Page 316 of The Havenport Collection

Maeve

“ R ise and shine, Watson.”

“It’s a beautiful day in Havenport. Get your cute ass up and let’s go have some fun.”

I knew that voice. It was deep and rumbly and impossibly sexy.

This was clearly a dream. I opened one eye and spotted Oliver standing in Alice’s tiny guest room, powerful arms crossed over his broad chest. He had on a tight Navy T-shirt and shorts and looked chipper and stupidly handsome. Ass. “What are you doing here?”

Alice popped her head in the door, looking way too pleased with herself. “I let him in.”

“Does he have a warrant?” I asked, throwing a pillow at her.

“I’m off the clock today, Watson. We’re going on a date, remember?”

I rubbed my temples, ignoring my fuzzy tongue and the eye makeup that was likely smeared across my face. I remembered all right. But I assumed he hadn’t been serious.

Alice handed him a cup of coffee. “Don’t make him coffee!” I snapped and she dramatically rolled her eyes, clearly loving every minute of this. “Go home, Oliver. I feel terrible.”

“No way. It’s my day off, the weather is incredible, and you promised me a date. I’ll give you ten minutes to get dressed. Sporty clothes and layers, no jeans. Okay?”

I looked between him and my sister, both of whom were calmly sipping coffee, and wanted to vomit.

I gestured for them to leave, grumbling that I needed to get dressed.

What had I gotten myself into? Oliver had shot me down last night, but then told me he wanted to spank me over late-night pizza.

And I had liked it. A lot. I wanted to drag him home and climb him like a sexy tree.

I was clearly in the throes of a nervous breakdown.

This is what extreme psychological stress did to me; it made me horny and dumb.

But my vagina didn’t care. She was psyched to see Oliver, even at this ungodly hour. Traitorous skank.

After I dressed, brushed my hair and teeth, and used half a bottle of mouthwash trying to wash away last night’s drinks and pizza, Oliver led me outside.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing to the orange monstrosity strapped to the roof of his Jeep.

“A kayak,” he replied, opening the door and gesturing for me to jump in. “It’s a small watercraft.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “I know what a kayak is. Why is it strapped to the roof of your car?”

He hopped in and started the ignition. “Because we’re going kayaking, Watson.”

I looked at him in horror. I didn’t want to be on the ocean in that glorified child’s toy. Especially not this early and with the distinct possibility that the tequila and pizza I consumed last night may make a reappearance.

“We’re going to make a stop first. You need a greasy breakfast sandwich.”

“So let me get this straight,” I said, watching the large boats drive past us. “We just paddle around?”

“Yup,” Oliver agreed as I glanced over my shoulder. “You can relax if you want; I can do most of the paddling. It’s busy here in the harbor, but once we get out a bit it will quiet down.”

I turned around and watched as he paddled proficiently, working against the current. Even with a life jacket on, I could see the muscles in his shoulders working. His strokes were strong and efficient, cutting effortlessly through the water every time.

I paddled too. I didn’t accept a free ride, thank you very much.

But I was choppy and out of sync and clearly not contributing much to the speed we were picking up.

However, I’d be damned if I failed at this.

So I kept going, paddling until my arms and back ached and my heart was pounding in my chest. Shit, this was a good workout. No wonder Oliver was so jacked.

Eventually, we made our way up the coast toward the wildlife sanctuary. “It’s a lot quieter up here,” Oliver explained. “Motorboats are not allowed, so it’s much nicer. Keep an eye out for osprey.”

“So we just do this?” I asked, trying to keep up with his pace. “We just paddle around, accomplishing nothing?”

I turned to look at him, and even through his sunglasses I could feel his glare. “Accomplishing nothing? Spoken like a true workaholic. Look around—we are getting fresh air, spending time in nature, and improving our physical and mental health. Hardly seems like nothing to me.”

Chastened, I tried to concentrate on paddling. Maybe he had a point. It was a very nice day, and if I knew anything about sea birds, I’d probably be fascinated by the different species everywhere.

“Sorry. I just don’t like doing things I’m bad at. What’s the point, you know?”

“The point is to grow and evolve, Watson. You’re not bad at kayaking; it’s your first time, and you are trying something new.”

Before I could respond, I saw what looked like a dog pop up in the water. I screamed, dropping my paddle and almost tipping us over.

“Calm down,” Oliver said, trying to steady us while I reached for my paddle. “It’s just a seal.”

“A seal?” I looked at the water, trying to find it again, but its dark body had disappeared.

Before I could fully catch my breath, it popped up again on the other side. This time, I didn’t freak out and got a good look at its face.

“They’re kind of cute,” I admitted.

Oliver laughed. “That’s a harbor seal. See the snout, how it looks like a dog?”

I nodded.

“And then there are gray seals out here too. They are larger and have a flatter, elongated head.”

“Are they gray?”

“Not exclusively. The name’s not accurate—most seals are gray or brown or some combination. Telling them apart really comes down to the heads.”

He gestured with his chin toward some others in the distance. There were a few of them all clustered together.

“I think there might be pups. Wanna head over and check it out?”

I gave him a thumbs-up, trying to act cool, while secretly losing it. Seal pups? How fucking adorable, but also terrifying. What if the mama seal got mad and tried to attack our boat?

