At First Touch (The Malone Brothers) (9 page)

For some reason he felt obligated to make sure she did just that. The only thing was, why? And, it kind of didn’t seem so much of an obligation anymore. He wanted to see her. Wanted to make her smile. Make her laugh.

Make her live.

He thought about her all the time. All. The. Time. The more he saw through her roughness, the more he got a glimpse through that wall she’d built around her heart, the more he wanted to break it down.

And he wanted her to let him do it.

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
they docked the small rowboat, the moon hung in such a way that made the shadows merge, blur. Reagan really couldn’t make out much of anything at all. But Eric hopped out, then his strong fingers grasped hers and he hauled her up, tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and started walking her across the marsh. She’d briefly wondered how she’d manage without her walking stick, but she should’ve known Eric Malone would never have just sent her on her way. Beneath her fingers, his biceps felt hard, defined, and his skin warm. He smelled good, too, like some kind of zingy man soap.

Why was she noticing all of that?

See me.

Very prolific, those words from Eric Malone. Enough to make her sit up and take notice. Enough to want to explore his face with her fingertips and truly see his grown-up features, because the ones she’d had stuck in her head were foggy, old childhood memories of a skinny little hyper kid with knobby knees and wide green eyes and an even wider smile.

She reckoned the only thing that had truly changed was the knobby knees.

Reagan noticed the glow from her porch ahead in the darkness, and knew they were close to the house. Eric had allowed her quiet thoughts, and she was glad. Funny, how she kind of felt comfortable around him, whether talking or being silent.

“Um, sorry about your pizza,” Eric stated beside her. “It’s probably pretty cold by now.”

Reagan squeezed Eric’s arm lightly, then dropped her hand. “Great invention called a microwave will take care of that, no problem.” In the light of the porch she could vaguely make out his dark figure. “Thanks. For tonight.”

His hand encircled her forearm and he led her up the steps to her door. “Hey, I didn’t get punched in the face, so a plus for me,” he said, chuckling. “Jep swore you’d punch me in the eye.” He dropped his hand but didn’t move.

It was then Reagan noticed how the air seemed to snap around them. Come alive. Take on a life of its own. It almost...vibrated around her. She could actually feel it.

And it was at that exact time she felt the need to get away fast before she did something crazy.

Like kiss Eric Malone.

She hadn’t felt anything remotely similar since the accident. Well, to be honest, even before that. Before, it’d been playful, flirty, non-serious gestures that guys and girls make without even halfway thinking about them. But this felt different. She could feel it through her skin, all the way to her insides to where butterflies kicked up in her stomach. But she should definitely not give away that information. No way.

Instead, she gave a cocky grin. “Yeah, well, I almost did,” she said. “See you around, Malone.” She reached for the door, but Eric’s body moved and he stepped in front of her to open it. Reagan slid past him, their bodies close.

“Yeah, you will,” he said, and his husky voice washed over her, and her heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. “Night, Reagan Rose.”

She stood there as Eric bounded down the porch steps and headed for the lane, and he began to sing Foreigner’s “Feels Like the First Time.”

The air was still enough so that Eric’s voice carried, and she listened to his somewhat off-key version of the song until another voice reached her ears.

“Damn, boy, shut your piehole.” Jep’s gravelly voice carried across the lane. “You’re gonna make dogs start barking.”

And when one did, somewhere in the distance, Reagan could not stop the smile that spread across her face. Then a laugh came out, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

She knew right then that she was in deep, deep trouble.

CHAPTER NINE

R
EAGAN
HEATED
UP
her mushroom-and-spinach pizza, and was sitting at the table eating when Emily and Matt came in.

“Hey, guys,” Reagan said.

Both Emily and Matt pulled a chair out and sat with her. Two shadows, one bigger than the other. She really missed seeing her sister’s happy eyes—which is what their mom had always called them.

“Brought you some wedding cake,” Em said, plunking something down in front of Reagan. “I love wedding cake. I’d crash a wedding just to have some.”

“You have crashed one just to have some,” Reagan reminded her.

“Oh, yeah.” Emily laughed. “How was your night? I hope you haven’t been bored out of your gourd.”

“No, not really,” Reagan confessed. “Eric sort of kidnapped me. Literally.”

