Island Home (2 page)

Waves crashed violently against the shore and he tried to distract himself, mentally going through his checklist for when he got to the bar. The rain was an inconvenience and a hassle. The place would still be packed come dinnertime, only he’d have to worry about his waitresses slipping on the wet floors or the generators not kicking on if the electricity went out.

People enjoyed their drinks and conversation, no matter what the weather. He personally didn’t understand the need for the latter, though he more than understood the need for the first. There wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t tempted to pour his own glass and take a stool at the counter like a couple of the other regulars. The need was there with every drink he served, but he relished the pain his hard fought self-control brought. He’d found other outlets to keep his mind off the temptation.

The sky opened up just as he pulled the golf cart beneath the covered patio near the kitchen, and fat drops of rain came down in a deluge followed by another flash of lightning. It didn’t matter how fast he ran, he was soaked by the time he unlocked the kitchen door and pushed inside.

He kicked off his flip-flops and pulled off his shirt as he slammed the door behind him, muttering curses under his breath. His first priority was pulling down the screens on the side of the bar the storm was blowing from so the entire inside wasn’t soaked, and there was no point putting on dry clothes until that task was done.

It took precious seconds to unlock the kitchen door that led into the bar area itself. Seeker’s Paradise had been built to resemble a large, square tiki hut—fat bamboo posts sat at each corner and the roof was thatched to resemble straw. The bar was a square, directly in the middle, so people could sit at the long expanse of polished wood on all sides. The cabinets where the alcohol was kept were locked up every night as well as the kitchen where food was kept, but the restaurant itself was open at all times since there were no walls.

Luke pushed through the kitchen door and into the restaurant, grabbing the long hook he kept by the wall so he could pull down the protective screens. The overhang of the roof was enough to keep the rain out most of the time, but not with it blowing horizontal as it was now.

He’d just slipped the hook through the little hole at the edge of the ceiling when he felt the tingle at the base of his spine. He wasn’t alone. Luke’s shoulders tensed, but he continued on with his task. The island was a safe place to live, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t trouble from time to time—usually from mainlanders coming over on the ferry looking to cure their boredom. If someone wanted to rob him they were in for a huge disappointment. He deposited the cash every night and the liquor was the only thing of worth on the premises.

He pulled down the screen and it rattled and clanked noisily as it hit the floor. He bent over to fasten it down, waiting for whomever it was to make their move, but there wasn’t a rush of air or a sound indicating someone was coming toward him.

His hand clamped in a white-knuckled grip around the hook in his hand and he raised back up slowly before turning to see who waited for him.

The sight of her made him wish for the robber instead. His heart stopped in his chest and his lungs burned with the air he couldn’t remember to breathe.

City girl
.

She’d changed in the fifteen years since he’d last seen her. The girl had grown into a woman, but gone was the softness he remembered. A short crop of black hair fringed around her face, making her green eyes look impossibly large and her cheekbones sharper.

There had never been much to her—she’d always been thin as a reed and willowy—her legs long like a dancer and her breasts small, though enough to fill his hands. He’d felt clumsy when he’d touched her—rough—but she’d wanted him anyway. At least for a time.

The sundress she wore was the same vibrant green as the moss around the springs that had just betrayed him and came just to the top of her knees. Her long, narrow feet were strapped into white sandals that crisscrossed all the way up to her ankles. He’d never known feet could look quite so sexy.

“Hello, Luke.” Her voice still held the sultriness of the south, and the sound of it sent pleasure straight to his groin, just as it had so many times before. Her voice had haunted his dreams for fifteen years—tortured his body as it begged for release in his sleep.

“Jessie,” he managed to get past his frozen vocal cords. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

The corner of her mouth tilted in a sardonic smile. “More than likely you just hoped I wouldn’t show up.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Though maybe it’s better this way. You can sign the papers and sell your half of the bar to me, and then you can go back from wherever it was you came from.”

The challenging glint in her eyes made him go rock hard and he moved so he stood behind the bar like he was going to go on about his daily business.

“My father’s dead,” she said.

“I remember. I was at his funeral. Where were you?” Luke didn’t find satisfaction in the way the color drained from her cheeks and a haunted look came into her eyes—a look he’d last seen during their childhood.

“I’m here now.” Her voice dripped with ice and her shoulders stiffened. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t waste your lies on me,” he said, wondering if today would be a good time to pour the drink he’d only thought about until now. “You couldn’t wait to get off this island fast enough. Why would you want to tie yourself to it now? Just sell me your half of the bar and you can go on with your life.”

“My reasons for coming back are none of your business. Just know that I’m here now, and I’m claiming what’s mine.”

Fucking legends and stupid wishes.
His teeth gritted so hard his jaw hurt and he pulled out a white apron from beneath the bar. He tossed it at her feet, and shame crawled across his skin as she reached forward to catch it and missed. But he couldn’t back down now. She’d taken everything he’d ever had to give. He’d be damned if she took his livelihood as well.

“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.”

‡

J
essie 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.”