A love worth fighting for

Once a dedicated Coast Guard rescue swimmer, Nathan Malone lost more than his confidence the day he couldn’t save his fiancée. He lost his faith in love. Nathan’s come home to Cassabaw Station and put his life on hold. That changes, though, when Sean Jacobs and her five-year-old daughter move in next door.

Sean is unpacked and unsettled, and the fear in her eyes tells Nathan she’s running from something. Yet despite his better judgment, Nathan can’t ignore the tug at his heart. He’d do anything to protect Sean and her adorable daughter, because Nathan’s not letting love slip through his fingers again...

Nathan Malone stole her breath away.

Never in her life had she felt like this.

Sean’s smile deepened at his gesture. “Is that so?”

Nathan’s head bobbed, and those sun-bleached curls fell around his face, his lips curving into the sexiest of grins. “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

Sean felt a blush steal up her throat. She didn’t even know what to say to that.

“Shy? No, can’t be shy,” Nathan teased, playing with the shell of her ear. “I think we’ve just kissed those days goodbye.”

Sean giggled as Nathan tickled her ear. “Not hardly,” she confessed. “I’ll probably be eternally shy.”

“Well. Even better,” Nathan confessed, continuing to explore her face with his fingertip. “It will be my ongoing pleasure to attempt to break you from eternal shyness.”

“Good luck,” Sean advised. “I’m a hard nut to crack.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Nathan said with a grin, then nodded. “I accept.”

Together, they smiled, and a joy sank deep into Sean, a feeling that had been vacant from her life in…forever. She felt protected.

Dear Reader,

About That Kiss introduces the eldest of the Malone brothers, Nathan, and a stranger—an off islander—along with her whimsical five-year-old daughter, who not only steals, but mends, his broken heart. Sean Jacobs is fearful that a past she’d rather leave behind is about to catch up to her and her little girl, Willa. But what’s even more terrifying is not only falling for the somber, stoic boat captain, but falling for his entire family. Unbeknownst to Nathan or Sean, though, is that fate has stepped in, and both need each other—and the unique quirkiness of a five-year-old girl—like they need air to breathe.

This third book of The Malone Brothers will once again capture the unique flavors from the first book, Those Cassabaw Days, as well as the second book, At First Touch. Unforgettable, quirky characters and the idyllic setting of the South Carolina barrier island return, as do the childhood memories the setting encapsulates for me. From the salt marshes to the 1930s beach cottages, having grown up on the southeast coast all it takes is a certain taste, a particular song or the faint recollection of a scent to remind you of true happiness.

Cindy

About That Kiss

Cindy Miles

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CINDY MILES grew up on the salt marshes and back rivers of Savannah, Georgia. Moody, sultry and mossy, with its ancient cobblestones and Georgian and Gothic architecture, the city inspired her to write twelve adult novels, one anthology, three short stories and one young-adult novel. When Cindy is not writing, she loves traveling, photography, baking, classic rock and the vintage, tinny music of The Great Gatsby era. To learn more about her books, visit her at cindy-miles.com.

Books by Cindy Miles

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For Macy Harden, my sweet little cousin, who has the courage of a lion and the fierce determination of her great-grandfather and my grandfather, Wimpy.

For Bonnie Heller, my lovely up-north auntie, who reads all my books and who birthed my crazy cousin, Henry, who shot me with a BB gun one time. It still hurts when it rains (kidding!).

For my Harden family, who gave me so many cherished memories of growing up on the salt marsh, crabbing the river and just general lifelong love. Gosh, I miss Frances and Wimpy!

And for my mom and dad, who always encouraged imagination. I love you guys!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

Off the coast of Alaska

Bering Sea

Three years earlier

“SWIMMER AWAY, SWIMMER’S OKAY!”

Lt. Commander Jales’s call was the last thing Petty Officer Nathan Malone heard as he leaped from the Jayhawk and plunged into the livid sea below. His body shot through the frigid water like a torpedo. He immediately resurfaced, the blade wash from the chopper beating him in the face, the torso. Adrenaline surged through him. Fear propelled him through the water, waves crashing against him. Over him. The sky was nearly as pitch-black as the water. Visibility zilch.

Addie.

He pushed toward the Zany Moe, swimming hard, fighting the roaring squall. His fiancée’s fishing boat lay on her starboard side, sinking below the dark water. Nathan scanned the boat, his eyes fastening on Addie’s red slicker. Not her guppy suit. Her arm lifted, waved, then she clutched the rail she was desperately holding on to as another wave swamped her.

Her first mate, Chip, was nowhere. Nathan scanned the choppy water and peered through the rain, looking for the inflatable Zodiac. Like Chip, it was nowhere.

Nathan swam closer to the Zany Moe, throwing arm over arm, pushing his weight against the stone-like waves. He shouted at Addie to jump, motioned with his hands. The roar of the storm deafened him, rang through his ears. She couldn’t hear him. But she’d understood. Addie nodded and slowly let go of the rail. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she took a step back then broke for the edge.

A wave crashed over the boat, over Addie, washing over Nathan’s head. When he bobbed up and cleared the water, he scanned the boat. The water.

Addie had disappeared.

Panic squeezed his throat, and with frantic desperation, he kicked out, swam hard to the bow that was slowly slipping beneath the black water.

“Addie!” he shouted, over and over. His eyes searched. He swam. Looking for just a piece of that red slicker. He ducked under, then back up. Nothing.

The Zany Moe was sinking down fast now, and with no captain manning the wheel, the violent, angry sea propelled the boat like a rubber toy in a bathtub. Nathan could feel the tug of the current as the steel plunged under the water. He pushed hard, refusing to give up. She was here. He hadn’t lost her.

“Addeline!” he shouted until his voice cracked. He swallowed seawater. He swallowed air. He darted his eyes everywhere as he panicked but saw nothing except gray, black and the white froth kicked up by the crashing waves. The waves grew, like being in rolling hills, and Addie was nowhere to be found.

He turned his eyes skyward and noticed the Jayhawk hovering overhead. His captain signaled and dropped the line. Nathan turned away, scanning frantically the gray swells and bursts of foam as the sea churned. No sign of Addeline. Not...anywhere. He screamed into the wind, until he had no air left, and his throat scorched from swallowing too much salt water. The sea spray from the blade wash as the chopper dropped closer blinded him. With his lungs burning, he swam to his line, and the chopper pulled him up. Nathan kept his eyes fastened on the angry waters below. He couldn’t see from down there, bobbing in the storm, being tossed around. They’d find her. From the Jayhawk, he’d be able to see that red coat. Just over that next hill of water. That next wave. She’d be there, waiting. He’d find Addie.

He wasn’t leaving until he did.

Nathan clung to the edge of the open door of the Jayhawk as they searched for hours. Dread filled his insides with each ticking moment that passed. She’d not been wearing her guppy suit. The damn thing he’d told her more than once to put on at the first sign of any trouble. It was insulated. It’d keep her warm if she ended up in the icy water.

She’d been wearing only that damned red rubber coat.

Four hours passed before they found Chip, dead. Wearing the guppy suit. And about a half mile away, the inflatable Zodiac.

For three days they searched the wreck site, and even though the waters had somewhat calmed with the passing of the storm, there was never a sign of Addie. Nathan couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t leave the station, much less his post. Hope fled, turning into a clawing, painful desperation to get Addie back. It left a hole in his gut.

“You did everything you could, Nathan,” Lt. Commander Jales said. The Jayhawk’s pilot put his hand on Nathan’s shoulder and squeezed. “You did, son. That was...a helluva storm, I’m afraid. I’m sorry.”

The words reverberated in Nathan’s head, bounced off his skull and fell flat. The sea had swallowed her up. Over and over in his head, he saw her standing there, waving at him. He’d never see her again. Pain tore at his insides. He’d not done everything. He’d had eyes on Addie. Had told her to jump. He’d been right there.

It’d not been enough.

He’d not been enough.

CHAPTER ONE

Cassabaw Station

Carolina barrier island

Late June

Present day

THE ALARM’S SCREECH broke through the room and Nathan’s sleep, and he pushed off his stomach to sit on the edge of the bed. He tapped the alarm off and pushed his fingers through his hair.

Four a.m., and it was opening day of shrimping season. They were going to get an extra-early start.

Running through his morning ritual, Nathan put on a T-shirt and shorts, then pulled his hair back. Quickly washing his face and brushing his teeth, he then jogged downstairs, the smell of bacon and coffee wafting up the stairwell.

“’Bout damn time you dragged yourself out of bed,” his grandpa, Jep, grumbled from the stove. “You goin’ for a haircut later?”

Nathan’s dad, Owen, was sitting at the table, and he threw his son a grin.

“Jep, enough about the hair,” Nathan said, pouring coffee into an insulated thermos. “It’s getting old.”

“Well, I’m old, dammit, and I’m tired of lookin’ at my eldest grandson with long, girlie hair.” He swore under his breath. “Ponytail and such. Like a pirate or some such nonsense. Or a hippie! Godalmighty damn.”

Nathan chuckled. “Chicks dig it.”

Jep snorted. “Sure they do, boy. I can tell by how they’re lining the drive each weekend. Now quit arguing and eat up.”

Nathan gave his grandpa a quick peck on the cheek then jumped out of the way before the old guy one-twoed him. Grabbing a bacon-and-egg biscuit from the pan on the stove, he joined his dad at the table. Jep sat with them, sipping on a coffee mug surely older than Nathan himself. Tradition, Jep always said. It’s a good thing to have. Just then, a quick knock sounded at the back door, before it opened. Nathan’s middle brother, Matt, stepped over the threshold.

“’Bout time you got your sorry backside outta bed,” Jep grumbled.

Matt ruffled Jep’s thick white hair, grabbed a biscuit then sat with them.

“Good to have your help on opening day,” Owen said.

Matt gave a lopsided grin. “You almost had two helpers. I had to convince Em that she really shouldn’t be on a trawler in the Atlantic in her condition.”

“Did she smack you for that?” Nathan asked.

“Yep.” Matt shoved the rest of his biscuit into his mouth.

