McCarthys of Gansett Island Boxed Set Books 1-3 (66 page)

Sydney followed with Buddy trailing just behind her.

“I was hoping we could eat out here if the fog held off,” he said.

The evening remained clear and warm, ideal for alfresco dining. “Such an incredible view,” she said as she lowered herself onto one of the comfortable lounge chairs. Whereas her parents’ house overlooked the pond, Luke’s place faced the ocean with the pond just across the way.
 

“I like it.”

The statement was so typically Luke, to reduce a million-dollar view to three small words, that it drew a smile from her.
 

He put the foil pouches on a sleek stainless-steel grill and closed the lid. “Stay put for a sec.” Carrying the platter inside, he returned a minute later with a bottle of beer and settled on the lounge next to hers.

Deciding there was no chance of scraps for the moment, Buddy plopped down on the deck.

Sydney curled her legs under her and turned so she could see Luke. His dark hair was as silky as she remembered, his skin brown from the sun, his hands strong and efficient. As she studied him, Sydney felt a subtle change taking place within her, a reawakening of sorts. She was suddenly more aware of the sizzle of food cooking on the grill, the scent of the sea and fresh-cut grass, the slight dampness in the warm air, the chill of the glass in her hand and the sharp sting of desire.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked.

“That this is nice, being here with you again.”

He reached across the gap between their chairs and took her hand. “It’s great to have you here.”

Once again, his touch set off a tingling reaction that had her full attention. “Are you happy with your life, Luke?” She wasn’t sure where the question came from, but she really wanted to know.

“I’m content.”

“Is that the same thing?”

Pondering his beer bottle, he shrugged. “I’m not
un
happy.”

“Do you ever think about doing something else?”

“Not so much anymore.”

“You had so many things you wanted to do.”

“Life happens.”

Sydney knew his ailing mother had kept him on the island when he should’ve been leaving for college. “Are you ever bored?”

He released a short laugh. “Nope. There’s always something to do. We’re straight out at the marina in the summer. Last winter, Mac and I renovated a couple of kitchens and a bathroom. Keeping this place up takes some work. I stay plenty busy.”

“Would you ever consider living somewhere else?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

He glanced at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Who’s asking me to relocate.”
 

Chapter 6

As Sydney absorbed that statement, Luke got up to check the grill.
 

He moved the pouches around and then turned to her, leaning against the rail that surrounded the deck. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

“I’m sorry. I’m curious about your life.”

“No need to be sorry. Not much has changed. I’m still the same simple guy I always was. I don’t need a lot to be happy.”

She’d once loved that about him—desperately. He was unlike anyone else she’d ever met, and that was still true.

“What do you need?” he asked. “To be happy again?”

“I’m trying to figure that out.”

He returned to the other lounge and sat facing her. “I give you so much credit.”

“For what?” she asked, perplexed.

“Trying to figure it out. So many people who’d been through what you have would’ve given up.”

“I came close,” she confessed. “It was pretty rough for a long time after.”

“I can’t imagine. When I heard what’d happened, God, I just. . . I
ached
for you.”

The emotion behind his softly spoken words touched her deeply. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. It’s part of who I am now.”

“I admire who you are now even more than I admired who you used to be—and that was quite a lot.”

“I’m a work in progress,” she said with a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.

He flashed that potent grin. “Aren’t we all?”

“Don’t try to fool me. You’re not in progress. You’re all grown up.”

“I’d like to think so,” he said, his eyes shifting to the water, “but sometimes I wonder.”

“About?”

“Whether there might be
more
.” He brought his eyes back to focus on her. “You know?”

The intensity she saw in his gaze caught her off guard. “What do you want that you don’t have?” she managed to ask, even though she suspected.

“Someone to share this view with. Someone to keep me warm on cold winter nights. Someone to talk to.”

“You don’t like to talk,” Sydney said, teasing him even though his words and the yearning she heard in them moved her.

“I like talking to you.”

The statement hung in the air between them, charged and heavy.
 

“I like talking to you, too.”

“I think I talked more when I was with you than I have in all the years since.”

“Luke—”

He seemed embarrassed by the confession, as if he’d said more than he’d meant to. “Ready to eat?”

After the delicious—and filling—dinner, Luke invited her to take a walk on the beach.

Sydney hesitated, not certain it was wise to revisit the place where they’d often made love.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that, it’s just—”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Did I ruin that for you, too?”

“Nah. Nothing could ruin the beach for me. I’m there almost every day.” He extended a hand her. “Come with me?”

Sydney couldn’t think of a good reason not to, so she took his hand and swallowed the swell of emotion that came with taking the familiar pathway to the stairs.
 

Luke kept a firm grip on her hand as she followed him down steep stairs that brought back so many memories.
 

“I used to wonder if your mother knew what we were doing down here.”

Luke guided her off the stairs and onto the beach but didn’t release her hand. The tide was out, leaving them a wide expanse of beach. “She knew.”

“Why do you say that?” Sydney asked, shocked and embarrassed as they passed the groove in the dunes where they’d hidden from the world as teenagers.

