A single dad starting over.

Is this his second chance at love?

Widowed former Green Beret Jaxon Pruitt comes home to face his toughest battle: reconnecting with his toddler son. He also makes an unwitting enemy of childhood friend Darcy Parks when he takes over the kayak shop Darcy hoped to buy! For little Brody’s sake, she’ll stay until summer’s end. But could a growing connection turn their temporary truce into an unexpected forever?

LISA CARTER and her family make their home in North Carolina. In addition to her Love Inspired novels, she writes romantic suspense for Abingdon Press. When she isn’t writing, Lisa enjoys traveling to romantic locales, teaching writing workshops and researching her next exotic adventure. She has strong opinions on barbecue and ACC basketball. She loves to hear from readers. Connect with Lisa at lisacarterauthor.com.

Also By Lisa Carter

Love Inspired

Coast Guard Courtship

Coast Guard Sweetheart

Falling for the Single Dad

The Deputy’s Perfect Match

The Bachelor’s Unexpected Family

The Christmas Baby

Hometown Reunion

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Hometown Reunion

Lisa Carter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08425-3

HOMETOWN REUNION

© 2018 Lisa Carter

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

“Why are you leaving, Darcy?”

“The longer I’ve stayed—maybe I’ve overstayed—the more lost I feel.” She averted her eyes. “Perhaps it’s time for me to see if there’s more out there.”

“Does more have to be out there? Not here?”

Her gaze returned to his. “I thought you’d understand, Jax. We’re both all or nothing people.”

“You want to know the real reason I didn’t return until now?” His heart drummed in his chest. “I didn’t think there could ever be a place here for me again.”

“But you’re home now, Jax.”

“Am I?” He studied her. “Will you forgive me, Darcy?”

His question was about so much more than what happened this afternoon.

She looked at him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Can we get back to being friends?” He thrust out his chin. “We were friends, Darcy. Once.”

“Trust might be trickier than merely coming home.”

Jax tightened his jaw. “A chance is all I’m asking.”

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

—Matthew 11:28–30

Dear Reader,

Like Jax, have you ever struggled with guilt? Which have you found harder—to forgive someone else or to forgive yourself? Neither are easy.

Or like Darcy, have you ever felt second best or second choice?

But when Darcy embraces the person God made her to be and pursues the dreams God placed in her heart, only then does she gain real freedom and peace. Whatever dream God has placed in your heart, I pray you, too, will find the courage to pursue it.

Whenever you’re feeling second choice, read Isaiah 43 to see how much God loves you. He has redeemed you and called you by name. You have a place all your own in God’s heart. You have been chosen—you are His.

And what about dealing with guilt? True guilt drives us to repentance and helps us find our way back to what is right. False guilt, however, brings only condemnation, with no way out. True guilt leading to repentance brings freedom and healing. False guilt paralyses and enslaves.

This is a heavy burden we were never created to shoulder. Jesus took the heavy load of sin on the cross so that you don’t have to. He is the only one who can be our burden-bearer. It is in the laying down of our burdens that we find rest and peace in Him. I hope you will accept His invitation to come so that you, too, might experience true freedom, healing and restoration.

May we all find the strength to finally accept what is past, to fully embrace the present and to look to the future with hope-filled eyes.

Thank you for allowing me in this series of books to share with you a very special place and people dear to my heart on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.

I hope you have enjoyed taking this journey with me, Brody, Darcy and Jax. I would love to hear from you. You may email me at lisa@lisacarterauthor.com or visit www.lisacarterauthor.com.

Wishing you fair winds and following seas,

Lisa Carter

This book is dedicated to Daniel and Debbie Riley. Thanks so much for your friendship. And even after all these years, a special thank you for still making me feel at home every time I visit the Eastern Shore.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Bible Verse

Dear Reader

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Stepping out of his Ford 250, Jaxon Pruitt winced as his knees creaked. At thirty-two, he was already nothing but a washed-up old man. A failure.

He glanced at his two-year-old son, Brody, strapped in his car seat. Correction—Jax was a washed-up, thirty-two-year-old dad.

After all these years, he was back where he’d begun, at Kiptohanock Kayaking. The shop was on the seawall, sandwiched between the marine animal hospital and the Coast Guard station.

From the adjacent harbor, a slight breeze wafted. Recreational and commercial fishing boats bobbed in the marina. And the once familiar scent of briny seawater filled his nostrils. At the sound of a loud caw, both he and Brody looked skyward. Overhead, a seagull performed an acrobatic figure eight.

As Jax reached to unbuckle the harness, Brody shrank into the seat. The toddler’s brown eyes went wide, piercing Jax’s heart. A former Green Beret, he’d always known what to do on any given mission, but Jax didn’t know how to fix things with the son he barely knew.

He had no clue how to be not just a father, but Brody’s father. He’d messed up everything with Adrienne, and now he had no idea how to help Brody deal with her loss.

Brody closed his eyes and stuck his thumb into his mouth. With a click, Jax released the seat buckle, and Brody’s eyes popped open. But the thumb remained in his mouth. Giving the child space, Jax backed away. His work boots crunched on the crushed-shell parking lot.

Seizing his chance, Brody scrambled out of the crew cab like a convict desperate to escape Alcatraz. Despite short toddler legs, he jumped to the ground in a move that made his airborne-qualified father proud.

But those days were behind Jax. He fought the urge to give in to the despair dogging him since his commanding officer had pulled him aside to deliver the life-changing news of his wife’s death.

“Wanna go home,” Brody whispered.

Jax wanted to go home, too. If only he knew where home resided. That was the reason he’d brought his son to the small fishing village in seaside Virginia where he’d grown up.

Was this a giant mistake? A ten-year combat veteran, he hadn’t called any place home in a long time. And with Adrienne gone, perhaps home was a place that no longer existed for him.

So far, the transition from military to civilian life had been anything but smooth sailing. Thank God for his aunt, and the new start she offered him.

Kiptohanock Kayaking was an opportunity to make a home for Brody. Maybe Jax’s last chance to bond with his son. If it wasn’t already too late.

He shook himself. He couldn’t afford pessimism. As a former member of the elite Special Forces, he was trained to never quit. And no matter what it took, whatever sacrifice, he’d make this work with Brody. Their survival as a family depended on it.

Per his training, Jax scoped out the terrain. On this mid-June Saturday, two vehicles were parked outside the outfitters shop. A seen-better-days bronze SUV with an empty roof rack, and next to it, his aunt’s burgundy Grand Cherokee.

A bell jangled as his aunt stepped out of the shop onto the porch. Grinning, she waved them over. A lot had happened in his life since he’d worked here during high-school summers. More than the years or mileage would indicate.

He took Brody’s small hand. “Let’s go meet Aunt Shirley.” He towed his son toward the porch.

After spending a disastrous six months with Adrienne’s family, Jax found it good to see a friendly face. In cargo pants and the buttoned-up sleeves of her quick-dry shirt, his aunt was a walking advertisement for an outdoor provision company. Only these days, her hair was more salt than the pepper he remembered.

Dropping his hold on Brody, Jax engulfed her in a bear-size hug. The sheen of tears in the eyes of his unsentimental, take-no-prisoners relative surprised him.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” She clapped Jax on the back, jolting him. At six foot three, he wasn’t easy to jolt. “A little taller, certainly broader in the shoulders.” Her twinkling blue eyes teased him. “Far more handsome, if that’s possible.”

For the first time since driving over the Bay Bridge Tunnel from the mainland, he smiled. “And you are eternally youthful.”

“Not true, but thank you.” She gave him a wry smile in return. “I like to think I’ve mellowed with age.”

“Aunt Shirley, this is my son, Brody.”

Hunkered near the railing, Brody turned his little mouth upside down.

Jax bit off a sigh. “Brody, come meet Aunt Shirley. We’ll be living at her old house.”

Brody’s brows drew together like two wiggly caterpillars. “No.” His favorite word.

“I see the resemblance in the scowl.” Shirley blew out a breath. “Is he as stubborn and mule-headed as you’ve always been, dear nephew?”

Scrubbing his hand over his face, he laughed. Blunt as always. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

“He’s got Pruitt blood in him. Won’t take long for him to fall hopelessly in love with Shore life.” She winked. “You, too.”

Jax felt hopeless, though not with love. Time had run out for him and Adrienne. The enormous responsibility of being a single parent weighed heavy on his not-feeling-so-broad shoulders.

“I’m grateful for this lifeline you’ve thrown me, Aunt Shirl.”

Like a swift kick in the pants, she poked him with her bony elbow. “So don’t blow it, soldier.”

His lips twitched. His maiden aunt would’ve made an excellent drill sergeant.

Shirley squeezed his arm. “Darcy’s not happy about our arrangement. She’s not exactly your biggest fan.”