Nathan figured his sister-in-law, now six months pregnant with his first-ever niece or nephew, had a head of concrete. It wouldn’t surprise him at all to find she’d stowed away on the Tiger Lily.

They quickly finished breakfast, grabbed their gear and set out. The early-morning Carolina air was still and warm and humid as they walked down to the dock. The night birds still called, and cicadas and frogs rivaled their choruses. A typical low-country morning. Tradition. Home. Family.

Living the dream.

Almost, anyway.

Living on the Back River, the water was deep enough to berth their thirty-foot trawler, so while Owen took the wheel and began to ease along, Nathan and Matt both perched at the bow in silence, studying the water ahead as the Tiger Lily sliced through the calm darkness. Nathan inhaled, holding the briny air in his lungs before letting his breath out slowly. It was going to be a damn good day. The weather conditions were perfect. Warm air, warmer waters. Nathan knew, though, that the calm blue-gray of the Atlantic could churn and cough and consume any and everything in its path, all in the blink of an eye. The sea? She was never, ever to be trusted. But for now, he’d gladly accept the bounty she’d offered up.

As they cleared the river and entered the sound, Nathan and Matt dropped the trawler’s outriggers and they headed out to sea. As morning broke, other trawlers dotted the horizon, but the Tiger Lily was in an optimal spot, where the waters were moving in the same direction. They rode the shifting tides, avoided slack-water time. After baiting the nets, Nathan and Matt dropped the doors, and after just one drag they raised both nets filled with Atlantic brown shrimp. Nathan let out a holler, and Matt threw his head back and laughed. Owen simply shook his head, a grin on his weathered face.

The nets dropped load after load, and they filled the coolers to the gills with shrimp. It’d been a good haul for opening day—more than an average haul. By the time they’d dropped the load at the docks and the Tiger Lily began chugging home, the sun had peaked. Three o’clock on a June day. Hot as all holy hell.

“Hope that sets the pace for the season,” Owen said from the wheel.

“It’d be nice,” Nathan called back. Since they shrimped almost year-round, even a slow season wasn’t terrible. Last year had been a big improvement from the year before. Same with crabs, which they tended to run commercial traps for in the summer months leading into early fall, just to make the extra money. Even the infamous Carolina blue crabs were heading farther out, away from the riverbeds and into deeper waters. Hell, the entire ecosystem had gone squirrely. They even had a few great whites show up from time to time. One local white that showed up three years running, Lucy, had found herself on the news more than once. Way different from when he and his brothers were growing up, when they could drop lines off the floating dock and pull in an easy half bushel of crabs in no time flat. Still, things had been good for the Malone family.

They were blessed, to say the very least. Nathan glanced skyward once more, noticed the cerulean sky, felt the sun’s warmth on his face. Yeah, this year would be good for shrimping.

Owen slowed the motors and eased the Tiger Lily into the river leading home. The sun beat down on Nathan’s bare back, and he was half tempted to jump in.

“You got new neighbors?” Matt asked.

Nathan glanced at his brother, and Matt inclined his head. Nathan followed his brother’s gaze. He lifted the shades from his eyes. At the end of Morgan’s old dock sat a girl. A woman, rather. A little girl sat next to her, and their feet were dangling over the floating dock and into the water. The little girl had on a neon pink bathing suit that could probably be seen for miles around. Both had short dark hair, and that was about all Nathan could tell from where he stood. What were they doing there? The little girl leaped to her feet as they passed, waving her skinny little arms. Nathan lifted his hand and waved back.

“No one’s lived at old Morgan’s place for nearly ten years,” Owen called from the wheel. “Far as I know, the old man didn’t have kin except his cousin, Bartholomew.”

“That doesn’t look much like Cousin Bartholomew,” Matt muttered.

“Nope,” Nathan agreed as he slipped his shades over his eyes and watched as the young woman—no doubt the girl’s mother—grasped her daughter’s hand and they hurried along the rickety old dock, toward the house. The whole time, the little girl was hopping from foot to foot, looking over her shoulder as the trawler eased up the river. By the time the Tiger Lily hit the bend, the pair had disappeared into the swath of live oaks that all but consumed Morgan’s place.

“Maybe they’ve bought the house,” Owen remarked. “Shame to see that place just sit. It’d be nice to have new neighbors.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe you should run over later and introduce yourself.”

“Dad, you are such a social butterfly,” Nathan accused, and Matt laughed. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself? Anyway, you just like having a bunch of kids around.”

“I am, I might and I do,” Owen readily agreed to all accusations.

Nathan glanced once more at the now-empty dock. Again, he shaded his eyes.

Probably just some summer renters. That was a regular occurrence on Cassabaw. Renters came. Renters left. End of story. Owen was simply too damned nosy for his own good.

As his father eased the trawler toward the Malones’ dock, Nathan and Matt jumped out and tied up. Emily, Matt’s wife, hurried toward them. She wore a kerchief on her head to keep her hair back, and a pair of big, white-rimmed sunglasses. Her baby belly was just starting to show beneath the white tank and pair of knee-length cutoff jeans she wore. Em preferred the days of old. As they all had grown up on Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong and the big bands of the thirties and forties, Emily hadn’t strayed too far in terms of her taste in music—or style. If it was older than, say, seventy-five years, she loved it. She even dressed in vintage clothing—hats, dresses, shoes. Kerchiefs. Kind of added to her charm, he supposed. Em had a wide arm of culture, however. She could belt out all the words to just about any Aerosmith song. One of kind, his sister-in-law was.

Old Jep, moving a bit slower than Em, followed, wearing his iconic baby-blue cotton overalls.

“Hey!” Emily called cheerfully. “How’d you guys do?”

“Girl, would you quit all that jumpin’ around? You’re gonna scramble my great-grandson’s innards,” Jep called after her.

“Or great-granddaughter,” Emily corrected over her shoulder.

Jep just grumbled.

“We capped out,” Owen said, stepping onto the dock. “Got top dollar at the docks. Better than last year, even.”

“Good, good,” Jep said. His thick white hair, mostly buried beneath a USCG—United States Coast Guard—cap, flipped up on the ends. “Hope to God you brought some home.”

“Dad,” Owen chided.

“Jep, you could eat shrimp every day of your life,” Matt said, wrapping his arms around his wife and placing his hands over her belly. Nathan watched as his little brother kissed Em on the top of her head, and her arms went around his waist. They both fit. Clicked. Like they were made for each other. He’d had that once.

And he’d lost it.

The grief had dulled somewhat over time, but not enough. If his thoughts lingered too long on it—on Addie, on what they’d had—his stomach would hurt, and he’d feel the hole her death had left in his chest widen a little more. It’d been nearly three years since that day in the Bering, when Nathan had been right there, ready for her. Then, she’d disappeared. The sea had, in fact, swallowed her up. If his thoughts went there too much, the memories and guilt would consume him. Being home with his family had saved his life. The void was still there, though, silently digging in when he wasn’t looking. Staying busy helped.

Nathan liked seeing his younger brother so happy. Matt’s stoic and hardened ex-marine demeanor had changed the moment he’d admitted that he’d fallen in love with his childhood friend. Well, he’d fought it for a while, and he’d been a pain in the ass to live with until he’d finally given in. Still, he damn well deserved the happiness.

“Well, of course I would,” Jep agreed. “Jewels of the sea, that’s what they are. The most perfect edible sea creatures God ever created, if you ask me.”

They all laughed. Jep had a one-track mind: his stomach. Might be why he was closing in on ninety and still going stronger than a mule.

The rest of the evening passed as it usually did once the summer shrimping season started. Early to bed, early to rise. A day in the trawler. Home-cooked meals on the back porch. And thanks to the longer days of sunlight, Nathan squeezed in a run almost every evening. Sometimes Matt joined him, but lately he’d spent more of his evenings with Em remodeling one of the rooms in the old river house where they lived—Emily’s childhood home, which was next door—into the nursery. Emily called it nesting, and Nathan guessed she was probably right. So he set out alone in the late evening; gray running shorts, black Nikes and a neon yellow handkerchief tied around his head to keep the sweat from running into his eyes. And, according to Jep, to keep his long girlie locks from flying all over the place.

“Stop by the beauty parlor on your way home,” Jep called from his rocker on the front porch as Nathan took off down the drive. “And watch out for cars!”

Another reason why Nathan wore the neon yellow headband. Jep was full of bark, but that old man loved his family like no one’s business.

It was probably the one thing that kept Nathan grounded since Alaska. The one thing he had left.

“Yes, sir.” Nathan threw his hand up and waved, hearing Jep grumble something about the mosquitoes, then headed out to the coastal road.

* * *

“MA-MUH, COME ON! Just a little walk. Just long enough to kick a pinecone until the pointy things all fall off. I want to see lightning bugs! Pleeeeeease?”

“Willa, quit all that whining,” Sean Jacobs gently scolded her five-year-old daughter. “It’s unbecoming.”

“But I can’t help it,” Willa said, and looked up at Sean with those wide, endless pools of blue eyes. “It just falls out of my throat and rolls right on past my lips. I can’t stop it! I want to go so bad!”

A smile tugged at Sean’s mouth, and she gave her small daughter a critical eye. She wore a blue-and-white-striped tank top and white shorts, and her skinny little legs and knobby knees seemed to hang straight from her ears. “Well,” Sean said thoughtfully, and smoothed Willa’s almost-black hair—cut bluntly in the most adorable of short bobs—behind her tiny ear. “Okay. Get your sneakers on.”

Willa made a dash for the mudroom. “Why do you call them sneakers, Mama? Are we gonna be busy sneakin’ around or something? It’s a funny name, Mama. Did your mama call them sneakers, too?”

Sean’s insides turned, just a little, at the irony of Willa’s words. Sneakin’ around. She inhaled. Exhaled to brush the jolted feeling away. “That’s just what we called them when I was your age, is all.” She joined her daughter in the mudroom, pulled on her navy Keds. Willa set in her lap something that seemed to be becoming a more frequent part of her wardrobe. Sean gingerly fingered the costume fairy wings she’d picked up last Halloween.

“Willa, seriously?”

