Sea of Love: A Bayberry Island Novel

  And it wasn’t like she could just up and leave the island and follow Ash to where none of this Bayberry Island drama mattered. Because she was stuck here. She had made a commitment to run her family’s B and B. Unless her mother changed her mind about the resort, Rowan would be trapped here for the foreseeable future. The irony was so blatant, it made her dizzy—her mistake with Frederick had ruined her chances with Ash.

  She felt her chin tremble. She would . . . not . . . cry. . . .

  It was a warm night. The breeze was light. Rowan realized she’d begun to perspire and wiped her face, but found tears instead of sweat. It pissed her off. She decided to run, telling herself the exertion would take her mind off Ash.

  But she wouldn’t lie to herself. It would take a lot more than a jog to rip him from her heart.

  A couple hundred feet down the beach, she saw a form coming toward her, and she found comfort in the fact that another lost soul had wandered far from civilization that night. It was sometimes awkward to cross paths in the darkness like this, but Rowan was a master at beach etiquette. She knew that on the off chance the person coming near was a Safe Haven guest, she should be prepared to at least nod in their direction.

  Rowan slowed to a walk again, wiped the tears from her face, and felt gratitude for the privacy night provided. The form came nearer, and Rowan could tell it was a man. A rather big man. And just then, the moon decided to peek out from behind a cloud, and she turned her head to see the first ray of light play upon the black water.

  When she refocused her gaze straight ahead, she saw Ash.

  “Rowan.”

  She stopped. Ash’s shoes dangled from his hand. His shoulders—those straight and strong shoulders she loved to touch—had become rounded. She noticed that his face was shadowed in sorrow, but it might have been a trick of the moonlight.

  She shook her head. “You need to keep walking, Ash.”

  “You need to talk to me.”

  Standing near him in the increasingly bright light, Rowan knew she needed more than just a couple hours of space. “Please let it go, Ash. It’s for the best.” She felt her heart thud too fast and too hard under her ribs. Her knees shook and her throat tightened. It was like her body was telling her to stop talking and continue walking.

  Ash tipped his head to the side, studying her. He really was a gorgeous man, but that wasn’t the point. Rowan needed someone who’d never set foot on this scraggy rock—better yet, a man who had never even heard of Bayberry Island or its legend. She needed to meet a guy the normal way—if there was such a thing these days—and steer clear of any type of mermaid-man connection. She might not believe in the mermaid’s powers, but she knew she needed to keep her love life as far away as possible from the legend and its associated flakiness and drama. She’d learned the hard way that they didn’t mix.

  Ash straightened his shoulders, leading Rowan to suspect that he’d been as caught off guard by this meeting as she had. He sighed. “There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

  “There’s no point. Sully will have your boat fixed soon and you can leave. No regrets.”

  He chuckled sarcastically. “So that would work for you? You want me to sail off not having the faintest idea what happened with us? What could have happened with us?”

  She shook her head sadly. “There is no ‘us,’ okay? Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Ash’s body stilled. He stared at her intently for a moment, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then said three simple words: “I will not.”

  Rowan burst out with a startled laugh. “What did you just say?”

  “I said I’m not going anywhere, which is kind of funny, since I’d almost convinced myself that I’m not the right man for you—not loving enough, decent enough—and that leaving would be the nicest thing I could do for you. But I’ve changed my mind.”

  Rowan’s body felt numb and the inside of her head sounded like the roar of the sea. When she finally spoke, her voice came out small and soft. “Why?”

  Ash shook his head. “No more words, Miss Flynn. I’d rather show you than tell you.” Ash walked toward her, moving slowly and confidently, a slight smile twisting his lips. Ash had just refused to play by her rules. Clearly, he had his own agenda.

  He reached her, stopping so close he almost brushed up against the front of her body. His blue eyes appeared black, intensely locked with hers as he looked down into her upturned face. Rowan heard the sound of his shoes dropping to the sand. That’s when he grabbed the back of her neck, pulled her to him, and took her mouth with his.

