Page 4 of The Marine's Homecoming

"Hannah," he says sternly, cutting me off, "I'm not sure this is gonna work out."

"I'm not asking you to say yes today," I tell him hurriedly, before he can refuse. "I'm asking you to look at what your father and I discussed and consider it."

He shakes his head, and I swear I see a stupid half-grin on his face. "The answer is no. I don’t have to think about it."

I scoff and plant my hands on my hips, feeling my blood pressure rising. Frank already agreed to this. His signature is just a formality. I've done so much planning, too much to let this thing die now. We already have publicity in the works.

"You didn't even read the proposal," I say.

"I don't know how long I'm going to be here, and I'm not going to commit this property to something I can't see through." He holds my gaze. "That wouldn't be fair to you or to anyone else involved."

I want to stomp my foot and pitch a fit, but I know better than anyone that the way to deal with a difficult person is not through tantrums. Besides, I'm a professional, and if he refuses, I may not have any choice. Getting hysterical will only make me look like a fool in the end.

"Your father agreed to this already and I?—"

"In case you forgot so quickly," he says, interrupting me, "my father is dead." His cold eyes lock on mine and he continues. "I have no interest in a thousand people traipsing all over this dock, especially if it's the same people who turned against me and made me Enemy Number One."

His words burn through my conscience, and I can't help the retort that bites back at him. "Nick would want you to do this."

Luke's eyes get darker and his shoulders square, puffing that massive chest out at me. It's almost disarming. I feel my belly flutter as I wonder how strong he must be to have muscles like that. But a few blinks of my eyes and I look at his angry face again. I know my words hit their mark.

"Good day, Hannah," he says, and he doesn't look away as I glare at him.

"Luke," I say again, turning to walk out the door.

I stomp up the pier toward my office three buildings down, and as I do, I make an internal decision to not let him derail what I've got started. Right now, he's just here to deal with his father's final expenses. Nothing more. And when he leaves, I will somehow secure this land for my festival. I just have to wait him out.

I just hope he leaves soon. God, he's infuriating.

3

LUKE

That stunned look of disgust and anger on Hannah's face this afternoon is still fresh in my mind as I walk into the Wheelhouse and find a seat at the bar. My leg is throbbing, and I massage it a few good times while I wait on old Hattie Anderson to look up and turn in my direction. Her soft smile and full figure are so familiar, you'd think you were coming home to see your own mother. She's a staple in this town, and it makes it feel like home.

"Luke Maddox," she says, sliding a coaster in front of me. Her hair has gone mostly gray since I saw her last, but she's still Hattie.

"Can I get a burger and whatever you have on tap?" I ask her, easing farther onto the stool to relax my lower back. I haven't sat around doing nothing for this many days straight since I was a kid behind a desk in school. Keeping active is the only way to keep myself on track. Dealing with all this paperwork and red tape is bullshit.

"You can," she says, pulling a pint glass from under the bar. "Heard you were back. Figured you'd end up in here sooner or later."

"Sooner, I guess."

She sets the beer in front of me and rests both hands on the bar. "I'm sorry about Frank. He was in here every Thursday for twenty years. We're gonna miss him." Her shoulders sag a little. Dad wasn't much older than her, and I imagine when one of your own dies, you begin to wonder when it'll be your time. I see that sadness in her eyes and find new respect for how kind she is, even after all this time.

"Thank you, Hattie," I say, and I mean it. She nods and moves down the bar to put in the food order. I take a drink and try not to notice the two men at the end of the bar who are very clearly talking about me.

They're not quiet about it, either. I catch pieces. Maddox kid. The accident. Brooks boy. Navy. The words drift over in fragments, and the men don't seem to care whether I hear them or not. One of them is older, heavyset, with a beard that's gone white at the chin. The other is younger, maybe my age, but I don't recognize him. The conversation goes on for several minutes while I finish the beer and grow tired of trying to pretend I can't hear them.

Men like that act as if they've never made a mistake in their life. What happened with Nick was a complete accident which I shouldn't have to explain or defend this many years later.

Hattie comes back with the burger and sets it down in front of me. She follows my eyes to the end of the bar and shakes herhead. Even she understands immediately what's going on and probably what's going through my head.

"Don't mind them," she says, keeping her voice low. "This town doesn't have enough going on to keep people from picking at old scabs."

"It's fine," I tell her. Though it's really not fine. But if I pick a bar fight, my CO will ream me. I'm not my own man yet, and everything I do reflects on the service.

"It's not fine, but it's how it is." She wipes the bar in front of me even though it's already clean. "You staying long?"