Stella Hartley made a man feel many things, but calm was definitely not one of them.
Aidan sighed. So much for a relaxing break. He’d escaped to Sweetbriar Cove to figure out how to fix the unholy mess he’d made of his life. Peace and quiet, and room to regroup, that was what he needed. But he’d lasted all of a week before chaos had found him – all five-feet-six of flyaway brown curls and challenging stares. Now, he had a sinking feeling that he could kiss goodbye to any hopes of a quiet life, especially with Stella just around the bend – and out for his blood, if that blue-eyed scowl of hers was anything to go by.
She could get in line. Aidan scooped up his shirt from the rocky shoreline and reluctantly headed for home. The painful truth was that he had a whole Rolodex of people cursing his name right now, and Stella’s annoyance wouldn’t even get her close to the top of the list.
Because she was right: He wasn’t supposed to be there. Up until a couple of weeks ago, Sweetbriar Cove was the last place he’d thought about staying. It was too small, too quaint, too far from the buzz of the city and all of his high-powered dealings. He’d built a life far away from places like this, a world of penthouses, not back-porch swings; exclusive five-star restaurants, not the local seafood shack.
But when everything fell apart and that high-flying life of his came crashing down, it was the first place on his mind: a safe haven, away from all the noise and blame. He’d been happy there once, all those summers he spent with his family. Looking back now, it might have been the closest thing to carefree Aidan had ever felt. So, he wound up calling the local realtor, and taking the first winter rental on her list.
What had Stella called it again? The Death Star. Aidan gave a rueful smile as he punched in the key-code and stepped into the cavernous front hall. She wasn’t wrong about that. The place was built like a fortress, all echoing concrete flooring and steel beams. On paper, it had seemed perfect: sleek and modern, with all the luxury conveniences of home. But standing in the pristine living room, all Aidan could see was an uneasy echo of the life he’d just left behind: the penthouse he’d left empty; the designer furniture identical to the ones he currently had sitting back in the city. And wherever he went, his phone kept ringing. An inbox full of messages, and none of them good news.
“Hey man, sorry I didn’t get back to you before. I asked around, but I don’t have any leads for you right now, what with… You know, your situation. But hey, you’ll bounce back.”
Beep.
“Aidan, sorry to hear about what happened. Of course, I’ll make inquiries, but maybe you should lay low a while. You know, give it some time.”
Beep.
“Dude, tough break, but I’ve got to hand it to you, when you crash and burn, you do it full throttle. Hang in there, let’s connect soon.”
Beep.
Aidan didn’t need to listen to the rest, they were all the same. Funny how the buddies who always had time for a drink or the game were suddenly all too busy to talk. Like if they got too close, they’d be the next to crash and burn.
Like his failure would be catching.
But bad news travelled fast, especially in the finance world, where the numbers were everything. They all kept score of everyone’s business, watching who was on top with the latest billion-dollar deal – or next to hit the rocks and flame out in spectacular fashion. Aidan was no exception. You didn’t get to the top without a fiercely competitive streak, and he carried that same list around in the back of his mind as the rest of them, measuring the size of his bonus, the percentage points growth on his investment fund, the proof of his success versus everybody else’s. His sister, Cassie, always teased that Sigmund Freud would have a field day with him, but it was just the way things worked in Aidan’s world. How else was he going to prove that he’d made it?
He looked around, suddenly restless. He’d been holed up in the house all week, and he was running low on supplies. Besides, the damn AC had been out since he arrived, and with the massive wall of windows facing west, the place turned into a greenhouse every day around sunset. Another evening like this, and he’d be risking serious heatstroke. So, he grabbed his keys and headed out, driving the winding road back along the shoreline and up towards the town square.
And with every mile, his tension seemed to ease, just a little.
It was hard to believe, but Sweetbriar Cove hadn’t changed in twenty years. Sure, some of the stores had turned over, and the little shop that used to sell brass antiques now did a roaring trade in hand-made pottery, but driving the leafy streets, Aidan could have been seventeen all over again, heading to get an ice-cream cone with his siblings and play Frisbee on the town green. He’d figured things would have emptied out now that summer was done, but the place was still full of life: decked out for some kind of festival, with scarlet ticker-tape on every lamp-post and banners by the town hall. And were those…?
Yup, a giant bunch of paper-mâché cranberries balanced on top of the gazebo.
Aidan had to smile. He shouldn’t have been surprised. They loved their celebrations here. Clambakes, and jam-fests, and the big blow-out Halloween bash every year. He even remembered some kind of parade, back when he was a teen, with Stella Hartley in pride of position on the biggest float around: the Lobster Queen of Sweetbriar Cove.
He tried to imagine her up there now, waving regally with a smile on her face. Somehow, he couldn’t picture it. Not with those muddy work boots and fraying jeans. Wherever life had taken her these past fifteen years, she was a long way from that perfect pageant girl...
And she was more breathtaking than ever.
Aidan couldn’t help flashing back to their unexpected encounter over the summer. The taste of her mouth, tart as cherry; the feel of her body, hot in his arms. It had been so random, he sometimes wondered if he’d imagined the entire thing: conjured up out of an innocent nostalgia. But there had been nothing innocent about her searching, hot mouth pressing closer, making him forget everything but the pounding of his heartbeat, dizzy with lust—
Aidan shook his head, stopping that particular memory in its tracks. He wasn’t here to get embroiled in more drama, he reminded himself: His life was in enough of a mess already. And judging by Stella’s frosty greeting, she was in no hurry to get reacquainted, either. No, he was here to fix what was broken, not to make any more mistakes.
Which reminded him…
Aidan picked up some groceries, and then detoured to the hardware store. Hank was behind the counter, shooting the breeze like he always did, and he greeted Aidan with a smile. “I didn’t know you were back in town,” he said, welcoming. “Your grandpa Earl was in here just this morning, and he didn’t say a word.”
“He doesn’t know,” Aidan said quickly. “It’s, um, a surprise.”
“Then I won’t give the game away.” Hank winked. “Anything you’re looking for?”
Aidan glanced towards the tool section, but who was he kidding? His brother, Jackson, was the mechanic of the family. “My air conditioning is out,” he admitted. “I don’t suppose you know anyone reliable to come fix it?”
“Sure, I know someone.” Hank nodded. “They’re usually booked up pretty solid, though.”
“I’ll pay double if he can come tonight.” Aidan said immediately. “Triple,” he added, thinking of another night sweltering in that house.