Matt was beginning to wonder if he was going to have competition for Sierra's attention. Gordon and Sierra did seem to have an awful lot in common. “Sierra, are you about ready to eat?”
“Sure.” Sierra looked at John and Kay. “Are you joining us?”
“I think we can do that,” chuckled Kay, who seemed to be getting a kick out of joining their date. “As long as you don't mind a fairy princess who isn't known for her table manners.”
“What about you, Gordon? Are you heading for dinner too?” Sierra seemed to be enjoying herself making new friends, or maybe she was just being polite. Either way, their dinner together was getting awfully crowded.
“I would love to join you all. Dinner eaten with lively companions is always so much more interesting than dining alone.” Gordon walked over to the trash receptacle and proceeded to knock the lit tobacco out of his pipe and into the sand container on top.
Matt stood helplessly by as their quiet dinner for four grew to an entire tableful. Austin and Tyler had hit it off so well this afternoon that he knew they would have entertained each other throughout the meal, leaving him plenty of time to get to know Sierra better. Now he was going to be lucky to get a word in edgewise or even be seated next to her.
“Tyler, what do you have there?” Kay frowned at her son's hand.
Matt glanced over and saw a long fuzzy caterpillar wiggling on his nephew's palm. Austin's nose was practically touching the insect.
“It's a caterpillar, Mom. I found him under the bushes and wanted to show Austin.”
“Is that what you put in your pants pocket?” Kay didn't look too pleased with her son. At Tyler's hesitant nod, Kay said, “How many times must I tell you, no live animals in your pockets?”
Matt had heard the story about Kay, wash day, and one angry frog at least four times now. By the look on Sierra's face, he knew he would be hearing it again tonight. The tale had all the earmarks of becoming a family legend.
“No dead ones either,” added John just in case there was a question in Tyler's mind. “Go put the little fellow over there by the trees.” John pointed to a clump of trees, right off the sidewalk.
The boys scurried off to do what Tyler's father told them to do, and Gordon rejoined the group. Morgan was twirling around in circles making everyone dizzy just from watching her. If her dinner stayed in her stomach tonight, it would be a miracle. This evening couldn't possibly get any worse.
“Hey, look, Matt, there's Paul, Jill, and the kids.” John pointed down the street where another of his brothers and his family were heading right for them. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning. All they needed was the last of his brothers, Ned, and his fiancée, Norah, to join them.
Three-year-old Hunter, Paul's son, went running over to see what Tyler and Austin were doing. Introductions were flying fast and furious. Sierra, who stood five feet ten inches, actually was getting lost in the crowd. Matt noticed that she grabbed Austin's hand as the group walked across the street to the church.
Morgan's sparkling wand whacked Matt in the side. His brother had been right. The darn thing hurt. He stopped to rub it, and Jill ran over his foot with the baby stroller his three-month-old niece, Amanda, was sleeping in.
“Sorry, Matt,” said Jill, and she hurried along with Kay.
Gordon was talking to Sierra about something. Whatever it was must have been interesting, because Sierra was smiling. Short of stepping in a pile of dog-doo this evening couldn't possibly get much worse.
“Hey, Matt, look who's waiting for us by the door!” John's voice was shaking with laughter.
He glanced over and groaned. His mother and father, along with Ned and Norah, were standing by the Methodist church's main double wooden doors waiting for them. Morgan's wand bashed him on the knee as he stumbled.
Great! This wasn't a date. It was a migration.
Chapter Three
Sierra nearly fell off the seat when the boat hit a rough patch. That's what she got for sitting halfway on the seat facing the rear of the boat to keep an eye on the boys. Matt's hand reached out to steady her. “Thanks.” His hand felt warm and strong as he cupped her elbow.
“Just be careful,” Matt said as he released her. His large, work-roughened hand reached for the throttle and he once again slowed down the boat.
The small boat hadn't been going fast, Matt had obviously sensed her concern for Austin, who was sitting in the back with his new best friend, Tyler. Matt was handling the boat like a little old lady driving to church on a Sunday morning with a dozen eggs on her lap. Both boys were wearing bright orange life preservers and were behaving themselves. Neither had left his seat, but they had been twisting and turning in every direction to see as much as possible. They hadn't stopped talking since they'd met at the docks right after breakfast.
The boys didn't miss a thing. Every splash or curious wave was thought to be a mermaid. Matt had been indulging them by steering the boat in whatever direction the boys commanded him to go. Sunday mornings were a perfect time to go mermaid watching. The sun was shining brightly and the warm sea-scented breeze felt wonderful.
While Mermaid Bay hadn't produced a legendary creature yet, they did spot a curious harbor seal and more than a dozen puffins to amuse the boys. She loved to watch the puffins fly by and then quickly dive straight down into the water, only to shoot back out of the water with their shimmery catch hanging out of their beaks. Puffins were extremely fast fliers, and they beat their wings so fast that they became a blur. The funny little birds resembled black and white flying footballs.
No one could watch them without smiling.
All along she had thought puffins were just tiny penguins with orange and yellow beaks that happened to live off the coast of Maine instead of Antarctica. Matt had told her that although they both were birds and expert swimmers, they weren't the same. Penguins couldn't fly, and puffins could.
