Coast Guard Sweetheart Read online

  “Exactly. So one word in the Master Chief’s ear and it was no problem getting you reassigned here. Time to work out the unresolved issues chaining the both of you to the past. Nothing worse than might-have-beens. This way—barring a few damaged donuts—better for both of you in the end. Get each other out of your systems.”

  Braeden’s clipped voice gouged at Sawyer’s heart. “Or not, as the case may be. Time to let nature—or donuts—take their course.”

  “So now we know.” Sawyer gulped. “She hates me.”

  “That what you took from this?” Braeden gestured. “Don’t know if I’d agree.” Braeden’s lips twitched as he surveyed the culinary disaster zone. “I already hear this skirmish is going down in the annals of Kiptohanock lore as The Battle of the Long Johns.”

  Sawyer smothered a groan. “I’m sorry, Chief. Really sorry. I promise you it won’t happen again. I’ll perform my duty watches and otherwise keep my distance.”

  In the corner, the hitherto silent Seth Duer cleared his throat. “That strategy kind of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?” The man’s bristly mustache twitched.

  Sawyer cast his eyes toward the snowy floor.

  Honey’s dad had never been one of his biggest fans. And rightly so as subsequent events that spring proved. Sawyer was nothing, as his own father routinely declared twenty-odd years ago, if not a self-fulfilling screw-up.

  Worthless. Good for nothing. Ruined everyone’s life.

  Amelia—one hand around the back of Max’s scrawny neck and the other squeezing the tender underflesh of Honey’s arm—hauled the pair of miscreants toward them.

  “Ow, ’Melia.” Honey wrested free. “Let go. You’re—” Her forward momentum carried her to within an arm’s reach of Sawyer.

  Honey teetered in her powder-slathered heels. Her eyes flicked toward Sawyer and then to her toes. She clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides.

  Sawyer’s heart pounded at her proximity.

  Beatrice “Honey” Duer was the loveliest woman he’d ever known. As beautiful in her kindness and generosity as her beautiful honey-colored hair and chestnut brown eyes. Seeing her again, despite the circumstances, was both a pleasure and a stabbing ache he’d never quite managed to rid himself of.

  He’d never understood until face-to-face now with Honey how one person could inspire within him—all at the same moment—such joy and pain.

  This newly embittered, enraged Honey was entirely Sawyer’s own fault. A product of his previous misjudgment in allowing the twentysomething Shore girl to get close to him that spring. His father’s words—though the man was long dead in a state penitentiary—reverberated in his mind.

  Whatever—and whomever—Sawyer touched, he ruined.

  Sawyer straightened. “I take full responsibility for what happened here, Chief. My mess. I’ll clean it up.”

  Honey’s eyes flickered to his.

  Sawyer looked away and focused over her shoulder to the mounted wall map. With his eye, he mentally traced the outline of the Delmarva Peninsula. Delaware. Maryland. Virginia.

  His Coast Guard family and his career were the only things he’d ever succeeded at.

  Sawyer kept his posture tall and his feet pointed toward Braeden. “I also want to compensate the Sandpiper owner for lost revenue and supplies, Chief.”

  Honey bristled.

  Sawyer sneaked a glance her way before resuming his perusal of the framed map.

  The Atlantic Ocean. The Chesapeake Bay. Highway 13. Chincoteague. Onley. Nassawadox. Willis Wharf. Kiptohanock nestling on the Great Machipongo Inlet.

  His Coast Guard family and career were also the only things in his life he’d not ruined or self-sabotaged. Until now.

  Sawyer steeled himself. “I understand you’ll have to file an official reprimand in my service record. And if I’m demoted and transferred—”

  Honey’s breath hitched. “Wait. This wasn’t his fault.” She caught hold of Braeden’s sleeve. “I started it. Not him. I’m to blame. He shouldn’t be punished for defending himself.”

  Sawyer angled. “You don’t have to...”

  Her face clouded. “Actually, he was defending me. I’ll reimburse Dixie and the owner for lost wages. I’ll clean—”

  “You’re all going to clean up this mess, baby girl.” The jean-clad Seth unwound from where he leaned against a booth. “You, Guardsman Kole here and—” He harpooned Max with his hand and reeled him closer. “And my grandson, Max, too.”

  Mutiny written across his features, Max squirmed. “But I’m s’posed to go with Mimi and Dad for Mimi’s doctor visit.”

  The very pregnant Amelia sidled next to her husband, Braeden. “Granddad’s right, Max. Every action has consequences. Time for you to own yours.”

  “But—but...”

  “No buts.” Braeden bent to Max’s level. “A good Coastie learns to accept responsibility for his actions.”

  He speared Sawyer with a look. “You’ve got major damage control to take care of here, Kole. Not to mention prepare for a late season storm threatening landfall anywhere between Delaware and Charleston, South Carolina, over the next few days.”