He grunted. “I can always count on you to give it to me straight, Aunt Shirl.”

The short bark of her laugh echoed over the tidal estuary behind the shop. “But I’ve no doubt with that renowned Pruitt charm of yours, you’ll find a way to convince her to stay for the busy summer season.”

His so-called charm was his fallback position. As comfortable as a broken-in, well-loved baseball glove. Where he kept his feelings safely hidden.

Jax made a face. “The way I remember it, Darcy Parks doesn’t charm easily. Or maybe she’s just immune to mine.”

“Nothing worth having is ever easy.”

“I’m prepared to give the business everything I’ve got.” He frowned. “We are talking about the business, right?”

Shirley stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Don’t tell your brothers I said so, but you’re my favorite Pruitt nephew. I have full confidence in your ability to handle every challenge that comes your way.”

“Like fiscal management?”

“That, too.” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s good to have you home, Jaxon.”

With his face pressed between the railing spindles, Brody peered out over the village green. Like a prisoner through iron bars.

She tossed Jax a ring of keys. He caught them with one hand.

His aunt plodded down the wooden steps in her hiking boots. “How about I take this little sea urchin over to the Sandpiper Café for some Long John doughnuts before they close this afternoon?”

In true Tidewater fashion, her “about” came out sounding like “a boot.” The soft musicality of her speech brought an unexpected welling to his eyes. It had been a long time since he’d been among his own people on the Eastern Shore. Too long.

Brody let go of the railing. “Hungwy.”

She smirked. “You trying to starve this growing boy, Jaxon?”

“We had a burger at the Bay Bridge Grill for lunch.” He squared his shoulders. “Shakes, too.”

One of the few things he knew about kids: keep feeding them so they don’t turn on you.

She held her hand out to Brody. “Ready?”

He snatched his hands behind his back. “No.”

Jax gasped. “Brody...”

His aunt widened her stance. “Do you want doughnuts or not, young man? Makes me no never mind, either way.”

Brody jerked his thumb in Jax’s direction. “Him?”

Not once since Adrienne died had Brody called him Daddy. Most of the time, he refused to communicate with Jax at all. Except for no. He’d mastered that word.

“Your dad will be waiting right here when we get back.” She patted Brody’s shoulder. An awkward “I don’t know what to do with a child” pat.

Join the club. He didn’t, either.

“I’ll be here, I promise, Brody.”

His son glared at him. An indication of what he thought of his father’s promises?

“Just like you.” Shirley chuckled. “In so many hardheaded, annoying ways...”

Great. Just great. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Darcy’s on the dock. You two best get reacquainted.” A strange smile flitted across Shirley’s lips. “Welcome home, Jaxon. To the first day of the rest of your life.”

Jax swallowed. I know we haven’t talked in a while, but please, God, make it so.

With visible reluctance, Brody took her hand. As they walked toward the diner down the street, his dark head swiveled for one last glimpse of his father.

Like Adrienne that last day before they’d both deployed on separate assignments, never to see each other again. Jax’s lungs constricted. Guilt cutting off his air supply.

In a single bound, he came off the porch and rounded the corner of the shop. His legs ate up the ground, past the stacked kayaks and paddles. Dodging the pile of orange lifejackets.

Leaping onto the wooden planks, he felt the dock shudder beneath his weight. But spotting the silhouette of a woman sitting on the far end, he came to an abrupt halt.

Midafternoon, the sun arced high in the cerulean sky. The cove glimmered like a treasure chest filled with glistening diamonds. Her legs dangled over the water, but in one lithe motion, she rose. And bathed in golden light, she faced him.

His heart sped up. “Darcy?”

She bridged the distance between them on the dock. And he got his first good look at her in over a decade. She hadn’t changed much.

His breathing slowed. Somehow he’d been afraid she had. To him, Darcy was summer sunshine. Like the shimmery light playing across the pearlescent string of the barrier islands.

A sea breeze lifted a silky wave of the strawberry blonde hair skimming her shoulder. Freckles still sprinkled her nose. Her sun-kissed tan reflected the beach girl she was and had always been.

Darcy Parks, the little tomboy who lived next door to the Pruitts. Athletically slim, but rounded with more womanly curves than the sixteen-year-old he’d known. But like him, older.

Her blue-green eyes—like many here on the Shore—reflected the cool depths of the Machipongo Inlet. Becoming aware of her appraising scrutiny, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, striving for a nonchalance he didn’t feel.

Full of an untried optimism, he’d joined the army right out of high school to fight global terrorism. And his success or failure now depended on the grown-up version of a girl he’d once possessed a great fondness for.

Eyes flashing, she raised her chin. “Long time no see, Jaxon.” She shouldered past him toward the store.

His defenses climbed. Not the same girl he remembered. His mistake. He followed Darcy into the shop. Not the welcome he hoped for.

But after how he’d left things between them the day he reported for Basic, probably the welcome he deserved.

* * *

She’d been robbed.

Though perhaps not in a literal sense. And robbery wasn’t even the worst of it.

Inside the outfitters shop, Darcy glowered at her best friend’s older brother. “Nepotism doesn’t become you, Jaxon.”

Jax leaned one hip against the nearest available surface. Shirley’s desk. Soon to be his.

Her fingers curled against her thighs. The leaning drove Darcy crazy. Always had.

When they were children, Jax had leaned against the oak tree, straddling their adjoining backyards. In high school, after football drills, he’d leaned against the gymnasium wall to watch his sister, Anna, and Darcy during volleyball practice.

Leaning. Always leaning. Had the military taught him nothing? Was the ex–Green Beret incapable of standing upright?

He cocked his head. “Don’t make this more than it was. A simple business transaction, Darce. Nothing more.”

She bristled. “Don’t call me Darce.”

Not only had she lost the chance to buy Shirley Pruitt’s kayaking company—her dream since high school. Now she had to work for the new owner: Jaxon Pruitt, the bane of her existence.

But despite the unbridled hostility in her voice, he smiled at her in that half-lidded, ridiculously stomach-quivering way of his. “You didn’t have the money to buy her out. I did.”

“You don’t have the experience to run the business.” She ignored the fluttery feeling in her belly. “I do.”

He shrugged. “We’re at an impasse, then.”

Jax was the poster boy for too-handsome-to-be-real. A perfect specimen of Uncle Sam’s finest with his almost-grown-out military haircut.

He crossed his arms across his navy blue shirt. “How can we work this out?”

An outrageous combination of charm coupled with an aggravating self-confidence. And judging from the rippling muscles underneath his T-shirt, a hint of something slightly dangerous.

He opened his arms shoulder width. “I’m willing to do anything it takes to make this work.” Shoulders that tapered to the narrow waist of his jeans.

She wrinkled her nose. “Frankly, Jaxon, I don’t care what you—”

The bell clattered above the glass-fronted door, and Shirley burst inside. A little boy clung to her sturdy hand. She looked as if she’d been through a whirlwind.

Darcy found it hard to swallow past a sudden lump in her throat. His mouth encircled by a ring of powdered sugar, the little guy was all Jax. Dark eyes, dark hair. So, so cute.

One day, he’d be handsome. As handsome as his dad. Jax would have to fight the girls off his son with a stick.

Jax crouched eye level to the child. “Looks like you enjoyed the Long Johns.” He ruffled his son’s hair.

But the small boy moved, putting himself out of reach of his father. Darcy’s stomach knotted at the stark pain on Jax’s face.

Shirley nudged the boy. “Tell your dad who we ran into at the Sandpiper.”

The child inserted a thumb into his mouth. “No.”

Hands on his thighs, Jax rocked onto his heels. “It’s okay, Aunt Shirley. With my multiple deployments, Brody and I spent a lot of time apart. We’re still getting reacquainted.”

It wasn’t okay. And from her taut expression, Shirley didn’t think so, either.

“We ran into your mother, Darcy.” Shirley laid her calloused hand on Brody’s shoulder. “Agnes was quite taken with this little guy.”

Darcy got on her knees in front of Brody. “Long Johns are my favorite, too.”

Unmoving, the too-solemn child studied her.

Jax cleared his throat. “Son, I’d like you to meet my friend Darcy.”

“Friend?” She and Anna had been BFFs. Him? Not so much.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “We weren’t enemies, were we?”

No, they hadn’t been enemies.

Taking his thumb out of his mouth, Brody made a V with two fingers. “Me two.” He uncurled another finger. “Thwee.”

She turned to Jax for a translation.

“Brody will be three years old in September.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “We’re working on his r’s.”

The child jabbed his thumb into his chest. “Me big.”

“You are a big boy.” She gave Brody an approving look. “A very big, strong boy.”

He nodded, as somber as an undertaker. “Me Bwody Pwoo-it.”

Darcy’s heart turned over in her chest. “Hello, Brody Pruitt.” She smiled at him.