Matt made an excellent tour guide. He had filled the boys' heads with tales of where mermaids had been spotted in the past, pirate treasure, and phantom ghost ships that had been sighted off the coast of Maine. The boys were hanging on his every word.
“Then what happened, Uncle Matt?” Tyler was eager for his uncle to continue the story of the mermaid and the sailor she had saved from drowning during a storm and a horrible shipwreck back in the 1700s.
“The sailor was found the next morning, lying on the rocky beach by Hancock Point. He was barely alive, but clutched in his fist was a gold necklace and the fattest ruby anyone had ever laid eyes on.”
“What's a ruby?” asked Austin, who was sitting on the edge of his seat absorbing every word.
“It's a very expensive gemstone, like a diamond, but it's red,” Sierra answered her son.
Matt turned his head and looked at the boys. “This one was red all right. Blood red.”
She tried not to laugh as both boys' eyes grew wide with excitement. Matt seemed to be enjoying himself as much as the boys. The old saying about not being able to take the boy out of the man came to mind.
“What happened to the sailor and his riches?” asked Tyler.
“The story goes that he traded the gold chain for an old boat and cashed in the ruby and sent the money home to his poor mother and a bunch of younger brothers and sisters.” Matt winked at her. “As soon as he had recovered from his near-drowning, he got into his boat and headed out to sea. No one ever saw him again.”
“Really?” asked Austin.
“Yep.” Matt turned the boat toward the open ocean. “They found his boat three days later just bobbing out in the ocean. No one was on board.”
While both boys thought about that, Matt gave Sierra another wink. “Legend has it that he joined the mermaid under the sea, and they are still living happily ever after.”
Tyler wrinkled his nose. “No way. He'll drown again.”
“True, but how do mermaids breathe underwater?” Matt headed the boat toward a tiny island in the distance. “I just think it's strange that ever since then, not one sailor ever lost his life to the sea along this part of the coast. There have been a couple wicked storms causing shipwrecks, but no one has died. All the sailors have found their way to the shore. Some even claimed a mysterious young sailor dressed in old sea-faring clothes had helped them.”
“Wow,” Austin said as he looked around, hoping to spot the young sailor or the mermaid.
“I hope you guys are hungry,” Matt said. “I packed enough to feed an army.”
She had noticed the large cooler shoved in between the front and back seats. Tyler's feet, with their little blue sneakers, were resting on its lid. “I could have brought something.” She was more than capable of packing a picnic lunch for four, but she couldn't ignore the special little thrill knowing that Matt had wanted to impress her. She hadn't been on a real picnic since . . . heck, she couldn't remember when. The afternoon fishing with Austin on Lake Tahoe didn't count. They had given up their packed lunch in the hopes of catching a trout or whatever kind of fish would have been hungry enough to bite a chunk of a bologna sandwich.
“Today's my treat.” Matt gave her a wicked grin. “If you really want to feed me, I'll take one of those southwestern omelets you fed Lenny Holmes the other morning. The man swore it would burn the roof off my mouth and I'd be begging for more.”
Sierra wasn't sure if there was a double meaning behind that request. Was Matt asking for just the omelet, or was he hinting at being there for breakfast one morning? It was a very intriguing thought, one that gave her abdomen a warm tug of desire. She looked away from Matt's strong profile and glanced at her son in the back seat. A deliciously wicked thought that would never happen. She was a mother with a very impressionable young son. There would be no sleepovers in her near future, and without Austin's nanny there to help out, there would definitely be no hanky-panky, as Rosemary liked to call it, during her Maine vacation.
“Sure, I can make you an omelet.” It wasn't like she was going to be doing anything more interesting with her time. “Name the day and time.” It was one way of finding out if Matt was thinking six a.m. or six p.m.
“Wednesday night, if you're still talking to me.” Matt maneuvered the boat closer to the island.
So much for him wanting to be there for breakfast. “Why won't I be talking to you?” She waved the boys back into their seats as the boat drew closer. She could see a small patch of sand, but the rest of the island looked windswept and uninhabitable. The island looked to be about a mile long and maybe half as wide.
“My family wants me to invite you and Austin to a cookout at my parents' house on Tuesday night. The whole gang will be there.”
“And you don't want me to come?” She had met his entire family last night at the spaghetti dinner. They had been loud, opinionated, and wonderful. Everyone had made her and her son feel very welcome. She and Austin had both had a great time. Maybe she had misjudged Matt's interest.
Matt looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Where would you get that idea?”
“You're the one who said I wouldn't be talking to you, remember?”
Matt cut the engine and shook his head. “I figured after spending another night with my family you would have had enough.”
“Enough what?” She thought she understood what Matt was trying to say, and she thought it was cute. Her family consisted of Austin, a dear friend who happened to be her ex-husband, Rosemary, and her father. Dad couldn't have cared less about the guys she had dated. He had it in his mind that she would marry Jake Morley, his heir apparent, and that was the end of that. The year after she'd graduated from college, she had married Jake. Although it hadn't been her worst mistake in life, it hadn't been one of her brightest moves either.
