The Goodbye Bride (15 page)

Her lips lifted as he slipped behind the bar.

He brought her a refill and seemed in no hurry to go, leaning his elbows on the counter. The movement brought him closer, and, mercy, he was even more handsome at eye level. His deep-set eyes stared back, a fathomless gray color. A lock of hair flopped carelessly over his forehead, and her fingers twitched to feather it back.

“So . . . Lucy Lovett.” His eyes twinkled, silver sparks igniting something inside her. “I think you should go out with me.”

She raised her eyebrows, reaching for her fresh tea. “You do, do you?”

“I do.”

Her lips twitched as she sipped her drink. She took her time, swallowing slowly and folding her arms on the counter opposite him before meeting his gaze.

“And why's that?” she asked.

“Well . . . as you said, it's not fair that you're the only one with a nickname. Only way to fix that is to spend more time with me, get to know me, so you can come up with something fitting.”

She'd already come up with a nickname, but she wasn't about to admit it just yet. Especially since his piercing gray eyes were about to melt her into a puddle.

“Well, that's a mighty good reason, Zac Callahan.”

“So how 'bout it? Got plans this weekend?”

She brought her dimples out to play. “It just so happens I'm free as a bird.”

That Friday night he picked her up at her new apartment. She wore her kelly-green sheath dress that was fitted but not tight. She paired it with silver heels that were low enough to walk about in.

She opened the door, looking up at him with a ready smile on her face.

Lord a-mercy. They didn't grow them this tall in Savannah. He wore a black button-down that accentuated the color of his hair and hugged the broad curves of his shoulders. It was tucked into a fitted pair of khakis.

“Hey there.” She took a deep breath, trying to quell the low hum of excitement that moved through her.

“Hey, Georgia.” His eyes took a quick tour of her outfit, and she caught the flicker of male appreciation. “You look beautiful.”

“Not so bad yourself, Boss,” she said, trying out the nickname.

He gave a crooked smile, and those silver sparks in his eyes flashed in approval.

They took the ferry over to Folly Shoals and got a quiet table at the Oyster Bistro. Conversation flowed with normal first-date information.

Zac was twenty-seven, and he'd been born and raised in Summer Harbor. He was six foot five and had gotten his height from his great-grandpa. His mom was gone, and his dad ran the family Christmas tree farm outside of town. He had two brothers: an older brother, Beau, who was a deputy sheriff, and a younger brother, Riley, who was a lobsterman in the warm months and farm help during the winter.

Zac had gone to a local college, majoring in business
management, but he hadn't finished. A slight flush colored his cheeks as he admitted this, endearing him to her even more. He was confident but unassuming about his restaurant, as if it were commonplace for a twenty-seven-year-old to own a successful business.

He teased her about her accent, and she teased him right back about his. She liked it—the way he dropped his
r
's and sometimes added them back in where they didn't belong.

After dinner they strolled the island's quaint downtown area and stopped for ice cream. They sat on a bench as the sun sank low over the harbor. A salt-laden breeze teased the tendrils alongside her face.

“You have to try this.” Zac held his cone toward her.

He'd tried to talk her into the maple walnut, but she'd settled on a dish of mint chocolate chip with sprinkles—jimmies, he called them.

She angled her head and tried to take a delicate bite, but the ice cream was harder than she expected. The force of her bite knocked the scoop off the cone, and it toppled downward.

Right into his lap.

She sucked in a breath, and her stomach clenched hard. Her eyes met his startled gaze. “Oh no.” She reached for the scoop, then realized it had landed in an awkward spot.

“Oh, gosh. I am so sorry.”

He shuddered beside her.

Her hands fluttered helplessly before she scrambled for her napkins. Leave it to her to ruin a perfect evening.
You are such a klutz, Lucy Lovett!
Her gaze flickered reluctantly to his face.

His eyes glinted with amusement, and the corners of his lips twitched. He shook with silent laughter. As their eyes met, a laugh
escaped him, lighting up his whole face. He scooped up the ice cream bare-handed and tossed it into the nearby trash can.