Catching her by surprise, Brody touched a strand of her hair. “Pwetty.”

She blushed. “Thank you, Brody.”

Jax broadened his chest. “Good taste runs in his genes.”

“Loves the ladies, does he?” She sneered at Jax. “Apples never fall far.”

With his long legs extended and crossed at his booted ankles, Jax leaned his elbow on the counter. “I’ve always had a particular affection for trees.”

Flushing, she shot to her feet so fast the room went cattywampus.

Instantly upright, Jax reached for her arm. “Darce?”

Anger—swift and hot—churned her gut. At his easy familiarity with her name. At...everything. She shook off his hand.

His face fell. “I didn’t mean—”

“You never mean to do anything, do you, Jaxon?” She clenched her teeth.

“The two of you need to get it together.” Shirley’s forehead creased. “There’s an excursion booked for Tuesday.”

Darcy folded her arms. “I’m sure Jaxon can figure out whatever he needs to know.”

His face pinched and sad, Brody stood knee-high between Shirley and Jax. And Darcy almost weakened. But Jaxon Pruitt and his son weren’t her problem.

“I—I have to go.” She rushed through the door as if her sanity depended on it. Where Jaxon Pruitt was concerned, it was not beyond the realm of possibility.

Stumbling outside, she stared at the gazebo on the village square. This couldn’t be happening to her. There had to be some mistake.

But there was no mistake. Knuckle under to working with Jaxon Pruitt or find herself unemployed. Her choice.

Shirley stepped onto the porch. “Darcy... Please try to understand.”

Darcy wheeled around. “You said whenever you decided to retire, you’d give me first dibs on buying the business.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Did I say that?”

“You certainly led me to believe that. I believed we were friends.”

Shirley had never fit into what most of her generation considered a proper role for a Southern woman. Instead of marriage and motherhood, she operated a successful water sports business. She was one of the first people to grasp the importance of ecotourism. She was also an environmental advocate in preserving the pristine beauty of the Delmarva Peninsula, bordered by the Atlantic on the east and the Chesapeake Bay on the west.

“We are friends, Darcy.” Shirley’s trim, athletic figure belied her sixty-plus years. “I need you to trust me when I tell you this arrangement is going to work out best for all of us.”

Feeling the cool wind off the harbor, Darcy wrapped her bare arms around herself. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see how any of this is in my best interest.”

“Jaxon needs the shop more than you do.”

This was so unfair. She’d spent years working her way to becoming Shirley’s manager. She’d saved her money in preparation for one day assuming ownership.

“What about my ecotour certification? He doesn’t have that.” Darcy set her jaw. “Nor any experience in this business.”

“He worked here in high school, like you.”

Until Jax had graduated, joined the army and married overseas. She could feel pink breaching the collar of her cotton shirt. One of the downsides to being a strawberry blonde. Her every emotion was always on display.

But of all the people in the world, why did the new owner have to be him?

“Jaxon is struggling to readjust to civilian life, Darcy.”

She threw out her hands. “So give him a job, Shirley. We hire extra people over the summer.”

“Jaxon needs more than a part-time job. He needs a purpose. And a steady income to support his child. They need a home.”

Darcy had a hard time envisioning Anna’s footloose, marginally reckless, ever charming brother with a child. Or married. Except now he was a widower.

Her mouth thinned. “So you’re saying this is my patriotic duty?”

“I’m only asking you to stay till summer’s end. Help Jaxon learn the ropes.”

Darcy shook her head. “He’s your nephew. And I don’t get your sudden need to retire.”

“The timing of his return is a godsend.” Shirley’s eyes danced. “I’ve met someone.”

Darcy blinked. “Who? When?”

“In January, during the winter kayaking season. He lives next door to my condo in the Keys.” Shirley’s no-nonsense face glowed. “He’s retired Coast Guard. Like me, he loves to feel the sand between his toes.”

This was so unlike the Shirley she’d always known, she was almost speechless. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

Shirley shook her head. “You know how it is in Kiptohanock. Everybody in everybody else’s business. I didn’t want my family knowing until I was sure about the next step with Frank.”

“But to leave everything? For a man you barely know?”

“Frank’s a widower. His children and grandchildren are settled in Florida.” Shirley sighed. “I’m willing to relocate for the sake of our relationship.”

“Have you at least talked to my dad?”

“Your father, my pastor, gave me some good advice, which I intend to follow. It’s time for a change in my life.” Acquired after a lifetime of gauging sea horizons, Shirley’s crow’s-feet fanned into half-moons of joy.

In light of her obvious happiness, Darcy surrendered to the inevitable. “So what can I do to help?”

“Come winter, I’d like you to take over running the business in the Keys.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d always longed to travel. Now she’d get her chance. Though it would mean leaving everyone and everything she loved behind.

“But meanwhile...” Shirley took a deep breath. “Help me by helping my nephew find a place for himself here with his son.”

Anything but that. Darcy squeezed her eyes shut. Thready panic fluttered like butterfly wings in her belly. “The Eastern Shore business for the Florida Keys branch?”

Shirley must’ve sensed her wavering resistance. “Please? You won’t be sorry. I promise.”

Darcy was already sorry. But as the daughter of the seaside hamlet’s beloved Reverend Parks, she was nothing if not dutiful. The business would fail without her expertise. Jaxon would fail. Was she willing to stand by and watch that happen?

“If I agree...and that’s a big if, Shirley,” Darcy said, gritting her teeth. “I might consider helping once it gets busy, but when it comes to working with Jaxon on a daily basis, I can’t make any promises.”

“Just give it a try, and then come to Florida. If you decide that’s what you truly want to do.”

Darcy grimaced. “What else would I do? It’s not like I have many options.” Story of her life. And she was so sick of her life.

Not the only one who needed a change, maybe Shirley was right. Who wouldn’t want to spend the winter in tropical Florida? Maybe this plan was best. Darcy just had to live through a summer of Jax.

Her heart sank.

When it came to Jaxon Pruitt, it was easier said than done.

Chapter Two

With more than a little reluctance, Darcy went inside the shop again with Shirley. Jax turned from the display kiosk. At his feet, Brody was stuffing a child-size Osprey backpack with everything within reach.

Jax tried taking hold of the pack. But scowling, his son hugged the lime-green bag to his chest.

“Brody likes to zip things,” Jax murmured. “He was just playing. I’ll put everything back where it belongs.”

“It’s your store. You can do what you want.” She motioned to the backpack Brody clutched. “I like lime-green, too.”

Jax shot her a glance. “I remember.”

She ignored his overture. “Are you going on an expedition, Brody?”

Lips set in a thin line, Brody unzipped the bag. One by one, he removed the items he’d stashed, holding them up for her inspection. Cords, a pair of waterproof gloves, and carabiners. Which he clicked open and shut.

She smiled over his head to Jax. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a budding outdoorsman.”

Uncoiling a notch, he gave her a tentative smile.

Shirley took hold of the little boy’s hand. “You two should get to work. Since Brody’s packed his gear, we’ll take a stroll around the square. Take in the sights.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “That should take about five minutes.” She helped Brody slip the pack on his back and tighten the straps.

“True.” Shirley headed for the door. “But I also need more experience with little ones before I head to Florida this afternoon.”

Darcy spent the next thirty minutes familiarizing Jax with shop merchandise and the online accounting system.

At a flicker of movement on the sandy beach outside, she looked up and saw Shirley giving Brody a beginner lesson on entering and exiting a kayak. The ecoentrepreneur didn’t know much about children, but when in doubt, she fell back on what she did know. And Shirley knew kayaking.

Brody was too cute in his navy blue crocs, his legs straddling the child-sized kayak.

And with Jax engrossed in perusing the company website, she took her first good look at Brody’s father. As lanky as ever, tall like all the Pruitt men. Corded muscles rippled along his forearms.

He’d fulfilled the physical potential of the boy she’d once known. Always handsome with his brown hair and melted-chocolate eyes. Problem was, back then he knew it. He knew just how to use his charm and good looks to his advantage.

The clean, pleasing aroma of his soap teased her nostrils. Her pulse jumped. She jolted at Jax’s voice.

“How do you schedule the outings?”

The faster she updated Jaxon Pruitt on the business he’d bought out from under her, the faster she could return to her own life. Clicking the mouse, she showed him how to access the booking calendar.

“We offer one- to three-day kayaking expeditions, in addition to half-day trips. Anything from day-tripping to navigating the entire hundred-mile length of the Seaside Water Trail. From the tip of the peninsula at Cape Charles north to Chincoteague.”

“Aunt Shirley did this by herself?”

Darcy shrugged. “After high school, I came on full-time. We worked in tandem on the water. But in the last few years, I’ve led the paddle groups while Shirley coordinated details at the shop.”