“Yes, Mama! We have to be fairies all the time!” Willa argued. Rather, crooned.

Sean sighed, shoved her arms through the thin elastic bands that went around her shoulders to keep the wings in place, then helped Willa into hers. She imagined if something as simple as wearing a pair of sparkly fairy wings made her daughter happy, she’d gladly do it. They set out, with Willa nonstop chattering about everything her eyes lit upon, her little wings flapping up and down with her movements.

“Now go find a superior pinecone, Willa Jane. One that will withstand a good kicking.”

“Okay, I will!” Willa exclaimed, and took off into the dense yard of pines, scrub oaks and palms. She’d bend, retrieve a pinecone then inspect every single inch of it. Only the most perfect one would do.

Sean stared out at the saltwater property they’d leased for the summer. She liked it. A little worn down, perhaps. Unkempt. The windows needed washing. The grass needed cutting. The inside was a little musty from being closed up for so long. But she felt safe. The furniture was old but sturdy, and the refrigerator kept things icy cold. Perfect, in her eyes.

The small river house nestled in the shade beneath mammoth oak trees drenched in long, wispy Spanish moss. It looked like a picture straight out of a travel magazine. A fairly decent-size porch overlooked the back of the property, which meandered through tall magnolias and scrub palms, leading down to a single wooden dock that jutted out over the marsh and stopped at the river. At high tide, she and Willa could sit on the small wooden landing and dangle their feet into the water. This would be a nice retreat for a while.

“Mama, you’re being so slow,” Willa called ahead of her. “I found the most stuperior pinecone. C’mon! I wanna walk through the graveyard.”

“Willa, again?” Sean replied, catching up to her daughter. They crossed the small two-lane river road and headed down a worn dirt path scattered with bits of seashells that led to an old cemetery they’d come across a few days earlier. “Don’t you think it’s kinda scary?”

“Nope!” Willa announced cheerfully, and having found the perfect pinecone, dropped it on the ground. She gave it a kick, then waited for Sean to take a turn. “It’s the place where all the lightning bugs go. Probably so the ghosts can see at night.”

“It’s also a place where all the mosquitoes go,” Sean replied. “We’re going to get eaten up again.”

“So? Just scratch it!” Will answered. “It’s fun, Mama. Hurry! Use your wings, why don’t ya? You’ll be faster that way!”

Willa always had an answer. For everything. Her five-year-old mind never rested. And she feared nothing.

Completely unlike Sean herself. Afraid of everything.

As she and Willa took turns kicking the pinecone, Sean noticed the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon now, leaving the sky a grayish purple streaked with marigold. The light surrounding them was nothing more than a haze, and she could smell the salty sea. Even with Willa’s chatter and the occasional gull’s screech, Sean heard hundreds of night bugs begin to chirp. Cassabaw Station was a pretty place, a hidden gem that seemed to have wedged itself into another time and not budged. Ahead, Willa waited at the cemetery’s old rusty gate, hopping from foot to foot impatiently. Sean stepped clear of the path, met her daughter at the gate, lifted the old latch and they walked inside.

“There’s one, Mama!” Willa cried out almost immediately. Sean looked, and sure enough, she’d already found a lightning bug. Then another, and another. Willa leaped and giggled as she chased the blinking insects, flitting around like a little firefly herself. Sean stood back and grinned. Savored the small moment of joy in their lives.

“Careful not to step on the graves, Willa,” Sean called.

“I’m careful!” Willa answered. “Come on, chase them with me!”

Sean joined her daughter, and together, they raced, jumped and squealed as they cupped their hands together to capture the illuminated creatures, then peeked through the cracks of their fingers to see each little bug’s bottom light up. She watched Willa and thought how beautiful her daughter was; so young, innocent, carefree and full of love and laughter. Sean suddenly regretted not having a camera to photograph Willa, to catch her with the light just right, making her truly seem like a little woodland sprite. Sean prayed Willa would never know cruelty, possessiveness. Or evil. Only love. Joy.

It was then that Sean heard heavy footsteps on the path. She stopped and whipped around. A dark figure jogged toward them, a neon yellow band around his head the only thing standing out. For a moment, fear strangled her insides, and her gaze darted to her daughter. To the figure, growing closer, then to her daughter again.

He was big—much bigger than she was—and probably faster, too. Even from where she stood, and in the low light of dusk, she could tell he was muscular, fit. Sean didn’t know him, or anyone else on the island. And they were about as isolated as they could be. He was right between her and her daughter.

“Willa, come here!” Sean called out. “We have to go. It’s getting dark fast.”

“Mama, I’m busy!” Willa replied, annoyed. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Willa, now!” Sean demanded, and broke into a run toward her. Sean had to reach Willa. She couldn’t let the jogger get close to her daughter.

As the figure jogged past the cemetery, he spoke. “Evening,” he said in a low voice, with a short nod and a slight Carolina drawl. His longish hair was pulled back, and a beard covered his lower jaw.

He kept on jogging.

Sean kept her eyes on the man but didn’t reply. He ran in the direction she and Willa would return, then disappeared from sight.

Sean’s tension slowly eased, and she turned to Willa. “Just a few more minutes, then.”

“Thanks, Mama,” she cried, and continued chasing the lightning bugs and talking to the ghosts, as if they were all sitting around watching her.

Sean let out a long sigh and turned her stare in the direction the stranger had disappeared. She hated that she allowed such terror. He’d been merely jogging, nothing more. The hazy light fell faster by each passing second, and she wondered briefly if she’d ever, ever stop looking over her shoulder. If the fear would ever leave her alone.

CHAPTER TWO

“MAMA! CAN WE get an ice cream cone? Please?”

Sean shielded her eyes against the sun beaming down as they ambled along Cassabaw’s boardwalk. She shook her head. “You haven’t had dinner yet, Willa.”

“How about a hot dog?” Willa, dressed in a blue tank top and white shorts and sneakers, pointed toward the pier. “From that man with the cart?”

Sean squinted as she glanced at the hot dog vendor and his pushcart with a broad, red-and-white-striped umbrella. “But you need veggies, sweetie.”

Willa crossed her skinny little arms over her chest. “Mama, you don’t get veggies at a hot dog cart.” She clasped her hands together and jumped up and down. “Pleeeeeease?”

“Okay, but double veggies tomorrow night.”

Willa took off toward the vendor, and Sean followed. “Two, please,” she requested. “And a bottle of water.”

“Put lots of ketchup and mustard on mine, please,” Willa requested.

“No onions?” a low voice said from behind.

Sean turned and came face-to-face with the bearded jogger from the cemetery. Well, face-to-face only after she looked way up. He was tall—at least six foot one or two. He wore a kerchief tied around his head, and dark shades covered his eyes. She couldn’t help but notice the size of his biceps, and the sun-kissed color of his skin. He was every bit as mammoth as she’d thought the night before. A force she would be unable to stop, if the situation came down to that. She pushed herself to her full height, edging herself between the stranger and her daughter. In a way, she felt silly. They were in public. Just a small coastal town. More than likely, everyone within a hundred-yard radius knew him. Yet, he unsettled her. So she took caution.

Willa, though, peered around Sean and looked at him, too, and made a face. “Those are stinky,” she said. “Mama, why are you in my way?”

“Willa,” Sean warned. Suddenly, she wanted to be...away. Not in this place. Not with attention drawn to them. It was the last thing she wanted.

“Yeah, but good on a dog,” the stranger said, continuing his conversation with Willa. His voice had a slight rasp. A slightly lilted Carolina accent. “You should try it.” One corner of his mouth lifted, and Sean noticed full lips and straight white teeth. “Best dogs on the Eastern Seaboard.”

“What is an Eastern Seaboard?” Willa asked.

“Pah! Eastern Seaboard. Best dogs of anywhere in world!” the vendor cried out in a broken accent. He seemed like a friendly guy, and clearly was a regular on the beachfront.

“Sorry, Hendrik. Best dogs of anywhere in the world,” the stranger agreed.

“For the lady?” Hendrik asked Sean. She noticed he was polite, too. Respectful. She liked that.

“Just mustard for me, thanks,” she answered the vendor, watching his dark brown eyes assess her closely.

“Are you gonna get stinky onions all over yours?” Willa asked the stranger.

“I am,” he replied. “You?”

“Nah,” Willa replied.

“Willa, what have I told you?” Sean needed to stop the exchange. Willa would talk to a goat if she’d let her. Her daughter had no fear, and that alone put terror into Sean’s heart.

Willa sighed. “Never talk to strangers,” she answered, then looked at the stranger, squinting against the sun. “Mama says child abductors and serial killers and just plain ole weirdos lurk everywhere and that I should be extra extremely careful.”

“Willa,” Sean growled. She glanced at the stranger, wishing she could at least see his eyes. You could tell a lot in a person’s eyes, she’d learned. That grin remained on his face.

“It’s true,” Hendrik added. “Must be careful at all times, little one. Many weirdos.” He handed her the hot dogs, wrapped in red-and-white-checkered waxed paper, and pulled an icy-cold bottle of water from a cooler. “That’s seven American dollars,” he said.

Sean handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Thanks, and keep the change.” She handed Willa her hot dog, and they headed out onto the pier. As they passed the stranger, her daughter, with mouth crammed full of hot dog, gave him a curious eye.

“Bye,” Willa mumbled around the bite she’d just taken.

He merely waved.

Perhaps Sean had misjudged the stranger. In all sincerity, he was obviously a local and friendly with the townspeople. The exchange he’d had with Willa had been...harmless. He was just making casual conversation. Wasn’t he?

As she and Willa wandered the pier filled with locals and tourists fishing along the sides, Sean felt the stranger’s eyes on her. She’d been so...aware of him. Of his presence looming beside her. Yet she hadn’t felt that threat of fear that usually accompanied her initial internal terror. The vendor had seemed to like him. And, for that matter, so had Willa. Still, Sean and her daughter were not locals. They were summer tourists. She had zero plans to get to know anyone on a personal level.

But when Sean turned, the stranger wasn’t lurking and staring at her, as she’d thought. He was gone, and Hendrik had a new set of customers at his cart.

