Coast Guard Sweetheart. Lisa Carter
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where have you been assign—never mind.” Honey gave her head a tiny shake. “Not that I care what you’ve been doing all this time. I’ve been plenty busy reopening the Duer Fishermen’s Lodge.” She tucked a wavy curl behind her ear.
Sawyer’s eyes followed the movement of her hand. “I heard through the village grapevine about the inn. How your hard work is paying off. Your dreams coming true.”
“This season is critical for turning a profit. Make it or break it. After finally branding the lodge as a premier Tidewater wedding venue, I don’t need any more grief from you or those with mistaken notions about my own good.”
His face shadowed. He folded the dishtowel into meticulous thirds on the drain board. “I expect this peninsula—if not this village—is big enough for the two of us, Hon—” He grimaced. “I mean—Beatrice. I promise I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”
“I’d like to tell you what I think of your promises, cowboy. But I won’t.” She shoved off from the sink. “What you can do is explain to me why you cut anchor and sailed out of my life three years ago. I think you owe me that at least.”
Hunching, he crossed his arms over his broad chest, momentarily distracting Honey.
Sawyer tucked his thumbs under his biceps and out of sight. “I’m sorry for hurting you. But better I hurt you before you got in over your head.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Before I got in over my head, Coastie? Speak for yourself.”
Sawyer glanced away.
Her stomach churned. Why wouldn’t he look at her? Was she so repellant to him that he still couldn’t bear facing her? If only she knew what she’d said or done...
Or had he walked away for greener pastures? She’d been an idiot to believe he was any different from the skirt-chasing Coastie who’d abandoned her dead oldest sister, Lindi, and baby Max.
“Let me get this through my obviously thickheaded Eastern Shore dumb blonde skull, Kole.”
She grabbed hold of his chin between her thumb and forefinger, and jerked his gaze to hers. Electric fire sparked between her fingertips and his skin. She dropped her hand.
He edged out of her reach. “I had my reasons.”
She rubbed her tingling fingers against the side of her skirt and gathered the remnants of her self-respect. “So you’re sorry you hurt me, but not sorry you left me? And you still don’t have the decency to tell me why.”
A vein beat a furious tempo in his cheek. Her heart pounded at the bleak expression on his face. Her eyes stung. She was so done with crying over this cowboy.
Confusion and misery rose in equal measure, twisting her insides. “I wish,” Honey spat, “you’d stayed in that black Oklahoma hole that you crawled out of.”
Sawyer flinched as if she’d struck him. He closed his eyes for a second as if absorbing the blow. And when he opened his eyes?
Her heart wrenched, leaving her feeling like she’d just kicked a dog when it was down.
“I think...” That slow, cowboy drawl of his cracked a trifle. He cleared his throat and surveyed the Sandpiper kitchen. Once more refusing to meet her gaze.
Or answer her questions.
“I think between us, we’ve done about as much as we can to repair the damage.” He took a ragged breath. “But I wish...”
She strained forward, but Sawyer choked off the rest and hurried toward the dining room.
What? What did Sawyer wish?
He yanked open the glass-fronted door, setting the bells into a furious jingle.
She stared until the door whooshed shut behind him. She monitored his quick, determined stride across the parking lot separating the CG station from the cafe. With a sinking heart, she watched him disappear toward the end of the Kiptohanock town pier.
“You’re mean, Aunt Honey.”
Max hung over the cutout window, elbows planted in place. She wondered how long he’d perched there. How much he’d overheard.
“I don’t like you today.” His lower lip trembled. “And I don’t want to stay with you and Granddad this summer while that stupid baby’s born.” Max frowned. “Inside I feel as mean as you treated Sawyer.”
Remorse fretted at her conscience. What was wrong with her? She used to never be this way. That is, not until Sawyer had cut her heart to the quick.
“Is that why Mimi left me here? ’Cause I’m so mean?”
“No, Max.” She reached for him. “You’re not mean. Amelia had to go to her doctor appointment. Like last month. She told you why you couldn’t come today.”
Max slung his legs over to the kitchen side. “I want her to come home. I want things to be the way they used to be before...” He shook his head. “But once the other boy comes nothing will ever be the same.”
She gathered him close. “Mimi and Braeden love you. That is something that will never change.”
Max leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you think she wanted this baby ’cause I got too big to hold? I tried not to grow. Honestly.” He captured her face.
She ignored the gritty feel of his palms on her skin and focused on his blueberry eyes where moisture welled. “Oh, Max.”
Max had been born mere hours before his dying mother, Lindi, the oldest Duer daughter, bequeathed her infant son into the trustworthy hands of Amelia. And when Max turned two? Honey shuddered to recall those horrible years after Max was diagnosed with childhood leukemia. How she, Dad and most especially Amelia—Max’s beloved Mimi—suffered with the little boy through every treatment until he reached remission.
The frail, sickly boy Braeden Scott first met had been replaced by this healthy, suntanned, mischievous bundle of energy. This same redheaded boy had been instrumental in Amelia finding her own happily-ever-after with the handsome Coastie Scott.
“Nothing will change when this baby’s born, Max. Only then, you’ll have someone else to play with and love, too.”
“It won’t be the same...” His voice dropped.
She kissed his forehead. “It’ll be better, Max. Better than before, I promise.” His skin tasted of cinnamon sugar, a legacy from the Long John war.
“Like Sawyer promised?” Max peered at her. “I like Sawyer. Don’t you remember when he—”
“When he showed his true character.” Honey remembered that glorious spring far too well. “Sawyer Kole doesn’t keep his promises. Me you can trust, Max. Him, I can’t afford to.”
* * *
Sawyer grabbed the mooring line Seth Duer threw to him. He secured the rope around the cleat on the Kiptohanock wharf. Motorboats and other small fishing vessels also docked alongside the pier. The briny aroma of sea salt perfumed the air.
He took a deep, steadying breath.
Because this conversation promised to be about as fun as sitting on a desert cactus. Unpleasant, but a necessary part of Sawyer’s self-prescribed penance. He’d hurt this man’s daughter. Sawyer prepared himself to be slugged in the jaw and dropped in the Machipongo drink. All of which he deserved.
And more.
“Mr. Duer, sir.”
His hand hard with calluses, Seth passed him one of the now empty bait buckets. Sweat broke out on Sawyer’s forehead at the older man’s unnerving silence. He stepped back as Honey’s father hoisted the other bucket onto the pier. And with a light-footedness that denied his fifty-odd years, the rugged Shoreman bridged the gap between the Now I Sea and the dock.
The wiry waterman brushed