Heartbreak Cove (Sanctuary Island) (RE8) (10 page)

“I’m surprised you even made it through high school, with an attitude like that,” Andie said.

The stiffness of her voice reminded him that she was one of those authority figures he usually avoided like the plague. Guilt tugged at him enough to widen a chink in his armor. “I had help. The same history teacher who taught us about Rangers and the part they played in World War II, actually.”

He felt some of the tension go out of Andie on a soft breath. When the hell did he get so attuned to her every inhale and exhale?

“Is that where ‘Rangers lead the way’ comes from?” she asked curiously.

Relieved to be back on more neutral ground than his history with Amelia, Sam nodded. “They were an American unit modeled after the British commandos, and of the first five hundred volunteers, less than a hundred survived World War II. They were some of the first boots on the ground with some of the deepest penetration into enemy territory.”

Andie blinked. “Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said you’ve read about this. Tell me the rest. How did the Ranger motto get started?”

Sam dug his hands into the pockets of his heavy canvas jacket, his fingers automatically searching out the smooth, round circle of metal. “It was during the invasion of Normandy that Brigadier General Norman Cota looked out across Omaha Beach and stalked up to ask Major Max Schneider what outfit he was standing with. ‘Fifth Rangers, sir,’ Schneider replied. And Cota said, ‘Well goddammit then, Rangers, lead the way!’”

“And now my brother is one of those guys leading the way.” Andie sounded dazed, but proud.

“When’s his hitch over?” Sam probed, wondering how long he had to get Caitlin up to speed on her riding.

Not that Sam was staying on Sanctuary Island forever, he remembered with a dull ache. Just until the heat died down and he figured out what to do with Queenie.

“I don’t know.” Andie flushed red, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. “Owen and I haven’t … my family isn’t close. Let’s just say it’s been a while since the last reunion.”

Sam peered into the dim barn where Caitlin was learning how to curry comb Peony under Jo’s watchful care. “About … nine years or so?”

Andie huffed out a breath. “Not quite that long, actually. The reason I’d never met Caitlin until recently is that my brother didn’t know about her until her mother died, leaving Caitlin on her own. He was overseas already, about to head out with his team.”

“What if you hadn’t been available? What would have happened to Caitlin?”

“I don’t know,” Andie admitted, hugging her arms around her ribcage. “They might have been able to track down my dad. Or maybe they would’ve dumped her in foster care until Owen comes home.”

“That sucks,” Sam said bluntly. Everything in him revolted at the thought of quiet, fragile Caitlin getting dumped into the same system that had chewed him up and spat him out years ago. “It’s not right.”

“It’s not ideal, but what’s the alternative?” Andie shivered, even though the waning spring sunshine had taken the chill off the lengthening shadows of the pine trees. “Owen should abandon his team, the people who count on him, and possibly derail an operation that has who-knows-what importance in the grand scheme of our national security?”

Sam clenched his jaw and lowered his head stubbornly. “Someone ought to put Caitlin first, is all I’m saying. I don’t think she’s had a lot of that in her life.”

The sudden stillness of the woman next to him made Sam tense before risking a look at her. Andie watched him with her head tilted to one side. “What makes you say that?”

“Nothing,” Sam evaded. “Call it a hunch. And look, I don’t mean to imply that you’re not putting Caitlin first. One phone call and you dropped everything to take her in and try to make her feel welcome. That’s more than a lot of people would do.”

“Thanks, although I haven’t exactly dropped everything. I left her here with you all day.”

“You’ve got a job,” Sam pointed.

“I do, and it’s an important one. It’s a job I believe in”—Andie shot him a half-smile—“even if you don’t. But I’ve got deputies, and I haven’t taken a single day off since I was elected three and a half years ago. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time someone put Caitlin first.”

Chapter Nine

Even after a year of being friends (with, sadly, no benefits), Taylor’s heart still fluttered into her throat at the sight of Matthew Little’s car pulling up the gravel lane to Windy Corner. Granted, when they first met he’d been driving his mom’s used hatchback and now he had a shiny, candy-apple red convertible, but that’s what happened when your mom married an honest-to-Oprah billionaire.