  Sawyer nodded. “Affirmative, Chief. The cafe will be shipshape by the time you and the missus return this afternoon.”

  “I’m counting on it.” Braeden straightened to his full height. “I know I can also count on you and Honey to supervise my boy, Max, until I return. Giving him an example of what integrity looks like.”

  Seth moved toward the door. “I’ve got a short charter this morning, but I expect a full report from you, XPO Kole, when I return midday. Me and you are going to have a chat. Long overdue, in fact. You roger that?”

  “Daddy... This has nothing to do with you.” Honey frowned. “Why are you always trying to ruin my life?”

  Sawyer went ramrod stiff at the echo of his own thoughts. “Roger, Mr. Duer. I’ll be waiting for you on the harbor dock.”

  Honey’s father exchanged glances with Braeden and Amelia. “I’m not trying to ruin your life, baby girl. Can’t nobody do that to you but you.”

  Flushing, Honey drew a circle in the confectioner’s sugar with the toe of her shoe.

  Heading out, Seth settled his ball cap firmly about his graying head and adjusted the brim. “Something you ought to ponder as you’re cleaning up this mess the two of you made.”

  Chapter Two

  After several hours of cleanup, Honey stole a look at Sawyer’s shuttered face as she handed him another rinsed plate to towel dry.

  Standing on the other side of the stainless steel commercial sink, he refused to meet her gaze. In the adjacent dining area, Max—his usual no-holds barred bravado gone—mopped up the remains of their shared folly.

  For a moment, she allowed herself the pleasure of lingering on Sawyer’s craggy Nordic features. His features once as familiar to Honey as her own.

  The straw-colored, stick-straight hair cut in a Coastie buzz. Same brawny muscular build, which befitted the former rodeo rider and boat-driving coxswain.

  His sharp bone structure and hooded brow missed handsome by a smidgeon. But somehow it suited him better. And to Honey’s way of thinking always made him more fascinating. At least to her.

  Yet she noted new lines bracketing his mouth since the last time she’d seen him. A hairline scar on his chin. A somberness out of place on the puddle pirate, full-throttle Coastie she’d previously known.

  And loved beyond all reasoning. Until he’d broken off their relationship one night on a deserted moonlit beach outside Ocean City for no explicable reason.

  Three summers of unanswered questions as to why Sawyer Kole so abruptly ended their burgeoning romance fairly burned a hole in her tongue. And as for her brother-in-law, newly appointed Officer in Charge of USCG Small Boat Stat
ion Kiptohanock? Make that her former favorite brother-in-law, Braeden Scott.

  Honey had a few choice words for mother hen big sister Amelia, too. After their mother’s early death, Amelia had semiraised Honey. But how dare Amelia keep Sawyer’s transfer a secret and allow Honey to be blindsided by him? Her cheeks reddened at the memory of how once before his rejection exposed her to total public humiliation in the eyes of the close-knit fishing community.

  Small towns. Small minds. Big mouths.

  And after today’s incident... Okay...that was on Honey’s head.

  But enough with the suffocating silence. “Look, Kole...”

  Her deliberate use of his surname accomplished her intended effect. His lips flattened into a tight line. And something else—hurt—flickered across his eyes before his customary aloofness returned.

  Yet somehow her small victory felt hollow. Much less satisfying than she’d imagined in the thirty-nine months, five days and ten hours since he’d broken her heart.

  But who was counting, right?

  Distracted by the nearness of him, Honey fought to convey a nonchalance she didn’t feel. Not with Sawyer a mere elbow’s length away. Not when every traitorous, torturous nerve ending quivered with longing every time he breathed.

  She found it hard to breathe with Sawyer Kole this close. So she settled for sighing to release her pent-up store of oxygen.

  “For whatever reason, we’ve been the victims of a Duer/Scott conspiracy. I’m assuming you returned to Station Kiptohanock under duress.”

  Sawyer concentrated on drying the plate. “A Coastie goes where a Coastie is assigned.”

  “And 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 his hand over the top of the mounted iron bell on the end of the pier. A bell, Sawyer remembered, used only for the annual blessing of the fleet at the start of the fishing season in spring. And to summon the villagers in times of maritime disaster.

  “I’m assuming the Sandpiper has been restored to proper working order.”

  Sawyer nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “You starting your two days on or two days off, son?” Seth squinted at him, his eyes a variation of the blue-green teal many of the Shore residents sported. “May I call you, son?”

  Sawyer swallowed past the large boulder lodged in his throat. If only his own father had been a tenth of the man Seth Duer was.

  How often that spring he spent with Honey he’d envied her strong, loving family. Envied the faith that bound the community together. Wished he had somewhere and someone to call home.

  A seagull’s cry broke the silence. Sawyer realized that Seth Duer still awaited his response, the old waterman’s head cocked at an angle.