More Than Anything Read online

  “And your parents?”

  “My mom died four years ago. I haven’t seen my dad since I was a kid.”

  She blanched. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No need to be.”

  “Still, I apologize for being so rude and flippant.” After a long moment, she asked, “So no other family in Chicago?”

  Boy, she just can’t help herself. But it wasn’t irritating. She seemed genuinely, honestly curious and without an agenda. “No, I moved there for grad school and stayed to work. I’ve got some extended family in Upstate New York, but I grew up in Detroit, so I don’t know them very well . . .”

  “Wow. I can’t even imagine.” It almost sounded like she felt sorry for him.

  He needed to change the tone of this. “You know, it makes the holidays so much easier. No stress about trying to get home or the family dramas.”

  She took the change in tone. “That would be easier. Sometimes I think I’m related by blood or marriage to about half of Mobile County. It gets complicated.”

  “That must make it hard to date—even without Officer Rusty running interference.”

  She smirked. “There’s a reason Southern family trees don’t always branch.”

  Unfortunately he’d just taken a drink of water, and her words nearly had him spewing it everywhere.

  But Shelby had moved on as if she hadn’t just said something outlandish and was now gesturing toward the shore. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve learned and take us in?”

  It was a hard turn from the previous conversation, and it took him a second to switch gears. “I thought we were going to sit here for a little while. Breathe and find the Zen and all that.”

  “You’re the one who’s on vacation, not me. I’ve got work to do. I left Harvey minding the office, but I can’t stay gone too long.”

  He was a little disappointed to have the outing end. The isolation must have finally gotten to him. But whatever the reason, he had been enjoying himself.

  All things considered, he did pretty well going back in. There were several more boats in the marina then there had been when they left, and there was a small crowd milling around near the building, making him realize she really did have work to do.

  The Lady Jane bumped against the dock a little harder than he’d intended, but all in all, it wasn’t a bad performance, and Shelby’s praise, while not excessive, was genuine.

  She showed him how to secure the ropes—and double-checked them, he noticed—then dug into her backpack, pulling out a certificate, a smiley face sticker, and a Bay Breeze Marina water bottle like the one she’d been using and handed them to him.

  “What’s this?”

  Her mouth twitched, but her voice was serious. “It’s what we give to all the people who complete the Magnolia Beach basic boat safety class.”

  The water bottle was full of M&Ms. “Really?”

  “Well, the average age of the participants is usually about seven. But your certificate has been signed by the mayor and everything,” she said brightly, pointing to the signature of Mayor Ryan Tanner. She was related to the mayor. Somehow, that didn’t surprise him.

  “So, congratulations.” She stuck out her hand, forcing him to juggle the items in order for him to shake it. It was the first time she’d touched him, and he was surprised by the little frizz of electricity that shot up through his arm. There was a brief moment where Shelby’s eyes widened as if she’d felt it, too, but it was gone as quickly as it happened.

  With a small wave and a “See you around, Declan Hyde,” she headed up toward the building, already talking loudly to the crowd gathered there.

  There was something about the way she said it that rather implied she wasn’t planning on it. He flipped the top of the bottle open and shook M&Ms into his mouth.

  That little electric shock had woken something up inside him—something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was strange, but good, too.

  And odd. He didn’t quite know why.

  Maybe the next few weeks might not be so boring after all.

  Chapter 6

  The Bait Box was definitely a local’s bar. Although tourists weren’t unwelcome there, Magnolia Beach catered to families in the summer and snowbirds in the winter, so they didn’t get a lot of out-of-town folks just wandering in for a beer and the limited entertainment on offer.

  It was also a bit of a dive, which Shelby kind of liked, but that tended to limit its appeal to outsiders. Scuffed and blackened hardwood floors, cheesy neon beer signs, and the aroma of stale beer and fried foods created a certain kind of ambiance—and that ambiance would never be described as “classy.”

  But it was comfortable home turf, her turf, where Peter the bartender not only knew what she liked to drink, but also special-ordered it from the brewery in Mobile just for her.

  Monday nights were always slow, keeping both the noise level reasonable and the pool tables available so she and Charlotte could play without people hanging over their shoulders.

  Charlotte was currently trying to knock the seven ball into a corner pocket by banking it off the side rail but finding little success. As the cue rolled past where Shelby was leaning against the table, she caught it and sent it back to Charlotte to try again.

  “Thanks.” Charlotte frowned as she lined up the shot again. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”

  “Aim here.” Shelby put her finger on the rail where the cue ball needed to hit. Even with the shot lined up correctly, the cue somehow bounced off and rolled in the opposite direction of the seven. Shelby had to laugh. “Well, that’s certainly not easy to do.”

  “Ugh. I suck at this.” Charlotte held up a finger in warning. “And don’t say ‘It’s just geometry.’ I damn near failed geometry and you know it.”

  Shelby bit back the smile. Shortly after Shelby had finally gotten her official dyslexia diagnosis, Charlotte had discovered that dyscalculia was an actual thing. She’d immediately diagnosed herself with that, blaming it for her math struggles. Shelby appreciated the show of solidarity for what it was. Math was the one subject she’d done pretty well in and was the only thing that managed to salvage her GPA. So she’d gotten Charlotte through their math classes, and Charlotte had gotten her through pretty much everything else. Together, they made a great team.

