Island Home Page 2

  “Welcome home, partner,” he said, not bothering to disguise the anger in his voice. “I guess we’ll find out how determined you are to stay when you’re serving drinks and slopping up messes twelve hours a day.”

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Jessie didn’t bend the rest of the way to pick the apron off the floor, but instead straightened back up so her spine was stiff with pride and her gaze steady on his. Aunt June had taught her better than to show weakness ever again, though the coldness in Luke’s gaze made her want to turn around and start running.

  This wasn’t the same boy she’d loved. There was a hardness to him—a bitterness in his eyes that made her want to flinch with guilt because she knew without a doubt she was the cause of the changes she saw in him.

  He was still as handsome as ever—dark blonde hair streaked with the sun and long enough that an unruly curl hung rakishly across his forehead. A day’s worth of beard stubbled his face and a white scar slashed diagonally across one eyebrow making him look dangerous. The scar was new, but the rest of him was so familiar it made her ache with the memories.

  His chest and shoulders were broader, and a light smattering of pale blonde hairs covered his chest. It was hard not to stare at the picture he made—his bare chest damp with tiny droplets of water and his cargo shorts sitting low on his hips, just below the muscular indents that made her mouth water. Luke hadn’t been her only lover, but he’d been the only one who’d made her want with such burning intensity.

  Jessie licked her lips and watched as his gaze dropped to her mouth. There were explanations to give and apologies to make, but God, she’d missed the sizzle that happened between a man and a woman when their chemistry was off the charts. She missed the slow dance of innocent flirtations and gentle caresses, and later, the heat of hands and bodies as they grappled in the darkness. She’d missed it—yearned for it—for fifteen years. But not enough to stay if it meant dealing with her father.

  “I’ll do whatever I need to do,” she finally said, her voice husky. “This is my bar now as much as yours.”

  His gaze snapped back to hers and he practically growled as he pulled out a notepad and started doing inventory of supplies behind the counter.

  “Convenient,” he said. “Especially since you didn’t have to lift a finger or put blood and sweat into the building of the place.”

  “I can’t imagine old Jesse did much in the way of that either.” She’d never called him father. Not since the first time he’d taken a belt to her.

  “No, but he was a silent partner. He put up the initial stake and then sat back and enjoyed the profits once we started making them. The intension for anyone else to stick their nose into my business was never up for discussion. This bar is mine, whether your name is on the deed now or not.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing my name is on the deed then.”

  Jessie had plenty she needed to confess, but Luke had a few explanations to give as well. When she’d left Seeker’s Island that night she’d left him a note, explaining why she couldn’t stay. All he’d had to do was meet her where she’d asked and they could’ve been together. But he hadn’t come and he hadn’t bothered to get in touch to say goodbye. It seemed old Jesse had been right about one thing at least.

  “A boy like Luke Mallory only wants one thing from a girl like you,” old Jesse had spat. The belt had whistled through the air and caught her on the ribs when she turned to dodge the blow. “And from the eye-full I got down at the docks this morning it looks like you’re already giving it to him. You think the high and mighty Mallory’s are going to let their son marry a whore like you?”

  “He loves me!” she’d shouted. Jessie didn’t know where she’d gotten the courage to talk back to him, but it had only made things worse. You couldn’t reason with a drunk. “And he’ll kill you for this. I’m an adult, and I’m through being your punching bag.”

  “Is that right, little girl?”

  The only thing she remembered from that night with complete clarity was his smile. How it sent ice down her spine and turned her bowels to liquid. She never saw his fist coming until she was laying on the floor choking on her own blood. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head up so she could hear him better.

  “You think your lover is going to protect you? That he’ll have the balls to face me? Why don’t I tell you what I’m going to do? How about I slip up to that fancy house of his and crawl right through the window.” Wild animal sounds gurgled in her throat as she tried to pull away, but he was too strong. “I bet you’ve gone in that window lots of times, haven’t you, whore? I’ll slip right in and slice my knife right across his throat. No one would ever suspect me. And where does that leave your grand plan of telling on me? It leaves your boyfriend dead, me playing poker with Sheriff Biggs, and you confined to your room until my belt needs to be exercised again. There’s no way out for you. Your mama made sure of that.”

  She didn’t remember what happened after that. Only that when she’d finally regained consciousness, he’d taken the bottle of Jim Beam with him and locked himself in his room. Her left eye had been swollen shut and her wrist broken, but she’d packed as many of her things as she could in a small bag. She’d penned a quick letter to Luke and left it wedged between his bedroom window and the screen. How she managed to get the boat untied and herself to the mainland and redocked was still hazy, and she’d taken refuge on another boat, going in and out of consciousness, just waiting for the authorities to find her before Luke came to her.

  The authorities never found her and Luke never came. So she called her Aunt June and begged her to not try and have old Jesse thrown in jail. Jessie had seen the sincerity in his eyes the night he’d threatened to cut Luke’s throat, and knew with every breath in her body he’d do it in a heartbeat. June had reluctantly agreed, but she’d made Jessie swear that she’d have no contact with anyone from Seeker’s Island. It was better for everyone if old Jesse didn’t know where she was.