Her shoulders relaxed, her lips turning up of their own will. She bit back her own laughter.

“Here,” Lucy said sheepishly as she handed him her napkins.

He wiped off his hands and dabbed at the spot on his khakis.

“I'm sorry,” she said, but laughter bubbled out with the words.

“I see that.”

“I can't believe I did that.”

“You know you're going to have to walk in front of me on the way back to the ferry.”

She put her hands against her heated cheeks. “I am so clumsy.”

The remnants of laughter still sparked in his eyes and played on his lips as he reached toward her and dabbed her nose with a napkin.

Oh, great. She'd gotten ice cream all over both of them. Heat suffused her face.

He tossed the napkins, then turned back to her, their eyes aligning. The humor faded bit by bit as his eyes drifted over her face. “You are so adorable.”

Her heart turned over in her chest, and her cheeks went hotter under the intensity of his warm, smoky eyes.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, making her breath stutter.

He came closer, leaning in until his lips touched hers. They were cool and faintly sweet. And soft. So soft. They moved against hers, slow and savoring. That familiar low hum moved through her, and her heart rate doubled in speed. The world reduced in size until it was only him and her, hot breath and cool lips, giving and taking.

He drew away too soon, his eyes catching and holding hers.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I couldn't wait.”

“I'm glad.”

The mood shifted after that. He held her hand on the way back to the ferry. Her hand felt small in his. He made her feel special and protected, and she knew it wouldn't take much at all to fall for him. She was already falling bit by bit every minute she spent with him.

You're in deep trouble, Lucy.

Their conversation focused on simple things. The color of the sky, the brevity of summer, the shortening of the days. At her doorstep, he kissed her good night, and the feel of his lips made everything unravel inside her.

A long while later he drew away, their warm breaths mingling between them. “I'm already half crazy about you, Georgia,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”

Her smile started inside and traveled to her lips. Yes, she was definitely in deep trouble.

They traded numbers and began texting, and they went out again the next weekend. She stopped by the Roadhouse every few days for lunch. She'd dated before. Had seriously dated a man in Boston. She'd broken up with him, though, just before she'd taken a job offer in Nantucket. She'd decided she didn't love him like she should.

But Zac . . . Zac she could love too much. She knew it before their first date had ended. And the more time she spent with him, the more she knew it was true.

Sometimes the feeling brought a tremor of panic. The memory of being abandoned. The urgency to flee. But she pushed the feelings away, determined to enjoy the moments, wherever they might lead. She couldn't seem to help herself.

They'd only had four dates when they became exclusive. She loved everything about him. But sometimes she held things back from him, and she didn't quite know why. When he asked about her father, she told him he'd died. She let him believe that was how she'd ended up under her great-aunt's care. When he asked if she'd ever been in love, she told him yes. But she didn't mention that she'd left Noah for a job elsewhere.

When he told her he loved her, she pulled him close and kissed him deeply, letting her actions speak the words she couldn't seem to say.

The sound of a door closing pulled Lucy back to the present. A loud click, then footsteps going down the hall and up the stairs. Zac was finally home from his date.

The shift from wistful memory to harsh reality was a jarring one. She closed her eyes, wanting to hang on to the wispy edges of the memory for just a little while longer.

Chapter 18

L
ucy settled back in the chair and closed her eyes as an evening breeze swept past. The metallic smell of fireworks mingled with the salty tang of the sea. She'd crashed the Callahans' Fourth of July party—though, technically, Eden had invited her.

She'd skipped the family barbecue at the farmhouse since she was working, but joined them on the Roadhouse deck after closing. They sat in a half circle around a large table, facing the harbor, waiting for the fireworks show. Miss Trudy sat on one side of her, Zac next. Those two were chatting about the farm. Eden was on her other side.

Paige, Beau's ex-girlfriend and Riley's best friend, had hung out with them for a while before joining her friends down on the beach.