“Because I told her.”

“You
told
her? Are you
crazy
? Who tells their mother that stuff?”

Shrugging, he laughed at her dismay. “We talked to each other about everything. Don’t forget—she was only twenty years older than me. She wasn’t so far removed from her own teenage years that she couldn’t remember what it was like to be in love for the first time.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t know then that you were telling her everything.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, his face alight with amusement she could barely see in the waning daylight.

“First of all, you wouldn’t have gotten any more, and second, I never would’ve been able to face her.”

“Don’t be silly. She loved you.”

“I loved her, too. I was so sad to hear she’d passed away.”

“It was a rough time. She died far too young.”

“Yes.”

“I never regretted staying here with her, if you wondered.”

“It never occurred to me that you would. I know how close you always were. Of course I didn’t know just
how
close…”

Laughing, he released her hand to bend and pick up a flat stone that he sent skimming across the calm surface of the water. “You were close to your mom, too.”

“Not as close as you were to yours. I’m almost thirty-six, and I’ve still never had a conversation with her about sex.”

Luke picked up a stick that he tossed for Buddy, who ran into the small waves to get it. “I bet she knew what we were up to when we were kids.”

“Which is probably why she went to such great lengths to keep us apart.”

“They couldn’t stand me.”

“Oh, Luke, they didn’t dislike you. They hated seeing me serious about a boy when I was so young. I imagine I would’ve been the same way with my kids.”

“You would’ve been more tolerant after what we went through.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you ever think. . .”

“What?”

“About having more kids. Someday.”

The query sent a ripple of anxiety through her. “I’m getting kind of old to start all over again.”

“You’re a regular senior citizen.”

She tried to give him a playful shove but ended up with his arm tight around her, engulfed in the scent of soap and citrus that was so Luke. He’d never been one to wear the expensive cologne Seth had favored.

“So do you think about it?” Luke asked.

“I have. At times. I just can’t imagine what a freak show I’d be, worried all the time that something would happen again.”

“It wouldn’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Do you know anyone, anyone in your whole life, who’s had what happened to you happen to them?”

“No,” she said softly. “I can’t say I do.”

“Neither do I. You’re all done with epic tragedy. Now you get to live in peace, knowing the worst that life has to offer is behind you.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way before and had to admit the idea brought comfort. “I sure hope you’re right.”

“Want to take the boat out on the pond?”

Startled by the sudden change in conversation, she looked up at him. “Now? It’s getting late.”

“Perfect for stargazing.”

She remembered how he knew every constellation and the story behind each one.
 

“We can do it another time,” he said.

Sydney decided she wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet. “Now is fine.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded, and they turned back the way they’d come. With the light of a half moon guiding them, they climbed the stairs and crossed the yard to the path that led to the pond and Luke’s old rowboat. He helped her in and got her settled before he lifted Buddy into the bow. Pushing the boat off the sand, Luke hopped in and reached for the oars.
 

Sydney let her head fall back as she studied the sky above and enjoyed the smooth glide of the old wooden boat through the flat-calm water. She brought her eyes down from the heavens to study the play of muscles visible through Luke’s T-shirt as he rowed.

“I love it out here at night,” he said after a long period of comfortable silence. “It’s so busy all day, but then the sun goes down and it becomes the calmest place on the island.”

“That’s because all the boaters are in the bars.”

He chuckled. “True. Ready for some stargazing?”

“Whenever you are.”

Luke let the oars go idle and arranged two cushions on the floor of the boat. He guided her to sit between his legs, resting against his chest with his arms around her. “Comfortable?”

“Very.” And yet so
un
comfortable, too.

“Let’s see what you remember.” He pointed to a constellation.

She tipped her head back to use his shoulder as a pillow. “Orion.”

“Good,” he said, trailing a finger over her neck. “How about that one?”

Sydney swallowed hard as his touch sent goose bumps cascading down her arms and legs. “Big Dipper.”

“A plus.”

Sydney laughed, even though he was making her crazy with what he was doing to her neck with just the tip of his finger against her skin. “Those are the easy ones.”

“All right then, how about that one?”

“Cassiopeia.”

“I’m impressed.”

Sydney turned her head so she could see him. “I had a good teacher.” She reached up to touch his face, which was warm and smooth. “You shaved.”

“Huh?”

“After work. You shaved.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You always shaved in the morning.”

“Still do, most of the time.”

“Why the change in routine?”

“Because,” he said, nuzzling her cheek, “if I was lucky enough to get this close to you tonight, I didn’t want to burn your soft skin.”

“Oh,” she said, breathless as his lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear. “That was nice of you.”

“You smell so good. Just like I remember.”

Sydney tilted her head to give him better access to her neck.

His arms tightened around her, bringing her even closer to him.

She reached back to bring his mouth down on hers.

The night before, on the deck of the Beachcomber, he’d been all about restraint. Tonight, he devoured.

Sydney twisted in his arms, needing to get closer, and the boat took an unsteady dip.