Jared closed his eyes and took a deep drag of the open ocean air, wishing he could return to his bunk until they reached the docks.
No such luck. He noted that he’d rationed their supplies perfectly as he measured out the pancake mix and began to slice peaches. After breakfast, after they noted the position of the halibut, Tripp stretched. “Guess it’s time to turn this thing around.”
Jared sipped his bottled water, his eyes on the horizon line, his heart hammering out an anticipatory rhythm that could sustain him until they reached Redwood Bay. The view didn’t change as Tripp swung the trawler around, but something inside Jared knew he was now on his way back to Millie.
He was just about to go start lunch when Tripp swore from the control room; metal on metal cranked near the hull; Jared’s heart stopped, faltered, as the trawler slowed to a halt.
“What happened?” He strode up the steps and into the control room.
“Hit something.” Tripp’s frown was in direct opposition to the calmness in his voice. “The engine’s stalled.” He heaved out a heavy-duty toolbox from under the control panel. “Let’s go check it out.”
* * *
Millie arched her back and twisted at the waist, trying to get the ache out of her shoulders. One glance at the racks of skirts, aprons, and scarves made every shooting pain, every tender fingertip, worth it.
She was ready for Redwood Bay’s Summerfest, which took over the park and kicked off the tourist season the first week of June. She’d needed the sewing distraction these past few weeks, and she’d need it even more during the fest, when Jared would be out on his tour.
“Mills?” Diana’s voice startled Millie away from the worries in her life.
“Ready.” Millie joined her friend in the shop, taking a box of pastries while Diana kept two loaves of bread. They drove to Sadie’s together for girl’s night, where she had an entire salad bar set out on her counter.
“Good thing I nabbed those cupcakes,” Diana commented when she saw the spread.
“You love a good salad,” Sadie said. “Besides, we’re gearing up for a summer of carnival food. We should start out light.”
“Speak for yourself,” Millie said. “I don’t eat carnival food.”
“Have you seen that man-snack you’ve been enjoying?” Sadie raised her eyebrows. “He’s totally dangerous to your health.”
Millie giggled with her friends as she washed down her salad with two cupcakes and a hefty brick of Diana’s homemade toffee. When she climbed the steps to her front door, she automatically glanced left to see if Jared was still up.
Her heart stuttered. He didn’t live there anymore. But he would be back tomorrow. A smile formed, she kicked off her shoes, and barely made it to bed before sleep claimed her.
* * *
Millie sat on her front porch on Saturday evening, a glass of Diana’s iced tea clutched between her hands. She wasn’t waiting outside for Jared to stop by. Certainly not. The sunset was particularly colorful that night, and she simply wanted to enjoy it.
He hadn’t called her, though she’d expected him to. She’d also thought he’d show up at the dress shop, but he hadn’t. She’d driven by the docks on her way home, but wasn’t sure which boat he’d taken, so didn’t know if it was back.
The not knowing was worse than the waiting. He didn’t pull in or call by eight. Or nine. By ten, Millie fought against a rising tide of panic. She called Tripp’s office, then his cell, without success. She tried Jared but was sent straight to voicemail.
Polly picked up on the fourth ring. “Millie. What’s going on?”
“Have you heard from Jared or Tripp? They were supposed to be back this morning, and they’re not.”
Polly yawned, a response Millie did not understand. Her brother and cousin were missing!
“Do you know where they were going?” Millie asked, realizing that she had no idea of Jared’s destination, route, or location.
“Fishing,” Polly said. “They probably decided to just stay an extra day. I’m sure they’re fine.”
“Okay,” Millie said, forcing a measure of calmness into her voice. “Thanks, Polly.” She hung up before she said something through a sob.
“He’s fine,” she told herself as she paced on the front porch. He was an experienced sailor and fisherman. There hadn’t been a storm.
“He’s fine.” She repeated the words until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
* * *
At the docks, Millie waited in her car as the sun crested the forest behind her. Waited while the sky blued. Waited until her stomach cramped with hunger and her heart cracked with the need to see Jared. And still she waited at the docks.
She ignored Desi’s call, ignored the nagging sensation in her gut, ignored the continually clicking minutes.
When dusk settled, she left the wharf and drove home through blurred vision. She slammed on the brakes in her driveway, her fear giving way to fury. She stomped into the house, the door slamming and her boots barking against the floor.
She went straight to the closet, to the small section where she kept Brady’s things. She pulled down the Cal State sweatshirt, her fists strangling it. “Why did you have to die?” She flung the shirt aside, reaching for the next one.
“I’m freaking out over him.” Tears poured down her face. “The same way I panicked over you. It’s not fair!” She couldn’t be with Jared if she was constantly being reminded of Brady, constantly worried he wouldn’t come home, constantly driving him away with her fears.
With all the clothing off their hangers and shelves, Millie heaped them into her arms and dumped them into her empty laundry basket.
“He’s fine,” she said, smoothing down her shirt and searching for her center. “I’m fine.” She hated that Jared’s late arrival had her freaking out so completely. Hated that her first instinct was that something terrible had happened. Hated that she didn’t trust him enough to go fishing and come back safely.
