Coast Guard Sweetheart (16 page)

The shy, little kindergartner with the flyaway hair was easily adopted. He, the angry, hardheaded preteen, went to a series of foster homes.

“She found her forever home.” He gulped. “I never did.”

His gaze roamed over the top of Honey's head and across the tidal marsh. Not till he met Honey Duer. Loved and lost his chance with her. Letting Honey, like Cotton and so many other good things, slip through his fingers.

“I can't understand how they could separate you.” Honey's breath billowed against his neck. “If I hadn't had my sisters...”

He brushed his mouth across the silkiness of her hair. “I tried to find her once I turned eighteen and joined the Guard. But the adoption records were sealed. Her adoptive parents changed her name, of course. I had no idea who they were or where they were from.”

Sawyer closed his eyes, reliving that heart-wrenching period after he left the security of the Larsen foster ranch. “I put out information on one of the websites that reunites adoptees with their birth family. But no luck. After a while, I moved around so much with the Guard I stopped looking. She's probably better off without a brother like me anyway.”

Honey stiffened. “I don't believe that and neither should you. And don't you dare say those you touch you ruin.

Sawyer's eyes flew open.

Honey captured his face between her hands. “If I ever hear you say that again, Sawyer Kole, I'm going to be forced to take drastic action.”

Sawyer's mouth curved. “The much-touted steel gardenia.” He nuzzled the palm of her hand with his chin. “I'm quaking in my boots.”

“As you should.” She cut her eyes at him. “Tell me why this would have been a perfect place for you and Cotton.”

His eyes returned to the farm acreage. “Not only for me. A great place for foster siblings to reunite for a short time. A week. If I had a million dollars...”

“What would you do?”

He tried to shrug off her question. “Doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me.” She elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ow...”

“Start talking, cowboy. Doesn't cost anything to dream. I want to hear what cowboy Coasties dream about?”

His heart thudded. This cowboy Coastie dreamed of Beatrice Elizabeth Duer forever in his arms. But that he couldn't share. So he settled for a safer, as impractical, impossibility.

“Over there,” He gestured at the treelined ridge. “I'd build cabins to house the boys and girls.”

She nodded. “A foster kids camp. Bunk beds. I'm envisioning horse and nautical motifs.”

“No surprise, Girly-Girl, you'd seize on the decorative portions of the dream first.”

“We use the gifts we're given, Coastie.” She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “What else is in this foster camp vision of yours?”

“I'd assign each sibling their own personal horse for the week. And bonding time activities with the brothers or sisters they only get to visit once or twice a year, if ever.”

She smiled. “Learning much more than how to ride and care for an animal. Learning trust, empathy, teamwork and life skills.”

Brow creasing, he stared at her. She'd managed to totally grasp his hitherto unvoiced, secret dream.

Honey motioned toward the inlet. “And water sports. Fishing. Canoeing. Clamming. Marsh muck. 'Cause this would be a Shore thing.”

Sawyer moistened his lips. “The sky's the limit in our pretend world.”

Honey released a gust of air. “I like our pretend world.”

So did he.

He forced himself to look away from her rapt expression. “We better get going. I've got to feed the horses, and there was that problem at the lodge you wanted me to fix.”

She sighed. Relief or resignation? If he died right now on a horse overlooking the water with Honey in his arms, he'd die forever happy and blessed.

With reluctance, he turned the mare toward the barn.

He—and Honey—went stall to stall feeding the horses. She, of course, fed them with typical Honey flair. Clad once again in those ridiculous heels.

Sawyer ran his hand over the palomino's broad back. It'd been a long while since he'd spent this much time with horses. “Mr. Keller comes home from rehab tomorrow. Guess my work here is about done.”

“And you've loved every minute of it, haven't you?”

He raised his eyes to find Honey studying him, a pucker between those perfectly plucked brows. A rightness settled in his heart. Despite their teasing of each other, she always seemed to know him best. Better sometimes than he understood himself.

“Yeah. I have.”

She hung over the stall door, watching him groom Froggy. It wasn't too hard to imagine her as a child— a little girl who didn't like to get her clothes dirty. But who, once provoked, could give as good as she got.

And he would've been the self-appointed one messing with her hair, chasing her with a reptile, pushing her into the mud... He felt a great deal of kinship with Max these days.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

He ducked his head. “Nothing. Ready to go?” He swung the door—and Honey—wide.

Light-footed, she leaped to the ground. Wobbled in her heels. “I'm ready when you are.”

Sawyer doubted that very much. He followed her in his Chevy out to the Duer Lodge. She waited for him at the bottom of the wide-planked porch steps.

His breath hitched when he beheld the gaping holes like missing teeth in the railing. Three spindles lay on the ground between the dwarf gardenia bushes. “What happened here?”