Jax ticked through the website tabs. “Where do clients overnight on multiday expeditions?”

“For the more adventurous, we pitch tents on the barrier islands. Others prefer accommodations at B and Bs we’ve established relationships with, like the Duer Inn.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Of course, you’ll need to teach paddle school before every excursion. And memorize the chart routes.” At his dazed look, she stopped. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yeah.” His shoulders drooped.

At the uncertainty blanketing his features, a begrudging compassion filled her. “It will get easier, Jax.”

His gaze cut to hers. “Will it?”

Darcy’s breath hitched at his bleak expression. “Like riding a swell, it’ll come back. You’ll catch up.” Her heart pounded. “I’ll help.”

“I need all the help I can get.” His gaze shifted to the window. “Brody likes you.” Jax’s eyes dropped to the keyboard. “He’s been so closed-off since his mother died. I’d begun to think he’d never—” His voice choked.

The Jax she remembered wasn’t given to displays of emotion.

She closed the laptop. “Brody is a sweetheart. It’s entirely my pleasure to know your son.”

Giving Jax time to recover his self-control, she went over the list of gear presented to clients after booking an excursion.

He shuffled through a folder he’d brought with him. “I’ve been thinking about a new marketing strategy to lure in more locals. What if we—”

“Not a good idea.”

His nostrils flared. “How about listening before you dismiss my ideas?”

She jutted her chin. “How long has it been since you’ve been kayaking, Jax?”

His chiseled features hardened. “A while. Adrienne was from Utah. She preferred to snow ski.”

“Well, here’s a little news flash for you. Nothing—including kayaking—stood still while you were spanning the globe.”

“I never said—”

“Typical Jaxon Pruitt. Always assuming he knows more than he really does.”

He gritted his teeth. “That’s not fair. Hear me out.”

“Based on experience, I know locals aren’t interested in the tours we operate. Nor, for the most part, able to pay the premium we charge.”

“Darcy, I’ve been reading—”

“Reading?” She sniffed. “If only your high school English teacher had lived to see the day.”

Jax exhaled. “Look, for this partnership to work we’re both going to have to get on board with compromise. As the new owner, I think—”

“I wouldn’t get on board with you, Jaxon Pruitt, if the ship was sinking and you were the last lifeboat available.”

“Darcy, if you’d just—”

Scraping her chair across the tile, she rose. “We’re done.”

He got to his feet. “You’d rather drown than paddle with me?” His jaw went rock solid. “Fine.”

Toe to toe with him, she glared. “Great.”

His brows furrowed. “Fantastic.”

She started for the door, her flip-flops punctuating her angry stride. “A jock like you shouldn’t use big words he doesn’t know how to spell.”

“Takes one to know one.”

She wheeled. “Did you call me a jock?”

Confusion flickered in his dark eyes. “Tomboy Darcy would’ve taken it as a compliment.”

“Tomboys grow up.” She curled her lip. “Something you should try.”

“I didn’t mean...” He growled. “Why do you have to be so obstinate, Darcy Parks? So hardheaded? So—”

She whirled toward the door. “Like you say, takes one to know one.” Never looking back, she fluttered her hand over her shoulder. “Goodbye. Good riddance. Have yourself a good life, Jaxon Pruitt.”

“Darce...”

Storming out, bell jangling, she let the slamming door frame her response.

Her and Jaxon Pruitt work together? Impossible. He was impossible. Same old arrogant jerk. She must’ve been delusional, imagining he’d acquired even a shred of humility.

She was breathing hard when she flung herself inside the SUV. Strangling the wheel, she forced herself to take a cleansing breath. Of all the people she’d ever known, Jaxon Pruitt possessed a rare ability to send her into orbit.

After cranking the key in the ignition, she pulled out of the parking lot and passed her father’s car at the church. On Saturday afternoons, he liked to practice preaching his sermon to the empty sanctuary. Reverend Parks would’ve told her she needed to pray about her attitude. Like Jax didn’t?

When she rounded the village green, one of the volunteer firefighters waved from the open bay of the station. Small town friendliness. Some things never changed. Which used to drive her crazy. But now?

There was something incredibly soothing and comforting about the unchanging rhythm of life on the Eastern Shore. As predictable as the tide. A surety in an otherwise uncertain world that, at age thirty, she’d finally learned to appreciate.

A cocoon of safety... She grimaced. Until Jaxon and his heart-stealing son had arrived.

Completing her drive-by of the square, she turned into one of the residential side streets radiating out from the green like the spokes of a wheel.

Oaks and maples arched over the street. Streaming through the foliage, sunshine splattered the sidewalk. Averting her gaze from Jaxon’s family home, she pulled into the driveway of the neighboring Victorian parsonage, her home since birth.

Such a cliché. Literally, the girl next door. After parking in the half-circle drive, she trudged toward the backyard, where Shore folk did most of their living. She was careful to keep her eyes averted from the towering tree between the Parks and Pruitt yards as she plodded up the concrete steps to the screened porch.

Darcy let the door slam behind her. It was that kind of day. “Mom?”

“In here.”

Stepping out of her flip-flops, she ventured inside the house. Her mother straightened from the oven, a casserole dish cradled in her mitted hands. Coils of steam rose from the lasagna. Mouthwatering aromas permeated the kitchen.

Agnes smiled. “I made the lasagna this morning. After talking with Shirley at the Sandpiper, I only had to reheat the pan.”

Darcy glanced at the kitchen clock. “Kind of early for dinner.”

Her mother placed the hot dish in a padded, insulated carrier. “Not by the time you take this out to Shirley’s house for Jaxon.”

“Oh, no, I’m not.”

Agnes cocked her head. “Shirley left those boys with only milk in the fridge and cereal in the pantry.”

Hands raised, Darcy stepped back. “One of those boys is a combat veteran. He can fend for himself.”

“But Jaxon always loved my lasagna.”

Darcy gave her a brittle smile. “Since nobody’s seen him in fourteen years, maybe it’s the only thing he loved about his hometown.”

Her mom’s denim-blue eyes softened.

Darcy stiffened. She knew the look. The kill-her-with-kindness approach. She must not weaken. She must not...

“I don’t think that’s true, Darcy.” Her mother shifted to her I’m-so-disappointed-in-you look. “And what’s more, I don’t think you believe that, either.”

“Jax can buy his own groceries. He can fix his own dinner. He doesn’t need our help.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Agnes’s mouth quirked. “Jaxon will have his hands full getting settled into his new home tonight. Think of his son.”

Adorable Brody Pruitt was the last person she wanted to think about. No, that wasn’t true. Brody’s father was the last person she wanted to think about.

Her mother gestured next door. “With his parents out of town, they probably haven’t had a decent meal yet.”

“Jax looked just fine to me.”

“Did he now?” Her mother’s eyes twinkled.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Darcy bit her lip.

Agnes placed a container of pimento cheese into a wicker basket. “They’re both too skinny. Especially Brody. He’s a growing boy. He needs to eat.”

Darcy folded her arms. “Why don’t you take it to them?”

“Your father would want to make sure Jaxon and his little orphan son were properly welcomed home...”

It was all Darcy could do not to roll her eyes at the word orphan. But being the dutiful daughter she’d always been, she didn’t. PKs—preacher’s kids—never behaved disrespectfully.

Then her beloved mother played her last, most effective card.

“I guess when your dad returns...” Agnes placed a bunch of bananas in the basket. “Although your father usually tries to rest before his busiest day of the week. But we could drop everything... Head out there...” She emitted a long-drawn-out sigh.

Darcy thrust out her hand. “Just give me the basket, Mom. I’ll take it out there, already.”

Her mother beamed. “How nice of you to offer.”

Darcy snorted. Not only unladylike, but also very unPK.

Her mother’s unique blend of strong-armed gentleness would have made her a superb peace negotiator. But perhaps as a pastor’s wife, that’s exactly what she was—navigating the not-always-serene waters of Kiptohanock life.

Agnes removed a pie from the refrigerator. “Shirley tells me you still need to brief Jaxon on the map route for the upcoming excursion.”

“How did you—?” Darcy glanced at the old-fashioned landline phone hanging on the wall. “You and Shirley were pretty sure of yourselves, weren’t you, Mom?”

“By now, Shirl’s probably on her way to the toll plaza at the bridge.” Agnes smoothed her apron. “Don’t be angry. I felt confident you’d do the right thing. As you always do.”

That was her. Boring, dutiful Darcy. PK extraordinaire.

Her mother plucked a loaf of bread off the countertop. “Besides, don’t you think it’s time you confronted this thing between you and Jaxon?”

Mouth gaping, eyes wide—with horror—Darcy drew up. “There isn’t a thing between Jax and me.”

Her mom arched her eyebrow. “Then what’s the big deal in helping him for a few months?”

