Page 16 of The Marine's Homecoming

I start to turn away, ready to escape, but he keeps talking. “How’s the festival prep going? Things moving along okay?”

I freeze in place, feeling sicker now that I've allowed myself to notice how ruggedly handsome he is. The question feels innocent enough, but something about it prickles at me. He’s never asked about the festival details before. Is he prying now, or is this his way of trying to keep me here talking? “It’s fine. We’re making progress. Dorsey’s been helping line up some vendors and covering a few early costs, so that takes some pressure off.”

Luke grunts, but his chin lifts slightly as he says, “Dorsey… What exactly is he helping with?”

I shrug, not sure why he’s asking. “He’s paying for a good chunk of the infrastructure work to build the stage and making some decisions on the layout. Why are you asking?" I don'tunderstand why Luke is so nosy all of a sudden. And why he keeps looking at me like I'm some helpless waif who needs his rescuing.

I get it. He's a soldier, and whisking me off my feet under that pier probably made his ego inflate three sizes, but I don't need him or any other man watching out for me. Besides, Calvin Dorsey is a good man doing a good thing for this town. Luke is the one people should be protecting me from—him and his adorable blue eyes and husky, scruffy chin. And God, those callused hands.

“All right. Just checking in," he croons, and my stomach flips hard. So yay, there's that. It isn't just smells, and motion, and eating that make me feel sick. Luke Maddox's concern can do it to me too.

I know I’m not going to make it to the bathroom. I lunge for the railing, lean over the edge, and throw up into the water below. My whole body shakes with it and when I finally straighten up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, Luke is right there looking concerned.

“You okay?” he asks. He sounds genuinely worried, not flirty or anything else.

"It's nothing. I have the flu," I say, shivering. "And probably a fever."

“That doesn’t look like nothing. Do you need a ride home? I can drive you. You really don’t look good.” God, it's a sweet offer, and I'd love to take him up on that, but if I do, it'll lead to conversation and I don’t want to do that.

I shake my head and take a shaky step back. “No, I’m fine. I’ll be okay. I just need to get home and rest.”

He doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t push. “All right. Text me if you need anything. Seriously.”

“I will,” I lie, because I won’t. No way in hell I'm going to ever call or text that man for help with anything.

I turn and walk back toward my office realizing how volatile my emotions feel. One second, I'm on the verge of tears at seeing Luke again and all the memories of my big brother before he died. And the next, I'm getting flashes of those hands on my body making me feel incredible. It's not right. I'm not okay with this, and my heart isn't okay with this.

I lock myself into my office and go straight for the breath mints in my desk drawer as I scribble out a check for rent, which I fully intend to leave in his drop box before I head home. I have no intention of having a one-on-one with him again anytime soon. And especially not while some flu virus is ravaging my body. Besides, if I'm as sick as I think I might be, I'll need to stay in bed for a few days, which buys me the perfect length of time to avoid him a few days longer.

Luke Maddox isn't a venomous snake that my heart painted him to be the past twelve years he's been mostly gone from this town. But he's not some incredible hero or knight in shining armor who can rush in and change everything.

He's the guy who let my big brother die and left this town mourning. And right now, I have to focus on this festival and my personal life. I can't afford any distractions.

Least of all, him.

11

LUKE

I've been back and forth over what to do with this place a million times. Now, standing here on the good pier, watching work be done on pier two, it feels all the more stressful. There are so many repairs to be made, though not all of them are safety concerns, and the whole place needs to be updated with newer tech and better security. It's a nightmare—one I didn't ask to have.

But it's my family home, the place I grew up, that holds so many memories from over the years. I know the minute I'd sign a deed over to someone else, I'd regret it. But what can I do? I owe my CO a call this afternoon to let him know what's going on. I promised the update a week ago when things were really hairy with inspections, and now I'm feeling even more conflicted and torn.

"She's gettin' a facelift, huh?" I hear, and I turn to see Tank strutting up behind me with a cold beer in hand.

"Aye," I tell him, nodding as I turn back to watch the crews keep working. They have the whole structure supported now withthe new pylon going into place later this week. "And she'll be stronger too."

It's hard not to wax nostalgic at times. Every piece of this place seems to remind me of something my dad said or did. I'll never get those moments back now, and removing memory triggers also removes my access to those memories.

"Heard you were thinkin' about sellin' this old place." Tank stops beside me and slurps his beer and finally asks the question I know a dozen or more men have been dying to ask me. None of them have had the guts, though. With Dad's passing, it's left them all vulnerable. I know how uncertain times like this can be for folks like Tank.

"Yeah, I have," I mumble, keeping my eyes fixed on the horizon. The choice is fully mine because the responsibility is fully mine. I'm not going to let anyone pressure me into leaning one way or another, not Dorsey or Hannah Brooks, and definitely not Tank. But I'd be stupid not to at least hear him out.

"You got any buyers? Someone local?" I can feel his eyes boring into the side of my face as the cold February wind bites into my skin. It'll be warming up before too long, but for now it's still winter in the Pacific Northwest.

I grunt and then sigh as I stop to think about the impact selling this place might have on this town. The land has been in my family for more than seventy years, owned by my grandfather before my father. And the marina and piers have made this town what it is today. I'm not sure what it would be without these small businesses.

"That fancy rich guy who donated the money for the festival." I'm still not super pleased with myself and how I caved in and letHannah have her way. The fact that her emotions got to me was majorly swayed by that kiss and the sex that followed. Maybe had she not just attacked me like that, I'd have stood my ground a bit longer and held out. But it is what it is.