Small-Town Girl (15 page)

Brice nodded, knowing he'd been dismissed. He weighed what he should do but decided to head downstairs, hoping to help talk some sense into Shelby. If anything, he could assure her about how much Joel loved her.

Brice padded down the steps, not wanting to interrupt the women if they were at a sensitive part of their conversation. If it didn't sound as though he was needed, he'd swing around and head back upstairs. He froze behind the partition that separated the stairs from the lower part of the boat.

Shelby sucked in a shaky breath. “I know I overreacted. I'm just having a hard time. We've been dating for a year. He keeps saying that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me but then never proposes. What if he never asks, Kendall? What do I do?”

“Have you talked to him about what sort of timeline you'd like for marriage?” Sensible Kendall. She'd make things right.

“No.” Shelby paused. “He...he hasn't brought it up, and I know for as much as he loves me, the thought of being married scares Joel. He grew up in foster care, so he never really got to see a functioning family. I think he's terrified of doing something wrong.” Brice pulled at his collar as Shelby kept talking. “But I don't get it. Doesn't he realize that he's not the type of person his mother or father were? He's going to be an amazing husband.”

“I hear you. But I understand Joel's feelings too.” Kendall spoke with a quiet assurance in her tone. “I grew up with a single mom. My dad left when I was really young. I've been terrified of being abandoned by a man ever since. Then I met Brice, who is so wonderful, and he doesn't even realize it because he's worried about repeating his family's mistakes, as well. I think we all carry fears from our childhood with us into adulthood. It's hard not to.”

Brice braced his hands against the wall. Kendall was right. He was worried about repeating his family's mistakes. He'd allowed worry to almost destroy his chance with Kendall.

Shelby groaned. “But I don't want to date forever. I want to be married. To Joel. Why doesn't he get that? What more am I going to have to do to prove that I'm not going to leave him or abandon him? Not ever.”

“Be honest with him,” Kendall urged. “These things you're saying right now, say to him.”

“Thanks, Kendall. You know, when I heard Kellen took Maggie out on a cruise and proposed, I struggled with jealousy. They haven't been dating long—a couple months! And he proposed right away. Maggie will probably be married and back from her honeymoon before Joel even starts to think about proposing.”

“You need to talk to Joel about that too—how you struggled over the news about Kellen and Maggie. If he's the man you want to marry, if you're serious about the relationship, then there shouldn't be secrets like that between you two. You need to be open and trust him with things like that, things that hurt.”

Brice slowly put his foot back on the steps. The women didn't need his input. And overhearing more truth might overwhelm his brain. He had to start communicating with Kendall—completely open and honest—the same as she was asking Shelby to do with Joel. He had to tell her how much he struggled with the things his mom said to him. Tell her his fear of feeling powerless and out of control. Admit the anger he still harbored against Sesser Atwood. Kendall had to know all those things about him.

“You're right. I feel so foolish now. Poor Joel. He planned this whole romantic evening for me and I ruined it.”

“I don't think he'll see it that way. He loves you, Shelby. That's as plain as the hair on his head.”

Shelby laughed. “He's head over heels. I am too. I need to go up there and make things right.”

Brice padded back up the stairs and got into position behind the steering wheel. Hopefully the women hadn't heard him.

Chapter Thirteen

K
endall glanced over at Brice as he led her down the boardwalk toward a less-populated stretch of the beach. Tourists might flood Ring Beach every day throughout the summer, but the dune grass worked like fencing against them for the most part. They stayed on the famed Ring Beach and left the rest of the shoreline to the locals.

“All right.” Kendall nudged Brice in the ribs with her elbow. “What's with all the secrecy?” He'd called her at the office earlier and asked if she could close an hour ahead of her normal time. When she'd consented, he said he would pick her up for a date and wouldn't give her any details.

“No secrecy here.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Can't a man want to spend time with his favorite person?”

“I
guess
that's a good enough reason.” She looped her arm through his, letting him set a slow pace as they headed in the direction of the old lighthouse that marked the border where Goose Harbor met the town of Shadowbend. With each step the wooden planks beneath their feet groaned. The side of the boardwalk closest to the beach was sandy, and tall dune grass waved—an ocean in its own right—on the other side of the walkway. Dunes rose beyond the grassy patches, sandy until the tops, which sprouted with a thin line of trees. Staircases were built into a few of the nearby dunes, heading to private homes in the wealthiest section of town.

Brice guided her down the beach for another ten minutes until he pointed to a blue tarp tucked around a pile of items closer to the water. The stuff was situated near one of the park district installed fire-pit sites, so there was a built-in, safe area to cook.

“I came out here earlier and dropped this stuff off.”

Kendall helped Brice pull back the tarp. “Good thing a bear didn't find it first.” Her gaze took in the large cooler, flannel blanket and pile of firewood. “Wait. Are there bears in this part of Michigan?” She glanced back toward the tree line. They were awful close to the forest if bears were a threat, not to mention they were remote too. If something happened, no one would hear them yell.

