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She crossed an ocean for love only to be abandoned for duty.
After a decade of making it on her own, Irish immigrant, Blayne MacCaffrey is determined to return to her homeland and make peace with her father, who hasn’t forgiven her for leaving. Her ticket home is in the bag with the launch of the Archer Conservation Park of Cape Van Buren. Only, she has to work with the one man she'd sworn to never see again.
Believing that family duty comes before everything else, James Astor made the biggest mistake of his life and had abandoned the only woman he'd ever loved. But after a decade of lucrative business transactions and empty relationships, he returns to the Cape, determined to show Blayne that they belong together.
A second chance at first love is a dream neither can bear to lose again. With a past marred by painful mistakes, can they find the courage to forgive and fight for love? Or are these two souls destined to repeat history?
Honor on the Cape, an On the Cape novel, Cape Van Buren book 2 by USA Today bestselling author MK Meredith is impossible to put down with its complex characters and their passionate and heartbreaking memories of young love. You will laugh and cry as you root for this happy ever after! Read as a series or standalone.
Get swept away with this sexy contemporary second chance romance now!
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Seitenzahl: 356
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by MK Meredith. All rights reserved,
including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
MK Meredith
P.O. Box 1724
Ashburn, VA 20146
Visit my website at www.mkmeredith.com.
Edited by KR Nadelson and Jessica Snyder
Cover design by Kari March Designs
ISBN: 978-0-9990854-2-4
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition March 2018
“MK Meredith penned a fun, flirty, second chance at love novel that strikes a beautiful chord! This companion novel to Love on the Cape hooked me from page one, and her innate ability to fuse wit, angst, sizzling passion, and small town charm in one addictive page-turner is simply remarkable!”
~ Epic Romance Reviews
“Ms. Meredith is a true Master of Description. She writes with such vivid colors and pays attention to the smallest detail with such precision, I feel I could walk into the town of Cape Van Buren and actually find the Flat Iron Coffeehouse, Blayne’s shop, and even the North and South Coves.”
~ Amazon Customer
“MK Meredith has topped herself.”
~Amazon Customer, 5 stars.
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by MK Meredith
Hello!
I am so thrilled to share my happy ever afters with you, and I hope you love this book! If you haven’t yet, enjoy your introduction to the wonderful town of Cape Van Buren with One Jingle or TwoFREE on all retailers. Once you fall in love with Alora and Nate (they’re irresistible, LOL!), you won’t want to leave.
Which makes me so excited to also offer you the opportunity to meet Blayne and Jamie! Just sign up to my mailing list at the end of this book, and I’ll send Honor on the Cape to your email for download to your favorite reading device!
BTW . . . all of my series are inter-connected.
Hugs, loves, & peanut butter!
MK
To RAH, Romance Authors of the Heartland.
You ladies were my first home, my first realization of a dream come true, my first forever friends in the writing industry, and I will carry you and the support and love you’ve shown me in my heart with every word I write. Please know how much I love you.
“There’s no honor in it, Blayney. Leavin’ the way ya are.”
The anguish in her da’s gaze tore at Blayne MacCaffrey’s heart, but she loved Jamie. Truly, deeply, head over heels, life-changing, forever kind of love. Desperate, cross an ocean and live in another country kind of love.
She was a woman, a grown adult. Eighteen years of experience and knowledge, and she was more than ready for this next adventure.
Jamie said they’d be together forever.
Deep in her soul, she knew they’d last even longer than that.
But it killed her to see her da hurting. She’d been his shadow her whole life, and he her hero.
Especially after Ma’s death.
She tried to breathe through the pain in her chest, but it was as if all the air in Ireland had been sucked away, along with her da’s love. Digging her nails into her palms, she tried to make him understand. “Yer wrong, Da. I love him.”
“Love ‘im?” His bellow carried a tremble with it that belied his anger. “Ya don’t know ‘im.”
“Mr. MacCaffrey, I know it might seem sudden, but we’ve thought long and hard about this, and we have a plan.”
Noah MacCaffrey turned his deep blue eyes on Jamie as if in slow motion, and for a moment, Blayne considered throwing herself in front of the man she loved to shield him from her da’s wrath if need be.
Her da narrowed his gaze under thick brows and his cabbie. “Ya think takin’ my daughter across the ocean is a good plan? Droppin’ outta university, leavin’ her family, her home?”