Climbing the steps, he examined the damage to the railing. “Looks like someone took a...” He glanced at Honey.

Refusing to meet his gaze, she stared off into the distance, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. A sneaking suspicion grew in his mind.

Sawyer reclined against one of the pillars and rested one booted foot over his ankle. “Vandals, you say?”

Her eyes flitted to his. “Vandals.” Her gaze darted away again. “Think you can fix it?”

“I'm gonna try.”

“Good. Thank you.” Her mouth softened. “Are you available to paint tomorrow? I can't trust anyone else to do as good a job as you.”

Sawyer tilted his head. “Thought you couldn't wait to be rid of me, Beatrice, once the job was done?”

Honey leaned against another porch pillar and folded her arms across her jacket. “Exactly. We're not finished yet. Not by a long shot.”

Sawyer's heart pounded at the look on her face. If only...

Her eyes beckoned. “Also... I owe you a date.”

Sawyer pushed off from the column. “You don't owe—”

“Yes, I do.” She raised her chin. “That was our agreement regarding whoever had the best rubber duck finish. I keep my side of a bargain.”

Cold turkey was appearing less and less palatable. Time enough to nurse his broken heart once he transferred to Station Emerald Isle. “How about Tuesday night?”

She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

He clasped her hand. Goose bumps skittered across his arms. “Deal.”

Sawyer glanced around the wraparound porch. “And Beatrice? You might want to keep a better watch out for those vandals so nothing else gets damaged.”

That earned him a smile. The sweet, flirty Honey smile he remembered from three years ago.

“No worries.” She waved her hand. “I know where to go when I need something fixed.”

His stomach did that curious clutching, clenching thing it did whenever she was around. He'd look forward to their coming date with equal amounts of dread and anticipation. What was he doing—going on a date with Honey? What was the point in pursuing a relationship with someone like her?

Main thing that needed fixing was his head for torturing himself with what could never be.

Because his heart, Sawyer had figured out a long time ago, was beyond fixing when it came to Honey Duer.

Chapter Seventeen

“T
alk about cutting it close, baby sis? I thought I'd have to pry you away from the inn with a crowbar.”

Honey made a face in the dresser mirror. “I know how to use one of those now, you know.”

Amelia smirked. “Thanks to Sawyer. Whom you're going to keep waiting if you don't finish getting ready. Dad promised the punch list would be completed without your supervision.”

“But I didn't get to unwrap the plastic from the mantel Dad installed this afternoon.”

“No need to micromanage every detail. Dad can handle it. You'll see the finished product soon enough.”

Honey concentrated on applying the plum-toned gloss to her lips. She frowned at her shaking hand.

Amelia laughed, not missing Honey's unsteadiness. “The anticipation mounts, eh Honey?”

“It's not like we haven't been out before.”

Amelia feathered a tendril of hair over Honey's shoulder. “But it's the first in a long time. And the night is young. Full of possibilities.”

Honey sank onto the bed. “New beginnings.”

She could hardly wait to be back in her attic bedroom. “Seems like not too long ago we were getting you all gussied up for the big Coastie ball with Braeden.”

“And it was you who helped me figure out what I really wanted.” Amelia tucked the lacy shawl around Honey's shoulders. “Now I'm an old married woman with two fabulous children.”

“If only I knew what to do about Sawyer and me.”

Amelia eased down beside her. “I think you're overthinking things. You love him and he—”

“Stop right there.” Honey held up her hand, palm out. “I never said I loved him. And who knows what the ever stoic Sawyer Kole thinks or feels.”

Her sister rolled her eyes. “Denial doesn't become you, Honey. It's obvious he's crazy about you. He asked you out, didn't he?”

Actually, the date—as Honey recollected—involved her asking him. And with some arm twisting, he'd agreed as if against his better judgment.

“Sawyer's more than proven his sincerity and trustworthiness.” Amelia waved her hand. “Just look at the hours he's devoted to restoring the lodge.” She cocked her hand. “And not because he loves the smell of wood chips and paint.”

Honey glanced toward the window overlooking Mrs. Crockett's driveway. The furniture had gone into the house this afternoon, thanks to neighbors and off duty Coasties. But Dad had insisted they wait to move in tomorrow, allowing any lingering traces of paint fumes to dissipate before bringing Baby Patrick and Max into the house.

The lodge would reopen to guests next weekend in time for Harbor Fest. And none of it would have been possible without Sawyer. So why couldn't she bring herself to admit those three little words? Why still so reluctant to trust?

“What are you afraid of, Honey?”

Her mouth trembled. “I'm scared of loving and being let down again. Scared of giving my heart and soul only to be abandoned again.”

