Love So Irresistible Page 5

  Her smile gave away to a soft frown. “No. He passed away my senior year of college. He’d gotten sick from working in a pulp mill.”

  So much for flirting with the woman. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. It was—I still miss him,” she said.

  Change the subject, moron. “What about your mom?”

  “I’d rather not talk about her.”

  That was an awesome move. What else can you bring up? Maybe ask her about a dead pet? “Fair enough.” He pushed to his feet and grabbed his walking stick. “Look, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I called in a favor from a friend, and it’s hardly costing me anything to do this for you. So, if money’s an issue, then I’ve taken care of it.”

  She worried her bottom lip for a minute, and then held out the package she’d been carrying. “I got this for you.”

  “Now you really have to let me pay for the repairs,” he said, taking the box. “At this rate, we’ll owe each other so much, we’ll never be able to settle things between us.”

  A frown creased her forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “We were squared away.”

  “Which meant?”

  “I didn’t have to worry about paying you back anymore.” He glanced at the box. “Except now I have to again.”

  “Because if you don’t, then you’ll feel guilty and have to deal with me?”

  “Exactly.” And he had enough damn guilt living inside him already.

  “Oh.” She took a step back. “Okay, guess I’ll go. I have things to do.”

  Well, shit. He’d hurt her feelings somehow. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Or nothing should be wrong.” Smashing her lips together, she pivoted away from him. “I’m fine. Thank you for your gift. Please let me know if the cost exceeds your budget. I’ll find a way to pay the difference.”

  He set the box on the table beside the chair and gently grabbed her shoulder. She stiffened. “I don’t want your money.”

  “And I don’t want to be a guilt-ridden obligation.”

  Where in the hell had that come from? “I don’t understand why you’re upset.”

  “I’m not upset. I’m going home.”

  “Men like me are not the most intuitive creatures on the planet when it comes to guessing women’s moods, but I for damn sure can tell by your posture and tone of your voice that you are, in fact, upset.”

  She whirled around. “Does it matter if I’m upset? We barely know one another. You’re barely tolerating my presence, and to top it off, you’re trying to buy your way into never seeing or hearing from me again. God forbid that you act like a neighbor and be nice.”

  “This is me being nice,” he practically shouted, then lowered his voice. “Damn it, woman. I paid for your stuff to get fixed so you and your students wouldn’t have to suffer due to my problems. It’s no one’s fault but my own I can’t take it.”

  Her face softened then. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I have other options, sweetheart, than to sit around here and drink myself into oblivion.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know exactly.” That wasn’t entirely true. He could take Bomber for walks, go for a boat ride, swimming, fishing, or return to his true love—diving.

  “Yes, you do. I can see it in your face.” She touched his cheek fleetingly, but it was as if she’d branded him. “Figure out the thing you want the most and go for it.”

  Before he could say another word, she turned away and jogged down his front porch steps to head back home.

  Bomber trotted over to him and huffed.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking, boy?”

  The dog’s tail wagged.

  “I thought so.” He grabbed his walking stick and went inside, changing into a pair of board shorts and an old t-shirt.

  *

  Just like riding a bike.

  Mason cruised through the waves, hitting speeds of fifteen knots. The boat, a Grady-White Walkaround, with a high performance outboard motor, cut through the water like it wasn’t even there. Once he’d gotten far enough out for his liking, he cut the engine and dropped anchor.

  “Want to go for a swim, buddy?” he asked Bomber.

  The dog sat in a captain’s chair, his furry head sticking out of a life vest that Mason had jerry-rigged.

  The late afternoon sun beat down on them. Mason tilted his head to the light, closing his eyes behind his glasses for a minute. Then he grabbed his gear, told Bomber to stay put, and shoved his ass over the side of the boat.

  Mason hit the water with a splash, bubbles tickling his skin as he let his body float to the surface. The water was cool, with undercurrents of the Gulf Stream propelling him to the right. With a powerful kick, he broke the surface of the water.

  Bomber stared at him from the boat. He whined a little. The dog loved water.

  “C’mon,” Mason said, motioning with one arm.

  Bomber didn’t have to be asked twice. He jumped in and swam straight for Mason. Grabbing the belt, Mason kept the dog close and began to float on his back. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so free.

  So weightless. Not just from the physical but from the emotional. The ocean did it to him every time. It was why he’d chosen to join the Navy instead of the Marines as soon as he graduated. People had been shocked, mostly because they expect him and Tristan to continue to do everything together.

  He loved his brother, and he knew Tristan loved him, but there came a point in their lives that separate was good. It was hard standing out in a family like theirs. Yeah, he was loved, but he was one of eight.

  Growing up, it seemed that all seven of his brothers had something special about them while he was just ordinary. He and Tristan didn’t even have the identical twin thing going for them.

  But in the military, he’d felt like somebody—mostly because he pushed himself to do the things that hardly anybody else could do. Out of a thousand men who had attempted to become a SEAL the same year as he did, only two hundred had actually made it—and that was nationwide. There’d only been twenty in his group and only five had been accepted.

  For the first time in his life, he felt special.

  He felt more than ordinary. And that feeling had done fuckall to help his fellow SEALs when they’d come under heavy gunfire.