Grabbing her da’s hands, she tried to make him understand. “Ya always told me to shine, to be myself. Ya always loved my independent streak, my spunk and spirit. Ya always said.” She swiped at the tear that escaped with a shrug. “This is it, Da.”
She wanted—no—needed him to understand, to be happy for her. “This is me.”
He shook her off, and it was as if he’d stuck a knife in her heart instead. Crossing his arms over his large chest, he turned his face away, leaving only the profile of his straight nose framed by his shaggy salt and pepper hair and striped beard in view. His lips were set in a hard, thin line, but he couldn’t hide the small tremble in his chin. Even through his whiskers.
It was hard to talk with her throat closing and tears stinging behind her lids. “Da. I’ll call you every day. I’ll get enrolled in university right away. You’ll see. Dreams come true in America.”
Jamie’s warm hand closed around hers, giving her strength. She looked into his steadfast eyes, and a calm settled the earnest desperation in her heart.
Pulling her shoulders back, she stepped in front of the one man she’d always trusted, the one who’d bandaged her knees when she thought she could climb the ivy that ran up the side of the house, and the one who’d rubbed aloe on her fair-skinned arms and nose every time she spent too many hours in the sun.
And she broke his heart.
“I’m going, Da.”
“If ya walk out that door, Blayney, dontcha be thinkin’ to walk back through.”
The thing he didn’t understand was she felt as if he’d just shattered hers. With the pain of loss fueling her words, she shouted, “If ya really feel that way, Da, then an ocean won’t be wide enough. I won’t want to come back!”
“Please don’t leave.”
Blayne MacCaffrey sighed at her best friend’s softly spoken plea, the pain in her chest a tangible reminder of how very much she loved Larkin Van Buren. But it was time to go home. To find her way back to Ireland and her family.
Her da.
Ten years past time to be exact.
She forced out a light chuckle. “In a month, you’ll be so busy with your new baby and the conservation center, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”
Larkin yanked her close, surprisingly strong for someone so willowy, and held tight. “You’re going to miss meeting the baby. I’ll notice every second of every day. You’re my best friend.”
The thickened tone of Larkin’s voice threatened Blayne’s tenuous hold on her own tears. Missing the baby would be hard, but she was afraid if she waited, she’d never go. It was past time she moved home and found a way to reunite with her family.
She squeezed her hard. “I’m not bleedin’ leaving yet, not until we make this center a success. So, stop it. You and I’ll always be close. An ocean can’t change that. You know I’ll visit.”
“What about Eclectic Finds?”
“What about it? I’m training my new manager. Evette Kingsley’s niece. She’s stepping in and running things while I work the launch. I don’t have to live here to keep it going.”
She hid her face to blink back tears, needing to think of anything else, as she tightened the laces of her scuffed, banana-yellow derby skates. In any other business meeting, she’d have worn her vintage, sky-high Mary Janes and red Wiggle dress. A throwback to a power combination that guaranteed success.
However, this deal was already in the bag, and she loved nothing more than annoying Larkin’s husband, Ryker.
And nothing annoyed Ryker Van Buren more than when she skated in the community center of Cape Van Buren—aka his old house and her ticket home.
She stood, gliding her feet back and forth to get the blood moving in her legs again, careful to make room for Puzzle as the cat weaved between her skates.
Larkin shook her head. “Ryker’s going to kill you.”
Nodding with juvenile enthusiasm, she agreed. “I can’t help it. The bloke’s fun to annoy.”
“Ha, that’s only because you don’t live with him.”
Blayne waved at Larkin’s growing belly. “Yes, it seems to be such a hardship.”
A blush scalded her friend’s chest red and raced its way to her hairline.
Blayne took in the lighthouse at the end of the cape. “I really love this place.” The beautiful building, which stood high on the rocky bluffs, overlooking the majestic Atlantic Ocean, provided a strong foundation, a solid core, and a bright, shining light to help guide those in need. She wanted to do the same.
The Archer Conservation Park of Cape Van Buren and the plans dreamed up by Larkin were much bigger than anything she had ever worked on before.
Bigger than herself.
Maybe even bigger than the ocean separating her from her family.
Literally and figuratively.