  Oh hell. How could she argue with this?

  His lips—hot and demanding and without words—laid out the rules that would apply here, on the beach, under the moonlight, between the two of them.

  Rowan went limp. Why didn’t she have the strength to push him away? How did he have this power over her and why did she let him? As her mouth yielded to him and she grabbed onto his upper arms, Rowan’s brain was flooded with dire warnings. You will regret this; he is the Man Grab; your mother will ruin this; the whole thing is pointless because his life is in Boston; you must stay smart and in control.

  But none of the warnings took hold.

  And then the strangest thing happened—suddenly, Rowan didn’t even care. The warnings dissolved into harmless background noise. All Rowan wanted was this man who was kissing her, claiming her, making her forget that her heart had ever been broken.

  Ash’s kiss mellowed, but he was just changing it up. While his lips never left hers, he angled her head the way he wanted, slipped his tongue into her mouth, and cupped her head in his hands with tenderness. Rowan felt as if she were floating, falling, giving herself over to him in a way that she’d never done with Frederick, or with any man. She felt the bindings break. This wasn’t about predicting the future or reliving the past. Ash was here with her, right at that moment, and it was perfection.

  That had to count for something, right?

  He ended the kiss slowly and gently, then brushed the side of her face with his fingertips, his gaze traveling from her mouth to her hair, then back to her eyes.

  “You are so pretty, Rowan. I really like your hair up like this.”

  She felt her cheeks go hot. “Thanks, but it’s probably a little messed up.”

  “It’s lovely. You’re lovely.”

  Rowan looked out over the water, smiling to herself, then refocused on Ash. “You’ve known a lot of lovely women, I’m sure. I bet Nanette was one of them.”

  He laughed. “Only on the outside. But I’m not talking about Nanette or anyone else. I’m talking about you.” Ash traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “You know what struck me about you right away?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re so alive, Rowan. You sparkle. Your skin, hair, eyes—everything about you shines. When you smile, I forget my own name.”

  She froze, not wanting to say anything that might ruin the moment.

  “I just wish we could start all over.”

  “No kidding.” She laughed. “I wish we’d met at a bar in Iowa. Or a baseball game in, I don’t know, Alaska, or something. Anything, anywhere but here.”

  He smiled. “Baseball in Alaska?”

  “You know what I mean. Somewhere very far away.”

  Ash placed his hand on her shoulder and caressed her, then stroked her back with long, gentle passes of his palm. It felt so incredibly good. “I kind of like it here on the island, Rowan. I only wish I’d gone about things differently from the beginning.”

  “How?”

  “Well, for starters, I wish I hadn’t let those kids drag me to town square and into your mother’s clutches.”

  Rowan winced and sucked in air through her teeth. “Yeah . . . about that.”

  “Will you tell me why you got so upset?”

  “Ehh.” Rowan dug her toes into the sand, trying to decide how to answer his question without sounding as crazy as her mother. “Well, remember how I told you that my last relationsh
ip didn’t end well?”

  Ash nodded.

  “That’s glossing over a few of the more pertinent details.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I met Frederick three years ago, during festival week, right here at the Safe Haven. He was staying there as a guest, just like you. And . . . well, he was the Man Grab that year, just like you. I fell for him really hard, the way I’m falling for you.”

  Ash nodded slowly, his face showing nothing but patience. Rowan figured he was giving her room to say what needed to be said, and she appreciated it.

  “He played me perfectly. I followed him to New York, where he headed an investment company, to his apartment, and to his bed. He proposed to me.” Rowan stopped, checking Ash’s reaction. She saw concern in his eyes and decided to keep going. “I do think he loved me, at least at first. I don’t think his intentions were a hundred percent awful from the start. But the truth is, once he’d hooked me, he went fishing for my family’s money. He convinced all of us that he could take what remained of the Flynn fortune—which wasn’t a lot, let me assure you—and earn us enough to restore the Safe Haven and never have money worries again.”

  Ash’s mouth pulled tight.