No more. He wasn’t Brady. She reiterated that Jared was an experienced seaman. He wasn’t Brady. He wasn’t deep-sea fishing for thrills.
She loved him, and he wasn’t Brady.
She lifted the basketful of Brady’s clothes. It weighed heavily on her heart, but with every step toward the garbage bin, she felt lighter. She hoisted the clothes into the bin and let the laundry basket fall back to the driveway.
She put one hand on the lip of the bin, closed her eyes, and said goodbye.
Millie returned to her house without Brady. But also without knowing where Jared was or if he was okay.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jared extracted his grease-covered hand from the engine’s cavity. “Try it now.” He closed his eyes and sent a prayer up as Tripp’s voice came through the radio in the affirmative.
Jared watched the sun settle into the ocean. If he didn’t show up in town soon, he had no idea what shape Millie would be in when he returned. She really had no reason to worry. They had plenty of food, bottles of fresh water, and a working radio system. Tripp had called into the Coast Guard, who would arrive Monday morning to tow the boat if they couldn’t get it running.
But tomorrow was two days too late, and Jared needed to get back to Redwood Bay now.
The engine clunked and pinged and started. Jared whooped and radioed to Tripp that they were in business.
He cleaned his hands on a disinfectant wipe as he made his way from the lower deck to the control room. “How long until we get back?”
Tripp looked up from the GPS. “I’m figuring out the heading.” Within minutes, he had the trawler pointed in the direction they needed to go. “Days, Jared. We were two days out when we stalled. We have that far to go still.”
“I’ll radio the Coast Guard.” Jared did it just to have something to do, something he hoped would comfort Millie. Surely she’d remember to check with the Coast Guard. He’d mentioned it to her once before.
Four months ago, if someone would’ve told him that he’d be on
his cousin’s fishing boat, anxious to get back to the woman he loved in Redwood Bay, he’d have growled until they cowered. Now, though, with darkness descending, the urge to see Millie grew, and grew, and grew until it clogged his throat.
He slept. Made pancakes. Watched the horizon. As they approached Redwood Bay, Jared hoped the bright beam of the lighthouse would come into view.
By the time they docked, did the essentials to anchor the trawler, and Jared arrived at Millie’s, the clock read just past one o’clock in the morning on Wednesday. Five days late. His stomach clenched, unsure of what waited for him behind Millie’s front door.
The house sat in darkness, but Jared prowled toward it anyway, unable to bear thinking about her waking up in the middle of the night still thinking he wasn’t home. Her motion-sensor light kicked on when his foot touched the bottom step. He knocked softly on the front door, one hand already on the doorknob.
“Mills?” he called.
He rapped again, but nothing stirred. He tried the doorknob, relieved when it gave to his grip. He entered her house, treading softly so as not to scare her. Down the hall and into her bedroom he went, stalling next to her bedside. She breathed evenly, though he noticed the balcony doors stood wide open, as if to hear him when he arrived.
She must’ve been exhausted because she hadn’t. He almost turned around and left. But standing there, watching her, Jared couldn’t leave.
He knelt down and smoothed her hair from her forehead. “Sweetheart,” he whispered.
She stirred, moaning when he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m back. Wake up for a second, okay?”
Her eyes fluttered open and tried to focus.
“It’s Jared,” he said softly, backing off a bit so he wouldn’t get punched.
She sat up, arms flailing just as he suspected they would. “Jared.” She reached for him, exploring his face, his shoulders, his hair. “It is you.”
He smiled. “In the flesh.”
She wrapped her arms around him and gripped him. “You’re back.”
“A net got sucked into the engine. Took us a while to get it fixed. Did the Coast Guard let you know we were okay?”
“The Coast Guard?” She pulled back and searched his eyes.
Jared’s chest tightened. “Remember I told you to call the Coast Guard if you were worried?” He examined her face, finding the lines of exhaustion around her eyes, the fear tucked into their depths, the mask completely gone.
His grip intensified. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Did you call Polly? She should’ve known to call the Coast Guard.”
“Yes,” Millie said, her voice wounded. “She said you were fine. I didn’t know what else to do, so….” Her eyes flitted to her closet and back to him. “What time is it?”
“Past my curfew,” he said, ducking his head for another taste of her delectable neck. “You always kick me out at midnight.”
She sighed against him. “You don’t smell that great.”
“You smell fantastic,” he murmured. “I love this peach you always wear. Makes me want to take a bite of you.” He grazed his teeth along her collarbone.
“Stop it.” She giggled and playfully pushed him away. The moment sobered as she stared at him without any barriers between them. “Come back in the morning after you shower.”
He stood and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” He left, closing the front door softly behind him.
* * *
Only five hours stood between her and the time her alarm would wail, and Millie had a hard time falling back to sleep.
She relaxed against her pillow with her eyes wide open as she stared into the darkness. He was home. Not only that, but he’d come straight over to tell her, despite the lateness of the hour. She smiled at the ceiling, wishing she could call Jared and tell him to come back now. Maybe without his shirt on.
No, she decided. She wanted to remove it herself.