The park was more than the preservation of the richly wooded peninsula, it was an everlasting symbol of happiness, family, and community. It would enhance the quality of every life in Cape Van Buren—including her own. And once she made the launch successful, her most fervent hope was that she’d finally be able to show her face in Ireland and see pride instead of heartbreak in her da’s eyes.
“Okay. It’s now or never.”
A pang of loneliness squeezed her as she pushed open the door and rolled through ahead of Larkin. The familiar tsk tsk tsk of each hardwood seam under her skates eased the ache. She missed her da most of all. His full white beard, his deep blue eyes slightly faded but clear as ever. At least that’s how they looked in the pictures her little sister sent. If not for Emma, she’d never have known his beard went all white and lost the stripes of black he’d had when she was a teen.
When she’d been ten, her ma had died of complications from her brother Dylan’s birth. She’d always been da’s little girl, but after the loss, she and her da had grown a bond so strong she never thought it could be broken.
Back before she’d devastated her family by following a boy to America.
“Sorry we’ve kept you waiting.” Larkin approached Ryker with her hand on her perfectly round tummy and the look of a well-loved woman on her face.
“Kiss-up,” Blayne teased. “We’re right on time.” She glided into the kitchen and spun one full circle in front of Ryker. “I left the rink early just for you.” She tapped him on the chest.
He glared through a dark, furrowed brow. “How many times have I told you—”
“Not to skate in the house?” She smirked and gently patted his cheek. “But you’re so bleedin’ handsome when you’re growly.” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at Larkin. “This one’s been keeping you so happy lately I missed the old grumpy Ryker we used to know and love.”
He shook his head with a grimace and slid his arm around Larkin’s thickening waist, drawing her in close. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
Blayne curtsied with her arms spread wide. “Thank you, sir. But don’t you lie, I know you’re mad for me.”
She glided toward the sliding doors then pivoted to return. “I’m excited to jump in on this launch. I’ve a lot of ideas and promise not to let you two down.”
“Blayne.” Larkin stepped from Ryker’s side with concern shining from her eyes and reached out to her. “There’s something we need to tell you.”
Blayne shrugged, the rush of a challenge fueling her more than the organic energy drink she’d consumed that morning. “I’m all ears. You can relax and focus on the baby. I may be a one-woman show, but I’m all Team Van Buren. It helps that I work best alone.”
“About that…” Her friend’s chest flushed red again.
Something was up. Larkin only blushed when she was nervous, embarrassed, or…guilty. This sounded a heck of a lot like guilt.
Her stomach twisted, but she wasn’t sure if it was from determination or irritation. She would manage the opening of this enterprise better than any shiny-shoed number-pusher any day of the week. They knew it, and she knew it.
So, what the hell was going on?
She stared from husband to wife and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know I’m the best fit for this job.” She shoved off a foot and skated toward them.
The front door slammed, making her flinch. She threw her arms out to catch her balance, teetered, then over-corrected just as a someone walked through the kitchen door.
“Sorry I’m late.” The deep, husky voice sliced through her, hurtling her back a decade to a time when she’d believed in true love and happy-ever-afters, right before she slammed into a rock-hard chest.
“Umph.” She grunted on impact, and the two fought to stay on their feet, but her skates had a mind of their own and raced out from under her as if running for their lives. “Bloody hell!”
“Shit.” The word vibrated against her cheek and skittered along her spine as they crashed to the kitchen floor in a tangle of limbs.
For a moment, no sound was heard except the whir of spinning wheels.
“Oh my God.” Larkin rushed toward them.
Disbelief lodged in Blayne’s throat with all the words she’d never been able to say.
It couldn’t be him.
Not now.
She shoved back, fighting to gain solid ground and cursing her fucking skates. Why of all days had she chosen today to tease Ryker? Karma was meaner than Ryker’s grandmother Maxine Van Buren when someone threatened her moonshine.
She shoved the dark hair that had escaped its pins from her face and sucked in a breath.
“Are you alright?” Larkin grabbed her arm, trying to help her up.
But she could barely hear over the roaring in her ears.
As the bloke straightened, she took in the thick head of sun-kissed brown hair that reminded her of digging her toes into the sand off the north side of the cape, and light gray eyes that had always seen too much and said too little, and her heart stopped. For the second time in her life.
“Jamie.”
One thousand one, one thousand two…lub dub, lub dub. Okay, she was still alive.
“Blayne. Blayne!” Snap, snap. Larkin’s fingers made the jarring gesture in her face until she finally blinked.