“Enough, you know, matchmaking.” Matt's cheeks turned red and he quickly turned away and threw the anchor over the side of the boat.
“They do this often?” She tried to contain her chuckle, but she had a feeling she'd failed when Matt's back stiffened.
“Every chance they get. I'm the last one who's single. They all feel it's their duty to throw every available woman at my feet so I can trip my way up to the altar.” Matt took off his sneakers and in one smooth move slid over the side of the boat.
The water came up to his thighs but his gaze never left hers. “I would understand if you prefer to skip the cookout.”
“Not a chance.” She gave him a big grin. “I like your family.”
“If you say so.” Matt gave her a funny look that she couldn't decipher, before turning his attention to his nephew. “Come on, Tyler, you first.”
Tyler must have known the drill, because he flew into Matt's arms. The small boy who looked so much like his uncle said, “See you on shore, Austin.”
Matt carried Tyler the twenty feet to shore and set him down. “Stay right here, where I can see you.”
“Can we go exploring later?” Tyler was hopping up and down, ready to take off into the shrubs.
“You have to eat your lunch first, and then only if Austin's mom says it's okay.” Matt turned to the boat and waded back out.
Sierra watched the way the ocean lapped at Matt's thighs, and refused to acknowledge what her treacherous mind was thinking. Rosemary would not only be trying to wash out her mind with soap, but she would be saying a whole lot of Hail Marys while doing it.
“You have a choice, Sierra. I could carry you ashore, or you have to wade.”
“I'll wade.” Matt's arms looked way too tempting. She took off her sneakers. “I can carry Austin.” She sat on the side of the boat and dipped her toes into the cold water. All of a sudden, wading ashore lost its appeal.
“I'll get him.” Matt held her gaze as he put both of his hands onto her waist and slowly lowered her into the water.
Her eyes went wide as the heat from Matt's body caressed the front of hers and freezing water lapped at the hem of her shorts. “Oh!”
Matt's gaze started to smolder. “You can say that again.” He reluctantly released her and then reached into the boat. Matt handed her her sneakers and the big tote she had brought along. “You're going to need these.”
“To eat?” She winked at Austin, who was watching them closely. Her son looked confused by her and Matt's closeness. She took a step away from Matt and her toes sank into the sand.
“No, to explore the island.” Matt smiled at her son. “You okay with me carrying you to shore like Tyler?”
Austin nodded his head and reached out his arms.
Matt plucked him from the boat and made his way to shore. She trailed behind them, watching her son. Austin looked over Matt's shoulder and grinned at her. She smiled back. Her son seemed very comfortable in Matt's capable arms. Lucky boy.
She hurried up onto the small area of sand. It might be August, but the water felt like November. “Doesn't the water heat up?” She had swum in the Atlantic Ocean before, down in Miami, Hilton Head, Atlantic Cityâwhere the water was warm and the beaches plentiful. Maine's coast felt like another country, not just another state.
“This is warm.” Matt grinned as he lowered Austin to the ground. “You should go wading in March.”
“Hey, Austin, come look at this,” shouted Tyler, who was perched on one of the rocks at the edge of the small sandy beach.
Her son hurried off without a backward glance. Nothing was more fascinating to a four-year-old than a tide pool. She watched as Austin scrambled up onto the low boulder next to Tyler. Both boys bent their heads over what was so fascinating and started whispering to each other.
She glanced off into the surrounding trees and brush. “Any animals or other inhabitants I should be aware of ?” It looked like a deserted island, but there was the whole other side she hadn't seen. As far as she knew the place could be home to a herd of moose, and she and the boys would have to swim for their lives.
“None worth mentioning.” Matt called out to Tyler, “Try not to get too wet. We didn't bring along a change of clothes.”
Tyler's mischievous grin flashed across the distance.
Matt shook his head. “I'm going to get the cooler and blanket. I'll be right back.” He nodded in the direction of the boys. “Keep an eye on Lewis and Clark over there.”
She watched him wade back out into the water. It was a better view than the scrub pines that had been battered by the weather for centuries. Khaki shorts with big cargo pockets and a light blue T-shirt that clung to very impressive muscles did a girl a world of good. In fact, Matt Porter was the most interesting thing in Misty Harbor.
Although the town was charming and quaint, she wouldn't classify it as interesting. Las Vegas was exciting. Los Angeles was the cultural hub of the hip and upcoming. New York never slept, and Miami pulsed to the Latin beat. Misty Harbor wasn't even a beep on the rich-and-famous radar. So why was her father looking to build the next Randall Hotel in the middle of it?
It didn't make sense to her, but her job wasn't to make sense out of it all. Her job, and the reason she was vacationing in a tiny fishing village on the coast of Maine, instead of Bar Harbor or Kennebunkport, was to see if the property that was going up for sale was worth the asking price, and to see if the town could support an exclusive hotel.
Her first reaction was that her father and her ex, Jake, had sorely misjudged the town's size and accommodations. First impressions had been known to be wrong before, so she was biding her time, sitting back and enjoying this time with her son. Mermaid watching was giving her a whole new perspective on life.