That probably wouldn’t be the last she saw of the stranger, though. This was a small island. They couldn’t stay cooped up in their river house all summer long. And despite her repeated warnings to Willa, her opinionated daughter would undoubtedly make some sort of conversation with the stranger. Who, while somewhat reserved, would converse back. If not him, another stranger. Willa was...verbose in the most charming of ways, to say the very least. People couldn’t help but engage with her. It was nearly unavoidable. But Sean would again try to caution her daughter.

“Willa, sweetie,” she began, as they walked. The sun’s rays warmed her bare arms and legs, and made Willa’s hair shine. “You can’t just talk to any and everybody. You never know who a person really is.”

Willa’s tongue darted out to catch a glob of ketchup on her chin. “That’s why you talk to people, Mama. Then you know who they really are.”

Sean sighed. Willa was too smart for her own good sometimes. “I mean,” she began again, “you never know about people. Sometimes, they could be... I don’t know. Hiding something.”

Willa squinted as she looked at her. “You mean, like hiding candy in their pocket?”

Sean shook her head. They reached the end of the pier. “No, honey. Like...that man you were chatting with. He could be, I don’t know. A stalker!” She knelt down to look Willa eye-to-eye. “He probably isn’t, but that’s the thing. You never know. So you have to be really, really careful about who you talk to. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Willa said slowly. She turned to the water then, chewing on her hot dog, and by the quizzical expression on her face, Willa was turning everything Sean had said over and over in her mind.

Sean could only hope her daughter retained some of her advice.

* * *

A FEW DAYS later Sean and Willa drove into the next town—over the marsh, past the Coast Guard station and over the drawbridge—to shop at the larger grocery store. Sean wanted to stock up so she wouldn’t have to make another trip in for at least a month. Since it was just her and Willa, they didn’t need a lot, but still—certain foods disappeared fast. They walked in through the automatic doors, a blast of cold air greeting them, and Willa raced straight to the produce section. There weren’t too many people in the store, which was fine with Sean. She and Willa mulled over a large display of peaches.

“What, no fairy wings?” a husky voice said from behind her.

Startled, Sean turned, and there he was again. The ponytailed, bearded stranger with a killer smile and a taste for stinky onions. For the first time she noticed his stunning eyes, which, until now, had always been covered by a pair of aviator sunglasses. His eyes were a stormy sea green and filled with caution. And a little amusement. Maybe even curiosity. They seemed honest, those eyes. That much, she could tell.

Willa looked up from her peach selecting. “Mama has to wash them on account that she says they smell funny. She says you’re a stalker.”

Sean muttered under her breath, then flashed the man a nervous smile. Mortification struck Sean at Willa’s inadvertent tattletale of their previous conversation. But what if he really was a stalker? She didn’t know the first thing about him, other than he was a runner who ate hot dogs. “Sorry, we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

“That’s right, a big giant hurry,” Willa added. “We are having a picnic at the end of the dock tonight.” She sniffed a peach. “Mama says we’re dining alfresco. With the dolphins.”

The man’s gaze moved over Sean’s face. He seemed to study her for a moment, intense and inquisitive. “I see. Well, then,” he drawled, “I don’t want to keep you. You two ladies have a good day.”

Sean watched him walk away, pushing a grocery cart, a very male and slightly bowlegged swagger. She noticed he never lingered too long. He said what it was he wanted to say then left. He had noticed their fairy wings, though. Sean pondered that as he wandered down an aisle and out of sight.

Who wouldn’t notice the fairy wings? Maybe she was spending way too much time wondering about it. Quickly, she and Willa picked out their fruits and vegetables. As luck would have it, once they started wandering the aisles, they ran into him again and again. He’d smile each time, give a slight nod, but didn’t say another word. Only watched with those mysterious eyes.

Perhaps he hadn’t liked the fact that she’d warned her daughter he could be a stalker.

Stalkers, though, came in many forms. Many shapes and sizes. Including handsome islanders. They could be poor, or filthy rich. They could have dazzling smiles, kind sea-green eyes or piercing blue ones. They could even have extra-butter movie popcorn in their grocery carts. Or a gallon of chocolate milk. Danger knew no boundaries. It was not prejudiced, either.

Yet, he hadn’t taken a threatening stance. Hadn’t stared too long, or made any comments or gestures that had truly made her uncomfortable. Had he?

Still, one could never be too cautious. And she wasn’t taking any more chances. She’d made that mistake in the past. Never again. Willa was all she had, and she’d keep her safe at all costs.

Even if the stranger really, truly didn’t seem all that dangerous.

Once Sean and Willa reached the river house, unloaded all the groceries and put them away then did their daily reading lesson, Willa watched cartoons while Sean started their dinner. They’d decided on meat loaf, mashed potatoes and peas. After mixing the meat, spices, egg, milk and bread crumbs, Sean shaped the loaf, placed it in one of the new pans they’d purchased and popped it in the oven. She’d started peeling the potatoes when a sudden knock sounded at the door.

They’ve found us!

Panic flashed through her, and she dropped a potato on the floor.

“I’ll get it!” Willa cried out, running to the front door.

“Willa, no!” Sean called out, but too late. Willa had the door open.

And there stood the stranger with startling green eyes.

“Mama! It’s the stalker! How did you know where we lived?” Willa asked him.

He eyed Sean over Willa’s head then looked at her daughter with a serious expression, drawing sun-bleached eyebrows together. “I’m your neighbor,” he said, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I live up the river a ways.”

“That was you on the shrimping boat,” Sean stated, rather than asked. She felt a bit foolish now, when she reflected on her immediate reaction when she’d first seen him on the boat. Drug runners or some other kind of criminal. She and Willa had been sitting on the dock, their toes in the warm salt water, when the big boat appeared around the bend. Fight or flight was her immediate response, and she’d chosen to fly. She’d expected...something else. Not a shrimp fisherman.

He gave a half nod. “With my dad.”

Correction. A family shrimper.

“Are you a pirate?” Willa asked.

One corner of his mouth tipped up. “Do I look like a pirate?”

Willa cocked her head, her dark hair hugging her jaw. “I think you look like a pretend pirate.”

The man met Sean’s gaze. Amusement danced in his eyes. “Is that so?”

Willa’s head bobbed. “Yes, because you have long hair and a beard and your skin is brown. But you don’t have a patch on one eye. Or a parrot on your shoulder.” She sniffed. “Or the right hat.”

“Willa, honestly,” Sean muttered.

He merely smiled. “A parrot and an eye patch, huh?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Willa blurted.

The man stuck out his hand. “Well, that’s good advice, then. I’m Nathan Malone. Now we won’t be strangers anymore.”

Willa looked at Sean, and she nodded her approval. Willa shook his hand. “My name is Willa Jane Jacobs, and I’m five and a half.”

“Nice to meet you, Willa,” Nathan said. He glanced again at Sean. Waiting.

“Uh, sorry. Sean. Jacobs,” she said hastily. She could use her manners even though she had no intentions of getting to know her neighbors, or anyone else on the island. She and Willa were here for a short time. Nothing more. The very last thing she wanted was to become friendly. With anyone.

When Nathan held out his hand, she accepted it and gave a hesitant shake. She didn’t hold his hand for long. But enough time, though, to notice how rough it was. Strong. Definitely the hand of a working man. Or a pirate. “Sorry, we were just—I’m in the middle of cooking.” She glanced behind her, to where her potatoes awaited her, then looked back at Nathan.

“Right,” Nathan answered in a slow drawl. “Dining alfresco with the dolphins.” He reached for a foil-covered plate that he’d set on the top step and handed it to Sean. “Since we’re neighbors, my granddad insisted on sending over these cheddar biscuits. He swears they go with anything.” Nathan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Welcome to Cassabaw.”

Sean gave a nervous smile. Oh, God. Hope he’s not waiting around for an invitation to eat with us!

“Hey, Nathan. You wanna dine alfresco with us and the dolphins? Mama, can he?”

Ugh! Willa Jane! Panic nearly choked Sean at Willa’s casual invitation. She didn’t want him—or anyone else—to join them. The less Nathan Malone knew about her and Willa, the better off they would all be. To have dinner with him? That would lead to questions. Answers. Neither of which was Sean willing to do.

* * *

NATHAN WATCHED SEAN’S wide hazel eyes. She all but scrambled to give her daughter an answer. He decided to end her misery.

“Thanks, but I can’t,” he said to Willa. Then he glanced at Sean. He couldn’t help but wonder what her deal was. Had he done something she hadn’t liked? Maybe she was socially awkward. Either way, her eyes had glazed over with what he perceived to be pure panic at the possibility of him sticking around for supper. “I’ve got to head out.” He inclined his head toward the foil-covered plate Sean now gripped so tightly her knuckles were white. “I’ll let you girls get back to it, then.” He threw a smile at Willa. “No longer strangers, right?”

“Right!” Willa said excitedly. “Bye, Nathan!”

Nathan gave a wave and made his way down the narrow, shell-and-sand path that led to the road. He ran the half mile home. As his lungs expanded, contracted and the salty low-tide marsh seeped into his nostrils, his thoughts stayed on the woman and her daughter. He recalled how he’d happened upon them wearing fairy wings, jumping around the cemetery catching fireflies. That image didn’t fit the way she’d panicked at the thought of him eating supper with them. Not that he would have accepted anyway. Even before Willa’s impromptu invitation, it had been pretty evident Sean didn’t want him there.

This newcomer seemed edgy—not usually a characteristic of an off-islander. Typically, they wanted to be involved. Almost...like they wanted to become a local, he guessed. But this pair was different. Cautious. At least, Sean was. Willa, on the other hand, seemed like she was ready to take on any and everything that came her way. What a funny kid. And those fairy wings were... Damn, they were adorable. He couldn’t help but wonder where Willa’s father was. Deadbeat? Or just dead? Had to be, not to take part in their lives. Some men had it made and just didn’t realize it.

Regardless, it wasn’t his place to wonder. Or worry. He’d done his duty. He’d delivered the biscuits and he’d been neighborly.

Jep was waiting for him on the front porch.