The bloke lost all his golden boy color as his eyes took her in from head to toe like a starving man would a table of food. He reached for her. “Blayne, I had no—”
She jerked back, the motion almost landing her on her ass for the second time that afternoon. “Don’t.” Her voice was stern but soft. She thanked the universe for hiding the tremble surfing the edge of her words.
Ryker joined Larkin and laid a hand on Blayne’s arm. “Are you okay? I told you wearing those damn things on this floor wasn’t a good idea.”
Looking from Blayne to the new arrival, Larkin gently led her husband away. “Ryker. Now’s not the time.”
“Not the time for what, Cupcake? Wearing the damn skates?” he grumbled, shaking his head in irritation.
The deep clearing of a throat caught Ryker’s attention, and he glanced at his friend. “Jay, you alright, man?”
Blayne could only stare as Jamie brushed off the front of his tailored shirt, giving a hint of how hard his abs remained and dousing her head with a waterfall of memories.
The gentle glide of his thick fingers through her hair, the hard pressure of his chest against hers. The way he’d promised to get her back to Ireland someday.
Her heart ached at the sight of him. Why was he here, now, after all this time?
Anger and devastation and an annoying layer of awareness wrapped around her in a binding sheath of emotions, making it difficult to breathe.
Jamie ignored Ryker’s question and approached her, keeping his hands to himself this time.
He’d always been a quick learner. Back in Ireland, he’d had her big sister, Ruby, wrapped around his finger, always getting the first bite of her bread pudding when their little brother, Dylan, never even stood a chance. And it was well known in Glengarriff that the miracle baby of the MacCaffrey family always got what he wanted when it came to Ruby.
The memory tugged at her heart, making the poor organ feel as though it were engaged in a game of tug o’ war.
“How are you?” His voice poured over her like warmed caramel, but there was more to it than the silky timbre she’d dreamed of for years. There was something deeper with age and raspier with his own emotions.
If he still had any.
She frowned. That was unfair. His openness with his feelings had always been one of her favorite things about him. That and the way his full lips felt as they slid across her collarbone.
But that was once upon a time.
And she’d learned the stone-cold truth about fairy tales.
Pulling from her strong Irish reserves, she squared her shoulders, locked her eyes with his, and stood as confidently as she could in her barely-there practice skirt and derby skates. She’d have killed for her Wiggle dress in that moment.
“I’ve never been better.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
If James Alexander Wilmington Astor III had woken up in the emergency room and been told he’d taken a sledgehammer to the head, he wouldn’t have been surprised.
And it would have hurt a helluva lot less.
He rubbed the ache in his chest as he took in the sight of the only woman he’d ever loved.
To say the years had been kind to her was an understatement. Blayne looked more gorgeous than ever. Even with the pain in her expression that she so desperately tried to hide every time she glanced in his direction.
He cleared his throat. “I can see that.” His voice still came out in a husky declaration.
She stared at him as if contemplating how to kill him, then turned away.
He didn’t take his eyes off her, drinking in every inch of flesh he’d missed over the years.
He’d always been a selfish bastard, and regarding this woman, worse than most.
And here he was again.
Returning to Cape Van Buren to fulfill and reclaim the love of his life was loaded with risk. Especially since it had been that sense of duty and his selfish tunnel-focus on success that had cost him her love in the first place. But he hadn’t counted on crashing headfirst into her on the very day he moved home.
Holding the woman who’d haunted his dreams for over a decade in his arms once again had been worth the pain of their earlier mishap.
“You’ve been busy.”
She spared him a fraction of a glance over her shoulder, then turned to face him head-on. “That’s what people do.”
His low chuckle had her tensing so tight that anyone else would have snapped, but not his Blayne.
Ryker had reached out to him about teaming up with a local businesswoman to ensure a successful launch of the Archer Conservation Park of Cape Van Buren, and when he found out it was her, he couldn’t refuse.
Now here she was, even more stunning than the night he’d witnessed her washing a beer down with a shot of whiskey at the Blue Loo Pub during his graduation trip to Ireland. That night, life as he knew it had changed forever.
He swallowed hard, ignoring the unbearable feeling of his heart crumbling under the weight of accusation in her stare. The precision in her arched brows and the crystal-clear seafoam green of her eyes had always ignited a fire in him like nothing else.