The spring breeze ruffled Matt’s dark blond hair as dust billowed behind his slow-moving wheels. He knew better than to zoom up the drive, scattering gravel and spooking the horses, and it warmed Taylor from the inside out that he remembered Jo’s rules and did his best to follow them. Of course, between Taylor and Matthew, she was definitely the rule breaker. Matt was good—dutiful and helpful to his mom, hard working and attentive at school, loyal to his friends—even when they didn’t deserve it.

Before Matt, Taylor would’ve said “good” was synonymous with “boring.” But Matthew Little was the opposite of boring.

He stopped the two-seater convertible in front of the barn doors and let it idle while he grinned up at Taylor. With his tanned left arm propped on the open window frame and the fingers of his other hand loosely circling the wheel, he looked like a shot from a music video for a song about hitting the road and being free.

“Hey, Tay. You done?”

Making an effort not to be self-conscious about the fact that she was probably red and sweaty from raking hay, Taylor wiped her hands on her jeans as casually as she could before walking over to the car. “What’s it to you?”

Matt tipped his head down to peer over the tops of his aviator sunglasses, giving Taylor that weird shiver of anticipation as she wondered if he’d finally hear the flirtation in her tone for what it was. For a moment, she thought she saw an answering spark of heat kindle in his green-gold eyes, but then he laughed and shook it off. “Don’t be a brat. I’m here to give you a ride if you want.”

Fighting down disappointment, Taylor forced a smile. “Well, my car
is
in the shop again…”

“I know.” Matt drummed his fingers on the car door. “That’s why I’m here. That, and I … come on, d’you want the ride or not?”

He knew her car was in the shop. Something inside Taylor thrilled to the knowledge that Matt kept as close tabs on her as she did on him. “Sure, let me grab my stuff and tell Merry I’m leaving.”

Ten minutes later, Taylor was tilting her face up to catch the feeble spring sunshine and shivering pleasantly as the wind whistled past her ears. Happiness bubbled up in her chest, so much she felt it leaking out of her, but she couldn’t stop it. Didn’t even want to try.

They raced down Shoreline Drive with the ocean on one side and the salt marsh on the other, taking curves just fast enough to get Taylor’s blood racing. Matt was a great driver, she thought dreamily. He handled the sports car like he’d been born to it, shifting smoothly and working the clutch as if he hadn’t just learned how last summer. His stepfather, Dylan, taught him as a consolation prize when Matt’s mom vetoed Matt learning to ride Dylan’s motorcycle. Nestled into the leather bucket seat with the winding road purring mere inches below her butt, Taylor felt like Matt actually got the sweeter deal. She glanced over at him, relaxed and handsome behind the wheel, and started when she realized they’d passed the turn-off for her house a few miles back. “Hey. Where are we going?”

“Our spot. You have time?”

Struggling not to beam with dorky delight, Taylor shrugged. “Sure. Not like I’m aching to rush back to my calculus homework.”

Our spot.
They had a spot. And as Matt carefully pulled off the road and onto a dirt track through the scrub grass, Taylor acknowledged that it was a pretty effing romantic spot.

Heartbreak Cove. The place where they’d first hung out on purpose—until the sheriff showed up and hauled them in for trespassing. Since then, they’d spent a bunch more time out here picking up trash and tending to the overgrown foot trails as part of their community service punishment. At this point, Sheriff Shepard was used to finding them out there, and so long as they didn’t go down to the cove after dark and they didn’t disturb the wild horses, she didn’t mind.

“Funny how we got in trouble for hanging out at Heartbreak Cove and now we don’t,” Taylor observed.

“It was never really about trespassing,” Matt said, parking by a big loblolly pine. “It was about being out after curfew … and I seem to remember someone pinching a bottle of rum from her dad’s liquor cabinet. That definitely helped seal the deal.”

“And thus began my criminal career.” Taylor kept her voice light, even though her stomach was flipping at the fact they were talking about That Night.