“Your soul belongs to God, Honey. Once you make that right, I think everything else will fall into place. Because if you're honest, your heart has never stopped belonging to Sawyer Kole.”

She made a face. “Love is so messy.”

Amelia laughed. “So beyond your micromanaging control.”

Honey sighed. “Exactly.”

“And so wondrously, marvelously beyond your greatest imagining. Same as with God, if you have the courage to believe and step out in faith.”

Honey spun the pearl stud on her earlobe. “Where I can free-fall onto the rocks below.”

“Where always the loving arms of God await, no matter what.”

“Trusting Sawyer is one thing.” Honey shook her head. “I'm not sure I'm ready to trust God, too. Not after what happened to Mom and Lindi.”

Her sister's eyes softened. “Truth is, I'm afraid you may not be able to have one without the other. Not if you seek real peace and happiness. But only you can make that decision to open your heart to Sawyer and God.”

At the sound of tires crunching on the oyster shell driveway, Honey glanced out the window. “He's here. Maybe after Harbor Fest I'll have the time for a new beginning with Sawyer and God. Better to take things slow.”

“Don't leave things too late, Honey. Life rarely goes as we plan. And if we've learned anything from Mom and Lindi's deaths, it's best not to put off what should be done or said today. I've always wondered if we'd said or done something, tried harder with Caroline...” Amelia steered Honey toward the stairs. “A topic best saved for another day. Off you go, time for your new beginning.”

Honey found Sawyer waiting downstairs in the foyer. He and her dad had their heads close together, whispering. Sawyer's eyes warmed when she appeared on the landing.

The Coastie didn't look too shabby, either, in his fitted jeans. And underneath his blazer, the indigo blue dress shirt heightened the contrast with his light blue eyes and wind-bronzed tan. Being Sawyer, the shirt remained untucked as usual during his off duty hours.

He held out his hand. She curled her fingers around his. His eyes sparkled at her. “You look...”

“Yep, she does.” Her dad clapped a hand on each of their shoulders, shoving them toward the door. “Don't you two have somewhere to be? Daylight's not the only thing burning.” He scratched the side of his neck and darted his eyes at Sawyer. “If you get my drift.”

She flicked a look in her father's direction. Three years ago he'd have met Sawyer on the porch with a shotgun. My, how times had changed.

“Yessir. You're right.” Sawyer ushered her out the door and toward his truck.

Her heart drummed with anticipation. Maybe it was time to jump. And to learn to fly.

* * *

She looked so good in the silky, black sheath dress. So elegant with her hair waving around her shoulders. The ubiquitous pearls at her earlobes and around her throat. The strappy black sandals on her slim, arched feet. Too good to be sitting in his old pickup truck. Too good for him, the throwaway kid from Oklahoma.

His heart sank. She deserved so much more than what he had to offer. Seeing her tonight made his decision clearer and yet harder at the same time.

The silence between them lengthened as he kept the headlights pointed toward Kiptohanock.

She cleared her throat. “I didn't see you earlier at the inn. You must have been busy today.”

He wound his hands tighter around the steering wheel. “You're seeing me now.”

She smiled. “You're right. Where are we going?”

He kept his eyes fastened on the asphalt, the lights bouncing off one side of the forested Seaside Road to the other. “It's a surprise. You don't have to know everything. Relax.”

“That's asking a lot from a control freak like me.” She slid across the seat, her hip touching his. “Will I like the surprise?”

His lips curved at the tremulous little girl sound in her voice. The nearness of the grown-up Honey, however, did funny things to his nerve endings. “I think you will. I
hope
you will.”

Turning into the Duer drive, he heard her breath catch. Her face transformed at the sight of the string of lights dotting the wraparound porch. The house glowed in the blue velvet dusk of the Eastern Shore twilight. Bell-shaped lanterns lit the oyster shell path from the driveway to the front steps.

“When did—? How?” She touched her hand to her throat. “You and Dad.”

“This afternoon.” Seeing the rapt look on her face, Sawyer swallowed hard. It meant everything giving Honey her dream. “No easy feat keeping you away from here long enough to install everything.”

“Your dad insisted he'd complete the finishing touches so I could go to Keller's and shower—lucky for you. Seth arrived at Mrs. Crockett's only seconds before me. You're not an easy girl to surprise, Beatrice. Did we?” Sawyer cut his eyes at her, unnerved by her silence. “Surprise you?”

Her eyes welled. “Oh, yes. You're full of surprises.”

“Well, come on then.” He threw open the truck door. “The real surprise is inside.”

Instead of waiting for him to come round to the passenger side, she scooted out behind him. Enjoying her anticipation, he drew her to the porch. With a dramatic flourish, he threw open the refurbished oak door and thoroughly delighted in her gasp of pleasure.

“Oh, Sawyer.” She hurried inside. “It's like a Currier and Ives lithograph. Thank you.”