Darcy’s heart raced. “The big deal is...” She threw out her hands. “No one seems to understand that I’m the wronged one here.”

Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “Tell me the truth. Why are you so afraid of helping Jaxon?”

Darcy sucked in a breath. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“No, my dear brave girl.” Her mother touched her arm. “You’re afraid of yourself.”

She jerked free. “That’s not true.”

“I think your father and I made the nest too cozy. But that’s no way to live, honey. It’s time to venture out. Test your wings and fly.” She placed her palm against Darcy’s cheek. “Don’t lock your heart away from the possibility of a new life.”

Was her mom right? Was she afraid to reach for more? “Shirley told you about me moving to Florida?”

Agnes fiddled with a tray of deli meat and sandwich rolls.

Darcy blinked. “How long have you and Shirley been planning this ambush, Mom?”

“Shirley came to us with the decision to sell the business to Jaxon.” Her mother gave Darcy a small smile. “A decision with which your father and I agreed. We see a lot of Shirley in you.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Shirley has built a successful business.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being independent. But at this point in her life, her choices have left her lonely. Your father and I, we want more for you.”

“Dad is in on this, too?”

“Your father wants to see you happy.” Moisture filled Agnes’s eyes. “God—via Shirley—has given you another opportunity.”

“So you’d both be okay if I move to Florida?”

Her mother gave a slow nod. “If Florida will make you truly happy.”

Almost Shirley’s exact words.

“Did moving to the parsonage make you truly happy, Mom?”

Agnes gripped the basket handle. “It did.” But her mouth tightened.

They were Harold Parks’s second family. Thirty-five years ago, his first wife and son had tragically died in a car accident. Something Darcy’s father never spoke about. Her mother, either.

His replacement wife. His runner-up family. Like Darcy with the Florida business. And she was tired of feeling like the runner-up, the consolation prize.

Did her mother know that every August 14 her father visited the tiny cemetery outside town?

“I’m not like you, Mom. Not everyone wants to be a wife and mother.” She lifted her chin. “I’d never be happy at the beck and call of the entire village.”

Her mother straightened. “Maybe not. But pursuing your dreams doesn’t have to exclude loving relationships.” Her forehead puckered. “Don’t waste this chance or this summer, Darcy. For your own sake, sweetheart. Please.”

“Your kind of happiness won’t work for me.”

“But Darcy, suppose this summer is about more than kayaking?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Her mother flipped the basket lid shut. “Life is a journey. Like love. And you never know what might lie beyond the next bend.”

Darcy huffed. “Better paddle harder. I think I hear banjos.”

Her mother—pastor’s wife, former social worker and everyone’s favorite friend—crinkled her eyes at Darcy. “If nothing else, be kind to a lonely little boy who’s lost his mother and everything he ever knew.”

Bull’s eye. The chink in Darcy’s armor. Despite being an only child—maybe because of being a lonely only—she loved children.

And so fifteen minutes later, she stowed the basket in the SUV. Her mother waved from the front lawn.

Darcy told herself she was doing this only for Brody. She couldn’t get the image of his sad face out of her mind, and thoughts of the withdrawn little guy lay heavy on her heart. Getting an idea, she made a quick detour north on Highway 13 to the dollar store.

The vibe between Jax and his son continued to gnaw at her. Back in the car, she ventured off the main road toward Shirley’s wooded farmhouse, situated on an isolated neck of the inlet.

Was her mom right? Was this summer about more than merely keeping a business afloat? Turning off Seaside Road, the SUV bounced across the rutted drive.

On the football field, Jax had possessed a daring recklessness. Like each of the overachieving Pruitts—Ben the Annapolis grad, Will the firefighter, dad and brother Charlie deputy sheriffs—fear had never been a factor for Green Beret Jax.

But now? A memory arose in her mind of an incident that had happened a few years ago, after the hurricane tore through Kiptohanock.

A golden retriever had floundered in the harbor off the jetty. In the dog’s eyes she’d beheld the same expression she’d glimpsed in Jax’s face this afternoon when he gazed at his son. Despair and an overwhelming fear.

Steering the SUV through the grove of trees, she winced at the memory of that day. Losing strength, the retriever had appeared about to go under. Just like Jaxon Pruitt?

Disturbed by the comparison, she gripped the wheel. She’d dived into the churning water without hesitation to rescue the dog. And kept the retriever afloat long enough for a Coastie to jump in and get them both to safety. Later, the owners had gratefully reclaimed their pet.

Was that what God wanted her to do with Jax and Brody? Get them to a safe place? Was this summer about keeping them afloat until they gained a foothold of trust with each other? At stake was Brody’s relationship with his dad.

As to her own continuing proximity with Brody’s widowed father? Darcy released a slow trickle of breath. This wouldn’t end well.

Because where Jaxon Pruitt was concerned, it never had. Not for her.

Chapter Three

Jaxon tucked Brody’s folded shirts and jeans into the bureau drawer. The socks and Spider-Man underwear went into another drawer. Hand on his hips, Jax glanced around the bedroom.

He’d purchased the rambling, three-bedroom farmhouse from his aunt as part of their business deal. At present, the house was furnished with only the bare essentials. As spartan and unsentimental as his aunt, it would be up to Jax to figure out how to turn the house into a home for Brody.

What Jax knew about kids—despite being the oldest of four brothers and one sister—wouldn’t fill Brody’s pint-size suitcase.

Stowing the suitcase in the hall closet, he headed down the creaking staircase to check on his son. And found him where he’d left him ten minutes ago. Knees planted in the sofa cushion, Brody kept his eyes fastened on the winding driveway. As if he was waiting for someone. Watching for someone—like his mother?—who’d never return.

Guilt twisted Jax’s gut. “What’re you doing, son?”

Brody didn’t turn around. “Hungwy.”

Him, too. “Let’s get chicken nuggets at McDonald’s.”

Brody shook his head, but his fixation on the driveway didn’t waver. “No ’Donalds.”

Jax was also tired of fast food. It had been a long day, starting with the drive over the Bay Bridge Tunnel. With the waves lapping the shoreline in Virginia Beach, they’d crossed the steel-girded artery which connected what been here, born heres called the Western Shore of mainland Virginia to their Eastern Shore home.

Brody probably should’ve had a nap. But perched high in his car seat, he’d studied the shorebirds wheeling overhead, the silent child as emotionally remote as Jax himself.

Apples and trees. Fathers and sons. He scrubbed his hand over his face. Bringing up the tree thing with Darcy had been a mistake. A tactical error in winning her support.

He needed her help or this attempt at a new life was doomed. But he’d gone too fast, pushing his business ideas on her. Neither of them were the same carefree kids they’d been. And now he’d blown any hope of friendship, much less a business collaboration.

And there remained his biggest dilemma—how to reach his son. As he knelt there staring through the window, Brody’s skinny shoulder blades stood out through his Power Rangers T-shirt.

“What ’bout cereal, Brode?”

Home less than a day, Jax had already slipped into his native speech. Bogue, fogue and dogue were sure to follow for bog, fog and dog.

“No...” An unaccustomed whine had crept into Brody’s too stoic voice.

Better forget Brody’s usual tub time. Jax wasn’t sure he had the fortitude to gator wrestle a two-year-old, slippery as an eel, into a bath. He’d feed Brody and put him to bed.

As for the upcoming kayaking excursion? He rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to work out the kinks. He also needed to study the water charts for the Tuesday morning expedition.

“How ’bout pizza, son?”

An SUV rounded the curve in the driveway. Darcy’s SUV. Jax’s heartbeat accelerated. Brody launched himself off the couch and grabbed the doorknob.

Jax scrambled after him. “Wait, Brody.” But somehow the child managed to pry open the door. Who knew a two-year-old could be so fast?

As Jax stepped onto the wraparound porch, his son hurled himself at Darcy. His arms clasped around her legs, Brody buried his face in her jeans. “Me know you come, Dawcy. Me know.”

Darcy’s eyes went wide. Jax stood frozen. A wicker basket lay in the gravel beside her. A plastic shopping bag dangled from her hand.

Brody had been waiting and watching for Darcy? After what happened earlier, Jax had feared they’d seen the last of her. Yet here she was. And with a childlike faith, Brody had believed she’d come.

Jax moved to ground level. “Let me take something.” He grabbed hold of the basket.

“Thanks.”

His arms sagged at the basket’s weight. “Wow, how did you get this thing out of the car?”

“When will you learn, Pruitt, it’s all about girl power?”

She’d been telling him that since she was only slightly older than Brody. His mouth curved. “How could I forget?”

With her free hand, she cupped Brody’s head. But her gaze never left Jax. “See that you don’t, Pruitt.”

She drew back, though, when he reached for the plastic bag. “It’s a surprise for later.”