“Well, tell me all about it!” Emily said excitedly.

Matt rose from the table. His dark form leaned over, and Reagan heard his soft kiss against Em’s cheek. “That’s my cue to leave girls to their girlie talk. Night, Reagan.”

“Good night,” she replied.

“Night, future husband,” Emily called.

Matt’s chuckle sounded from the door before he closed it behind him.

“Okay,” Emily said with excitement, and scooted her chair closer. “Can I have your crust?”

Reagan nodded, and Emily gathered one of the discarded crusts and bit off a piece. “Go.”

Reagan smiled. “It’s...not a huge deal, Em. Eric just kind of took me off the porch, carried me across the marsh and tossed me into his rowboat. Even forced a life vest on me.”

Emily squealed and clapped her hands. “Perfect! But...why?”

“Well,” Reagan continued. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, and it rested over her shoulder. “Apparently, he’s been making some unpleasant observances of my ho-hum behavior and thought to rattle me.”

“Did it work?”

Emily’s hands crept over Reagan’s and enveloped them.

“Yeah, kind of. He’s made me think, that’s for sure,” Reagan confessed. “He actually suggested I start painting again.”

Emily’s hands tightened around hers. “You absolutely should, Sissy! You love to do it, and your work is simply breathtaking.”

“Thanks,” Reagan replied. “I’m just not sure how it’d turn out, now that I can’t see. What if it’s awful?”

“I can’t imagine anything completed by you being awful, Rea,” Emily said. “Who knows? It might be even better. Won’t know ’til you try.”

Reagan sighed. “I was kind of thinking the same thing.”

“Yay!” Em dropped Reagan’s hands, jumped up and threw her arms around Reagan’s neck, giving her a heartfelt hug. She kissed her cheek, making a big smacking sound and causing Reagan to giggle, just like when they were kids. Em sat back down, and grasped her hands once more. “You know, I’ve seen Eric perk up since your arrival. I mean, he’s always been charming and funny, but there’s been a sadness in his eyes that seems to have faded since you came back to Cassabaw.”

That piqued Reagan’s curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know all the details—those Malones can be tight-lipped about some things, and fiercely protective of one another. Eric was engaged before his transfer back to Cassabaw Station. His fiancée didn’t want to leave, and she broke it off with him, and I think that was about a year ago. Totally broke his heart.” Emily sighed. “Now that I’ve come to know the grown-up Eric, I can’t imagine a girl breaking things off with him. He’s quite a dish, not to mention all the other fine Malone qualities he possesses. He has one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. Matt said Eric would have done anything for that girl, but his transfer was fixed. Such a shame.”

That took Reagan off guard. Big-time. Didn’t see that one coming at all. “I thought Eric was some suave, smooth-talking ladies’ man.”

Emily’s soft laugh tinkled out, and she then released Reagan’s hands and sat back. “He’s just like Jep—loves the ladies.” She shook her head. “It’s all in good nature. He’s a kind soul. But his heart has a crack in it, and whoever has the power to heal that fracture, well, she’ll be something special all right.”

Reagan listened to her sister’s charming, vintage way of speaking, and considered her words. Guys were typically pretty silent about past relationships, and had Emily not mentioned the breakup, Reagan wouldn’t have guessed it. Eric was so upbeat. Charismatic. Funny, in a sarcastic and witty type of way. Quite appealing, actually.

He obviously kept his broken heart under wraps.

And she’d definitely keep it in mind. A guy with a broken heart could be a dangerous, dangerous creature. Maybe she’d imagined the sparks earlier that night with Eric, and if so, it was best left as is. One-sided. Reagan definitely didn’t want to become a rebound girl. No way.

Good thing she hadn’t reacted and kissed him.

But she did want to keep Eric’s friendship. They’d be family, practically. And she did enjoy his company, although she wasn’t ready to admit that to anyone, either. She’d just have to ignore any vibes that she might imagine.

“You know, I’m only going into the café in the morning for a few hours,” Emily started. “Wanna...join me? Meet the fellas? Have some eggs Benedict, perhaps, under the wind chimes with the South Carolina surf crashing just steps away—”

“Sure,” Reagan agreed. “I’d love to.”