They usually steered clear of reminiscing about how they met or how close they’d come to being more than friends. But every time they went to Heartbreak Cove, Taylor remembered the clear midnight sky and pinprick stars, the tingling burn of rum, and the soft brush of Matt’s hand on her cheek. And every time, without fail, she wished Sheriff Shepard had been just ten minutes later on her patrol.

Maybe if she had, Taylor wouldn’t still be eating her heart out over a guy who’d moved on months ago.

“Let’s hope that was the end of your criminal career, too,” Matt said mildly, swinging out of the car and grabbing a wadded up blanket from the trunk. Taylor followed him down to the edge of the thicket and helped him find a spot that wasn’t too marshy to spread it out.

“Don’t try to tame my wildness, Matthew.” Taylor plopped down on her back with a sigh of pleasure. “A bad girl’s gotta do what a bad girl’s gotta do.”

“You’ve been turning over a new leaf since the day I met you. How long does it take to make a fresh start?”

“Maybe it takes more than time.” Taylor suppressed a shiver as Matt sat down beside her, close enough to touch and yet so, so off limits. “Maybe it takes distance, too.”

“That’s one thing I’m definitely looking forward to about college. A whole new crowd of people with no preconceived notions about Fatty Matty.”

A hot flush of shame washed over her at the old nickname. She hadn’t been one of Matt’s primary tormentors—too caught up in the hellstorm of crap that became her life after her mom died—but she’d used the name casually. All the kids at Sanctuary High had.

When she got up the courage to look over at Matt again, there was something grim about his mouth, a cynicism that had only grown when the popular kids who used to make fun of him suddenly morphed into his friends at the beginning of this school year. And the in crowd hadn’t glommed onto Matt just because he was rich now, related to the wealthy Harrington family whose ancestors originally owned Sanctuary Island. No, it was mostly because the summer between junior and senior year, Fatty Matty had a growth spurt.

Or, more accurately, a hotness spurt. Taylor stared at his sharp jawline and wide shoulders, his deep chest and tightly muscled forearms, and wondered how blind she’d been not to notice him before he grew six inches and shed twenty pounds of baby fat practically overnight.

“I don’t think I’m going to go to college,” Taylor blurted. “At least not right away.”

Matt turned to her sharply, hair flying into his eyes in that way that made her want to brush it back. “What? I thought you were applying to all the same schools as me, so we could get in together.”

An odd little burn of anger flamed in her belly. Taylor sat up and hooked her arms around her knees. “I know we talked about that, but I didn’t promise anything.”

“Taylor, come on. You have to go to college. I mean, what are you going to do instead, get a job flipping burgers?”

The anger burned a little hotter. “I may not be a billionaire’s stepkid, but I have options. And besides, what’s so bad about getting a job after high school? I work at the barn now. Does that make me less than you?”

Matt’s shoulders slumped. “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. I just … whenever I picture what next year will be like, at a new school in a new city with new people, you’re right there with me.”

He would miss her. Taylor knew that. Didn’t doubt it for a second, because Matt was a good friend. But if nothing changed in the next few months, if this summer didn’t show him how wrong Dakota was for him and how the perfect girl for him was sitting right there on the blanket at his side … well. Taylor wasn’t sure her heart could take another four years of watching from the sidelines as Matthew Little’s best bud. “I’m just not sure school is for me. I mean, I already know what I want to do with my life. I want to work with horses. What do I need a college degree for?”

“Jo Ellen has one,” Matt argued. “I bet it helps her all the time, with grant applications and keeping the barn’s books. Stuff like that.”

“Sounds enthralling.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be stuck in an office all day, even one that’s attached to a barn. I want to be in the ring, in the stalls; I want to get my hands dirty and experience the whole world. I want to travel.”

She paused, peeking at Matt from the corner of her eye. “I was actually thinking of asking Sam if he needs any help at Blue Ridge Horse Rescue.”

“Are you asking me to talk to him for you?” Matt gave her a narrow frown. “Because I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”

Taylor knocked her shoulder against his. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not exactly shy, I can figure out how to approach your cousin on my own.”

“And you don’t need my permission,” Matt finished for her.

“Yeah, it’s not like you’re my boyfriend.”

The “B” word dropped onto the blanket between them like a rock, something with physical weight and substance that they’d have to maneuver around.