Brice gently tugged the tarp out of her hold as he chuckled. “While there is a strong black-bear population in Michigan, at least ninety percent of them live in the upper peninsula. I think we're safe.” After he tucked the tarp into a large bag, he grabbed two edges of the blanket and flung it out so it spread across the grass. Tugging the cooler over, he used its weight to keep the blanket down.

Kendall lowered herself onto the blanket and opened up the cooler, peeking inside. She made eye contact over the top of the cooler's lid. “And what about the other ten percent of the black bears?”

Brice arranged the chopped wood under the cooking grate of the fire pit, tucking kindling—which happened to be dryer lint—between the cracks. “They'll probably join us for dinner.”

“Brice!” She leaned around the cooler and swatted his shoulder. “I'm being serious.”

“You have nothing to be worried about. Most of that ten percent stays up in the northern portion of the hand of Michigan. We get a sighting of one every few years. Nothing more.” He lit the fire and spent the next ten minutes coaxing the flames to take over the wood.

“So dryer lint, huh?”

“Little-known fact, it makes the best kindling. Goes up at a high temperature.” He shrugged. “And easily available.”

Kendall pulled cups and plates and little Tupperware containers from the cooler. One had cubed cheese. Another had grapes. Still another container held what appeared to be the most mouthwatering chocolate layer cake Kendall had ever seen. In a large plastic zip baggie, Kendall located two huge items wrapped in foil.

“Oh, good.” Brice eased the foil packs from her hands. “You found the salmon.” He tossed them onto the grate that covered the fire pit.

Over the next half hour Brice flipped the salmon a couple times while Kendall lay back, hands behind her head, watching the clouds inch across the sky on their way to tuck the sun into bed. Her clothes and hair would smell like wood smoke when she got back home, and she would love it. Somehow the smell made her think of Brice, even though this was their first campfire meal together. Rustic and manly, it suited him. There was no doubt it would be the first of many times sharing food over an open flame. Kendall smiled, comforted by the thought—by this life she was carving out in Goose Harbor.

When Brice declared the fish ready to eat, he opened both foil packs, arranging the salmon and vegetables beside the cheese and fruit. He said grace for their meal and they dug in.

Not sure what to expect tastewise, Kendall took her first bite. Notes of citrus, seasoning and something tangy she couldn't quite place burst on her tongue. “Wow.” She took another bite. “This is so good. How did you make it?”

“It's been marinating in a mix of lemon, olive oil, salt, pepper and dill.”

“Dill! That's the tangy part.”

“It's the secret ingredient.” He sent a wink her way before polishing off the rest of his vegetables.

Kendall gathered their empty dishes and piled everything back into the cooler. She patted her stomach. “That's the best meal I've had in a long time. I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook.”

Brice touched the spot beside him on the edge of the blanket, facing the water. “Come sit beside me.”

She gladly cuddled up next to him. He pulled the remaining blanket up to drape over their shoulders and then slipped his arm around her back. Kendall snuggled closer, breathing in the woodsy scent of him as she leaned her head against his side.

“This is my favorite spot.” Kendall sighed.

“Watching the sunset?”

“Well, that's nice too.” She tilted her head to better look at him, making eye contact. “But I meant being beside you. Right here.” She placed her hand on his chest and leaned closer, stealing a quick kiss before whispering, “You're my favorite place.” Her heart thundered. It felt like such a bold statement to say out loud, but it was true.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and then eased her so she was facing the sunset again. “I really admired how you went down and talked to Shelby yesterday. How you encouraged her to mend her relationship with Joel.”

Kendall gripped the edge of the blanket, pulling it tighter around herself. “When two people love each other they should be willing to work through the hardest parts together. I've come to the realization that that's what love is all about, sticking around through the really tough stuff. Saying you still believe in someone, even when they accidentally hurt you. That's love.”

“Not planning a campfire date for a pretty lady?” He leaned into her, his tone letting her know he was joking.

She leaned back against him. “That part's nice too. Better than nice. This—you planning all this—was wonderful. Thank you.”

“I'm sorry it wasn't impressive.” He scrubbed his free hand over his jaw. “It's probably pretty simplistic compared to the dates you're hired to orchestrate.”

“This one was better than all those.”

“Really?” He angled his body to look down at her.

“Yes, because you didn't need help.
You
planned it all on your own. That counts more to me. I don't need extravagant, Brice. I just want time with you.” She laced her fingers through the fringe on the edge of the blanket. “And besides, there's something about our relationship and sunsets that goes hand in hand. Don't you think?”

Kendall was getting way ahead of herself, but she'd already considered what a wedding to Brice would look like. That should scare a commitment-phobic person such as herself, but with Brice, it didn't. She'd rent a portion of the beach and wear a flowy white dress. Her hair would be down her back, styled in loose curls, with only a crown of woven flowers for decoration. They'd both be barefoot, of course, and the ceremony would be perfectly timed so that when the minister pronounced them man and wife, the sun would be dipping below the horizon.