Nathan inwardly groaned as he took the steps and sat on the last one, leaning against the pillar. He hadn’t wanted to approach Sean and Willa. Hadn’t wanted to go to their home. He hadn’t wanted to take them those damned biscuits. It’d all been Jep’s idea. It’s the neighborly thing to do, son. Yet despite his reluctance to visit the Jacobses, Nathan’s desire not to cross Jep Malone superseded his desire to keep a distance from women in general. He was polite when he encountered any woman. Speaking to them when they ran into one another in public was one thing. Specifically delivering homemade biscuits to a woman’s home was altogether different. That went beyond politeness and into some murky area that led to connections and relationships. Thing was, his grandfather knew it. Knew it well, too.

“You gonna let me sit here all day, or are you gonna tell me what’s what with them two?” Jep asked.

Nathan met his grandfather’s always-fiery gaze. “I wasn’t exactly welcome.”

Jep blinked, pushed his USCG cap farther back onto his head and rubbed a particular spot with his thumb. “Huh. Go figure. Probably your sunshine personality.” He furrowed his white eyebrows. “What does that mean, boy?”

Nathan watched a dragonfly land on the top of Jep’s cap. “She seems scared of something, maybe. Eyes all wide, always looking around. Like she was expecting to see someone she didn’t want to see. Didn’t have much to say at all. I could tell she wanted me gone ASAP.” Nathan picked up a pebble on the step then tossed it into the yard. “You should’ve seen her face when her kid asked me to eat with them.” Nathan shook his head and looked at his grandfather. “Pure terror.”

“Huh.” Jep’s eyes narrowed as he inspected Nathan. “Might be that bushy appearance you keep, son. You look like some crazed killer.”

Nathan grinned. “Yeah, maybe I do. Her kid ratted her out. Told me her mama said I could be a stalker. The kid said I looked more like a pirate.”

“She’s right about that,” Jep agreed with a croaky laugh. “Well. Guess we’ll have to try harder. No sense in letting them two little gals sit over there in that musty old house with only the ghosts, gulls and fiddler crabs for company.”

Nathan studied Jep’s profile. “Why are you always trying to play matchmaker, Gramps? Can’t you leave well enough alone?”

Jep guffawed. “Youth. Wasted on the young, I tell ya! In my day, a man would see a pretty girl and take it upon himself to make the first move. You, on the other hand, seem not to have caught on to that.” Jep leaned forward in his rocker, and his expression, with those big eyebrows stretched upward and eyes rounded, nearly made Nathan burst out laughing. “It’s called courtin’! Look it up in the dictionary.”

Nathan fought a smile. “We have Google now, Jep.”

“Bah! Google, schmoogle. Them two gals are all alone over there.”

“Might be how they want it,” Nathan argued. “The mama seems set on being left alone. I myself kind of like it that way, too.”

Jep pushed up from his rocker, and the bones in his knees crackled and popped. “Like I said. Try harder.” He paused and eyeballed Nathan. “And it don’t matter what you want, boy. You’re as lost as they sound. You at least got a name, didn’t you?”

Nathan nodded. “Sean and Willa Jacobs.”

Jep headed toward the door. “Willa, you say? Never heard that before. Well. At least all your good sense hasn’t left you fully yet, boy. There’s hope yet. I’ll see you tonight.”

Nathan watched his grandfather disappear into the house, and he shook his head. “Yep. Least I still have my good sense. The good sense to keep to myself.”

Before Nathan had any more time to ponder on Jep’s words, his father called out. “Nathan? You ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Nathan replied, and jogged around back and down to the dock, where his father waited to sail out for a late-day cast. Nathan leaped onto the Tiger Lily’s deck, then his father steered up the river at a slow chug. With such agreeable currents, the shrimp would be running, and Nathan hoped they’d cast a good second haul for the day.

They soon slowly passed Sean and Willa on their dock, dining alfresco as planned. Willa jumped to her feet and started waving.

“Hey, Captain Nathan!” she yelled in that little-kid voice. She had on her fairy wings, and so did her mama. Every time the little girl jumped, the wings flapped as though she would take off flying.

With the late-afternoon sun pressing against his skin, Nathan found it hard not to smile at Willa’s enthusiasm. He waved back. “Hey, Willa!”

Owen waved, too.

Sean, on the other hand, busied herself with something on the bright pink blanket spread over the dock. She kept that dark head down, her long, slender legs still showcasing the same faded cutoffs she’d been wearing earlier. The same white tank exposed skin unused to the sun. Unlike Willa’s pink wings, Sean wore white ones that sparkled when the sun caught them just right. It made Nathan wonder about the reserved woman. Fairy wings seemed completely at odds with the serious, aloof side he’d witnessed. A thought caught him off guard. Something kinda sweet about a mother who’d wear wings to indulge her little girl.

As Nathan turned his gaze away, they eased out of the river and into the sound. He kept his eyes trained on the horizon. His thoughts, though, strayed back to Sean. Again, he wondered if there was something about him in particular that made her keep her distance. She was reserved and definitely not encouraging toward him. Twice, she’d actually shown what he perceived to be panic at his presence. Did he make her nervous? Or, was there actually a man in the picture? Hell, that could be it. How many off-islanders had come to Cassabaw for the summer, only to be joined by their significant other at a later date? Loads.

And now he was not only being ridiculous for thinking about it, but he was spending too much time turning scenarios over in his head. Wasn’t his business. Quickly, he pushed it from his brain. Wasn’t his problem. He didn’t care.

Couldn’t care.

Not now. Not ever again.

CHAPTER THREE

THERE WAS A certain stillness to the early morning that Sean rather liked. Before the sun rose, when the world was still quiet, or before the clouds began shifting from ominous gray and white to shades of orange and purple as they did when the sun tried to push its way through. A new day. For a long, long time, Sean believed hope came with each new day. She wished she believed it now.

This morning, Willa still slept; Sean had awakened long ago, when the chug of a boat heading downriver had drifted through her partially opened bedroom window. It was strangely peaceful, that lonesome noise. Ghostly, in a way. As if she floated in some dream world. A place where, maybe, she’d always existed and danger didn’t. It even felt somewhat safe. Normal. Rather, what she perceived normal to be. Family. Neighborly neighbors hand-delivering scrumptious cheddar biscuits.

And maybe it was safe. Normal. Slightly. Perhaps.

Not that she’d let her guard down for one solid second.

The captain of the Tiger Lily probably saw her as a grade-A nut job. Or at the very least, a snob. She’d purposely kept her head down last night as Nathan and his father had passed by on the river. Part of that was because her daughter had convinced her that the dolphins would be friendlier if they thought the two of them were fairies instead of regular people, so Sean had once again donned a pair of wings, too.

Willa, of course, had made a big production of calling out to Captain Nathan. Sean had allowed it. But she wouldn’t fall into the habit of becoming too friendly with the green-eyed shrimp boat sailor. Having as little contact as possible made the transition of leaving a little easier. It wasn’t easy, though, because of Willa’s exuberance and propensity to talk to everyone she encountered. Getting to know people meant those very people would want to know more about Sean and Willa. That was where things got tricky for Sean. Parts of her life simply defied explanation, and yet she loathed lying. And the older Willa became, the more observant she was—which made it more challenging for Sean to tell people something about her and Willa that wasn’t precisely accurate. Truly, it was much, much easier to avoid interactions with locals altogether.

Yet, even the very innocent interactions with Nathan Malone had made Sean pause. Already, the sound of his trawler made her heart quicken. She imagined him at the wheel, those steely hands gripping it with ease and confidence. A sure stare out over the sea, unafraid. Fearless.

More intimate thoughts invaded her, somewhat unwillingly. The way she felt heat rise to her cheeks at his voice, or the very thought of that intense, curious stare. She admitted only to herself that he affected her. She tried to banish that unwanted feeling. It’d do no good to confess. To him or anybody. She and Willa would be gone at the close of summer.

She couldn’t help where her thoughts wandered, though. And after Willa went to bed, or in the early mornings when Sean was alone, she pondered it. Thought about...before. Before they had to run. Before they had to hide. When she had simply been...herself. What she had looked like. Who she’d been. She sought her brain’s memory vault; dug through events, pictures, until she’d found a few. Long blond hair. Hazel eyes that most folks said smiled all on their own. It seemed surreal now, that time in her life. Before Houston. Like a dream that had occurred—the events never truly had happened. Yet, they had. And it seemed that years separated that Sean from the Sean she was now.

So back to the question—whom did Nathan see? She most definitely wasn’t a snob. And, for pride’s sake, she hoped she didn’t seem like a nut job. In all truth, she couldn’t be sure what she was anymore. She’d been running for so long; somewhere along the back roads, mom-and-pop diners and one-horse towns between Kansas and Tennessee, up to Boston and down to South Carolina, she’d lost herself. She knew it.

And couldn’t do a single thing about it.

Sean sat on the back porch steps facing the dock and river, with acres of marsh on each side. It moved like wheat, she thought, when a breeze caught it just right, and the willowy little stalks all shifted and swayed in sync with the cicadas and crickets’ song. Salt infiltrated her lungs with each breath; in this short time she’d grown to actually like the tangy taste it left on her tongue. She took a sip of the coffee while her mind continued to be rebellious...

Those stormy green eyes belonging to Nathan Malone kept intruding. She’d tried not to notice, but he’d trapped her with that curious gaze more than once. It’d been unavoidable.

And the easy, amused smile he had for Willa? Sean had noticed that, too. The look he’d given Willa had come fast, easy. Natural. Sean couldn’t help but find Nathan’s indulgence in Willa’s buoyancy and constant inquisitiveness more than charming. Almost...bewitching. He’d taken to Willa almost immediately, and she with him.

But the look Nathan had for Sean herself? That was somewhat guarded. Curious. Wary.

She’d also noticed how the sun had turned his hair so many shades of blond, and that even the darker colors were lightened by hours of being on the sea. His skin had bronzed—so different from her own pale skin and dark hair. The sun felt good, though. Perhaps she’d end up with a little tan after all.

“Mama?”

