Half-Hitched. Isabel Sharpe

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СКАЧАТЬ serious about his maritime career and enrolled at the Massachusetts Maritime Academy. Since Paul had had no idea where his friend Kevin lived, Derek let him crash on his floor in the tiny apartment he’d sublet when he wasn’t at sea. Didn’t take him long to figure out Paul was a good kid caught in a bad situation—a delayed adolescent rebellion against real and imagined pressures of adulthood.

      Derek got Paul a job on a boat for the summer, helped him get off booze and back on track to finish college at Notre Dame. In the ensuing years their friendship surpassed big-brother mentor and younger screw-up, and became close and satisfying. About as close and satisfying as any relationship Derek could have these days.

      He helped Paul load last-minute supplies into the onboard dinghy and lower the boat into the smooth water.

      “You won’t know a whole lot of people.” Paul climbed into the dinghy and manned the oars. “Sarah, of course.”

      Of course. Derek settled himself in the bow seat. He’d emailed Paul’s sister before coming, hoping she’d put aside her grudge against him, but Sarah was a passionate woman prone to the dramatic, and apparently hadn’t forgiven him for thinking it was an extremely bad idea for them to sleep together. Her reply had been coldly formal, but at least she’d replied. “How is Sarah?”

      “She’s Sarah.” Paul spoke of his twin with exasperated affection. “Two parts fabulous, two parts crazy-making. She has her best friend Joe here, and her friend from grade school Addie Sewell.”

      “Addie.” Derek frowned, trying to get his tired brain to function. “That’s a familiar name, have I met her?”

      “Nope.” Paul corrected his course with a few strokes of his right oar. “Grade school friend of ours. I was crazy about her for years.”

      “Oh, right, the woman who walked on water.” Derek had been curious about her. Paul was easygoing about pretty much everything—once he stopped drinking—but this Addie had him in knots. As far as Derek knew, Paul had never let on to Addie how he felt.

      “Yeah, I had it bad.” Paul shook his head, laughing. “Ellen finally exorcized her completely. Addie’s a great friend now.”

      “Okay. Sarah, Addie. Who else?” The boat nudged onto the generous expanse of sand exposed at half tide. Derek jumped out and grabbed the bowline, pulled the dinghy up onto the beach. At high tide, there was barely enough beach to walk on. At low, twelve vertical feet out, there was ample sand, then ample mud, sprinkled with rocks and starfish, clusters of mussels, and a hidden bounty of steamer clams.

      “Some friends from college and a few from work in Boston. Nice people. Oh, and Kevin Ames, who can’t make it until tomorrow. I think you met him once.” He gave Derek a sheepish look and started unloading the skiff onto a waiting wheelbarrow. “Maybe not under the best circumstances.”

      “Right.” Kevin had been the friend buying Paul booze in Florida in spite of his obvious issues with alcohol, and encouraging him to drop out of college and “find himself.” He’d reminded Derek of his own brothers: wealthy, self-centered and entitled, sure rules were for other people and that they’d automatically rise to the top—like most scum. If it wasn’t for the sea, which had started calling to Derek in middle school and soon after took him away from the life his parents planned for him, he’d probably be that way himself.

      Years of hard work clawing up the ranks from deckhand to captain was enough to beat the entitled out of anybody.

      They finished loading the wheelbarrow, secured the dinghy against the rising tide and made their way through the Christmas-tree smelling woods, then up a wide bumpy path through blueberry bushes to the back door of the house, a rambling two-story Victorian with weathered gray shingles and dark green trim and shutters. Pitched in nearby clearings were several colorful tents, obviously for overflow guests, though the house had six or seven bedrooms from what he remembered.

      “Hey! Hurry up. Ellen needs the cheese you bought for nachos.” Sarah jumped down from the house’s back deck and strode to meet them, followed by a tall, dark-haired guy in jeans and a Green Day T-shirt. “Hi, Derek.”

      “Hey, Sarah.” He smiled, relieved when she managed a chilly grin back. Apparently she’d be on good behavior for her brother’s wedding. “It’s good to see you. You look great.”

      He wasn’t lying. She’d dropped the few extra pounds she’d carried, had shortened and shaped her curly blond hair, and moved with more mature grace, though she still evoked a tall firecracker about to go off.

      “Thanks. You look…” She scowled at him. “Like you haven’t slept in years.”

      “Not sure I have. Hi, I’m Derek.” He offered his hand to the guy hovering behind her, noting the wary look in his eyes. Was this Joe? Looked like Sarah had shared her I’m-the-victim version of their story with him.

      “This is Joe.” Sarah pointed.

      “Good to meet you.” Joe shook Derek’s hand then picked up a grocery bag under each arm. “I’ll take these up to Ellen.”

      “Come on in. We’re having drinks, getting organized to take a picnic supper down to the beach.” Sarah turned and charged back up the stairs to the house, throwing Derek an inscrutable look over her shoulder that made him a little nervous. He’d had to put her off gently on that same beach five years ago, and he really didn’t want to go through that drama again.

      The pine and faint wood smoke smell inside the house was instantly familiar. Paul’s parents were on the mainland, so instead of Mrs. Bosson at the stove, there was a blonde, attractive woman Derek identified as Ellen by the adoring look she sent Paul, and whom he instantly liked by the bright smile she sent him. The aroma in the kitchen was fantastic.

      “Welcome, Derek.” She gave him a sincere hug, Southern accent warming her words. Paul had met her through a mutual friend in Boston two years earlier and his fate was sealed pretty quickly. “It’s good to meet the man who saved Paul’s life.”

      “I don’t think it was quite that dramatic.”

      “I know it was. He’s still grateful and so am I.” A timer went off; she grabbed lobster oven mitts and peered into the oven.

      Derek looked around the large, airy eat-in kitchen, amused and pleased so much of it was exactly the same as the last time he was here. The loon sculpture, the blobby painting of a seal Sarah had done as a girl, sand dollars and sea glass, a tide clock hanging next to an iron candle holder forged by a local blacksmith. He’d only been here a week, but would never forget the strong sense of love surrounding the Bosson family, and their joy at being together. He hadn’t had much of that in his life, still didn’t, and he’d unapologetically eaten it up. Paul had invited him back a few times, but their schedules never seemed to mesh.

      “Can I help, Ellen?”

      “No, no.” She set a pan of fragrant rolls onto a cooling rack. “I just got rid of my army of helpers and am finishing in here. Grab a beer and go on outside, I’ll join you in a minute.”

      “Here you go.” Paul pulled bottles of beer and lemonade from the old gas refrigerator and tossed the beer to Derek, who was afraid drinking would send him into a coma of exhaustion, but hell, it was a celebration. He’d risk it.

      He followed Paul outside, where Paul was immediately pounced on and dragged into conversation. Derek paused on the front stoop, newly entranced by the СКАЧАТЬ