“I think of you every time the sun sets,” he whispered. “Other times too. But sunsets are special. They're yours.”

“Ours,” she whispered back. “They're ours.”

* * *

“You can't do this.” Brice ground the words between his teeth. “You can't do this to us.”

Sesser Atwood cleared his throat on the other end of the phone. “Actually I can.”

The pencil in Brice's hand snapped in two.
Calm down.
He gaped at the broken pieces, letting them fall onto the office desk in the shipping warehouse.
Wars aren't won by losing your head.
He pushed out of his chair, yanking the phone close to the edge to give the cord enough room for him to stand.

There had to be a way to fight Sesser on this. Even if Brice had to gather the rest of the renters on the dock and seek legal counsel together, he'd do it. He would even be willing to foot the bill.

He clapped a hand over his forehead and jammed the tips of his thumb and middle fingers into his temples. Brice took a shaky breath. “I signed a contract in order to move my boat to your downtown pier. A yearlong contract. It said—”

Sesser's loud, gravelly voice overtook Brice's words. “It said you can't back out of your year contract is what it said.”

“I'm not backing out,” Brice growled.

“Sure sounds like you want to.” Was that...a laugh?

Breathe. Speak rationally.
“That contract also states that the monthly charge for docking would stay the same for the twelve-month term.”

“You're right. It does say that.”

“So you're the one breaking contract.”

“Your docking fee remains the same. The new fee is a tourist tax. A simple set amount for every passenger who boards your boat. Every single time you sail.”

“But that's what I'm saying. You can't alter the contract terms.”

“Flip over to article six in the contract papers and you'll see that I can.”

Brice bit down hard, pressing his molars together, sending pain shooting throughout his jaw. A headache wasn't far off. With the way the day was playing out, it would probably become a full-blown migraine before noon.

Sesser filled the pause. “Now, if you need to break contract over this, remember I'll need the equivalent of nine months of docking fees up front. That's stated plainly in the paperwork you signed.”

The tycoon had Brice trapped. It felt as if he'd been tossed onto burning coals and Brice's only choice was to dance along or go up in flames. It raked him to feel so out of control.

Showing weakness, being vulnerable with Sesser, was the equivalent of covering himself in raw meat and lying down amid a pack of wolves. But Brice had to know. “Why do you hate us? The Daniels family. What did we ever do to you?”

“Son—”

“I'm no son of yours,” Brice snapped. His biological dad might have been an abusive gambler, but at least he didn't see every person in the world as someone to misuse for financial gain. No one was worse than Sesser Atwood. No one. Not even his father, Mason Daniels.

“I'm a businessman. I don't have room for hate.”

Brice steadied his hand on the windowsill. “Or any other emotion, it would seem. Only money. It's all you care about.”

“Your brother runs a business out of a storefront he rents from
me
.” Sesser spoke in a calm but authoritative tone. “All of your ships are on
my
ports. And your pathetic parents may own that joke of a home now, but
I
still own all the land surrounding their house. I also hear your sister wants to find a part-time job, but one word from me and no business in town will hire her—let alone engage in business with you or your brother. Do you really want to challenge me?”

Everything Sesser said was true—the man had that much power. Brice really should bite his tongue, but he was so tired of keeping his head down. So weary from all the times in life he hadn't been able to defend himself, let alone the people he cared about.

Someone had to put Sesser in his place. “Threaten to get your way. That's all you know how to do, isn't it? If Claire knew about—”

“Oh, I don't think you'd dare go down that road.”

The door to his office creaked and Brice spun around, ready to glare at whoever from his crew happened to be interrupting him, but his hard look landed on Kendall. She froze and her smile faltered. A bag from Candy's Donuts dangled in her hand.

Brice held up a finger and mouthed,
One minute
. Then he faced the small window in his office again. He had to end the conversation with Sesser. Arguing was pointless because they were never going to see eye to eye. “Thanks for letting me know about the change in the contract, but listen here—if
I
have any changes I want to make to my end, I'll let you know by the end of the week.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Daniels.”

“Wish I could say likewise.”

When he turned around to hang up the phone, he found Kendall waiting on the other side of his desk. She'd set the bag of donuts down. “You've stopped by and surprised me every day this past week, so I thought I'd return the favor today. It sounds like I might have come at a bad time.”

“It's a fine time.” He rubbed his hand over his short hair.

“Brice.” She laced her fingers together. “I didn't mean to listen in. And I honestly didn't hear much. But I've never heard you speak in that tone. What's wrong?”

“The dock owner found a way to rob me of all our earnings. Effective on Friday he's placed a tax on the head of every person I bring on board our sunset cruises.”

“A tax? I don't understand.”

“Somehow he's caught wind of how successful we've been and now he wants a cut of the pie.” Brice sighed. “It's backhanded and unethical, but I'm afraid that's how Sesser Atwood works.”