Sean turned to see a sleepy-eyed Willa standing in the doorway, clutching the stuffed whale Sean had bought for her in Newport News when her daughter had begged to stop at some mariners’ museum. “Good morning, baby,” Sean said, and held out her arms for her daughter.

Willa padded over and sat beside her, snuggling against Sean’s side. Sean reveled in the warmth of Willa’s small body, the clean scent of her hair, despite it twisting and sticking up every which way. She hugged Willa tightly and kissed her cheek. “What are you doing up so early?”

Willa didn’t say anything; she merely shrugged and snuggled closer. The only time of day anyone could catch Willa Jane Jacobs quiet was early in the morning. Still sleep-fogged and groggy, she was a shrugger and a nodder. At least until 8:00 a.m.

“Can we go down by the river and watch Captain Nathan go by in his pirate ship?” Willa mumbled into Sean’s shoulder.

“Well, I think they’ve already headed out this morning,” Sean answered.

“Can we be there when they come home?”

Sean pushed down that familiar panic of her daughter growing too fond of, well, anyone. The agony of seeing the confusion and hurt in Willa’s big blue eyes when they had to pack up and leave. Leave people she’d grown fond of? Willa’s reaction killed Sean every time. “Why, baby?”

Another shrug. “He’s nice. And I like his pirate beard. I like to wave at him is all.” She peeked up then, her wide eyes staring up at Sean. “Don’t you?”

Sean smiled back. How could she not? “I do.”

“Well, then, Mama, let’s go so we don’t miss him. And you gotta be like me and wear your wings.”

Sean searched her baby girl’s face, so full of hope. Untouched by the ugliness and pain life could dish out. Sean would do anything to protect her daughter from that kind of pain. But already, Willa was getting into a dangerous habit of inserting Nathan Malone into their daily lives. A habit the little girl wasn’t even aware of. I’ll cave this time, but I’ll have to figure out a way to divert Willa’s attention to something other than the pirate next door.

Sean gave Willa a nod. “Okay, just this once. But we don’t want to become a bother to them. They’re working, you know.”

Willa cupped Sean’s cheeks with her little hands and stared into her eyes. “Mama, you’re so silly. They’re not working. They’re fishing!”

Sean’s heart melted at the feel of her daughter’s hands on her skin, at the twinkle in Willa’s eyes. “Okay, Willa Jane. They’re fishing.”

* * *

“LOOKS LIKE YOU got a fan club,” Owen said to Nathan as they guided the Tiger Lily up Morgan’s Creek and past the new tenants of the old homestead.

Nathan stared through his shades against the bright sunlight. Sure enough, there was little Willa, jumping up and down at the end of the dock, waving frantically as they passed by. And sitting beside her, feet in the water and those white sparkly wings strapped to her back, was Sean. Her wave was not as enthusiastic, but still, there was a wave. Nathan returned the gesture and gave the Tiger Lily’s horn two short blasts. Willa turned to her mom, moving excitedly, wings flapping, and waved some more. He couldn’t help but wonder what the little girl had said.

And what Sean had replied.

Something about her—both of them—got under his skin. Couldn’t shake either one. Just the slight interaction Nathan had had with Sean got to him in a way that surprised him—in a good way. She smelled great. Her hand had been soft in his upon their first shake. And her eyes seemed bottomless. She was a mystery. A tight-lipped, closed-off mystery. She didn’t seem to want much conversation. So why did that make him want to find out why she was so closed off? Why did he have the urge to make her smile? Instead, he retreated when she appeared to be uncomfortable in his presence. Hiding from the world, perhaps?

Much like himself.

Yet his thoughts landed on her over and over, and at the most annoying of times. Like after midnight, when he’d been about to drift off to sleep, bam. Sean would appear behind his eyelids. That little pixie face and dark, shorn hair and too-wide hazel eyes awakened him. Once awakened, other thoughts drifted in, like her reaction to him the night he’d jogged by the cemetery while she and Willa were catching fireflies. What was she so afraid of? He’d barely spoken to them, just a polite greeting. Then again, they were in a strange place, and he was a bearded jogger. Jep had said he looked like a crazed killer. Maybe Sean had thought the same?

Then there was Willa. Oozing more confidence than any five-year-old should have, she was quite the opposite of her mom. She seemed to claim the world as her own, unafraid. He liked the kid. He liked them both.

He didn’t like that he liked them, but there it was. Unavoidable.

Yet Sean Jacobs had made it somewhat clear that she didn’t want to be bothered. Not by him. Not by anyone.

The thought left him confused, torn between reality and his urges. So he pushed the dilemma behind the locked door where he kept those emotions and went back to living his uncomplicated days as best as he could.

* * *

FOR THE NEXT few days, Sean and Willa were at the end of their rickety dock, waiting for the Tiger Lily to pass.

Clearly Owen had told Jep about Sean and Willa regularly being on the dock to greet them because Jep took matters into his own nosy, busybody hands.

“Here,” Jep said, thrusting his old truck keys into Nathan’s hands.

Nathan looked at his grandfather. “What’re these for?”

Jep’s eyebrows clashed together into a formidable scowl. “Take my truck and drive over to those gals’ house and invite them over for supper.”

Nathan blinked. “When?”

“Tonight. I want to meet them.”

Nathan glanced at the clock on the wall—2:00 p.m. “Kind of a late notice, don’t you think?”

Jep’s frown deepened. “Of course it’s not. Now hurry up, will ya?” Jep turned and started shuffling pots and pans onto the stovetop. He threw one last glare over his shoulder. “Don’t come home without them, boy.”

“Jep, quit playing matchmaker, will ya?”

Jep scowled at Nathan. “Now, what makes you think I’m matchmakin’? I want to meet them, is all. Neighborly thing to do, so go get ’em.”

Nathan searched his father’s and his brother Matt’s faces, both sitting at the kitchen table. Both wore similar smirks. With a long sigh, Nathan headed out. “Yes, sir.”

Having just showered after finishing their shrimping for the day, Nathan went upstairs, pulled on a clean black T-shirt, a pair of well-worn khaki shorts and the cleaner of two pairs of Chucks then headed downstairs, out the door and straight to Jep’s truck.

During the drive, Nathan imagined every scenario that could possibly play out with his appearance at Sean’s. She wouldn’t want to come. She’d politely refuse. Willa might well beg to go. Sean would give her daughter what she probably thought would be a discreet stink-eye, but he’d see it. Of course, she might even refuse to answer his knock.

By the time Nathan pulled up in front of Sean’s house, he felt like a complete horse’s ass. How could he force her and Willa over to the Malones’ for food? Jep and his damned busybody self! With a deep breath, Nathan climbed out of the truck, the creaking metal and iron of the door echoing through the trees. Before he made it to the porch steps, the screen door flung open and Willa came running out.

“Hey, Captain Nathan, whatcha doin’ over here?” Willa asked. She wrapped her arm around the pillar of the porch, swinging her body on a pivoted foot. She wore a silver tiara with big purple gems embedded in it.

Sean joined her on the porch, her guarded expression holding surprise. She waited for Nathan to answer Willa.

“Well, my grandfather is kind of the king of our castle over there.” Nathan indicated upriver with a jerk of his thumb. “And what he says goes.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted his gaze to meet Sean’s. “You ladies are cordially invited to come over to our house for supper. Tonight.” He waited for Sean’s refusal.

“Mama, can we please?” Willa crooned.

“Well, I mean...” Sean’s hesitantly nervous smile and shy demeanor caught Nathan off guard. She gave her daughter a quick look. “What about our nightly walk?” she asked Willa. “Our search for the ultimate, superior pinecone to kick?”

Willa gave an exaggerated sigh, with her narrow shoulders rising then falling. “Mama. We can do that any ole time. There are one hundred pinecones in the yard. I wanna go see Captain Nathan’s grandpa king! Please?” She jumped up and down in place, making her wings flap as though she were trying to take off.

Sean’s gaze returned to Nathan’s, and he could plainly see she didn’t want to accept the invitation. He halfway thought of giving her an out, but he didn’t. He instead kept his mouth shut, waiting.

Then Sean sighed. “Okay, sure. Thank you. We, uh...cordially accept. Since your grandfather is king and all.”

“Yay!” Willa hollered.

Nathan blinked. He hadn’t expected Sean to agree, and now that she had...what was he going to do? It was bad enough how often he found her in his thoughts. Constantly. And that was with very little contact. But now? She would be in the cab of the truck. With him. And then at the house.

“What’s cordially mean anyway?” Willa asked Sean. Then she looked at him. “Is your grandpa really a king?”

Nathan chuckled, relieved that Willa’s chatter eased his apprehension. He wondered briefly if Sean could sense his unease. “You’ll have to see for yourself.” He looked at Sean. “I’ll drive you over. If that’s okay?”

“Oh.” Sean looked at her bare feet and cutoff jean shorts. “Uh, okay. Do you...want to come in and wait while we change?”

Willa didn’t give Nathan one solid second to decide. She bounded down the steps and grabbed his hand. “Come on inside, Captain Nathan,” she said, tugging his arm.

The little girl pulled him to a love seat and pushed him into it. “You can wait in here.” She threw him a grin then disappeared up the hallway. Sean hesitated.

“We’ll, uh...” she started to say. “We’ll only be a second.”

Then she, too, disappeared, but mother and daughter’s muffled conversation continued in another room.

Nathan rested his hands on his knees and looked around. Who are you, Sean Jacobs? Sparsely furnished, the old house reeked of spick-and-span clean. He should know; living in a house filled with present and past USCGs, where cleanliness and order ruled the roost, he recognized the tinge of lemon in the air. He wouldn’t say too clean, but...something along those lines.

A few unpacked boxes still remained, pushed against the walls. Through the archway, a kitchen faced the marsh and the dock beyond. Nothing hung on the walls. No pictures of family set on the one end table between the couch and love seat. The small, box-shaped wooden coffee table held a stack of hardback books, and Nathan leaned forward and lifted the first one. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. The next, Treasure Island. Classics, and well used given the worn-out and dog-eared pages. On the inside flap, a neat cursive hand had written For my baby Willa with the wild imagination. Love, Mama.