“Really?” Emily started. “Yes! That’s phenomenal!” She leaped from her seat, gave her another big-sister hug and hurried off. “See you in the morning, Rea. Be ready by eight!” Her voice faded to the back of the house.

Reagan sat for a few more minutes, finding a fork and consuming the entire piece of wedding cake. All while her thoughts flew around the rowboat ride with Eric, and the words he’d said to her. Just two small words.

See me.

He’d never know just how much they’d struck her.

After a quick shower, Reagan braided her wet hair, made her way to her bedroom and crawled beneath the covers. After a few moments, she kicked them off, her arm draped over her forehead. Maybe she would give painting another try. Maybe just one picture. A small one. Just to see how it turned out.

As her eyes drifted shut, her mind still whirled with memories of the night’s events. Not huge events, but glitches in time that were, for whatever reason, sticking to her brain. The way Eric smelled. The feel of his hands as they settled over hers and lifted to his cheeks. The funny things he’d said. The whole throwing-her-over-his-shoulder bit.

The way her heart had stopped for a split second when she’d slid past him in the doorway.

Flinging herself onto her side, Reagan knew she’d need to banish most of those thoughts from her mind. It’d do her no good in the end, and she knew it. Her focus needed to remain on getting up and on her feet. Somehow, managing some sort of extra income perhaps. And eventually—hopefully, soon—getting her own place. She didn’t want to be the third wheel with newlyweds, that was for damn sure, despite how much Emily and even Matt had insisted she stay.

Not if she could possibly help it.

Finally, with the sound of Eric’s raspy chuckle stuck in her ears, she drifted off to sleep.

By the time her alarm went off the next morning, Reagan had convinced herself that she’d allowed the moments with Eric the night before to make her think crazy thoughts. Make her believe things that actually weren’t there.

Like, say, attraction. The desire to kiss him. And the tingling that tickled her skin. No, she had been overwhelmed with the realization that she needed to get herself on track. And she had Eric to thank for that.

Nothing more.

Quickly brushing her teeth, then her hair, and pulling it into a fresh ponytail, Reagan’s fingers glided over her selections in the closet and chose a sleeveless sundress. She honestly had no idea what color it was, and figured it would certainly match a pair of white sandals. Shouldering her purse, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway and nearly collided with her sister.

“Oh! You look adorable! Let me grab my bag and we’ll be on our way,” Emily said cheerfully.

Reagan stepped outside onto the veranda, and the heavy late-August morning seemed to cling to every inch of her skin. She’d been in scorching-hot weather, but there was nothing quite like a Southern coastal barrier island dog day to suck the air out of your lungs.

“Jesus Lord, it’s muggy out here!” Emily said, locking the door and jogging down the steps. “Ready?”

“Yep,” Reagan said, and in moments they were making their way through Cassabaw’s small community, heading to the Windchimer Café.

“I’m so happy you’re with me this morning,” Em said beside her. “The day is beautiful. Not a single cloud in the sky,” she continued.

“Feels like it,” Reagan said with a grin. “I think I lost five pounds since we left the house.”

Emily’s tinkling laugh rang out, and before long the Jeep turned and then parked. Before Reagan could get out and close the door, her sister was there.

“Come on!” she said excitedly. “I can’t wait for you to meet the guys.”

When Emily slipped her arm through hers, Reagan paused. “Sis, no offense,” she said. “But I kind of want to get around on my own.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Em said hastily. “I know you can. I just want to hug you all the time!” She turned Reagan’s arm loose and indeed gave her a quick hug.

Reagan laughed. “I know, I know,” she answered. “Thanks. It makes me feel less dependent. You know?”

“We’ll head around front to the veranda,” Em said, just ahead of her.

Vintage music poured from the café, accompanied by the multiple tinklings of the chimes hanging from the open veranda’s ceiling. The scent of fresh bread, pastries, bacon and ham permeated the sea-salty air, and Reagan’s stomach growled.

Which was drowned out by a group of grizzled voices all calling out at once.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” one rumbled with enthusiasm.

“My heart! My heart!” another one said dramatically.

“Now, if this isn’t the prettiest picture I’ve ever seen I don’t know what is,” another said.