  Charlotte lined up the shot one more time, aiming again at the place on the rail Shelby indicated, and this time, the cue ball ricocheted into the seven, sending it rolling slowly into the pocket. It wasn’t the cleanest shot, but it got the job done. And we still make a great team. “There you go.”

  “About damn time.” Charlotte leaned her stick against the table and reached for her beer. “I think I’ll drink for a while. It couldn’t make my game any worse. So what about my proposal?”

  “I know half a dozen captains who’d be more than capable to do it, but not for the money y’all are offering. It’s barely enough to cover fuel costs, much less their time. I can make those kinds of arrangements for your team—that’s no problem—but you’ll have to come up with more money before I could even ask anyone in good conscience.”

  Charlotte sighed. “That’s what I thought, but this new director wants good science done cheap and that’s just not possible. He is possibly the tightest guy I’ve ever met. He’d squeeze a nickel until the buffalo burped.”

  “You have met my brother, right? The boy wants a PowerPoint presentation on profit and loss before every trip to the freaking grocery store.” Charlotte started to laugh, but Shelby interrupted her. “Seriously, when we had that storm damage last year, Jamie wanted to see full written estimates with labor and supplies itemized before we could start the repairs.”

  “That’s just typical bean counter stuff.”

  “Not when you’re hiring your cousin to do the work.”

  Charlotte snorted. “We should get Jamie and Director Chea
po together.”

  “Trust me, you do not want Jamie anywhere near your program. He’d drive you just as insane as he drives me.”

  “You do know that really good small business accounting programs exist, right? You could fire him.”

  “It’s not my marina, so it’s not my place.”

  “Yet.”

  It was a point of some contention for Charlotte that Shelby could run the marina, essentially giving her parents early retirement, yet not really be in charge. Shelby appreciated the loyalty and vote of confidence, but that’s just the way things were. “And, God willing, it won’t be for another twenty years or so.”

  Charlotte blanched at the realization of what she’d just implied. “Of course.”

  “Until then, it’s important to Mom and Daddy that Jamie play some role in the family businesses. But because he’s such an indoor cat, he’s not interested in much beyond the books. And I hate doing the quarterly taxes anyway.”

  “There are other accountants.”

  “Oh, and that wouldn’t make Sunday dinners at all uncomfortable. Anyway, I need Jamie and Daddy both right now.”

  “Because . . .”

  She sighed. “Some of the older men won’t even talk to me. Especially the ones from out of town. They all want to speak to the ‘man in charge.’”

  “Why?”

  “One, because I’m female, and two, because I’m young. Therefore, I couldn’t possibly have a clue as to what I’m talking about. They pat me on the head and call me sweetie, and then look around for a man to talk to.” She couldn’t help snorting. “It seems I need the beard.”

  Charlotte’s nose wrinkled up in distaste. “That’s just . . . wrong.”

  “I know. But the good ol’ boy mentality is still strong in these parts. You know that.”

  “But they all know you.”

  “And that’s part of the problem. I’ve got a lot to live down. Folks who can remember the Homecoming Parade disaster of my sophomore year don’t exactly see ‘Competent Businesswoman’ when they look at me.”

  Charlotte winced. She’d been partly responsible for that fiasco, but folks tended to remember Shelby’s role more—if for no other reason than it’d been so much more visible. “But still . . .”

  “I know. But some of the captains are just resistant to change. They did their business with my grandfather and then my father. They expected Jamie to take over, not me, and they’re just more comfortable talking to a man.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and sighed before reaching for the rack and pulling balls out of the pockets. “Let’s play before I get any more depressed. You break.”

  Shelby was lining up her shot when Charlotte let out a low whistle. “Well, hel-lo, handsome,” she murmured, her voice suddenly half an octave lower and slightly purring.

  She looked up to see Charlotte looking a little glazed. “What?”

  “A really, really hot guy just walked in.”

  Here? As if. “Oh, don’t tease.”

  “Honey, he is no joke.” She fanned herself. “Hummina.”

  Shelby took her shot, the balls scattering nicely even though nothing fell in. Straightening up, she said, “Okay, where?”

  Charlotte tipped her beer bottle a fraction of an inch in the direction of the bar. “He’s talking to Peter. Be casual.”

  It felt silly, but Shelby casually made her way to Charlotte’s side of the pool table, where she’d have a good view of the bar and anyone at it. The only person she saw was Jimmy Green, who, while sweet and funny and kind, was not best described as “hummina.” “Don’t be mean. Jimmy’s a good guy.” And he’d had a major crush on Charlotte since about second grade.

  “Not Jimmy. The guy Jimmy is blocking. Move,” she muttered, as if she had telekinetic powers.

  “Are you about to ditch me?” Whoever this hunk of burning love was, she had no doubt that Charlotte could land him like a lazy fish—which was fine, except that it would put an end to their evening. “Because if so, I’m not going to order another beer.”

  “I think I’ll just appreciate him from here for now—provided Jimmy will just move.”

