Coast Guard Sweetheart. Lisa Carter

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       Chapter Two

      After several hours of cleanup, Honey stole a look at Sawyer’s shuttered face as she handed him another rinsed plate to towel dry.

      Standing on the other side of the stainless steel commercial sink, he refused to meet her gaze. In the adjacent dining area, Max—his usual no-holds barred bravado gone—mopped up the remains of their shared folly.

      For a moment, she allowed herself the pleasure of lingering on Sawyer’s craggy Nordic features. His features once as familiar to Honey as her own.

      The straw-colored, stick-straight hair cut in a Coastie buzz. Same brawny muscular build, which befitted the former rodeo rider and boat-driving coxswain.

      His sharp bone structure and hooded brow missed handsome by a smidgeon. But somehow it suited him better. And to Honey’s way of thinking always made him more fascinating. At least to her.

      Yet she noted new lines bracketing his mouth since the last time she’d seen him. A hairline scar on his chin. A somberness out of place on the puddle pirate, full-throttle Coastie she’d previously known.

      And loved beyond all reasoning. Until he’d broken off their relationship one night on a deserted moonlit beach outside Ocean City for no explicable reason.

      Three summers of unanswered questions as to why Sawyer Kole so abruptly ended their burgeoning romance fairly burned a hole in her tongue. And as for her brother-in-law, newly appointed Officer in Charge of USCG Small Boat Station Kiptohanock? Make that her former favorite brother-in-law, Braeden Scott.

      Honey had a few choice words for mother hen big sister Amelia, too. After their mother’s early death, Amelia had semiraised Honey. But how dare Amelia keep Sawyer’s transfer a secret and allow Honey to be blindsided by him? Her cheeks reddened at the memory of how once before his rejection exposed her to total public humiliation in the eyes of the close-knit fishing community.

      Small towns. Small minds. Big mouths.

      And after today’s incident... Okay...that was on Honey’s head.

      But enough with the suffocating silence. “Look, Kole...”

      Her deliberate use of his surname accomplished her intended effect. His lips flattened into a tight line. And something else—hurt—flickered across his eyes before his customary aloofness returned.

      Yet somehow her small victory felt hollow. Much less satisfying than she’d imagined in the thirty-nine months, five days and ten hours since he’d broken her heart.

      But who was counting, right?

      Distracted by the nearness of him, Honey fought to convey a nonchalance she didn’t feel. Not with Sawyer a mere elbow’s length away. Not when every traitorous, torturous nerve ending quivered with longing every time he breathed.

      She found it hard to breathe with Sawyer Kole this close. So she settled for sighing to release her pent-up store of oxygen.

      “For whatever reason, we’ve been the victims of a Duer/Scott conspiracy. I’m assuming you returned to Station Kiptohanock under duress.”

      Sawyer concentrated on drying the plate. “A Coastie goes where a Coastie is assigned.”

      “And where have you been assign—never mind.” Honey gave her head a tiny shake. “Not that I care what you’ve been doing all this time. I’ve been plenty busy reopening the Duer Fishermen’s Lodge.” She tucked a wavy curl behind her ear.

      Sawyer’s eyes followed the movement of her hand. “I heard through the village grapevine about the inn. How your hard work is paying off. Your dreams coming true.”

      “This season is critical for turning a profit. Make it or break it. After finally branding the lodge as a premier Tidewater wedding venue, I don’t need any more grief from you or those with mistaken notions about my own good.”

      His face shadowed. He folded the dishtowel into meticulous thirds on the drain board. “I expect this peninsula—if not this village—is big enough for the two of us, Hon—” He grimaced. “I mean—Beatrice. I promise I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

      “I’d like to tell you what I think of your promises, cowboy. But I won’t.” She shoved off from the sink. “What you can do is explain to me why you cut anchor and sailed out of my life three years ago. I think you owe me that at least.”

      Hunching, he crossed his arms over his broad chest, momentarily distracting Honey.

      Sawyer tucked his thumbs under his biceps and out of sight. “I’m sorry for hurting you. But better I hurt you before you got in over your head.”

      Her eyebrows rose. “Before I got in over my head, Coastie? Speak for yourself.”

      Sawyer glanced away.

      Her stomach churned. Why wouldn’t he look at her? Was she so repellant to him that he still couldn’t bear facing her? If only she knew what she’d said or done...

      Or had he walked away for greener pastures? She’d been an idiot to believe he was any different from the skirt-chasing Coastie who’d abandoned her dead oldest sister, Lindi, and baby Max.

      “Let me get this through my obviously thickheaded Eastern Shore dumb blonde skull, Kole.”

      She grabbed hold of his chin between her thumb and forefinger, and jerked his gaze to hers. Electric fire sparked between her fingertips and his skin. She dropped her hand.

      He edged out of her reach. “I had my reasons.”

      She rubbed her tingling fingers against the side of her skirt and gathered the remnants of her self-respect. “So you’re sorry you hurt me, but not sorry you left me? And you still don’t have the decency to tell me why.”

      A vein beat a furious tempo in his cheek. Her heart pounded at the bleak expression on his face. Her eyes stung. She was so done with crying over this cowboy.

      Confusion and misery rose in equal measure, twisting her insides. “I wish,” Honey spat, “you’d stayed in that black Oklahoma hole that you crawled out of.”

      Sawyer flinched as if she’d struck him. He closed his eyes for a second as if absorbing the blow. And when he opened his eyes?

      Her heart wrenched, leaving her feeling like she’d just kicked a dog when it was down.

      “I think...” That slow, cowboy drawl of his cracked a trifle. He cleared his throat and surveyed the Sandpiper kitchen. Once more refusing to meet her gaze.

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