5

Brooke

Thank you, Will. I was racing to make it in time,” I said to the captain as I boarded the final ferry crossing to the island for the night.

“Two minutes to spare.” Will Darlington, who ran Blackstone Island Ferry Company, never failed to mention how much time I had left before departure. It was our little running joke. I think he would’ve let me on late if he saw me running for the dock, but so far I’d never missed my boat.

“Ages of time, Will. Two minutes to spare and with running in heels, I feel I’ve been a complete success.”

That earned me a shy smile and a slow shake of his head. “Glad to have you on board, Brooke.” Will was not much of a talker, but he was kind and very serious about captaining his boat. Another one of those hardworking islanders who put in long hours to make a living in a challenging economy. If you loved your work, as I supposed Will did, then all the better.

Once I found a seat inside where it was warm, I let my guard down for the first time in the past three hours. I became suddenly very sleepy, not wanting to think about the arsehole who’d grabbed me, or the fact I’d just left a shit job, or the lack of money, or any of my problems.

So I folded my arms on the table and rested my cheek on the arm of my wool coat.

I closed my eyes and allowed the sway of the boat to rock me to sleep.

A gentle hand to my shoulder and my name being called woke me one very fast hour later.

“Everything okay, Brooke?” Will’s green eyes looked down at me in concern. “We’re here and I have to close her down for the night. Everyone is off the boat.”

“Oh! I crashed. I’m so sorry,” I began. “I’ll get going.” I rushed to get up and gathered my bag.

“No worries at all,” he assured me in that kindly shy way he’d perfected. “You take care driving home.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

“Night, Brooke.”

I sensed that if I’d given any encouragement to Will Darlington beyond friendship, I could’ve had him. He didn’t come on to me and he was always a gentleman in every way, but a girl knows the signs when someone is interested. Will was nice, really good-looking, hardworking, and an excellent catch for any girl, but he wasn’t for me. More accurately, I wasn’t for any man right now. Too soon. Too much. Too hard to imagine being with somebody again when I was still working on finding the person I’d been before. The person I’d been before I’d allowed him the power to nearly destroy me.

He’d very nearly accomplished just that, and I couldn’t—wouldn’t—make that same mistake again.

I made my way to the parking lot and started up Nan’s 1980 Jeep Cherokee, lovingly named Woody due to the faux wood paneling trim on the outside and within. I was always grateful for Woody’s reliability, because even though he wouldn’t deliver the smoothest ride over four miles of bumpy lanes in the dark, he would get me there safely. You had to know where you were going, or you’d be lost in the middle of a meadow or a wood with only one wrong turn. I always took it easy because little creatures had a tendency to leap out in the night and it wrecked me for days if I accidently hit a rabbit or a night bird.

Nan’s cottage stood solid and cozy on her perch at the top of a gentle hill overlooking the sea. It was dark now, but the Fairchild Light illuminated the cape below. The island had a lighthouse for each port—Fairchild Light at the southern end, and West Light on the western shore where most of the mansions and estates were built between the shelter of the island and the mainland, protected from the harshness of the open ocean.

As I parked and went inside, I got that little flip of panic down low in my belly. It was worry about how much longer Nan could remain here in the cottage. I didn’t know that answer. I did know she owned it outright and that it was the only thing of value my grandmother possessed from her marriage to my grandfather. He’d died when my mum was a baby, so even my mum had never known her father. Nan never remarried after my grandfather died, but instead gave her life to her work at Blackwater estate. Unencumbered with a mortgage and given the land value on a resort island with an unobstructed view, it had to be worth a significant amount. But it was a very small property, and it wasn’t in the exclusive area where the luxury hotels and private estates were located. I couldn’t imagine selling and moving Nan somewhere else. Where would we go? But the money situation wasn’t going to get better and I needed to at least make inquires. I’d make a point to visit Herman and ask for his advice. If anyone would know, it was him. Maybe Nan could take out an equity loan on the cottage and that would get us through.

Who was I kidding? Get us through our financial troubles until we won the Massachusetts State Lottery? Yeah, right.

