.”

Derek sighed. He’d leave bad enough alone. It was his word versus Sarah’s and this was her territory and these were her people. “I’m pretty sure I’m sorry to hear that. When did you arrive, Addie?”

“Three days ago. Sunday evening.”

“From…?”

“LaGuardia.” She glanced around, apparently not sure she should be talking to him.

“Into Portland?”

“Bangor.”

“Okay.” He nodded too many times, at a loss what to say next, how to act around a lovely woman who’d undoubtedly been told by her best friend that he was something you should avoid stepping in.

“Weather been good here this week?” Really, Derek? The weather?

“It’s been okay.” She fidgeted with the zipper on her hoodie. “Not great. But at least no rain.”

“What have I missed so far?”

“Oh. Well. We’ve gone hiking on the mainland. Done a lot of hanging out…” She laughed nervously. “I can’t really remember.”

“It’s okay.”

“Oh, Quoddy Head. We went there. The easternmost point in the U.S.”

“Nice.” He nodded again. This was torture. He wanted to skip the small talk. Go straight to what mattered, how she felt about life, whether she was doing what she loved, whether the world was a gorgeous place or a disaster, whether she was seeing anyone, and whether she liked kissing all night under the stars…

He nearly hugged Ellen when she clapped her hands from the front stoop.

“Hey, y’all, we’re ready. Come through the kitchen, grab something to carry and we’ll head down to the beach.”

Derek finished his beer and tossed it into the recycling container set up outside. If he wanted to have fun this week he’d need to do better than this socially. Part of his job was chatting with passengers, so making small talk should be second nature. Instead he felt as if he were trying to exercise a muscle atrophied from years of disuse.

After grabbing a cooler, he joined the procession to the beach, aware of Addie’s presence in the crowd as if she was lit up in neon. He still couldn’t get over how different she was than he expected, or how much she aroused his…curiosity.

The beach was cool and comfortable; a light breeze kept the mosquitoes manageable, though repellent was passed around before everyone settled in. To his relief, Derek eventually got a second—third? fourth?—wind, and was able to relax and enjoy himself. The guests were friendly and easy to talk to, all interesting people with solid views on life and their places in it. The food was simple and abundant: excellent crab rolls, nachos, potato salad and coleslaw, and the beer flowed like…beer.

A few times—more than a few—he glanced over at Addie and caught her just looking away, though she made no move to approach him. He wasn’t sure what to make of her surreptitious inspection. Was she repulsed? Fascinated? Attracted? He was certainly attracted. The more he looked at her, the longer the evening went on, the more he remembered stories Paul told about Addie, the more he was intrigued, and the more beautiful she became. Maybe it was the softening light. Maybe it was the beer. He wanted to talk to her again. Alone.

As the sun lowered, there was a move to light a bonfire and gather around it. Not enough sleep and too much beer, food and conversation propelled Derek to his feet. He could use a break and had a deep need to watch the sunset from a remote corner of the island he remembered as a prime viewing spot. A quick look showed him Addie was missing from the crowd. He’d have liked to invite her along, but that was probably a terrible idea given what she still thought of him, so it was just as well.

Excusing himself from Sarah’s friend Joe, who’d turned out to be an interesting and friendly guy, and Carrie, a piece of work who’d settled on Joe after flirting with pretty much every male at the party, Derek left the beach and headed back into the woods up the hill toward the southwest where he could best watch the evening light show.

As he crested the hill, he glanced back at the house; its shingles glowed majestic gray-pink in the evening light, tents providing a festive carnival atmosphere.

Addie Sewell was coming down the front steps.

Derek stopped short. When she caught sight of him, she did the same. For a few bizarre seconds they stared at each other across the grassy space, then what-the-hell, Derek beckoned to her. She frowned and looked down toward the path to the beach.

This might take some persuading.

“Hey.” He spanned the distance between them across the top of the hill, brushing past goldenrod waving in the breeze. Addie held her ground, chin lifted, watching him approach. “I’m going to take a walk, to check out the sunset.”

She pressed her lips together. An adorable dimple appeared in her right cheek. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Want to come with me?”

“Oh.” She blushed crimson, eyes darting again to the apparent safety of the woods. Poor woman, trapped by the big bad sexual predator Derek wasn’t. “I don’t know… .”

He’d wait. He swatted a mosquito. Stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. Began whistling.

She giggled. A good sign.

“The sunsets here are breathtaking… .”

“Well.” She gave him a cautious sidelong look. “It has been either cloudy or foggy since I’ve been here.”

He grinned. “I’ll keep my clothes on and my hands to myself, I promise.”