Letting go of her legs, Brody turned his face up to her. “’Pwize?”

She pointed to the hamper. “Only if you eat a good dinner.”

Brody’s stomach rumbled, and he laughed.

Jax almost dropped the basket. “That’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh since...” Chest heaving, he gulped past the boulder lodged in his throat.

Darcy’s lips quivered. “I’m glad.”

He was glad she was here. But he couldn’t say that to her. That had never been the way they were with each other. Instead, he took a lungful of the scents wafting from the basket. “Something smells great.”

She shrugged. “Mom was convinced you two would die of starvation without a home-cooked meal tonight.”

He’d always loved her mother, Agnes, a quiet, sweet spirit more comfortable behind the scenes than center stage. With his own mother off-Shore right now, somehow she’d known what he and Brody needed most was a taste of home.

“Lasagna. Half spinach for Brody, meat for a carnivore like you.” Darcy squared her shoulders. “Also included, lunch fixings for tomorrow. And a pie tonight if both of you are very good boys.”

“Me wuv pie.” Propped against her thigh, Brody sighed, a sound of utter contentment.

Not unlike what Jax was feeling. Suddenly, the world seemed a better place. Despite the fading sunlight, a happier, brighter place.

She bit her lip. “Would Brody let me pick him up, Jax?”

“Not me, but you he might.”

Flushing, he dropped his eyes at the painful admission. She must think him a terrible father. His own son didn’t want Jax to hold him.

She opened her arms, and Brody didn’t hesitate. He leaped into her embrace. Jax pushed aside a sting of envy.

He heaved the basket up the steps. “I’ll call your mom later and thank her.”

At the door, he paused, keeping his back to Darcy. “Seems like a ton of food for just the little guy and me. Would you stay and help us?”

He was asking for more than dinner. They both knew it. And if she refused? He wasn’t sure how he’d cope with another rejection from her today.

The silence stretched. He closed his eyes, but didn’t turn around. His heart pounded in his ears.

“I’ll stay.”

Opening his eyes, he released a breath.

She lugged his son, propped on her hip, onto the porch. “After dinner, I’ll go over the map route with you.”

He held the door for her. “I’d appreciate it.”

In the kitchen, he set out the food on the butcher-block countertop. He hadn’t had time to explore the kitchen, but he needn’t have worried. She immediately pulled out plates and removed glasses from the cabinet next to the sink.

“You’ve spent a lot of time here with Shirley.”

Darcy opened a utensil drawer. “She mentored me.”

And therefore, Darcy was far much more deserving of this opportunity than him. No wonder she resented him. No wonder she didn’t want to work with him.

Darcy showed Brody how to fold the paper napkins, and his little man toddled around the farmhouse table, setting out three places.

She knew the kayaking business, and Jax didn’t. It should be her name on the company title, not his. If it weren’t for Brody, he’d...

Jax dug into the casserole. For Brody’s sake, what choice did he have? The papers were signed. The deal was done.

And he was so profoundly grateful for this chance to come home. To have a job. A purpose and a way to provide a life for his son.

Jax spooned out the lasagna onto the plates. Darcy rigged a stack of phone books onto one of the chairs as a booster seat.

He poured milk for Brody into a small juice cup. “I’m surprised anyone uses telephone books anymore.”

She lifted Brody to the top of the stack. “Shirley is old-school.”

Jax cut the spinach lasagna into bite-size pieces for Brody. “So it was you behind the website.”

She held up a salad fork. “Can Brody use this?”

Jax grinned over his son’s dark head. “Let’s just say he gives it a good try.”

She smiled at him. A lot of firsts tonight. His pulse ratcheted.

Darcy tucked a napkin in the neck of Brody’s shirt. “He’ll get the hang of it. Like you with this single parenting thing.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me.”

She arched her eyebrow. “Confidence has never been a problem for Jaxon Pruitt.”

Gripping the fork, Brody speared a noodle.

“Uh, wait a minute, Brody.” She placed a restraining hand on his arm. “We need to tell God thanks for the food.”

Something else Jax had failed to do as a parent. His stomach tightened. But she flicked a quick smile at him.

“Put down the fork, Brody, and put your hands together like this. Close your eyes.”

His little hands folded underneath his chin. “Like Gwandma.”

Jax nodded. “Like Grandma.”

When his parents came to help with Brody’s care in the months following Adrienne’s death, his mother had taught Brody to pray. A good practice Jax had allowed to lapse. A good habit he needed to reinstate.

Brody squeezed his eyes shut. “’Kay, Dawcy.”

A smile hovering on her lips, she closed her eyes, too. “Dear Father, thank You for this day and for the food.”

Not closing his eyes, Jax studied Darcy’s face, as usual bare of anything beyond sunscreen. Her sweeping lashes lay soft against her cheeks.

“Thank You for the hands that prepared this wonderful food. Thank You for Brody.”

His son’s mouth tipped up at the corners.

She lifted her face toward the ceiling, like a sunflower seeking light. “Thank You for Brody’s daddy.”

Jax stilled.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “And thank You for bringing Brody and his dad home to Kiptohanock.”

“Amen,” Jax whispered.

She cleared her throat. “Amen, Brody. Now you can eat.”

Brody’s eyes flew open. “Ay-ay-men...”

They laughed.

Keeping an eye on Brody’s attempt to lance the lasagna and access his mouth, Jax sat across from Darcy. “The confident Jaxon Pruitt you remember didn’t quite make it back from an Afghan province.”

She handed him a plate of lasagna. “What about the commendations under fire? Jax the Invincible.”

“Not so invincible.” He paused, fork midway to his mouth. “You kept track of me?”

She stabbed the lasagna on her plate. “Not so hard with the Kiptohanock grapevine at work. You know how it is in a small town.”

“Home sweet home,” he grunted. “Where you may not know what you’re doing, but you can rest assured everyone else does.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” She rolled her eyes. “But in your case, you’ve always succeeded at everything you attempted.”

“In hindsight, too easily. Without having to try too hard.” He bent over the plate. “And when it really matters, like now...”

She laid down her fork. “You are a naturally gifted athlete. Easy on the eyes. And despite the laid-back demeanor, intelligent. You’ll be an old hand at running the kayaking business before you know it.”

His head came up. “You think I’m good-looking?”

Darcy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish on a hook. “That’s what you got out of everything I said? Good-looking cannot be a news flash to you.”

He cocked his head. “The news flash is that you think so, too.”

“All the Pruitt men are good-looking.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Though your baby brother, Charlie, is widely considered the most handsome of the bunch. Not you.”

He placed his hand over his chest. “Zing—straight through the heart.” He laughed. “I missed you, Darcy.”

She could always be counted on to give him a healthy dose of humility. Whether he wanted her to or not.

“Did you? I couldn’t tell.”

Brody reached for his cup, and she jumped up—as did Jax—a second too late to prevent a milk mishap.

Jax righted the overturned cup. “I’m sorry about what happened this afternoon. You’re right. I need to learn the business before I make changes.”

She used her napkin to mop up the spill. “I should’ve given your ideas a chance. Maybe next week—things are slow until summer cranks up—we could revisit your idea. It’s your business. You’re the boss.”

“Next week? Does that mean you’d be willing to teach me what you know?”

“Providing we can come to acceptable terms.”

Darcy took life on her terms. One of the things he’d most liked about her when they were children. Because truth be told, he was the same way. Frenemies or not, they’d always understood each other.

At least until that last summer before he shipped out to Basic. Things had gotten confusing between them.

He pushed back his shoulders. “Okay, hit me.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “When will you learn not to say things you don’t mean?”

He laughed. In the old days, she’d always managed to make him laugh. Most of all, at himself. “I meant hit me with your terms.”

She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I’ll teach you what I know about the business, but after Labor Day I’m leaving the Shore to run Shirley’s operation in the Keys. You’ll have three months to get up to speed, but after that you’re on your own.”

Just when he returned, she was leaving? The sunshine girl headed to the Sunshine State. But she’d offered him an olive branch. A truce in their long-running battle of hostility.

“You were gone a long time.” She settled into her chair. “Why didn’t you ever come back?”

“I was nineteen the first time I deployed, Darcy.” He took a deep breath. “Somewhere along the way, I got lost.”

“Lost how?”

His shoulders rose and fell. “Let’s just say I’ve been as far from Kiptohanock as you can find yourself and still be on the same planet.” He looked away. “These last few days since leaving Salt Lake City, I’ve asked myself if it was possible to fit into small town life again. But for Brody’s sake...”

She placed her palms flat on either side of her plate. “It’s because of Brody that I know you’re going to make this work, Jax.”

He frowned. “You’ve got more faith in me than I do in myself right now.”

“You are the king of don’t quit, Jaxon Pruitt.” She smirked. “Obnoxiously so. You’ll rise to the occasion. You always do.”