At the same time his heart was dying, his damn dick was rising to an occasion that had no chance of happening.
He put a real effort in keeping his gaze latched on hers, but the temptation was too great, and he took in the miles of toned thighs that popped out from a derby skirt that had the letters XXX on the front and back.
She had a tattoo on the outside of her left thigh of a Celtic knot weaved with yellow roses—her late mother’s favorite flower—and dripping with ivy. He’d spent many nights tracing the design with his tongue. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
Fucking-A.
Ryker yanked open the refrigerator door and peered inside. “What can I get you, Jay? Want a beer?”
He slid onto a stool at the large island with the white granite top. He forced himself to act like nothing was wrong when it was about as wrong as it could get. Guilt slithered its way up his spine to sit like a lead brick on his shoulders, making the considerable weight of regret grow even heavier. It was going to be a long time before he’d be able to walk free of it. If ever.
Popping the top off two beers, Ryker took in the group with an uncharacteristic grin. Married life must have given the man permanent beer goggles because he was oblivious to what was going on here.
“This partnership will be easier than we thought with the two of you already knowing each other.” He nudged Larkin. “And you were worried.”
His wife visibly blanched, watching Blayne with worried eyes. She knew every incriminating detail of the day Jay left—and then some.
“Partnership?” Blayne ground out while she bent at the waist to unlace her skates. The round profile of her fishnet covered ass peeked out from her skirt with her efforts, leaving him to shift in his seat once again. If she kept it up, he’d be permanently chafed.
Jay exhaled roughly. Man, this was going to be a long couple of months. He owed Ryker, he owed the Astor family name, and most of all, he owed Blayne.
It was time to pay up his debts.
But more than any of it, he was determined to win her back no matter how hard it was to face the woman he’d exchanged for a taste of success.
He’d jumped at the opportunity to attend university abroad while helping expand the family investment business into Europe, setting a precedent as the youngest on the team, and showing he was more than just an heir. He was a leader like his father.
The moment he’d been tempted, he knew she’d deserved better than an ass like him. And the morning he’d woken up back in Europe, he’d realized leaving her in the states was a grave mistake.
But after what he’d done, it had been too late to ask her to take him back. Not until he could stand on his own two feet and prove that leaving had been worth something, be a success in his own right instead of simply because he held the Astor name.
“You always did like to do things on your own. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed,” he said.
She stilled for a moment, then unlaced the second skate. She slid them both off, stepping down to the floor and a height that would have been less intimidating in any other female. But not her. She was fierce.
Now to remind his brain of that fact because the sight of her in bare feet ignited every protective instinct deep inside, catching him off guard. Especially since she’d only ever needed protecting from the likes of him.
With a lift to her pert little chin, she slid onto a stool, so close he felt the heat of irritation radiating from her skin. No doubt, it was the last place she wanted to be. Tough and stubborn. That was his Irish warrior, his Bean laoch. He’d called her Bean ever since learning Bean laoch meant “woman warrior” in Gaelic.
She’d kick him for that thought, too.
“Enough of the small talk. What’s going on, Ryker? The last time we spoke, I was launching the center. I’ve the skill and the experience. And you know it.” She glared through impossibly long lashes.
Jay dipped his chin. “And I have the financial knowledge to ensure the sustainability of your plan.”
She scoffed. “Knowledge I can attain. I’m not without connections.”
“Neither am I,” Ryker pointed out, nodding toward Jay. “What’s the problem?”
Jay and Blayne ignored him.
“You always were so headstrong,” Jay said, watching her eyes flash with a memory. Her stubbornness had turned him on, and he used to push her on purpose just to get a reaction out of her way back when. A reaction he’d then had the immense pleasure of helping her burn off.
She turned her head slowly and pinned him with a look. An explosion was coming, and he was primed and ready for it. In fact, he welcomed it, anything to relieve the guilt, the wanting, to distract him from the need to yank her into his arms and beg for forgiveness.
Looking from Larkin to Ryker then to him, she jerked in a breath. “Fine.”
“What?!” Jay and Larkin said together.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one expecting a fight.
She spread her hands wide on the pristine white granite. “It’s the last Friday of April, the launch is in four weeks. I can handle anything for that long. What’s important is this center, Archer’s memory, and what this will do for Cape Van Buren. Not my feelings.”