Lucy had always liked hanging out with the Callahans. Maybe it was because she was an only child, or maybe it was the sociologist in her, but it fascinated her to watch the give-and-take between the brothers. There was a different vibe now with Riley gone. An obvious hole in the Callahan family. They must miss him keenly on nights like tonight.

On the other side of the deck railing, people clustered on the sand with blankets and coolers, waiting for the show. The fireworks barge sat out in the harbor with a smattering of other boats, their white stern lights reflecting off the water. In the pauses between the sounds of firecrackers and bottle rockets, chatter and laughter carried through the night air.

In the corner of the balcony, Beau helped little Micah hold a sparkler. The glow cast a golden light on the boy's olive-skinned face and made his dark brown eyes gleam. He was adorable, with his headful of black curls.

“Beau's really good with him,” Lucy said to Eden. “You'll make a wonderful family.”

Eden glanced at her son and fiancé, smiling as she watched the pair. “If you'd told me last year I'd be engaged right now, I would've said you were crazy.”

“You're the crazy one, I think. Crazy about Beau Callahan.”

Eden sighed. “I really am. He's . . . everything my late husband wasn't. Antonio was . . .” She shook her head, pressing her lips together. “I guess we just do the best we can and trust God with the rest. Life will always have troubles. It's what shapes and molds us and makes us into the people He wants us to be. As hard as my marriage was, I'll never regret it because I wouldn't have Micah otherwise. Besides, everything that happened led me to Beau, and I've never been so happy.”

“I'm glad. You deserve it. And so does Beau—even though he thinks I'm the devil.”

Eden snorted. “He does not. He's been friendlier tonight, you have to admit. He even asked you how work's going.”

“I'm guessing it was that elbow you put in his rib.”

Eden waved her away. “Beside the point.”

The popping sound of firecrackers went off down the beach, and a firework sizzled through the air. A small bloom of red flared. Zac slipped back inside saying he needed a refill.

“Look!” Micah pointed. “It's starting.”

“Those are just warm-ups, bud,” Beau said. “We've still got a little time before the big show.”

“Evening, all.” Sheriff Colton approached from the beach in full uniform, so tall he was almost at eye level with them. He perched a foot on the bottom step and pulled off his hat as his greeting was returned.

“All quiet out there, Sheriff?” Beau asked.

“Aw, a couple scuffles, but nothing major. Some kids drinking underage, shooting off illegal fireworks. Called their parents, put the fear of God into 'em.”

“Let me know if you need a hand,” Beau said.

“We should be all right.” His gaze swung to Miss Trudy. “Looking forward to the show, Trudy?”

“I'm sure it'll be just dandy.” The woman crossed her arms over her sweater and squirmed in her seat.

“Things pretty busy over at the visitor center?” he asked.

“'Bout the usual.”

“I ran into Rusty and Belinda Davis over in Ellsworth,” he said. “They're expecting a grand baby any day now.”

“Already have half a dozen.”

“Four, they said. This'll be their first boy though. They're excited.”

“Good for them.” Miss Trudy scooched back her chair. “Excuse me. I'm going to the ladies' room.”

The sheriff shuffled in the sand, twisting the brim of his hat before setting it on his head. “Well . . . I'd best get back to it. You all take care driving home.”

“Poor guy,” Eden whispered as he walked away.

“He sure seems sweet on Miss Trudy.” Lucy spoke quietly, even though the woman had gone inside.

“Too bad she doesn't return his feelings. He gets all red and flustered . . . it's painful to watch. She's always so short with him.”

“Well, she's kind of a crusty lady. Maybe that's her way of flirting.”

“I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if something happened.”

“Like what?”

Eden shrugged. “Like maybe she's holding a grudge or something. I've tried to prod but she shuts me down. He must've done something to rile her up so much.”

“I don't know, but I wouldn't want to be on her bad side—any more than I already am.”

“She's more bark than bite. You should see her with Micah when no one's watching. She's practically a teddy bear.”

Lucy gave a wry smile. “I'll take your word for it.”