Frustrated, I set off to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The hour was far too late for caffeine now, and I needed sleep after the shit day I’d had. I peeled off the boots first. It bothered me that my beloved boots were what prompted my problems this evening. They’d certainly brought me unwanted attention while I was serving. Hadn’t Eduardo greeted me with “those boots are screaming ‘do me ’til I can’t take it anymore’” just this morning? This morning seemed like it had been ages ago now. If I’d been working tonight in my regular uniform clothing, would that heinous man still have grabbed me and said those horrible things to me? I shuddered at the remembrance. The harsh movement and possessive touch of his mean little hands on my body had just brought it all back so quickly. My only thought was to get him off me, because I couldn’t bear being touched roughly anymore.

It was too close to the way he had touched me. And I would never forget how that felt. I wanted to forget . . . I just didn’t know if it was possible for me to forget.

There was a spot of cocktail sauce on the collar of my one-day-old white shirt. Crap. I treated it with a bleach pen and set it to soak in the bathroom sink but figured it was probably ruined since it was white. Something in the sauce made it next to impossible to get out of clothing. I’d ruined clothes before from shrimp cocktail sauce. My stomach took another dive as I realized there were several expensive suits splattered tonight, and my pay from the job wouldn’t come even close to covering the cleaning of designer suits. Hopefully the dry cleaners had a magic solution to remove the stains. It was Martin’s problem anyway. He could find the arsehole who’d caused the whole mess and have him pay.

You broke a man’s nose tonight.Yes, I did. And I would do it again in the same situation—in a heartbeat.

I looked down at my legs.

The scars on my right calf and knee were the reason for the boots or tights when I wore skirts. The scars were ugly, yes, but mostly I just didn’t want to have to see them and . . . remember.

“YOUhave an admirer, condesa, look what’s been delivered for Brooke.” Eduardo strolled up to my work area with a gorgeous pot of dark red peonies and set them down on my desk. The flowers were a stunning cranberry red with most of the stems still in the round-bud stage. They would become huge blooms when they opened. Striking and unusual, and totally unexpected.

“Who from?” I couldn’t imagine who would send me flowers. Martin? No, he was too cheap for flowers. These looked expensive, plus it was a plant and not a vase of cut flowers. I could plant it in the ground in Nan’s garden eventually and enjoy them for a long time.

“Read the card, ay Dios mío, what are you waiting for?” He plucked it from the bouquet and shoved it at me. “I will die before you tell me who sent this to you.”

“You really should have been an actor, Eduardo,” I told him as I opened the envelope and read the card.

Brooke,

Please accept these flowers as a token of my appreciation for the meatball lesson last night.

It was unforgettable.

Caleb

The guy with the black eye. Unforgettable? He’d made the effort to be nice even after he’d been knocked down by the arsehole who’d put his hands on me. Why? Why send me expensive flowers, and furthermore, how did he even know where to send them? He knew my name. I wondered if he’d asked Martin, but that would be a really low blow for Martin to disclose my information to a stranger. Also illegal.

I handed the card to Eduardo so he could read it.

Remembering our conversation from last night, I recalled how he’d offered me a ride, which I hadn’t accepted, but he hadn’t turned nasty when I’d declined his invitation. I appreciated that part of his personality most of all. A man who understood the word no wasn’t that easy to find in my limited experience. They seemed to be few and far between. I was tempted for a moment, to call the number written in bold black pen on the back of the card that I could now see clearly visible from Eduardo’s hand. But what would I say?

Caleb. I couldn’t help smiling when I remembered how cute he’d been with me over a tray of meatballs. Surely the most ridiculous conversation ever, yet he’d gone to the trouble to send me flowers that even looked like a meatball while in the bud stage. I studied the flowers again. The color was spot on. So pretty. Wow.

What a very clever man this Caleb was.

Incredibly handsome, too. Even wearing the results of that devastating blow to his head.

I endured the teasing of the peonies sitting prettily upon my desk for the next two hours before I said to hell with it and gave up the struggle. My excuse? I’m a woman and my curiosity won out. I sent him a text.

Caleb, thank you for the beautiful flowers in meatball red. Very lovely gesture . . . but . . . how did you know where to find me? –Brooke

My phone rang about one minute later, and I couldn’t help but smile for a second time.