“Somewhere in there I think there was a compliment.” He ran his fingers through the short ends of his hair. “A very hidden compliment.”

Darcy tilted her head. “And here’s something else I’ve learned about small towns like Kiptohanock.”

He took a swig of sweet tea, as much as anything to give his hands something to do. “What’s that?”

“Sometimes small towns are so out in the middle of nowhere that you have to get lost to find them.”

He gnawed at his lower lip. “You’re saying even lost, I’m right where I should be?”

“Small town life lesson.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “I won’t charge you for that one. But I’ll expect to receive my paycheck as usual at the end of the month.”

“Duly noted.” He rested against the chair. “I never realized until I left how much I’d miss this place.”

“For born heres—” she placed her hand over her heart “—it becomes a part of us.”

“I took being within sight and sound of the water for granted. It’s who we are in the deep places. Over there I lost the best part of myself.” He fiddled with his silverware. “But if you don’t mind me asking—”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“Why are you leaving, Darcy?”

“The longer I’ve stayed—maybe I’ve overstayed—the more lost I feel.” She averted her eyes. “Perhaps it’s time for me to see if there’s more out there.”

“Does more have to be out there? Not here?”

Her gaze returned to his. “I thought you’d understand, Jax. We’re both all-or-nothing people.”

“You want to know the real reason I didn’t return until now?” His heart drummed in his chest. “I didn’t think there could ever be a place here for me again.”

“But you’re home now, Jax.”

“Am I?” He studied her. “Will you forgive me, Darcy?”

His question was about so much more than what had happened this afternoon.

She looked at him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Can we get back to being friends?” He thrust out his chin. “We were friends, Darcy. Once.”

“Trust might be trickier than merely coming home.”

Jax tightened his jaw. “A chance is all I’m asking.”

His son pushed off from the table. “Pie?”

Bolting to his feet, Jax grabbed for the sliding phone books.

She caught his son underneath his arms. “Whoa, there, Brody Pruitt. What’s the rush?”

His mouth and chin were covered in red sauce. “Me Bwody Pwoo-it, Dawcy.” He raised his sauce-encrusted hands.

She kissed a clean spot on the top of his head. “Yes, you are. And what you are is a big mess.”

Brody threw back his head and belly-laughed.

“You know, Jaxon Pruitt, you have an irresistible son.”

He polished his knuckles on his shirt. “Like father, like son.”

“You wish.”

Smiling, he cut Brody a sliver of pie while Darcy made a valiant attempt to restore a semblance of cleanliness to his son.

After dessert, she took out a small plastic bottle from the shopping bag. “Bubbles, Brody. Let’s go out back.”

She guided him down the deck stairs to the tree-studded, sloping lawn. The meandering tidal creek glistened like multicolored jewels in the rainbow hue of the fiery sunset.

Darcy handed Jax a large bubble wand. “This one’s for you.”

Brody quivered with excitement. She dabbed the tiny stick in the solution. And pursing her lips, she blew across the wand.

A single bubble hung suspended before a soft breeze off the salt marsh lifted it into the air. They watched as the bubble rose higher and higher until it disappeared over the trees.

“Oh, Dawcy...” For the first time since Adrienne’s death, Brody smiled.

Darcy’s eyes welled and cut to Jax. His eyelids burned. She understood what this moment meant.

“Thank you, Darce.”

As soon as he said the old nickname, he remembered how she hated it. Yet old habits died hard. Like old loves?

But this time, a smile flitted across her lips. “You’re welcome, Jax.”

His son bounced, a human pogo stick. “Mow, Dawcy. Mow.”

“Sure thing.” She blew another bubble.

Brody’s arms reached above his head.

She motioned. “Go get it, Brody.”

He raced after the bubble. Buoyant on the wind, it eluded his grasp. She blew bubble after bubble as Brody gave chase. His son laughed and laughed. As if making up for lost time.

Happiness. Peace. Contentment. Always just out of Jax’s grasp, too. Eluding him all these years.

“Watch this, Brody,” she called.

Brody wheeled.

She nudged Jax. “Bend a little and close your eyes.”

He obliged, and she leaned closer. Close enough for him to feel her breath on his face as she blew gently across the small wand.

A bubble tickled his eyelids and danced like a frolicking ladybug across his skin. A caress. A whisper. A promise?

Brody clapped his hands. “Me, Dawcy. Me.”

“You can open your eyes, Jax.”

So he did. Her own eyes hooded, she touched her finger to the cleft in his chin. Just for a second before she moved to his son.

Brody chuckled when the bubbles brushed his shuttered eyelids. “Me do you, Dawcy.”

Keeping hold of the bottle, she let Brody dip the stick into the liquid.

“Cwoser, Dawcy. Cwoser.”

Jax rubbed his forehead. “He has trouble with l’s, too.”

Crouching to Brody’s height, she clamped her eyes shut. And flinched when what she got from him was more spit than bubble.

“Way to take one for the team, Darce.”

She shoulder-butted him. “Your turn, soldier.”

“At your peril, Darcy Parks.” He stepped back, yanking the large bubble wand from its sheath.

“Ooh...” Brody’s eyes rounded.

Brandishing it like a saber, Jax smiled, slashing the air between them. She smiled back at him.

And he knew she remembered childhood escapades involving pretend pirates in the tree house. Zorro and intergalactic warfare, too. They’d made it up as they went along. Like now?

He whirled, loosing a giant bubble blob. Brody cackled with sheer delight.

Darcy ran toward the creek. “Catch it, Brody!”

The toddler raced after her as fast as his small legs allowed. He stumbled, but she was there, sweeping him into her arms.

Jax’s heart caught in his throat.

For the first time, he thought he might’ve found a way to bridge the gap. The answer to a prayer he’d been too afraid to voice. Could it be that with Darcy’s help, he might’ve found the way home for both of them?

Chapter Four

On Mondays, the shop was closed. A well-earned rest for employees who spent the weekend guiding kayaking tours. Usually Darcy slept in on her day off. Mondays—not Sundays, though she’d never tell her minister father—were her favorite day of the week.

She hadn’t seen Jax since Saturday night, nor did he appear at church. But Monday morning, despite sleeping fitfully, she came fully awake at 6:00 a.m. Wired, restless, vaguely uneasy.

Darcy lay in bed, watching the first beams of light filter through the dormer window. She’d lived in this house as long as she’d been alive.

Mondays were also her father’s well-earned day off. The day he chose her and her mom over the rest of his congregation. In the summers when she was out of school, they’d spent the day as a family doing fun stuff.

During the school year, she still remembered the special thrill of getting off the bus at the square and walking the last few blocks home with the Pruitt clan.

Her steps quick with anticipation, she knew her father would be waiting for her at the base of the tree house. He’d push her on the swing, and they’d spend a blissful hour together. She loved to swing, trying to touch the sky.

“I’m a swing kind of girl!” she’d call, pumping her legs as hard as she could go.

“And I’m a swing kind of dad,” her father would say back.

On the swing, she could fly. Feeling free and light, she broke the bonds of gravity and soared into the wild blue yonder.

Being so energetic, she must’ve wearied her more sedentary parents. No wonder they were content for her to play with the Pruitt pack next door.

A Kiptohanock native, her father had become pastor of the church with a wife and a young son in tow. The wife and son Darcy never knew. Because if they’d lived, Harold Parks would never have married her mother, and Darcy Parks wouldn’t exist.

She gazed at the ceiling. It was strange to think of herself as not existing. And equally strange to contemplate why she lived and yet her father’s other child had not.

Over the years, she’d thought a lot about her brother. Would she and Colin have been friends, like the Pruitt siblings? Perhaps the two of them would’ve gone fishing. Hunted for seashells on one of the barrier islands.

Would he have been bookish like their father? Or athletic like her, who took after nobody on either side of the family? Truth was, dead little Colin Parks had fit in better with her father than she ever would.

She flung back the thin sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Enough of that. Not given to melancholy, her perennially cheerful mother had raised her to be the same. Darcy was far more comfortable with doing something rather than just being.

Careful to avoid the pine floorboard that creaked, she quietly dressed lest she awaken her parents. Sunday was her dad’s busiest day, and on Mondays he needed his rest. He continued to maintain the pastoral duties of a much younger man.

Standing at the kitchen sink eating a banana, she watched the sun rise over the treetops. No lights shone from the Pruitt house, but Everett Pruitt’s charcoal-gray SUV sat in the driveway. Jax’s parents must’ve arrived home last night.

Brody was too little for kayaking. Jax would need his parents’ help with Brody when he was working.

The Pruitts had always been great neighbors. Darcy loved Jax’s mother. Gail Pruitt, a busy RN with five rambunctious children of her own, always made room at the table for one more—the lonely only PK.