“Come here, you two gals!” a fourth called out. “Good to see you both!”

Using her stick, Reagan made her way behind Emily, up the steps to the veranda and to the corner where four dark figures rose from their seats.

“How ya doin’, fellas?” Emily said. “Meet my gorgeous little sister, Reagan.”

“Hi,” Reagan offered.

“Sit right here,” one said. “You probably don’t remember me, but you used to help my wife, Frances, haul crabs up from the dock.”

Reagan grinned. “Barely, but I do remember. How’ve you been, Mr. Wimpy?”

One pulled a chair out for her, and she sat.

“I’ll be right back with coffee,” Emily announced, leaving her alone with the guys.

“So, lost your sight, eh?” the gruff one said. “That’s a tough one, sweetheart, but at least you got your looks. Ted Harden, US Navy, and a damned handsome devil if I do say so myself.”

“You like baseball, Reagan?” another asked. “Dub Harden, US Navy tail gunner. Nice to meet you, young lady.”

“He’s the baby of the group,” another added. “Sidney Harden, US Navy.”

Reagan smiled and nodded. “It’s an honor to meet you all. Yes, I lost my sight but can still see shadows and brightness. Love baseball. And, wow,” she remarked. “I feel like I’m sitting in a history museum. You’re all legends.”

Silence filled the air for a moment, and Reagan thought she’d offended the old group. Then they all burst out laughing.

“Did you hear that, Wimpy? It’s like we’re a bunch of old-ass fossils or something,” he said, laughing.

“No, honestly I didn’t mean it like that,” Reagan pleaded.

“Don’t let this table of riffraff get the best of you,” a new voice sounded. “Ted, you can get your eyeballs off her legs any second now.”

“Ho! Hey! Watch it, son.” Mr. Wimpy laughed. “Look at this good-lookin’ fella in a Coast Guard uniform.”

Eric Malone swept into the chair beside her. “It’s true, all of it,” he whispered in her ear.

“I’m old, not dead,” Ted grumbled. “Girl’s a dish! Ain’t no harm in checkin’ out the goods.”

They all laughed.

Emily arrived with the coffee, and the aroma steaming from the cup she set on the table rose to Reagan’s nostrils. Grasping it, she sipped it carefully, and the cream and sugar liquid was the perfect mixture. “Thanks.”

“Where’s that jarhead fiancé of yours?” Ted asked Emily.

“He’s meeting with a client today,” Emily replied. “He’s looking to restore a 1940 Ford pickup that belonged to his grandpa.”

“Good. Good to hear,” Ted answered. “Now, boy, don’t come bargin’ in on our little meeting here. Don’t you have a coast to guard?”

Again, all the old guys laughed.

They were quite the characters. Reagan could hardly believe they were all still alive. Emily had said Mr. Wimpy just turned ninety-seven on his birthday in June. He was the eldest of the brothers, followed by Ted, Sidney, then Dub. It was nothing short of amazing.

“Well,” Eric started beside her. “This is the coast, guys, and this pretty thing might need rescuing after spending any amount of time with you.”

The guys grumbled and complained, good-naturedly of course.

Eric leaned toward her. “I’ll pick you up here in a couple of hours,” he stated. “And before you open your mouth, remember your promise.”

Well, there went any plans to worm her way out of that one. She had in fact made a promise.

She’d just simply have to make sure she kept things completely friendly and platonic. Reality in perspective. And not become a rebound girl.

Eric told the group goodbye and went on his way, leaving Reagan and Emily with an aged group of World War II vets who had more stories than an encyclopedia. Emily made eggs Benedict for the whole table, with a side of crisp bacon and toast. The breeze off the Atlantic kept the chimes tinkling, the ebb and flow of the rising tide washed against the beach in a rhythmic tone, and the gulls cried as they skimmed overhead. Reagan relaxed and enjoyed her company, but soon they rose and said their goodbyes, and Em explained that they made their way to the boardwalk where a young guy picked them up in what Ted called “the Caddy”—an extra-seated golf cart—to take them back to the assisted living apartments. Only Wimpy and his wife, Frances, still lived in the same house they’d been living in since the war ended, and that was right beside the Quinns on the river.