She turned toward him and held his gaze until something shifted in hers. A cold, empty void. “And certainly not yours.”
Her berry red lips formed each word, but he couldn’t believe his ears. Blayne MacCaffrey never gave in.
And then the truth of it all slammed him upside the head once again.
The woman he was determined to win back wasn’t giving in, she was declaring war.
After a night of tossing and turning, Blayne yawned and dragged the white primer-dipped paintbrush over the dark stripes of the Van Buren front parlor like an eraser. If only there was a primer she could use on the decisions of her eighteen-year-old self who’d been blinded by love and deafened by youth.
Youth should be added to the DSM for psychological disorders. Delusional didn’t even begin to describe the ego-fueled declarations of certainty she’d shouted at her da back then. He’d warned her that there was no honor in her and Jamie’s actions, but she hadn’t listened.
She hadn’t cared.
She’d loved Jamie. And it was a feeling unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life. All-encompassing, all-knowing, with a happy ever after that would last an eternity.
She dragged the brush in the opposite direction, forever blotting out another section of the navy-and-eggplant stripe.
He’d loved her, too. She never doubted it.
But not enough. Not like she’d loved him. And even if he had, it didn’t make it any easier to remember the pain of watching him walk out the door of their tiny little apartment. She’d begged him to stay, resulting in a humiliation so great she’d promised herself never again. Then she’d screamed at him, even giving him an ultimatum that if he left to never come back.
Just as her da had given her.
She closed her eyes against the pain of it all.
Her anger toward Jamie had been fueled by despair, fear, and heartbreak. Another awful combination for decision-making.
Neither of them had shown honor that day either. It had been a bad pattern from the start.
And now her first love, her only love, was back in town.
The painful irony was that it was moments like this that she needed her Da. How many times had he held her close after some bloke had broken her tender heart as a teen? Too many times to count.
He’d rub his big hand over her hair, his deep voice a rumbling whisper. “Ya know, Blayney, yer very special. It’s hard for a young lad to know how ta handle a lass like you. I think ya scare ‘em, I do. Ya need a strong lad, an exceptional one that sees how brilliant a feisty spirit like ya have is. So be patient. He’ll come.”
He’d always seemed to be so sure that her naïve little heart believed every word. And just like that, she’d hop back on her feet.
He’d been right. The right boy had come and then left.
Now she had to work with him.
Unless she could change Larkin’s mind.
“When did Claire say she’d be by?” Larkin asked as she poured primer into her plastic paint pan.
Claire Adams completed their little trio. Having been targeted by Larkin’s need to heal after losing her son, Archer, the woman had never stood a chance against being brought into their fold. It had been Clair’s fiancé and Larkin’s husband in the accident that made them both lose too much. And Larkin had been determined to make sure something good came out of such loss.
Blayne stepped away from the wall and her musings and set her brush down. Tightening the yellow bandana to keep her hair out of her face, she glanced at the grandfather clock in the foyer. “After lunch. That’s last I heard anyway. By the way, we need to put tarps or sheets or something on these floors to protect against paint spills.” She buried her hands in the front pockets of her overalls and strategized on how to best broach the subject. “Listen…”
Larkin dropped her brush into her bucket then, abandoning her painting post, turned to face her. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I was afraid if I told you Ryker’s idea of a partner, you’d back out completely. But I swear I had no clue Jay was your Jamie!”
Blayne pressed her lips together in an effort to smile. “I know. No one called him Jamie but me. I never imagined he still had ties here. I mean, his family has a home on the edge of town, but they rarely used it even back then. They spent most of their time abroad and at their home in New York City.”
Larkin released a nervous breath and gave her an imploring look. “I know it’s selfish of me, but I need you on this project. Archer needs you on this project.”
She stilled. “That was a low blow.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that?” Larkin wrung her hands together, then stepped close. “Besides, I think this is a good thing.”
“A good thing?” She could barely get her words out; her jaw was clamped so tight.
“You need to work through this so you can finally move on. It’s been ten years.”
“I moved on a long time ago,” she huffed.
“The hell you have. Tell me one guy you’ve dated more than a week? You make a one-night stand look like a commitment.”
The judgment burned in her chest. “Wow. Are you bleedin’ mad? Since when do you care who I sleep with?”