It was, Nathan noted, the only personable item in the entire room.

He suddenly felt like an intruder. Someone...unwanted. A threat, maybe? Despite her acceptance of Jep’s dinner invitation, Sean’s hesitancy etched lines around her eyes, and those eyes flashed concern. Maybe after being around his loud, friendly family a time or two, she’d relax. Hell, maybe I will, too.

Just then, a thundering of footfall burst from the hallway, and Willa came to a screeching halt before him. The little girl wore what appeared to be an old-fashioned dress, a faded, old cream-colored thing with lace and ribbons. And the sparkly fairy wings, of course, accompanied by a pair of cowboy boots. He lifted one eyebrow.

“Nice dress,” he stated.

Willa’s grin exposed all of her straight little teeth. “My mama got it for me in a special shop that sells only really old things,” she informed Nathan. “That’s why it looks so yellow. And it cost ten whole dollars.”

Nathan cocked his head and inspected the aged material. “Hmm. That’s a pretty good deal. It looks at least a hundred years old.”

Willa’s grin widened. “You think so? Mama, did you hear that?” She turned as Sean walked into the room. “Captain Nathan says my fairy dress is at least a hundred years old!”

Nathan rose and his eyes rested on Sean’s. “That’s why it looks yellow,” he added, and threw her a grin. It felt awkward. Mainly because the look on her face spoke volumes. As in, she seriously didn’t want to be going with him to supper. A house full of strangers. He didn’t blame her, though. He imagined she’d rather stay out here, alone with her daughter, and kick around some ultimate pinecone. Whatever that meant.

Nathan then noticed that Sean had changed into a sleeveless sundress, white with little flowers all over it, falling to just above her knees and tied at the waist. On her feet she wore brown sandals. He realized how slender she was. And with her short dark hair and wide hazel eyes, she kind of looked like a pixie. A very pretty pixie. He’d keep that to himself, though.

“All right, well,” he said. “Let’s go meet the king.”

CHAPTER FOUR

HAD SHE LOST all her good sense? Why on earth had she caved to Willa’s pleas?

She knew why. It wasn’t as big of a mystery as she tried to make herself believe. Willa’s happiness, the desire to stretch out her daughter’s carefree childhood for as long as she could. That was why. And, she admitted only to herself, Nathan connected with Willa. And Willa responded to that connection in such a positive way. Those big blue eyes lit up when Nathan came around, or when he passed their dock on his pirate ship. Despite the knowledge that, at some point, she and Willa would have to leave Cassabaw, Sean just didn’t feel like disappointing a five-year-old. Of depriving her of a little bit of normalcy, like a backyard barbecue with nice people. The fact that facing a handful of strangers clawed at her stomach in familiar way that usually meant back off, keep your distance.

Yet here she was with her daughter, sitting in an old pickup truck heading to supper. Not backing off. Not keeping her distance. With strangers.

Sean listened to Willa’s nonstop chatter with Nathan as he maneuvered down the crushed-shell-and-dirt path of their drive. At the end, he turned left onto the little coastal road, shrouded in oaks and Spanish moss, and shifted, metal grating and the truck giving a good jolt each and every time it went into a higher gear. Willa laughed, thinking it hugely hilarious. Sean’s head banged twice against the window.

Quietly, she observed.

Looked. Listened. And observed.

Classic rock played on the radio. The interior of the truck held an aged smell, but was clean. From the corner of her eye, Sean noticed the black T-shirt Nathan wore snugged tightly around his biceps as he held the truck’s wheel. Thick veins snaked over his hands, around his golden-skinned arms. She also noticed that around his neck he wore a leather cord with a medallion of...something. Made of silver. And his hair, bleached and weathered by the sun, pulled snuggly back from his face in a ponytail. Dark shades covered his unusual green eyes. Cautiously, she turned her head, ever so slightly, to get a better view of his profile, and when she did she noticed a silver scar jutting through his top lip.

Suddenly, those lips turned up at the corners, and on closer inspection she noticed Nathan had glanced her way.

“Taking inventory?” he asked.

“What’s inventory?” Willa echoed.

Nathan’s grin widened. “It means your mama was studying me,” he said.

Embarrassment heated Sean’s cheeks. “I was not.”

That only made Nathan chuckle.

“My mama studies everybody,” Willa said. “To make sure they’re not serial killers or anything.” Willa glanced at her. “Right, Mama?”

“Willa,” Sean scolded softly. “You don’t have to tell everyone our secrets, do you?”

Willa squinted as she gave that some thought. “Nope. I guess not. Just Captain Nathan.”

Sean’s gaze darted toward Nathan, whose attention was fixed straight ahead on the road, but his lips twitched.

He might be amused by Willa, but her exuberance and openness presented a real issue for Sean. Her mind raced. No doubt Nathan’s family—Nathan himself, more than likely—would ask questions. She’d become quite good at firing off appropriate answers without looking like she was totally making them up. But the older Willa got, the harder it was to bat off personal questions. Her daughter had eyes like a hawk and a sharp mind that missed absolutely nothing. Just like she had with Nathan, Willa would call Sean out on anything she believed to be untrue. Despite Sean’s attempts at coaching and teaching, her daughter seemed to be without filter. One never knew what would emerge from the little girl’s too-mature-for-her-age mind and mouth.

Sean needed to be extra careful. Despite the challenge presented by Willa’s increasing awareness, Sean could not afford to relax her vigilance. Which brought her mind back to the question: Why on earth had she agreed to accompany Nathan to a strange place with strange people and a million innocent yet detrimental questions?

Sean glanced at Willa, who chattered about the fireflies that came out at night. Her daughter looked up suddenly, her blue eyes soft as she grinned. Sean smiled back.

That’s why. Her precious daughter. It was the one thing Sean had done right in her life. She wanted to somehow, someway keep a shred of balance alive in Willa. To allow her gracious memories of a magical childhood that she could look back on later in life, fond recollections that could bring a smile or make her heart feel glad. Things Sean could only imagine.

She prayed she could keep it up.

Nathan slowed the truck and turned into a long drive that led back to the river—much like at her and Willa’s place. It made sense, she thought, seeing how they were river neighbors. A large, stilted river house with a wide wraparound porch sat within an opening among the trees.

“Whoa,” Willa said in a low voice. “You live here?”

“Yep. Grew up here,” Nathan answered. “Come on,” he continued, and climbed out of the truck. “Let’s go meet everyone.”

“Come on, Mama!” Willa yelled, and followed Nathan out of his side of the truck.

With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Sean climbed out. Giant oaks laden with long Spanish moss formed a canopy over the house and yard. A large metal building stood off to one side farther back. And an arbor of some sorts sat to the left of the porch. Big blooms of hydrangea graced each side of the porch steps. On the porch an old man was sitting in a rocking chair, then stood slowly.

Like some Norman Rockwell picture.

Walking around the front of the truck, Sean joined Nathan and Willa. He watched her closely. Crickets and cicadas chirped, filling the air with bug-song. Somewhere close, the saw grass rustled as a breeze rushed through the salt marsh. In the distance, oyster shoals bubbled in the low-tide mud.

Noises that, only recently, had become familiar to her.

Oddly, Sean found she liked it.

“Will you all quit lingering around the yard and get over here?” the old man called. “I’m tired of waitin’.”

“Who is that?” Willa asked.

“That’s the king,” Nathan said with a grin. “He’s been dying to meet you both.”

With that, Nathan inclined his head to Sean, a motion to follow, and Willa bound ahead of them both, wings flapping, her skinny legs eating up the ground as she headed for the elderly stranger. This was a side of Willa that Sean admired and also feared: she didn’t meet a stranger. Ever.

Sean glanced at Nathan. “Sure hope your grandpa is up for Willa’s energy.”

Nathan grinned. “I have a feeling they’re going to get along pretty good.”

As they made their way to the porch, even though Nathan walked beside her, he definitely kept his distance. She had to admit that the rugged shrimp boat captain made her curious. While his looks appeared a bit rough—even his walk had a certain swagger to it—Sean felt there was something solid in Nathan. Safety, perhaps? No, not that. Maybe she simply recognized the same reserve she had. He’d been polite but never pushy. He seemed to respect her boundaries. Maybe his reserve was personally motivated. In a way, he seemed to want to keep distance between them, the very same as she did.

Nathan cleared his throat, and a sheepish grin stretched the scar in his lip. “I’m going to apologize right now for anything uncouth my grandfather says. He is sort of lacking a filter. There’s no stopping him, I’m afraid.”

A nervous laugh escaped Sean. Strangely enough, Nathan’s hesitancy put her at ease. Somewhat, anyway. “It’s okay. He may have met his match in my daughter. Also filterless.”

Nathan gave a soft laugh. “So I’ve noticed.”

By the time they reached the porch, Willa and the older man were already deep in conversation, which worried Sean. But as they joined them, their banter eased her mind.

“They aren’t real wings,” Willa said. “See? I put my arms through here.” She demonstrated the removal of her costume wings while the old man watched intently.

His bushy white eyebrows lifted, raising the bill of his USCG cap. “Huh.” Then he rose from his bent-at-the-waist stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “I ain’t buyin’ it. Fairies are known to be pranksters. You might be pullin’ my leg right now.”

Willa’s brow scrunched up. “What’s a prankster, King Jep?”

“Well, you know, child,” Jep remarked, “a trickster. A mischief-maker. Someone who tries to play tricks on old folk.”

Willa’s already-wide eyes stretched even wider at the accusation. “I wouldn’t do that!”

A smile tipped Jep’s mouth. “Well, that’s good to know, Willa.” His glance moved to Sean, and his brow furrowed as he gave her a thorough and silent inspection.

“This is Sean Jacobs, Willa’s mom. This is, uh—” Nathan chuckled “—King Jep.”

“Yeah, Mama, he’s the King of Sea Diamonds, he told me so,” Willa added.

“Nice to meet you, darlin’,” King Jep said, offering his hand. Sean took it and he squeezed, not too hard but firm. She did the same. “Sean, eh? Good, stout Irish name.” He threw Sean a curious glance. “Usually reserved for the menfolk. No matter. Welcome to our home, darlin’.”