  Jimmy did move at that moment, opening up the view to the man behind him. He was leaning against the bar and had his back to them, so Shelby couldn’t tell much beyond the fact he was tall and broad-shouldered and had a cute butt cradled in some very lucky Levi’s. His hair was dark and curled against his collar, and as he turned to speak to Peter, something about his profile seemed familiar . . .

  She nearly bobbled her beer.

  Charlotte noticed, which turned her attention away from the bar. “Are you okay?”

  “That’s Declan.”

  There was a moment of blankness while Charlotte tried to place the name. “The Declan who sent you flowers? The one practically living on your front porch?” At Shelby’s nod, Charlotte added, “Oh, honey, I kinda hate you a little right now.”

  Shelby couldn’t be too concerned about that at the moment. Damn, the boy cleaned up nicely. Untamed, his hair had just stuck crazily out around his head, but brushed back and under control, it showcased a high forehead and chiseled cheekbones. It was still a little too long, but that length took the yuppie edge off, giving him a slightly rakish vibe.

  And he’d shaved. She hadn’t realized how much that one little thing could completely transform a man. Gone was the straggly Yeti look, revealing a strong jawline and smooth skin.

  Have mercy.

  “Seriously, Shelby, you shouldn’t hold out on me like that. A man that pretty is hanging out in this ‘burg and you couldn’t share the joy with your very best friend?”

  “I didn’t know. He didn’t look like that before.” But then Peter was pointing in their direction. Declan’s head followed Peter’s finger, and when he saw them, he smiled and headed in their direction.

  Her knees might have wobbled a bit. It was unsettling to say the least. This was not the same scruffy guy that had been living in her marina. It couldn’t be.

  Pull it together.

  “Hi, Shelby.”

  “You shaved,” she blurted out, and then wanted to bite her stupid tongue.

  “Yeah. I was way overdue.” He ran a hand over his newly smooth jaw, and Shelby wanted to do the same. The man had a dimple in his chin, for goodness’ sake, and she had a nearly overwhelming urge to stick her pinky in it. Or maybe her tongue.

  She heard Charlotte clear her throat. Then after a second, she sighed and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Charlotte.”

  “Declan. Nice to meet you.”

  The inane introductions going on snapped Shelby out of her daze and reminded her of her manners. “Sorry,” she muttered, taking over. “Charlotte is a friend of mine. Declan is renting a slip in the marina right now.” Well, that wasn’t any less inane.

  “Shelby told me about you,” Charlotte said, deploying her dimples at maximum wattage.

  “Well, we met under rather embarrassing circumstances—at least for me. I may never live it down.”

  “Probably not,” Charlotte said, laughing. “But it’s a good story.”

  Did Charlotte just toss her hair? A weird feeling hit Shelby in the stomach. It took her a second to identify it as jealousy. Of Charlotte, of all people. Her very best friend. Shame landed on top of the jealousy, and none of it made sense.

  “A good story for Shelby to tell, maybe. Although I kind of hope she doesn’t.” His smile was self-deprecating, but not sheepish, and it was ridiculously sexy as well.

  Charlotte looked at her with a “say something” smile, but Shelby was gawking and having a hard time making sense of this situation. Why was he here? Looking like that? Her brain was jumping around like she’d forgotten to take her meds this morning, and she had nothing to add to the conversation at the moment.

  When she didn’t say anything, Cha
rlotte’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit before turning back to Declan with those dimples on full display. “Do you play, Declan?” she asked, inclining her head toward the table.

  “A little.”

  “Why don’t you take my shot, then? Shelby broke, but the table is open. I’ll go to the bar and get another round for us.” After giving Shelby a look full of instructions Shelby wasn’t sure she could carry out, Charlotte headed to the bar.

  “So what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound only vaguely interested, as Declan chose a cue and chalked it.

  “You seemed worried about the potential damage to my mental health and your personal safety from my hermit-y ways, so I decided I should take your advice to get out and meet some people.”

  “But you said you don’t like people.”

  “I like you,” he said offhandedly enough to get her attention but still be considered noncommittal. “And I can still meet them,” he continued. “You know, have a drink and maybe play a little pool.” He paused to look over the table, finally choosing stripes and sending the nine ball rolling easily into the pocket. It wasn’t a particularly hard shot to make, but it had been cleanly done. He looked up. “Sorry. I forgot to call the shot.”

  “We’re not that picky on the rules. It’s just a friendly game.”

  “Good to know. Twelve, side pocket,” he called anyway. That ball went in, too, making her wonder if he played more than just “a little,” but she definitely liked watching him bend over the table, so it wouldn’t be a hardship or anything. “You look different, too, you know,” he added almost offhandedly.

  She pushed her hair back over her shoulder before realizing what she’d done and felt the flush rise up her neck. Thank God it’s dark in here. At least Declan couldn’t see it. But then he gave her an assessing look from head to toe that only increased the heat in her face. “In fact, you look very nice, Shelby.”

  “Well, even this dive has a dress code.” That was a complete lie, because it wouldn’t be a dive otherwise. “I can’t come in here looking like I do at the marina.”