Larkin grabbed her arm with a shake. “That is not what I meant, and you know it. I don’t care how many people you sleep with, or who. I’m talking about a connection deeper than the length of a man’s dick.”
Blayne blinked. Did Larkin really just say that?
Her friend crossed her arms over her chest as a blush raced to her hairline. “Yeah, I said it, and I’ll say more. You told me once that you worried I’d stopped living. Well, I worry about you, too. You have a wicked huge, fierce, and loving heart, but you won’t let anyone in.”
“I haven’t met anyone worth letting in. Besides, what’s the point when I need to go home?”
Larkin’s sigh was heavy.
Blayne would miss her, too. But she’d been away from her family for far too long. And with the conservation project, she’d finally feel worthy of going home.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to change your mind, and history has taught me that if I push too hard, it only makes you push back harder.”
Blayne smirked. “Takes one to know one.”
Larkin stuck her tongue out. “I was grieving.”
An image of Archer with his blond hair and dimpled grin immediately filled Blayne with a heavy ache. She didn’t know how her friend had found the strength to move ahead after he’d died, but with a lot of love and cherished memories, Larkin was turning the death of her five-year-old little boy into a bright light for their community.
She was in awe of her.
“Besides, I didn’t stand a chance with you and Maxine at me all the time.” Larkin laughed, but gratitude glowed from the depths of her green eyes. “And now I have Ryker and this little bundle.” She slowly rubbed the round expanse of her growing belly.
“At first, I was grieving, too. In a different way of course. One based in rejection and strengthened by broken dreams and loneliness.”
Larkin shook her head. “It makes me so angry to think of what he did to you. Bringing you here and then leaving you all alone was cruel.”
With a nod, Blayne walked to her paint and brush. “I was devastated. Which is why I don’t want to work with him. You have to change Ryker’s mind.”
“I explained everything to him, but this launch is too important, and the donor program is what will keep it running.”
Blayne’s heart squeezed painfully. “Larkin, you have to.” She stepped toward her. “I can’t do this. I—”
“But you just said you weren’t willing to lose this opportunity.”
“It was just something to say!” Panic raised her voice. She grabbed her brush, then spun back to her friend. “I will make this launch a success. I have as much riding on this as you, maybe more.”
“I know, but the donor—”
“Guarantees the center’s future. I got it.” She shook the brush in the air as emphasis. “And when I say I got it, I do. I can handle the donor program and the launch.”
Larkin waved at her. “Be careful.”
“I’m always careful. I’d never put the center in jeopardy.”
“Not the launch, the floor!” Larkin lunged. “You’re dripping all over the place.”
Slow to catch on, Blayne stared at her friend. What the hell? The paint drips slowly came into focus. “Shit.” She stepped away, bumping the small ladder that held her paint pan.
“No!” Larkin’s eyes shot wide as she grabbed the brush.
The pan teetered, and Blayne twisted to get a hold of the plastic tray.
“Catch it!”
The pan slid. Blayne grabbed the edge, but paint sloshed forward, and she jerked the pan up to stop the flow. The opposite edge dropped from the ladder top. Shoving her other hand under the falling side, she slowed its descent but lost her balance, taking the paint tray with her.
Landing hard on her butt, she steadied the pan, victorious with only a small dollop of white primer next to her on the floor. “Phew!”
Larkin grinned. “That was close.”
“You’ve got that right!”
Just then, the front door slammed. “What the hell happened in here?”
The familiar voice was still jarring to her nerves. With her emotions high, she flinched, losing her grip on the pan.
“Shit!” She swore as the primer poured all over her abdomen and onto the floor.
Jamie stood over her, his broad shoulders covered by a gray Henley and an annoying as fuck grin on his face. “Is this going to be a habit with you?” He squatted next to her.
The heat of him immediately enveloped her in a warm, familiar haze that was both heaven and hell. And despite everything, her chest constricted as the object of her frustration stared down at her, crowding her space.
The image of him leaving her all alone filled her vision, and her paint covered fingers twitched against the pain of betrayal that flooded her heart. In a reflex of self-preservation, she pressed her hands to his face and dragged the paint from his thick hair to his chiseled chin.
Jay sputtered through the shock and awe of Blayne’s paint assault and reared back. Losing his balance, he landed on his ass—hard—his body splayed out like a fool with two women laughing louder than his frat brothers did the night of the full moon streak when they’d locked him out of the house.