  “Yeah. I know. He’s serving time in prison for stealing from a lot of people, not just us. But my parents lost their retirement and my brothers and I lost every dime we’d inherited from our grandparents. It was all very tragic, and it was all my fault—because I was gullible and stupid and I let a man seduce me.”

  “Rowan, sweetheart.” Ash placed a fingertip under her chin and lifted her face. “It wasn’t your fault. Truly. The man was a criminal and you and your family were victims of a crime. But I don’t think I fully understand . . .” Ash frowned.

  “Right. The Man Grab.” She groaned. “I told you I don’t believe in the mermaid legend, right?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s deeper than that. I hate the legend.”

  “Okay.”

  She sighed again. “Right after I met Frederick, my mother kept telling me to go to the mermaid and ask for my true love. I did it—not because I believed in that crap but because I was sick of her riding me. I fell crazy in love with him, and, of course, her goofy group went off and had some secret ritual on my behalf and came back with the big news. The Great Mermaid had sanctioned my romance with Frederick and that I could be sure it was true love. He was my destiny. And she made a big, public deal of it.”

  Ash’s eyes went huge.

  “I know. It’s complete idiocy, but I was already so in love with him that I let it slide. Unfortunately, when everything fell apart with Frederick and I came slinking home, my screwup was just as big a public event as my romance had been. The whole thing has made me pretty skittish. So tonight, when I found out you were the freakin’ Man Grab . . .”

  “Oh.”

  “. . . the man who’s supposed to find his heart-mate as soon as he finishes the ritual, I lost my damn mind! If people see me with you . . .”

  “I understand,” he said, his voice so soft she barely heard his words over the rhythmic waves of the ocean, now lapping at their feet. As if Ash knew what she needed, he opened his arms and brought her to his chest. He just held her like that for many long moments, occasionally kissing her hair or holding his hand to the back of her neck. “Rowan?”

  She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the cotton of his shirt. Good God, he smelled so good! She closed her eyes tight.

  “I don’t think any of that matters—not what your mother says or which fairy tales people believe or don’t believe. If you and I decide we want to enjoy each other, get to know each other, and maybe fall in love, it’s nobody’s business but ours. And the only magic at work is the magic the two of us create together.”

  Slowly, Rowan peeled herself from Ash’s body, smiling. Honestly, that was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard a man say.

  He continued. “So if we’re confident in that, if we know where we stand and why, then all the weird shit swirling around us is just noise.”

  Rowan raised her fingers to Ash’s cheek. “But you’re aware that Bayberry’s weird shit is weirder than most weird shit, right?”

  Ash laughed. Rowan enjoyed the loose and comfortable sound of it and knew she’d never heard him laugh with such abandon before, without inhibitions. But even as she enjoyed his laughter, she couldn’t stop staring at his face. Then it dawned on her—he looked different.

  Lines that had been there just that morning were gone, and it definitely wasn’t the moonlight playing tricks on her. The set of his mouth was kinder. His forehead was smoother.

  “What are you looking at?” Ash grinned.

  “You. You seem more relaxed tonight. Like a weight’s been lifted from you.”

  “Ah.” Ash released his hold of her, took her hand in his, and directed her down the beach toward the Safe Haven. “You might be right. Walk back with me?”

  “Of course.” Rowan leaned in to Ash and felt immense pleasure as he slipped his arm around her waist. They fell into a matching rhythm, Ash slowing his stride to accommodate her shorter legs. “I have a confession to make.”

  Rowan’s head snapped up so she could see him. “About what?”

  “Why I was late tonight.”

  She groaned. “I’m really sorry about Hubie. He’s old and grumpy and he hates Mona with a passion. You know that knife he was carrying?”

  Ash nodded. “Yeah. What was up with that?”

  Rowan figured since Ash had already met Hubie Krank, he would know that he posed no real threat. “About a week ago he took a steak knife to all the tires on my family’s old Subaru. His daughter wrote us a check, marched over there, and removed everything sharp from his house—scissors, nail files, hedge trimmers, even the blades to his food processor—cleaned the place out.”