  But Luke had loved her. She would have sworn to the depths of her soul that he’d meant the words when he’d spoken them. Only Luke had never bothered to come for her. Not even a phone call or an email.

  Jessie stepped over the apron he’d tossed in her direction and made her way over to the bar, slipping beneath the pass-through. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as she leaned against the counter so she faced him, her arm so close to his she could feel the heat sizzling between them.

  He froze and his knuckles tightened around the pen he held until she was surprised it didn’t snap in two, but he didn’t look up from the list he was making. Her throat tightened, but she was determined to say what was on her mind.

  “Don’t presume to know anything about me, Luke. Just know that this is my home and it’s going to take something more than Jesse James to make me leave again.”

  “It’s your life,” he shrugged. “The rest of us will go on like we always have the next time you get a wild hair.” His blue gaze was direct and he sneered as he looked her over from head to toe. “Look at you. You won’t last the summer in your designer dresses. Whoever you became when you left, it’s not someone who belongs on Seeker’s Island.”

  “I guess you know as well as I do what they say about people who assume things.”

  “What am I supposed to think?”

  He moved in closer, so his arms caged her in on either side, and his chest barely brushed against the front of her. She gasped at the touch and pressed back against the counter, but there was nowhere to go for escape.

  His head lowered so his lips barely glanced against her jaw, and his words whispered like silk into her ear. “Is this what you’re here for? To scratch an itch before you move on again? To see if it’s as good as you remember? As good as you dream about?”

  Her hands came up and flattened against his chest, and she would’ve pushed him away if she’d had the strength. She heard the underlying anger in every word he spoke, but she was caught in his trap. It felt so g
ood to be in his arms, even indirectly.

  “Luke, I—”

  His lips touched the underside of her ear and heat speared straight to her core. Whatever she’d planned to say was lost at his touch. Her fingers clenched against his chest and a whimper escaped her lips as his tongue traced a path down her neck.

  “Is that why you’re here, Jess?”

  Answering became an impossibility as his lips came down on hers. No one had ever fit her as perfectly as he did, and time and distance hadn’t changed that. She expected to feel his anger in the kiss, but it was soft—gentle—as his lips caressed and tasted hers. A quickening of breaths and small sighs as memories flooded her system.

  Her hands slid up his chest and around the back of his neck, and a whimper of pleasure escaped when he pressed against her—her breasts aching as his flesh seemed to scorch through the thin fabric of her dress.

  Tears pricked her eyes as she opened herself to him, accepted whatever he had to give her. She melted against him and the long, slow burn of arousal took hold as his tongue slipped inside her mouth and slid sinuously against hers.

  When he finally pulled away, both of their breathing was labored. He dropped his hands and took a step back as if she was poisonous, and his face twisted in a painful grimace before the anger came back.

  “Go home, Jess. Scratch your itch somewhere else.”

  Her head was spinning and she still wasn’t sure what had just happened, only that she wanted it again. But his words hit her like a bucket of cold water.

  “I’m home,” she finally managed to say. “You’re going to have to deal with it. And you know nothing about my wants or desires.”

  “All I know is fact.” Luke ran his fingers through his hair. “I know that nothing on this island mattered to you enough that you wanted to stay. And I know you’re back now for whatever reason, wanting to take the only thing I’ll ever love again. So excuse me if I don’t feel like throwing you a welcome home party.”

  Jessie felt the hot spark of anger sizzle deep in her belly. “There’s love and then there’s love. I guess I’m glad you finally found something that mattered enough to fight for.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Luke’s arms crossed over his chest and his scowl was harsh enough to etch glass.

  “It means mind your own damn business.”

  She pushed away from the counter and slipped back under the pass-through, heading toward the lone suitcase she’d brought with her. Her other belongings had been delayed on the mainland because of the storm.

  Maybe she was wasting her time hoping for forgiveness or that he might understand the hell she’d gone through when she’d finally made the decision to leave once and for all. She could have just told him the truth and what had happened, but a part of her was still ashamed that she’d experienced it at all. No one had known, not her teachers going through school or her friends. Not Luke when he’d become her lover. They hadn’t noticed and she’d been too afraid of her father to tell. Maybe some part of her still held that fear, even though old Jesse was buried six-feet under in the cemetery.

  The tears that threatened to fall were blinked away by the time she turned back to face him. Luke wasn’t the same as he’d been when she’d know him before, and gone was any trace of the gentleness or caring that had once been as natural as breathing.

  “I’ve got some things to work out this morning.” Like figuring out where the hell she was going to sleep. She’d be damned if she stepped foot back inside the house that brought her nothing but bad memories. “I’ll be back before the dinner shift and you can go over anything I need to know.”

  “I’ll be here.” His smile was harsh. “Just like I always am. The question is, will you have the courage to show up and face everyone again?”

  *

  Luke made himself look down at the list in front of him so he wouldn’t have to watch her walk away. He was too afraid he’d beg her to come back.

  He never should have kissed her. He could still taste her on his lips, feel her pressed against him. It was a taste that he’d never be able to shake from his system. Not even if he bedded a hundred women—a thousand.