Shoving up from the floor, he grabbed a towel from their work table. “You two are hilarious.” He swiped at the paint, failing to keep from staring at Blayne as she bent to clean up the mess from the tiled floor. He remembered those overalls, or at least ones she used to have just like them. She’d tease him by wearing them around the apartment with nothing underneath.
There was something damn sexy about the swell of her naked breasts peeking out from the sides of the front chest pocket, the expanse of smooth skin where he could just see the shadows of her ribs, and—
“Jay, are you listening?”
He took a second to take another swipe at his face, wishing his dick didn’t twitch with every damn memory, then blinked and found Larkin handing him a wet cloth.
“You can use the washroom by the back door. A little soap and water should get that right off.” She giggled behind her fingers.
He grabbed the towels and shot a glare at Blayne, but she’d returned to work with an innocent expression on her face, painting the wall as if he wasn’t standing there covered in primer.
But he knew better.
He had the strongest urge to spin her around and press her up against the damn wall.
And what?
He gritted his teeth.
Every idea that followed tightened his body in a wild knot of need, but he didn’t have the right to help her up from the floor much less kiss the look of sweet triumph off her face. Not when he’d abandoned her at the first opportunity to move up in his family’s company. He’d been a selfish bastard and had chased ambition with singular focus at the expense of anyone around him. It’s when he’d also realized that she’d be a helluva lot better off without him.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t feel like you have to stay.” Blayne’s husky voice with the slightest hint of an Irish brogue followed him down the hall. Yeah, he imagined she wanted him to leave, alright.
Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but that’s not happening again.
Not in this lifetime anyway.
He made quick work of his face then, glancing down at his chest, he sighed. There wasn’t much to be done about his favorite shirt. Maybe Maxine could work a bit of her magic on it; that moonshine of hers could get the purple out of a Malbec grape.
He turned the vintage, black crow-wing faucets to their off position then stepped into the hallway. He couldn’t resist a quick detour into the Van Buren honey room, and a whole different kind of guilt settled in.
Back in the day, he and Ryker had been goofing around and found a stash of his dad’s whiskey in a cupboard under the sink. Ryker had kept telling him to put it back, but being an arrogant teen who knew more than anyone else, Jay hadn’t listened and accidentally dropped it.
He’d never forget the look of fear on Ryker’s face followed by a look of resolve.
The next day at school Ryker had shown up with a black eye and a split lip. Jay later found out his buddy had taken the blame in an attempt to protect him.
With a deep indrawn breath, he lingered in the sweet scent of honey and let it ease the difficult memory.
There was something amazing about seeing the room up and running with cleaned frames in a stand on the counter and the spotless sterling pot of the honey extractor.
Jay couldn’t count the broken hearts littering his footprints. It never mattered that he was clear from the beginning he wanted nothing beyond a casual fling. Every woman had thought she was the one to change him. But his attention had always been on the next win. In business and relationships.
However, if Ryker had been able to face his demons and right the wrongs of his past, even those he wasn’t responsible for, well then, so could Jay.
As he made his way to the ladies, the front door slammed closed. He found Blayne all alone, having finished one full wall and well on her way with another. Grabbing a brush, he said, “Larkin left?”
“Claire came to help, but they ran out to grab another gallon of paint so we could start early tomorrow.” She paused, not bothering to hide the smirk on her perfectly painted lips. “You don’t need to stick around either. We both know that’s not your strong point.”
The needle burned, but he let it slide on through. “I deserve that.”
“Yes, you do.”
He dipped his chin and his paintbrush, then turned to the wall.
“I don’t remember you being so…”
She turned, her brush held in front of her like a weapon. “So…what?” With slow steps, she rounded the ladder. “Determined? Strong? That’s what happens when you’re an eighteen-year-old woman in a foreign country with few friends and no family.”
His gut turned at the thought. What the fuck had he been thinking to leave her? He’d needed to be richer? More successful? More of an Astor?
He’d struggled with the need to prove he deserved the name since he could remember. So much so, he’d turned into a selfish prick to make it true. Every decision he’d made had been so thoroughly justified, not even his mother had been able to get through to him.
He certainly had been successful at the ass part of Astor.
“At least you were already a citizen,” he offered, though the sight of her sharp brows drawing together gave him fair warning it was the wrong thing to say. He immediately threw his hands out. “I’m sorry.”