“Thank you for inviting us for dinner,” Sean said, trying not to sound nervous. “Sea diamonds?”

Jep dropped his hand. “Shrimp, darlin’. Shrimp! The most perfect creature God created, just ahead of the chicken.” His head cocked sideways as he considered her, giving her a head-to-toe glance. “You’re a skinny thing. You ain’t got worms, do you?” He winked. “I’ll put some meat on your bones.”

“Jeez, Jep,” Nathan chided, then shrugged and looked at Sean. “See? No filter. Sorry.”

“Hey, why do your blue pants go all the way up to your neck?” Willa asked Jep.

Nathan laughed, and Sean gave him and Jep a sheepish grin as she felt her cheeks turn red. “I’m kinda used to no filter, as you can see.”

“Filters are overrated anyway,” Jep stated bluntly, then looked at Willa. “Well, I imagine it’s because I don’t like wearin’ a belt, and these stay up.” He grasped one strap, showing it to Willa. “Overalls, darlin’. Keeps my britches up!”

Willa giggled then followed Jep as he shuffled down the steps. “Come on, then,” he called over his shoulder. “Supper won’t cook itself now, will it?”

“King Jep, is your kitchen outside?” Willa asked.

“One of them is,” he replied.

Nathan inclined his head. “After you.”

Sean gave another hesitant smile as she watched her young daughter bounce up and down as she accompanied a man almost a century old. “Willa has found a new buddy, so it seems.”

Nathan shoved his hands into his shorts pockets. “Might be a recipe for disaster.”

“It might,” she said as they followed Jep and Willa.

Just then, the breeze brought with it the sound of very old music, like maybe from the World War II era, or older.

“Jep, my middle brother and his wife all love the old tunes,” he stated. “From the twenties and thirties, mostly. My little brother is in love with seventies classic rock. The result is a cluster of strange and great music. You’ll get used to it.” He nodded before she could reply. “Speak of the devil.”

A pregnant woman rounded the corner of the stilt house, making her way toward them. Tall and lanky, she had only a delicate baby bump. With long reddish-brown hair piled atop her head, a wide, genuine smile exposed white teeth. A natural beauty—even from a distance Sean could tell that.

“Um, warning, she’s a hugger,” Nathan said softly moments before the woman pulled Sean into a tight embrace.

“Hi! I’m Emily!” the pregnant woman exclaimed. “I’m Nathan’s sister-in-law, married to the middle Malone boy. It’s so nice to meet you!” She pulled back, her hands still gripping Sean’s upper arms, and inspected her. “I really love your eyes. They remind me of extra-big almonds.”

“Oh,” Sean said with surprise. “Thank you.”

Another filter-less soul.

Yet...Sean found she liked her. She sensed a sincerity in her that oftentimes wasn’t present in others. Emily didn’t seem shy, either—qualities that Willa had, Sean noted. Maybe that was why she immediately liked Emily.

Emily slipped her arm through Sean’s and pulled her along. “Is this gruff-looking guy behaving himself?” she asked Sean.

“Sis, I’m not that bad,” Nathan said, and gave Sean a raised-eyebrow, innocent look. “Besides, I’m a pirate. Just ask Willa. I have to look gruff. It’s in the Pirates Handbook of Rules.”

Emily snorted. “Good Lord! I’ll just bet it is.” She gave her head a shake at Sean, a gesture that seemed to link them as conspirators. “Now he thinks he’s a pirate. And your little girl is absolutely adorable.”

“Thank you.” Sean just smiled. She didn’t know what else to say. She was in Friendly Overload with Emily. Never had she met such...nice people.

When they rounded the corner of the house, the yard opened up, with a dock leading to the river. Across the river, a lone white water bird stood in the muck edging the marsh, its long orange beak stark against the green-and-brown reeds. The sharp, pungent scent of salt hung in the air. Nathan’s shrimp boat sat at the end of the dock, the outriggers jutting skyward.

A small red-tin-roofed house was farther down the dock. And where the grass ended and the river bank began, beneath looming oak trees, several white Adirondack chairs sat facing the water. There were two occupants—a handsome dark-haired guy and a lovely blonde woman. Behind them was a picnic table covered with a checkered tablecloth. Close by, a small enclave stood, apparently the outdoor kitchen. Jep, Willa and another man—Nathan’s father, perhaps—stood over a large cooler, peering inside. Emily led Sean to the couple in the chairs.

“I’ll just go help Dad, Jep and Willa,” Nathan said, and left Sean to Emily’s caretaking.

“Hey, guys,” Emily said to the couple. The dark-haired guy leaped to his feet and grasped Sean’s hand in a firm shake.

He smiled wide, and the very same green eyes that Nathan had twinkled. “I’m Eric Malone, the baby of the family and obviously the better-looking one.” He dropped his hand and moved to stand behind the other chair, enveloping the young woman who sat in it. “This is my gorgeous fiancée, and Emily’s baby sister, Reagan.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Nice to meet you both,” Sean answered. “I’m...Sean Jacobs. My daughter, Willa—” she glanced over to where her daughter was helping the men “—has found a new friend. We live just up the river.” Sean noticed Reagan wasn’t exactly meeting her gaze. Not precisely, anyway. It was then she saw the walking stick propped against the chair.

Wow. Blind. At such a young age.

She briefly wondered how it happened.

“I was an airman once upon a time,” Reagan offered with eerie intuition, as though she’d seen the question in Sean’s eyes. “An explosion on the tarmac and...voilà! Now I’m a blind artist engaged to a crazy rescue swimmer.”

“Oh, I’m...sorry,” Sean stammered. “I mean, I didn’t intend to stare.”

“I stare all the time,” Eric stated with a smirk.

Reagan nodded. “He does.” She grinned, and Sean noticed how much she looked like Emily. Yet different. Beautiful in a different way. “And it’s fine. Life is good,” she said, and slipped a hand up and grasped Eric by the neck, caressing his cheek.

The look on his face was absolute and pure love.

“Mama! Come over here and look at these sea diamonds!” Willa hollered from the cookery.

“Ha! Old Jep’s pulling that sea diamond stuff with the kid,” Eric exclaimed. “He did the same to us when we were growing up.”

Emily laughed. “I remember.” She shook her head. “The years have left that old sea biscuit unchanged.”

As a group, they made their way to the cookery, and Sean stood back and noticed what a large, grand cluster of family they were. Never had she been around such engaging people. They all seemed so close. So fond of one another. The brothers teased each other, and King Jep seemed to be the instigator of most of it. She’d gathered that Emily and Reagan had grown up with the boys, and the sense of family bond was strong. Stronger than Sean had ever seen in her life. And the way Eric looked at Reagan? The protective arm he had around her?

She briefly wondered what that would be like to have.

* * *

FOR THE FIFTH TIME, Nathan turned his gaze toward Sean and his brother and sisters-in-law. What were they talking about? Now that they were all walking to the dock kitchen, he busied himself, making sure he didn’t appear to be the least interested in what they had been discussing.

“Hey, Captain Nathan, whatcha keep lookin’ at my mama for?” Willa said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Just that quickly Nathan learned how perceptive and intuitive Willa Jane Jacobs was.

Eric, that irritating jackass, threw back his head and laughed. “Dang, brother.” He clapped Nathan on the back. “That was a clear bust-out.” Eric held up his hand to Willa, who, without hesitation, gave him a high five.

Nathan had no reply. There was no getting out of a Willa observation. That was a fact he’d come to realize, just as clearly as Sean knew she couldn’t pull one over on her daughter. So, the fact he’d been staring at Sean had been flatly called out by a five-year-old. Hell, he couldn’t help it. But now he’d make a conscious effort not to. The last thing he needed was to be the butt of his brothers’ ribbing. That would only make him want to punch them in the face.

Besides, he didn’t want to make Sean more uncomfortable than she probably already was. He briefly wondered what she thought. Her expression seemed closed, so he didn’t even try to guess what might be going through her mind. He merely turned around and continued deveining the pile of shrimp he’d been working on. Hoped it wasn’t obvious that he wanted to knock Eric on his ass.

“Ah, the mysterious girl on the dock,” Owen said to Sean as she joined them. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Sean gave a shy nod. “You, too, sir.”

“Young lady.” Jep inclined his head, beckoning Sean to join him. She did. “Know how to make hush puppies?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Nathan watched Sean peer over Jep’s ingredients. Then she looked at his grandfather with those enormous hazel eyes.

“Teach me?” she said.

Was it the way she said it? Or the sincerity in her quiet voice that caught Nathan so completely off guard? Whatever it was, it had affected poor Jep, as well. The old man’s cheeks turned red and splotchy and he sputtered, cleared his throat, then gave Sean an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

“Of course, gal,” he said, and she stepped closer to him, and so began Jep’s lesson in the art of making hush puppies.

Nathan watched the interaction further, and found it more than curious. He was astounded to find himself almost mesmerized by the way Sean’s innocent acceptance of Jep had not only made the old man stammer, but slip into his Irish accent. Jep Malone did that only when he was absolutely furious, or completely enamored.

The way Sean responded to Jep touched Nathan’s heart in a way he wasn’t expecting. It made him sit up, take notice. Not just the fact that she was beautiful. She was and, despite Nathan’s determination not to notice, he had. He’d been unable to help it. No, his attention went beyond the recognition of the beauty that resided beneath her bewitching eyes or the love he saw in those very same eyes whenever she looked at her daughter. It was something about those two small words, teach me, that Nathan found so humbling. So damned enchanting. It made his earlier determination not to get close to her just that much more difficult.

He watched her now, seemingly at ease with his grandfather, allowing the old man to show her how to combine the ingredients for his secret hush puppy recipe. Whatever clever thing Jep was saying to her was rewarded with a smile—one that was entirely different from any Nathan had seen on her yet. It was intriguing. It was baffling.

He suddenly realized it wouldn’t be quite so bad being the one who coaxed such a smile from Sean Jacobs.

When Nathan looked away, it was his father’s eye he caught.

And Owen simply smiled.

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