“If I were your boyfriend,” Matt said carefully, after a heavy pause, “I wouldn’t try to control you or stop you from doing what you want. But I would hope you’d think about me when you made major life decisions that could affect us both. Like splitting us up for four years.”

Agitated, Taylor got to her knees, then up to her feet, to pace around the blanket a little. Her legs got restless sometimes, needed to move, and she’d learned to listen to her body. “Good thing you’re not my boyfriend, then, so you don’t have to care what I do for the next four years. It doesn’t affect you at all.”

Another weighty silence as they both absorbed the fact that there was nothing much Matt could say to that. He had a girlfriend already, and it wasn’t Taylor. And while part of Taylor desperately wanted to turn and yell at him that he was an oblivious idiot if he hadn’t figured out that she was in love with him, the larger part of her was putting up red flags and caution signs all over the place.

If she exposed her heart to Matt now and he turned her down, it wouldn’t matter how sensitive and caring and regretful he was about it—she’d never get over the humiliation and heartache. They’d spend what was potentially their last summer together not speaking or hanging out or seeing each other at all, and then he’d go off to college and marry Dakota Coles, and Taylor would never see him again. She couldn’t deal with that. All her grand plans to take a chance and make a play for Matt’s heart suddenly seemed stupid. Childish.

Better to be friends who kept in touch occasionally than distant strangers.

So Taylor changed the subject. “What did you want to come out here for, anyway? It wasn’t to grill me about my post–high school plans.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

The change in Matt’s voice, from exasperated affection to careful flatness, had Taylor whirling to study him. He was splayed out on the blanket like the best dream of her life, long legs in dark jeans and ripped, lean chest stretching the thin cotton of his expensive T-shirt. But when he met her questioning gaze, nerves shone clearly in his bright hazel eyes.

“Matt? You okay?”

He shrugged one shoulder, plucking a blade of grass to thread idly through his nimble fingers. “Sure, just got a lot on my mind. With graduation coming up.”

Taylor perched on the edge of the blanket, the rough wool scratchy under her knees. “It’s still more than a month away.”

“I know. But did you hear the announcement on Friday? They’re issuing tickets soon. We’re supposed to tell them how many we want.”

“My dad and Jo.” That much was easy, obvious. Taylor sat on her heels and thought about it. “Maybe Ella and Grady, Merry and Ben and baby Alex. Wow, when did my family get so big?”

The happy glow of that dimmed a bit when Matt split the blade of grass with his fingernail and tossed it aside with a jerky motion.

“Yeah, me too. I’ve got Mom and the Harringtons. Sam.” Matt looked up at her, misery tugging the corners of his wide, expressive mouth down. “So why am I obsessed with calling up my dad and asking him to come?”

“Ooh, big stuff.” It all made sense now. Matt’s dad had been out of the picture for a while—his parents had gotten divorced before he and Penny moved to Sanctuary Island a few years ago. Matt and his dad didn’t talk much, and Penny didn’t make it any easier. Matt had blamed her for the divorce for a long time, and while things were better now that Dylan was in the picture, there was still a big old question mark about why Matt’s mom packed their crap in the middle of the night and hauled her kid away to some hidden-away island off the coast of Virginia.

“When was the last time you talked to your dad?” Taylor asked hesitantly.

Matt gave that one-shouldered shrug again, leaning back on his hands and blinking up into the swaying evergreen overhead. “I don’t know. It’s been a while, I guess.”

Watching Matt closely without seeming to was one of Taylor’s areas of expertise. If it had been offered as a class at Sanctuary High, she’d have aced it. Hell, she could teach it. Employing her best casual side eye now, Taylor said, “So, not even on your birthday last month?”

“You sound like my mother.” Matt kicked at the rumpled corner of the blanket where a gust of wind had folded it over itself and looked annoyed. “No, okay? He didn’t call on my birthday. He’s busy. He has a job and a life, and we left him. It makes sense that he’s mad.”

“At your mom, maybe,” Taylor said skeptically. “But not at you. You were a kid! What were you supposed to do, run away from Sanctuary Island and hitchhike back to the mainland?”