“Oh, no, you don’t need to—” Her eyes shot wide. “Wait! No, yes, you do!”

He laughed and she laughed with him, and then bang, the tension was gone, and he felt lighter than he had all day.

“What I meant was, I’m not worried.” She arched a brow at him. “I have a spectacular right hook, three gold medals in track and a black belt.”

“Weaponry?”

She pointed emphatically into his face. “That, too.”

“I’ll remember.” He smiled, trying to look as blandly safe as possible, so she wouldn’t guess the depth of his attraction. After what she’d probably heard from Sarah, he should act like touching her had never occurred to him.

Though it was starting to be all he could think about.

“So you must have been on Storness Island before, Addie?” He gestured her onto the narrow path in front of him, being the perfect gentleman. The perfect gentleman who wasn’t wrong in thinking her rear view would not exactly be a hardship.

“Actually, no. Sarah invited me a few times, but my parents always had me in summer camp or some program, or we were traveling. So this is new to me.”

“Sounds like you were a heavily scheduled kid.”

“Oh, yeah. They played Mozart while I was in utero. I got infant flash cards, only educational toys, organic food before it was mainstream, you name it.” She spoke matter-of-factly. Was she grateful? Resentful? Resigned? He wanted to get at more of her, only barely understanding his fascination.

“How was that?”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the path, an obstacle course of rocks and protruding tree roots. “It was all I knew, so it was fine at the time. Now, it seems a little over the top. They’d lightened up some by the time my brother came along. He’s five years younger. What about you?”

“I’m the oldest of four brothers. My parents did the overachiever conditioning on us, too. It worked pretty well on my brothers. I wasn’t interested.” He reached to touch her shoulder and pointed into the bay where the sunset was gathering force. “Look at that.”

“Beautiful.” She stopped walking, then smiled rapturously and stretched out her arms, as if wanting to embrace the bay. “Don’t you wish all of life was that simple and perfect? After living in the city so long it’s like…well, I miss things like this at home.”

He knew how she felt. “What city? Wait, near LaGuardia obviously, so I’ll guess New York?”

“Manhattan. Where’s home for you?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s a tough question to answer. I don’t have one in the traditional sense.”

“Oh, right.” She turned and kept walking. “You’re the yacht captain.”

He expected the slight sneer. Most people had no idea what the job entailed, how serious his responsibilities and how wide his range of duties. “I’m based in Hawaii right now.”

“Ooh, that must be tough.”

He caught up to her as the path widened down a cranberry-covered hillside, red berries a stunning contrast to the carpet of dark, shiny leaves. “It has its moments. What do you do in Manhattan?”

“I’m an actuary for an insurance company.”

“Ah, a numbers woman.” And a very smart woman. He was impressed. Maybe she’d like to take over for his bookkeeper, Mary, who was due to go on maternity leave in another month. “How do you cope with Manhattan being Manhattan?”

Her mouth puckered a little while she thought. The sun landed on her cheekbones and lit her eyes. He was hit with a strong urge to kiss her. But since he’d only just met her and was trying to show how wrong Sarah was about him…not a good idea.

“In Manhattan you have to retreat into your head. You can’t go out there every day and let the chaos get in your face. At least I can’t. It’s strange what you get used to. A friend on the phone the other day said she could barely understand me over sirens in the background and I hadn’t even heard them.”

“Noisy, crowded, sounds perfect.”

“Oh, but there’s so much culture. So much energy. Anything you want to eat, buy, hear or see, you can find in New York.” She smiled mischievously, mouth generous, lips full. “How do you deal with all that total isolation in the middle of the ocean?”

“Ha. Good question. My answer would probably be something along the lines of, ‘I retreat into my head. You can’t go out there and let the emptiness get in your face.’” He loved the way she laughed, soft and low. “And of course there’s so much beauty. So much peace.”

“Speaking of which…” They’d arrived on the rocky ledge he remembered as the best spot for sunset watching. He wasn’t wrong. The sight was spectacular. Addie crossed her arms; her breasts rose and nestled against each other. She sighed in pleasure.

Derek swallowed. Lack of sleep, beer, this woman…

He was beginning to understand what had happened to Paul.

“I’m curious.” She turned to face him, eyes doe-wide and questioning. The gods were putting his resolve not to touch her to an excruciating test. He wasn’t sure he’d pass. “Did you always want to be at sea instead of settled in one place?”

“Yes. Did you always want to be in the same office and house every day?

“Not specifically, no. But it didn’t surprise me I ended up there.” She tipped her head, mouth spreading again, this time in a troubled smile that was both vulnerable and bewitching.