  “She was thorough.”

  “But not quite thorough enough. Hubie showed up a couple hours before you did Friday, waving around an old antique sword he’d found in the attic or someplace, saying he had to protect himself from the Flynns.”

  Ash stopped walking. “Is all this about the resort plans? Does Hubie live on the cove?”

  Rowan nodded. “Directly across Shoreline Road.”

  “Huh.” He started up again, and they walked together in comfortable silence for a moment. “Well, swashbuckling Hubie wasn’t the reason I was late, Rowan. He just made me a little later than I already was.”

  “Okay. Why were you so late, then?”

  He glanced sideways at her. “Remember how I said I had almost convinced myself that I wasn’t the right man for you? Well, I made up my mind not to come tonight. I packed up and headed to the boat, deciding I’d sleep on the dock if I had to. I made it to town before I turned around and came back. I guess it took a little time to sort out how I felt.”

  Determined not to make a face or say something snarky, Rowan kept strolling. She couldn’t blame Ash for having doubts—she’d been plenty conflicted herself that evening. They were both grown-ups with baggage, and things were moving fast between them. And what was happening wasn’t something either of them had been looking for. “So what made you come back?”

  Ash sighed, pulling her tighter to his side as he slowed the pace. “This may sound crazy, but I heard my own voice in my head telling me what to do. Have you ever suddenly known what path to take, the right choice coming to you almost out of nowhere?” He looked down at her, moonlight sparkling in his eyes. “I mean, really known. From here.” He gently poked her belly with a finger.

  Ash was about to pull it away, but changed his mind, spreading his fingers over the bodice of her dress, flattening his palm and holding it there. Rowan felt his heat penetrate the thin dotted Swiss cotton, and it spread through her stomach and down between her legs. If it were possible to press her thighs together while walking, she would have done it.

  “I think I know what you mean.”

  “When was the last time it happened to you?”

  Rowa
n laughed. “Um.” She draped her hand over his hip. “About fifteen minutes ago, when you told me to stop talking and kissed the bejesus out of me. I heard a little voice tell me to let it happen, that it would be all right.”

  Ash kissed the top of her head, then slowed to a halt. “Rowan Flynn, may I have this dance?”

  She giggled, looking around the deserted moonlit beach. “The dance floor’s pretty crowded.”

  “True, but this is my favorite song.”

  “All I hear is the ocean.”

  “Exactly.”

  Ash gently turned Rowan until she faced him, slipped an arm around her back, then laced his fingers with hers. Rowan gazed up into his eyes and knew, without a doubt, that finally—at the age of thirty—she was having one of those impossibly romantic moments that seemed to happen only to other women. She’d always imagined that if this sort of thing ever happened to her, it would take place in Paris, or Rome, or even Boston. Not here on the Bayberry Island beach, the most unromantic place on earth.

  Until tonight. Until Ashton Louis Wallace III had made it romance central.

  He leaned down and gently kissed the side of her neck left exposed by her hairstyle. He nuzzled her as he swayed back and forth, bringing her even tighter to his body. He handled her like she was precious to him, like he didn’t want to let her go. Unbelievably, he began to sing to her, his voice tender and sweet. She recognized it—some of Ray LaMontagne’s most haunting music and lyrics, where a man assures his woman that she’ll forever be his lover and friend.

  Her entire body took a deep breath and held it. Wouldn’t that be just wonderful?

  * * *

  Ash would start to set things right in the morning, but for tonight, he simply wanted to keep dancing with Rowan under the twinkling lights of the clambake’s dance floor, allow himself to marinate in the strange sensations that had somehow penetrated his defenses. He didn’t think much of pop psychology, but even he admitted that all the loss he’d experienced in his life had left its mark. It had settled around his heart like layers of silt, the shell growing harder and thicker with each blow. But on this magical night, that shell had cracked open enough that an entire world had forced its way inside.