  A rumble of thunder boomed loud enough to shake the floor and he cursed as he remembered he hadn’t seen another golf cart when he’d pulled up. Which meant she’d made the walk from the ferry to the bar, and was now forced to trudge the half-mile hike to old Jesse’s place in the pouring rain. Not even he was a big enough asshole to let her walk through the rain and wind carrying a suitcase.

  “Dammit.”

  He rubbed his hand through his hair again and hopped over the bar. She wouldn’t be very far down the road, so he’d be able to catch her in his own golf cart. Only when he left through the kitchen door and stared at the empty spot he’d parked in, he realized that wouldn’t be possible after all.

  “Son of a bitch.” She’d stolen his golf cart. His eyes narrowed and his mouth tugged in a reluctant smile.

  “Game on, Jess. We’ll just see who’s left standing.”

  Now he only had to figure out a way to go after her and take what was his. It was a good thing he was already wet.

  Chapter Three

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  Jessie’s laughter—as she imagined the look on Luke’s face once he realized she’d taken his golf cart—was short lived. The closer she got to the cabin on the northeast end of the island, the more the fear she’d never hoped to feel again clawed at the pit of her belly.

  She didn’t know why she’d come this direction. She should’ve driven straight to the inn to see if they had any rooms available, but something had pulled her to take the opposite path and drive the cart down the rutted road that led to her childhood home.

  The rain was unforgiving, and she might as well have walked for all the protection it offered against the wet. Her dress was plastered against her skin and droplets of water trickled from her hair down to the base of her neck. And though the temperature was already hot and muggy, she shivered at the sight of the two-bedroom clapboard house as it came into view.

  Paint peeled in long strips along the boards and one of the blue shutters hung crookedly from the front window. The porch sagged and the mesh screen had a jagged tear. It was a small square of a house and it sat on stilts to protect from flooding.

  She stopped the golf cart under a tree so her suitcase would have some protection against the weather and she slipped off her sandals. They’d do nothing but sink into the sand. Plants had overrun the yard so some of them came waist high, and the tree that grew closest to the house looked like it might fall on the roof at any time.

  The rain soaked her to the skin the moment she left the shelter of the golf cart and she made her way to the middle of the road so she faced the house like a gunslinger.

  Jessie tried to tell herself it was a house like any other. That it was wood and glass and it had given her a place to sleep and a desk where she could do her homework. But it would’ve been a lie. A home was supposed to be safe. It was supposed to give shelter and comfort. And the people inside the house were supposed to love.

  She didn’t remember that kind of love after the age of five when her mother died. The house that stood before her was nothing but a mockery, and she’d see it burned to the ground before she would ever step through the door again.

  The rage inside her built in speed and intensity until she thought she’d explode if she didn’t find an outlet. The animalistic sounds that tore from her throat went unnoticed and the scalding tears went unchecked. She searched the ground for something—anything—that would do the kind of damage she envisioned.

  Triumph roared through her as she found broken pieces of brick where old Jesse had tried to lay a sidewalk. Her arm reveled in the weight as she hurled it toward the front window, and with every brick she threw, every shattering sound of the windows, the rage ebbed to a quieter storm.

  *

  It was barely a fifteen-minute walk to old Jesse’s place, a little quicker i
f one knew a shortcut. And even faster still if a scream loud enough to pierce through the raging storm could be heard.

  Luke reached the edge of the clearing just in time to see her launch the first brick. His mouth dropped open in shock and he stood frozen as he watched the destruction. The pain on her face and the screams that sounded as if they were ripping from her soul made his heart ache for her.

  “Jesus,” he whispered. And when her foot caught on something and she went to her knees he started to run.

  She was huddled on her knees, her arms over her stomach and her face buried against them as sobs wracked her body. He didn’t know where to touch her, how to hold her. He was out of practice on knowing how to take care of anyone but himself.

  Luke finally knelt down in the rising water and picked her up to pull her onto his lap. He wasn’t expecting the wild cat that greeted him. Fists and elbows came at him followed by cries so wounded he couldn’t even imagine that sort of pain.

  “Ssh, baby. I’ve got you.” He held her tight and waited her out until he felt her strength begin to wane. “God, Jess. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it.”

  She didn’t answer him but finally lay limp against his chest, her tears mixing with the rain. He felt her heart pounding and noticed the scrapes on her hands that were bleeding sluggishly.

  “Let me go.” He could barely hear the words her voice was so hoarse.

  “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

  She pushed against his chest but she was as weak as a kitten so she didn’t budge from his grasp.

  “Let me help you, Jess. I’m not an idiot. I’ve obviously missed something that happened. Missed the real reason you left. Talk to me.”

  Her head tilted back and she looked at him out of the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. “I’m fine. I just needed to get rid of some stress.”

  Disappointment speared through him that she didn’t want to confide in him, and he couldn’t exactly say he blamed her. But she needed someone to be there when she was ready, and he decided he was going to be that person. They’d both made mistakes in how they’d handled life apart, and it was obvious from the moment she walked back into his life that he couldn’t let her go again. She was his heart, and she’d been missing for much too long.