Darcy drifted onto the screened porch, stuffing her bare feet into the flip-flops she’d left there last night. Easing the screen door shut behind her, she plodded toward the tree house.

Underneath the massive oak, the swing moved idly in the desultory breeze blowing in from the harbor. Hand on the railing, she climbed past the lower platform. The wooden steps wound around the tree trunk, and she ascended to her favorite spot on the higher second level. Rising out of the tree canopy, the perch provided a bird’s-eye view of the entire village.

She settled into one of the lawn chairs she kept there. Not that anyone but her had been here for a long time. The Pruitts had outgrown the tree house. Just as, one by one, they’d each outgrown the need for home. And her.

How pathetic was it that she still came up here? Almost thirty, she still lived at home. No boyfriend—or prospects for one—and no real life of her own. What did she have to show for the last fourteen years of her life?

Yet every morning she climbed the tree house stairs. Here, God felt very near. Almost near enough to touch. Almost as close as the clouds overhead. And at night, this was the perfect spot to view God’s starry handiwork.

She’d spent hours here as a child. Vicariously enjoying the noise, laughter and life emanating from the house next door. But she’d been too shy to venture over, until the day Jax stood at the bottom of the tree and invited her to come play with his little sister.

“Anna’s always bothering me and Ben,” Jax had called up. “You’d be doing us a favor.”

Coaxed out, she’d kept a wary eye on the oldest Pruitt boy as she climbed down from the branches. Even from a distance, she knew him to be a charming handful to his mother and his Sunday-school teachers.

On that sultry summer day she never forgot, the Pruitt kids had smiled at her, their mouths stained purple, red, orange and blue.

Jax had handed her a slushy freezer pop. “You look like lime-green would be your favorite.”

Oh so grateful to be included, she took it from him. Thereafter, when the Pruitts broke out freezer pops, the lime-green was forever hers.

Darcy closed her eyes, remembering. The breeze rustled the leaves of the tree. If only she could recapture those days. Before she’d known about the other family. When she felt loved and chosen, blissfully unaware of her father’s heartache.

Things between her and Jax had changed his senior year in high school. Under the basketball net at the end of the Pruitt driveway, he’d gotten all over Will, who’d accidentally knocked her down. Jax had never cared before if anyone wiped the concrete with her.

At youth group, he’d looked at her differently. He would flush when she caught him staring. Drop his eyes. Scuff the toe of his sneaker in the dirt. Awkward, un-Jax-like.

Then after dinner that spring, he took to climbing into the tree house. They’d sit in silence—again, very un-Jax-like. Watching the fireflies blink around them. Watching the stars wink overhead.

Small talk at first. Had she seen the game on TV? What did she think about their chances for beating the church league team in nearby Onley next week? Gradually, he’d told her how he wanted to serve his country like his grandfather. How he wanted to see the world and live life without reservations, on the edge.

He’d painted an irresistible picture of adventure. The kind of adventure she secretly longed for. Living life to the fullest, though part of her shied away from the prospect of leaving everyone and everything behind. Her ideal life would be a balance of the two—home and adventure.

She’d believed Jax Pruitt was the bravest boy she’d ever known. The most handsome. The most everything.

A late bloomer, Darcy found that boys didn’t give her much attention. They respected her athletic ability. Admired her tough, never-say-die spirit. But when it came time for the prom, she wasn’t the girl they asked.

She was flattered, frankly, that Jax Pruitt spent so many of his evenings in the treetop with her. They never held hands or anything like that. He never touched her. They never kissed. Skittish as she was, she would’ve probably decked him if he’d tried. Not that he would’ve tried anything. She was the PK, after all.

But things between them definitely altered. Beyond the tree house, they’d spent an enormous amount of time together working at his aunt Shirley’s shop that summer. And Darcy had loved every minute of it.

As a very sheltered, immature sixteen-year-old, she’d had feelings she didn’t know what to do with. She’d dreaded the day Jax would report to Basic at summer’s end.

Knowing something was coming didn’t always make it better. Like watching a hurricane offshore creep ever closer. Understanding the devastation the day would bring and yet unable to stop it from happening.

“Wait for me in the tree,” Jax had told her in his husky voice. The voice he used with her. “I’ll be there first thing in the morning to say goodbye.” He’d also promised to write.

She didn’t sleep that night. She got up early to wait for him in the tree house. He never showed.

The house next door lay strangely quiet. The Pruitt car had already gone from the driveway. And Jax Pruitt never wrote her. Not once. The old ache resurfaced.

Returning to the present, Darcy exhaled. Ironic that Jax’s return to Kiptohanock meant that, ready or not, her own adventures were about to begin. It was probably good she didn’t have to see Jax or his beguiling son today. Monday couldn’t have been more perfectly timed.

“Darcy?” Her mother stood on the bottom step, peering through the branches. “What in the world are you doing up there so early, sweetie?”

She sighed. “Thinking.”

Praying. Trying to gather the courage to reach for a life full of the adventures she’d once dreamed about. But she didn’t say that to her mom. She couldn’t. PKs didn’t do that sort of thing, after all.

“Your father said something about going to Assateague today. You want to join us?”

Assateague meant the beach, climbing the redbrick lighthouse again, and at the Island Creamery, eating the best ice cream on the peninsula. “Coming.”

She hurried down the stairs. A perfect day spent with those she loved most. She loved Mondays.

* * *

Pulling into the driveway, Jax immediately glanced next door. Darcy’s SUV was parked there, but her father’s compact car was missing. No signs of life at the bungalow.

But it was Monday, of course. Darcy’s favorite day. His lips curved, and his gaze skirted to the backyard oak, its branches visible above the roof of the house.

“Gwandma?” Brody piped from his car seat.

Jax’s mother stepped onto the porch and waved. He’d spent the day fleshing out his ideas for expanding the business, while Brody sat in front of the television set.

He unhooked Brody’s harness. Not good parenting, but when he’d tried initiating a game of catch, his son had refused. Without Darcy, Jax remained a no-go with Brody.

When his grandfather came outside, Brody went ballistic with sheer joy. The toddler was glad to see everyone—anyone—but his dad. The optimism Jax had felt only last night faded.

He had a long way to go before he earned Brody’s trust. Jax’s gaze flitted toward the tree house again. A long way before he regained Darcy’s trust, too.

Throughout dinner, his attention wandered. Anna, her husband, Ryan, and their baby daughter had also come for the impromptu cookout. The backyard buzzed with the soft, fluted tones of his mother, sister and Charlie’s wife, Evy.

Grandpa Everett had a surprise gift for Brody. His tanned little legs pumping the pedals, Brody rode the new Big Wheel along the brick path. Baby Ruby happily rocked in the baby swing Evy kept for her. Charlie and their dad speculated which pitcher would lead the Nationals to a victorious season.

Jax’s thoughts were next door as they’d often been the last summer he lived here. When car lights swept the Parks’s driveway, he swallowed against a rush of feeling, refusing to give in to the clamoring of his pulse.

He rested his hands on his stomach, his feet crossed at the ankles, a picture of nonchalance. But he didn’t fool his mother. He never had.

Anna’s family left soon after. Charlie and his dad went inside to watch the last inning of the game. And Evy begged for the honor of giving Brody a bath before putting him in the Spider-Man pajamas Jax had brought, anticipating a late night out.

No skin off his nose if she wanted to grapple with his son in the bathtub. But Brody would probably be a perfect child for everyone except his father.

Jax started to help his mother clear the table, but she shooed him away. “I got this.” Her gaze slid next door. “I’m sure you can think of something to do with yourself for a little while.”

It was his mom who’d asked him to go invite the little girl next door to join them for freezer pops that long-ago day. The lime-green had been Jax’s personal favorite, but thereafter, he’d given it up for Darcy.

His mother stacked a few plates. “Probably lots to discuss. Among other things.” She gave him a sweet smile. “You two were thick as thieves, especially that last summer.”

Jax flushed. His mother had known about that, too? He’d been eager to take on the world. Yet despite his outward bravado, he’d been inwardly conflicted about leaving home. Not unlike most eighteen-year-olds, he supposed.

His mother nudged him. “Back where you began. Best place to start.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe if he really hoped to start over, he had to begin where he’d left off. Where everything had unknowingly derailed for him.

Bypassing the abandoned Big Wheel, he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he tromped across the grass. Darcy didn’t give herself enough credit. With her get-over-yourself common sense, he’d felt safe confiding his secret fears and aspirations.

He’d told Darcy things he’d never understood about himself until he heard the words coming out of his mouth. She was a good listener, easy to be with and fun.

Still a girl, though, and other than the dude Anna constantly hung out with in those days, his sister’s best friend. Anna had eventually found happiness with that dude, Ryan Savage, but only after intense heartache due to the too-young death of her first husband.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.