Per Sawyer's exact instructions, Seth had done him proud. Dozens of candles were scattered across every available surface in the great room. The votives lent an old-fashioned warmth, luminescent in hurricane globes.

She flitted from one side of the room to the other. His hands stuffed in his pockets, Sawyer remained in the doorway, letting her make her own discoveries. Enjoying her exploration of her restored family home.

The sea glass and driftwood decor she'd collected over the years from the barrier islands once more adorned the Queen Anne table in front of the bay window. Seth's checkerboard crowned the piecrust table. She ran a loving hand over the knotted pine beadboard walls.

“I can't believe you were able to...” She caught sight of the mantel. “Oh, Sawyer. What did you do?” Two tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Hey, now.” He moved forward. “No tears. This is supposed to be a happy occasion.”

“This
is
me happy.” On her tiptoes, she threw her arms around him.

Grunting at the force of her embrace, he staggered, but his arms tightened around her. “If this is happy, I'd hate to see you unhappy,” he whispered into the gardenia fragrance of her hair brushing his cheek.

She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the fireplace. She scanned the Duer family portrait remounted above the mantel. Taken, she'd told him once, when everything and everyone had been safe in her childhood world.

“Before Caroline went away,” Honey whispered as if to herself. “Before the cancer took Mom and Daddy fell into the darkness. Before Lindi...”

Sawyer, however, couldn't tear his eyes away from Honey. And he thought his heart might burst from loving her. If nothing else, he'd managed to do this one thing right. To give Honey back her home and, in a small way, her family.

Her eyes fell to the mantel. She let go of his hand and trailed her fingers along the grooves he'd etched into the wood. “How did you manage to find the exact—?” She swung around. “There's no way you could buy an exact replica of a nineteenth-century handcrafted mantel. You carved this yourself, didn't you?”

Once again, she threw her arms around him, almost knocking Sawyer off his feet. “When did you sleep? No wonder you fell asleep every time you got still. How did you manage to hide this until now? Oh, Sawyer...”

He grinned into her hair. “I repeat, you're not an easy person to surprise, Beatrice. Always got to have your nose in everybody's business.”

She pulled back a few inches and play-slapped his arm. “Keller's barn loft. That's why you went all funny when I showed up there. You're something else, you know that? Something else.”

He examined her face. “Something good? Or something bad?”

She fingered the ditch daisy lying between the hurricane lamps at either end of the mantel. “I...I...” She stopped smiling.

His heart lurched.

Uncertainty clouded her features. She searched his face for assurances he couldn't give her. “Maybe we—”

“We'll always be friends.”

Her eyes glistened. “Right.” She glanced away. “The best kind of friends,” she whispered.

Friends... Not what he longed for. More than he deserved.

If he had any sense at all, he'd walk her out to the truck, forego what he'd planned and drive her back to her family. But Sawyer had never possessed much good sense when it came to Honey Duer. Tonight had the potential to break his heart even further.

Yet he couldn't leave things as they were between them. As they should be between them. Not without once... Just one more time...

Because tonight... Sawyer had only tonight. And God help him, tonight needed to be enough to last him a lifetime.

He moved toward the heirloom Victrola and cranked it. He winced as the scratchy melody from before the First World War floated to the eaves of the high-ceilinged room. Her eyes widened.

“Let Me Call You Sweetheart” seemed presumptuous at this point. But he'd spoken truly when he'd told her a few weeks ago he'd take what he could get. She was right about him.

He was a self-admitted adrenaline junkie, a man of action. Uncomfortable with words. He'd chosen this song once Seth showed him the box of 78s. Chosen this song to express what he himself could not.

And facing long weeks of loneliness ahead, he wanted to always remember her as she was now in the glow of the candlelight, her face shining.

“I made you a promise and I keep my promises.” He took a deep breath. “Dance with me, Beatrice?”

She twisted the pearls at her throat.

“One dance.” He swallowed. “Before I ship out next week.”

* * *

“You're leaving next week?” she whispered.

“Station Emerald Isle.”

What was glaringly obvious to Honey at this moment was that he'd only asked her to dance. Not go with him.

She couldn't deny the truth of her feelings for him any longer. Her gaze landed on the flower. She muffled the tiny sob that rose in her throat. Sawyer knew her in the deep places she barely admitted to herself.

Why hadn't she told him how she felt? But something—pride?—held her back. She'd been about to tell him, but fear got the best of her.

He'd never said he loved her. Never told her the things she longed to hear from him. Was everything he'd done for her over the past few months merely him keeping a promise or making amends?

Pain sliced through Honey. Why didn't Sawyer tell her what was in his heart? Perhaps, though, he
was
telling her. In his own way, he was telling her good-bye.