  The sky darkened and thunder rumbled in the distance. The waves grew rough. For a second or two, Mason contemplated staying. He contemplated letting the ocean take him out and not fighting it.

  Bomber licked his arm, and he came out of his morbid trance. He couldn’t let his dog suffer like that.

  Thunder rumbled again and this time, Bomber whined.

  “I heard it.” He began to swim for the boat. “Let’s go home.”

  Chapter Five

  ‡

  The next day, Skylar headed into town to do her weekly grocery shopping, but for some reason, as soon as she pulled her car into the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly, Mason’s words came back to her.

  Routine. Predictable.

  It hadn’t been routine or predictable to pack up everything and move to Jessamine. She’d had a good job in Charlotte teaching music to preschoolers at a high-end Day School, a nice apartment, the occasional date, and girlfriends, who while not particularly close, were always up for a night out.

  Only, not one of those friends had called or texted her in the last couple of month. She only talked to them in passing on Facebook or by commenting on an image uploaded to Instagram, and usually their response was something along the lines of ‘next time we head to the beach, we’ll try to stop by’. Which was a polite way of saying they didn’t have time for her anymore.

  She couldn’t blame them; she’d never allowed anyone to get too close. With the way she’d moved from town to town so much growing up¸ it became impossible for her to make lasting friends. So she became the friendliest girl ever. The one who bent over backwards to help others and make them happy even if it
made her uncomfortable.

  Like her last and only serious relationship with a man, a fellow music major with a poet’s face and dreamy eyes. Donovan Cruz had been a composer, a serious lover of classical music, and a man determined to work in Hollywood for major movies. He wanted the masses to hear his work, to love it and him.

  She’d thought he was brilliant and wonderful—most of all, he’d valued her opinion. He asked for her thoughts and encouraged her to dream bigger. Donovan had been her first and only lover, a man she’d let in only to discover that he’d used her to get close to her roommate—a woman with goals like his and better connections.

  “You don’t dream big enough,” Donovan said a couple of months before graduation while Elisa looked on, a smirk on her face. “All you want to do is teach. Why do you want to waste your gift, or the years you spent here?”

  Still mourning her father’s recent passing, she was unable to defend herself.

  “Don’t you know, Donnie?” Elisa said. “Those who can’t, teach.”

  To her, teaching was a gift in itself. Sharing her love of music was a gift and no one could take that away from her. Not even snobby a roommate or an over-ambitious boyfriend.

  When graduation came around, Skylar accepted her diploma and the fact that, once again, she hadn’t been good enough for someone she cared deeply about. Not only had she given him her body, she’d given him her heart and her thoughts. Donovan had rejected every piece of her.

  So she’d left New York City and started over in Charlotte.

  Her heart began to ache, but the pain was dull. Manageable. And hadn’t she moved to Jessamine for another fresh start? To follow her passion and teach students in her own home while supplementing that income with substitute teaching? To be different from the people-pleasing woman who’d left Charlotte with her stomach in knots?

  She had thought she was on the right path, but going out of her way to help Mason proved that she hadn’t changed at all.

  Routine. Predictable.

  Maybe what Mason really meant to say was boring. Maybe he was being nice by calling her routine and predictable. Although, she conceded that Mason didn’t strike her as one to mince words.

  Exhaling thickly, she pushed her sunglass up before they could slip off her nose.

  His description of her shouldn’t matter. In the grand scheme of her life, he shouldn’t matter, but for whatever reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  “Stop it,” she ordered herself. Gathering herself, she pulled out of the parking lot of the grocery store and headed to downtown Jessamine. Today, she would fully enjoy all it had to offer. Shop in the little stores, eat at Yates’ diner, and maybe even get a manicure at Nailed & Polished.

  She nodded. That was exactly what she was going to do.

  *

  Skylar sat down on a bench facing the Pamlico Sound and smiled. A light breeze ruffled her chin-length hair. Seagulls cried out as they searched for bits of food. Sailboats and jet skis darted through the water. All in all it had been a good day.

  Shop in stores so cute that they should be on the cover of a Hallmark card. Check.

  Stuff herself on fried green tomatoes and chocolate pecan pie at Yates’ diner. Check.

  Attempt to meet new people. She frowned. Not so much. Then again, did she really expect to walk up to the first person she saw and ask—

  “Mind if I sit with you?”

  “Arg!” Skylar slapped a hand to her chest, breathing hard. “Holy crap, you scared me.”

  The redhead gave her an apologetic smile, her hazel eyes friendly. “Sorry. I thought you saw me.”

  “Deep in thought,” Skylar admitted, and then scrunched her nose. “The seat beside me is empty, so yes, have a…um seat.”

  “I’m Lemon by the way. Lemon McCoy. We haven’t been formally introduced but I’ve heard all about you. Very nice things.” Skylar almost side-eyed her for that one, but Lemon seemed genuine. However, it was hard not to question a woman who looked like she just stepped out of a Vogue photoshoot and shared a name with a fruit known for being sour.

  “Skylar Jernigan.”

  Nodding, Lemon grinned. “I know.”