This whole day was turning out to be very different than I had expected. But I couldn’t say I was bored, and that was something. And the view kept getting better as Oliver paddled, his T-shirt clinging to his shoulders with sweat.

“Okay, but let me paddle. I don’t want your thrashing to scare them off.”

I rolled my eyes, but let him carefully maneuver us through the water.

An hour later Oliver jumped out and pulled the kayak onto a secluded beach. I looked around.

“Where are we?”

“Star Island.” He opened a compartment in the kayak and pulled out a large dry bag.

I unlatched my skirt—the big fabric thing that attached to my life vest and kept water out of the boat—and pulled myself up. I stepped onto the rocky beach and looked around. “I’ve never been here before.”

“It’s one of my favorite places. Quiet and serene, and look at the view of town,” he said.

I looked across the bay and saw tiny Havenport in the distance, anchored by the old lighthouse and the Coast Guard station. It felt so far away.

I wasn’t sure what to say. I had never paddled to a deserted island. But this one seemed quite small and charming. I walked up past the rocks and found a sandy spot to sit. If I was out here, in the middle of the ocean, I might as well enjoy myself.

Oliver followed, handing me a water bottle and plopping down next to me.

“Do you like peanut butter and jelly?” he asked, handing me a massive sandwich wrapped ornately in wax paper.

I nodded, so famished I would eat anything.

I unfolded the paper. “This is a pretty fancy looking PB&J.”

He took a big bite. “Taste it.”

I did, moaning as the subtle sweetness of the jam mixed with the salty peanut butter hit my tongue. “What is this magic?”

“The Havenport farmers’ market. Maxine sells homemade peanut butter—she grinds it to order. And the blackberry jam is from the Thompson Farm.”

“I’ve never been to the farmers’ market,” I admitted, taking another huge bite of awesomeness.

“I’ll fix that. Next Sunday. I know everyone there, but we’ve got to go early, before Lila sells out of donuts.”

I nodded, not caring that he was making plans. Not caring that I was letting myself get pulled into something with this giant, confusing man. Because I was content. Sitting on the beach, watching the waves crash to shore, and eating my sandwich.

“I like it here,” I declared, licking the peanut butter off my fingers. “I get why you do this. Because all my problems, they’re over there.” I point toward the town. “And on this beach it’s just me and you and the seals.”

He leaned back on his elbows and smiled. “You get it. Sometimes you just need some space to be you. To do whatever you want. What do you want, Maeve?” he asked.

I paused, not sure exactly what he was asking, because I truly didn’t know. My life had changed dramatically in such a short period of time. I had discovered new things about myself, and every single part of me, down to my cup size, had changed since the night of my broken engagement.

I was a different woman.

But I didn’t know what I wanted. And for the first time, I felt okay with that.

I stood up, brushing the sand off my shorts. “I want to do cartwheels,” I said.

He looked confused. “What?”

“You know,” I said, pulling him up next to me. “I’m feeling all kinds of things right now. And I’m alone on an island and feeling free and strange and inspired all at the same time. And I’m going to do a cartwheel.”

So I did, planting my hands and throwing my legs up in what was probably the most awkward cartwheel ever. But I landed on my feet, slightly breathless and smiling.

“Okay, that was harder than I thought. I’ll try again.” So I did another. And then another. The fourth time, I was able to keep my legs straight, and the fifth time I actually got good momentum propelling me forward.

“Your turn,” I said, catching my breath.

Oliver shrugged and attempted one, falling flat onto his ass.

We both burst into laughter. And before I knew it, he had pulled me down and pinned me in the sand.

I looked up at him, at his long lashes and dark eyes. And I felt a strange clench in my chest. I liked Oliver. Which was terrifying. But also kind of exhilarating. Kind of like attempting cartwheels as an adult.

“Oliver,” I said, my heart pounding. “What…”

He didn’t respond, instead gently lowering his mouth to mine.

His kiss was salty and sweet and gentle.

I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

He followed my lead, picking up the pace, until we were furiously making out and grinding up against one another like horny teenagers.

I tipped my head back, giving him better access to my neck as his fingers traveled up my shirt to the band of my bra. My body responded to his every touch, wanting to feel all of him.

But suddenly I realized where I was and what I was doing.

“Stop,” I said and he pulled back, his face concerned.

I admired how protective—how gentle—he could be, even in moments like this. It made me feel safe and cherished.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” I said, regretting the words as they left my mouth. I probably sounded like a stuck-up bitch, and I was lying. I very much wanted to fuck him. But my head was spinning, confused by the feelings growing inside me and the power of his kisses.

He reached down and adjusted his erection. “Who said anything about fucking?”

“I’m just saying,” I started, trying to salvage this moment. “Just because I put out before…”

“I’ll stop you there, Watson. I’m a gentleman. I brought you out here purely for the pleasure of your company.”

A brief look of disappointment flashed across my face, and I knew he saw it.

He ran his thumb along my lips slowly, never breaking eye contact. It was so fucking erotic I wanted to beg him to let me take it back.

“But if you would like a repeat performance we can certainly arrange one for later.”

I thought about it. How easy it would be to just fall back in bed with him. What would happen? Would I get attached? Or would it be bad, the magic of our one-night stand lost forever?

I reached up and pulled him down toward me. “How about you just keep kissing me?”