She rolled over and closed her eyes, but that only made her fantasies come to life in color. She eventually got up and made herself a plate of nachos, hoping the heavy snack would put her back under. While she’d gotten rid of Brady’s clothes—physically eradicated him from her life—an emotional scar still beat on her heart.
But that was all it was now. A scar. Not a bleeding wound she hid from the world.
Still, a worry itched against her brain. Jared was going to be taking tours out on fishing expeditions all summer. Would she be able to stomach that? What if he didn’t return again?
Call the Coast Guard, she told herself as she bit into the first chip covered in gooey cheese. She’d need to put them on speed dial in her cell. Satisfied in both body and mind, Millie made her way back to sleep.
* * *
Jared woke Millie again, this time with damp hair that smelled like the Redwood forest. His spearmint breath tickled her face as he spoke her name again.
“Morning.” She didn’t open her eyes as she made space for him in the bed, a clear invitation for him to join her. He hesitated for a moment, and Millie almost cracked her lids to look at him.
The mattress sunk as he settled on it, causing her to slide toward him. “I’m fully dressed, sweetheart.”
“Mm,” she said, still sleepy and completely intoxicated by his presence. As his hand slithered down her back and over her hip, she realized she was definitely not fully dressed.
He cradled her against his body for a few breaths before his lips began exploring her face. When he finally allowed his mouth to meet hers, he had her nightshirt twisted in a ball near her navel and her blood pressure near fatal levels.
He broke his embrace abruptly and slid out of bed. “I can’t do this.” He ran his hands over his face and scratched behind his ear. “I’ll go make the tea.” He practically ran from the room.
Millie scrambled to the edge of the bed, struggling to make sense of his behavior. What couldn’t he do? She settled her nightshirt to its proper place and padded after him.
He thunked around the kitchen, lighting the stove and filling the teakettle.
“Are you okay?” she asked, doing a full-body sweep to check for injuries.
“Just fine.” He opened her pantry to find the tea.
“Really?” Millie cocked her hip and turned on her laser look, something she hoped would get him to turn and pay attention to her.
“Really, really. I told you, the engine just needed repair. We had lots of food and—” He turned and drank her in. “You’re doing more damage than anything I sustained on the fishing trip.”
Confusion collected in her chest. “I don’t understand.”
“Really?” he asked, his voice almost mocking.
“Really, really.” She gestured toward her bedroom. “You said you couldn’t do something.” Her breath stalled over her next words. She didn’t want to hear him say he didn’t want her. Not when she’d gone and fallen in love with him.
She gathered her courage close close close. “What can’t you do?”
“Kiss you,” he said, driving an arrow straight into the fleshy part of her belly.
“Oh,” was all she could say.
“Because it’s not enough.” He abandoned the search for the tea and came closer. “I’m in love with you, Millie, and kissing isn’t enough. Especially not when I’m in your bed, and you’re wearing that.” His hungry eyes swept over her body and returned to her eyes. “Better not to start what I can’t finish.”
He turned back to her cabinets and found the teacups. As he set them on the counter between them, he said, “I won’t rush you, Mills. I swear this isn’t that. I just don’t trust myself to kiss you like that and not want more. Not push you for more.”
Millie reeled from the truth in his words, the passion in his voice, the heat in his face. He leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving hers. “Do you understand now?” he asked. “I don’t want to hurt—”
“What if I said I love you, too?” Millie’s chest seemed to form its own pulse. Her ribs ba-beat, ba-beat, ba
-beat from the marrow to the cartilage. “What if I told you I threw away all of Brady’s clothes while you were gone? That my heart is finally all mine, and I want to give it to you?”
“Millie.”
Her name in his throaty voice sent her lady parts vibrating. “I love you, Jared. I threw away all of Brady’s clothes. My heart is—” He cut her off with a swooping kiss, his hands pushing back her hair and cupping her face.
“I love you, Millie.” He pressed his freshly shaved cheek against hers. “If you’re not ready, I can wait.”
She fisted her hands in the hem of his shirt and tugged it loose from his jeans. “I don’t want to wait.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jared puttered around in the kitchen while Millie showered. She’d insisted that she didn’t need to open the shop, even though it was Wednesday and she surely had work to do. As it was nearly noon and he’d disrupted her daily schedule of tea and toast, he needed to make it up to her with a delicious lunch.
He worked on a feast of pancakes and eggs, hoping she liked a runny yolk. She emerged from her bedroom with tousled, damp hair, wearing a pair of black leggings and a strappy tank top.
“Breakfast for lunch.” He indicated the spread before her. He couldn’t help the smile that wouldn’t leave his face, just like he couldn’t help taking her into his arms and kissing her.
“Smells great,” she said, tiptoeing her fingers up his bare chest. “No shoes, no shirt, no service.” She tilted her head back as she laughed.
“You want me to go get dressed?” he teased. “Just a few hours ago you couldn’t get my shirt off fast enough.”
“Hey,” she protested. “I told you, it’s been awhile—”
“I was teasing, Mills.” He stepped away from her to give himself a chance to cool down. After a slow heated exchange, they’d slept for a couple hours entangled in each other’s arms before Millie had gotten up to shower.