  “Right. Oh, you’re Apple’s sister. She interviewed me for the paper when I first moved here,” Skylar said in a rush, grateful to have made the connection.

  “I also have another sister—Cherry—but she moved away. Her boyfriend was transferred to Raleigh. He’s a fireman.” Lemon smoothed the material of her skirt as she sat down. “So, how do you like Jessamine?”

  “It’s nice.”

  “Wonderful.” Lemon gave her an expectant look, one that was I just gave you the music to Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, not Chopin’s Sonata Number Three, so get to performing, but Skylar’s mind went blank. Completely and totally blank. Good Lord. It wasn’t this difficult talking to Mason, and he made it nearly impossible to carry on a two-way conversation.

  “Have you had a chance to stop by Nailed & Polished?” Lemon finally asked.

  Skylar grabbed onto that like a drowning woman to a life preserver. “No,” she practically shouted and Lemon frowned, her lashes fluttering wildly. Lowering her voice, she tried again, “What I mean is, I haven’t had a chance to stop by, but I want to.”

  “I think you would like it, but I’m a bit biased.”

  Skylar peeked at Lemon’s nails—they were painted to resemble the flag, only there were diamonds for stars. “I love your nails. Did you get them done there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can see why you’d be so biased.”

  Lemon leaned into her. “I’m also the owner.”

  Skylar snorted. “And there’s the other reason.”

  “I’m a horrible self-promoter, huh?”

  With a shake of her head, Skylar said, “Not at all. The nails were enough to convince me to go.”

  “If you give me a couple of dates to pick from, I’ll make an appointment and give you a first-time client coupon,” Lemon said as she pulled out her cell phone from a Kate Spade purse shaped like a snail.

  “Any time after four pm. I do day camps focused on music from nine to three during the week.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard amazing things about your program. I bet next year you’ll have double the amount of students and will have to hire an assistant.”

  “Really?”

  “Truly.”

  “Wow. That would be a dream come true,” Skylar admitted. “Then I wouldn’t have to substitute teach as much.”

  Lemon scrolled through her calendar. “How about this Thursday at four-thirty?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I got you down for a mani/pedi.”

  Skylar almost clapped. “I can’t remember the last time I had either of those.”

  “Then it’s been far too long. Afterwards, if you don’t have plans, we can go to dinner.”

  “Like a girls’ night out?” Skylar asked slowly.

  “We would have a great time.” Lemon put her phone back into a small bag made to resemble a pineapple. “I haven’t seen you in town that often. Have you had a chance to meet very many people?”

  “Not really. Don’t judge, but I’ve been here since January and I’ve only managed to talk to my neighbor…and his family. He’s not too happy about it either.”

  “Oh,” Lemon said lightly. “Who’s your neighbor?”

  “Mason Lawson—know him?”

  “Yes. I’ve known him and his family for years.”

  Skylar’s heart flipped in her chest. Had Lemon dated Mason? Did she want to date Mason? And if she did, then why hadn’t she been out to help him? “Are the two of you friendly?”

  “We get along great.”

  “There’s no way we’re talking about the same man.”

  Lemon frowned, tilting her head to the side. “Maybe I should have said we got along great before this last deployment.”

  Did they have a falling out? What if that was the reason they hadn’t talked? Because there wa
s no way a woman who looked like Lemon would ever just sit and talk to someone like Skylar just to be friendly. Oh, but she had pimped her business.

  “What happened?”

  “He had a hard time at his brother’s wedding and didn’t appreciate my assistance.”

  “Oh.” That sounded exactly like Mason. “Which brother got married?”

  “Lucas Lawson—have you met him? His wife Bailey runs Yates’ Diner.”

  Skylar shook her head. “No. I’ve only met his parents and his brother, Tristan.”

  Lemon’s lips thinned as she scowled. “Bless your heart for putting up with him.”

  “He’s a little much.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Skylar eyed her. “Is Tristan an ex-boyfriend of yours?” Please let it be him and not Mason.

  “No.” Lemon schooled her face. “Anyway, back to Mason.”

  Just her luck. “If you want to reconnect with him, I’m sure he’d love to see you.” The words burned in her throat. “I’ll even talk to him and feel him out for you.” Oh my God, Skylar. Stop it now.

  Lemon’s eyes widened. “You look like you’re going to be sick. Can I get you something?”

  “I’m fine,” she managed. “Anyway, I—I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Feel Mason up—out—for you.”

  Lemon didn’t look put out at all by Skylar’s refusal. Actually, she looked…hopeful. “Why is that?”

  “He’s a grumpy old man right now and doesn’t want the company?”

  “Yet, you’ve spent time in his company.”

  “Being neighborly.”

  The other woman raised her brows. “Everyone saw you driving him around Jessamine.”

  “Which means what?”

  “That you two are practically a couple.”

  Skylar sucked in air through her teeth. “I took him to get meds.”

  “You know how gossip is, and Mason would be lucky to have you in his life,” Lemon said.

  “But you don’t know me.”

  Lemon patted her arm. “I know enough. McCoy women always know who belongs together. We’re legendary matchmakers in Jessamine.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “It’s my turn to help a woman find her man. That woman is you, and Mason is your man.”