Those Cassabaw Days (18 page)

“You look...nice,” he muttered as they walked. When he looked down at her, she saw his green eyes light on hers, linger, spark.

As they dodged the oncoming tourists as they walked, Emily glanced up. “Why, Matt Malone,” she teased. Inside, she beamed. “Thank you. You’re just full of sunshine and unicorns today, aren’t you?”

He just shook his head and fought a smile. Emily saw it. And she found it extremely endearing.

The local band kicked back up on the end of the pier, and Emily hummed along with the music. As they walked, the kites littered the cobalt blue sky above, and high tide came in and crept over the sand like long fingers, farther and farther toward the dunes and sea oats. Dragonflies darted in swarms by the dozens.

Emily pointed to a cluster of them. “Isn’t it lovely how the sun dashes through their wings like stained glass in a church?” She sighed. “I adore dragonflies. They’re so magical.” She waved her fingers in the air. “Like I can imagine fierce little warrior fairy knights riding on their backs and fighting, I don’t know...the evil Raven King who’s come to take over their kingdom in the dunes. That’s why they’re all over the place. A battle ensues.”

Matt laughed softly—a husky sound familiar and foreign at once to Emily’s ears. “You should write some of that stuff down,” he said, and turned his gaze on her again. It wasn’t a casual glance; it was a downright sexy stare. “Kids would probably love it.”

She cocked her head up. “I think you love it, Matt Malone. You used to beg me to make stories up and tell them to you on the end of the dock while we crabbed.
For hours
. Remember?”

* * *

M
ATT
CUT HIS
eyes at the girl hanging on to his arm. She continually used his first and last name, and was currently singing to the Four Seasons—off-key—and reminiscing about their innocent childhood days. “Yeah, I remember,” he confessed. And he did, too. Like it was yesterday, although he’d never admit that part. Emily was filled to the gills with endless, crazy stories that she’d make up on a whim.

It’d always fascinated him that she could come up with so much layering, to where it all made sense and wrapped up neatly in the end without having to think about it. By the time she finished you’d think it had truly happened. He stared down at her as they walked and even now, as a grown woman, Emily Quinn retained that innocent childhood magic.

He found he liked it. A lot. Actually, a hell of a lot.

And that scared him.

Owen, Jep and Nathan had met up with them at the hush puppy stand and they’d all eaten together. It amazed him how well Emily fit in with his family. Everyone liked her—especially Jep. And since Jep was opinionated, he didn’t always click with everyone. But no matter what sort of craziness Jep threw at her, Emily rolled with it. Good quality to have, to his way of thinking.

He’d keep that to himself, too.

As the afternoon waned, the crowd began to thin out. They’d walked to the pier because Emily had promised Ted Harden a dance, and sure enough, the moment they appeared, Ted pushed from his chair and grabbed Emily’s hand, limping and pulling her to the makeshift dance floor in front of the band.

“’Bout time you got here, girl,” he grumbled in his loud, boisterous manner. “It’s almost my bedtime!” He swung her around as though he were a twenty-year-old and called over his shoulder to the band, “Can you boys play some of the good stuff? How ’bout ‘Let’s Misbehave’?”

Emily laughed, the band started up and apparently they did know “Let’s Misbehave,”
because Ted gave an approving nod and he and Emily began to dance. Slow, as Ted had a bum knee, but still managed.

It was another old tune, and it almost felt like the thirties out there on the pier, with the big band orchestra music and the Chinese lanterns hanging from the posts. It amazed him that the guys in the band, who were probably all in their thirties, knew the old stuff. Impressive.

Emily knew the songs, too. She danced with every one of the vets, slowing her pace to match their older ones, and sang along to the songs that had words, as well. Even old Jep made his way to the dance floor and drew a cheering crowd and wowed everyone by doing the Charleston. And the only reason Matt knew it was that particular dance was because Jep loved it. Always had. Jep had taught it to Matt and his brothers, long ago, as well as Emily.

As Matt stood back, leaning against the pier’s railing and watching Emily dance and sing, he was caught off guard when Eric and one of his coworkers made their way toward them.

“Hey, bro,” Eric said, and clapped Matt on the back. “You remember Jake?”

“Yep,” Matt said, realizing who he was. He held his gaze, shook his hand in a firm grip. Same age as Matt, but not an islander. He’d come to Cassabaw a few years ago. Matt had met him once while on leave.

Eric turned, his gaze on the spectacle of Emily and Jep. “Wow. She’s something, huh? Look at her go!” When Matt didn’t answer, his younger brother looked at him, his ridiculous face twisted in a grin. “You’re not gonna dance with her?”

Matt’s eyes stayed on Emily, the way her feet glided and her slender body moved to the music, keeping up with each turn and twirl guided by a man and a melody generations older. She could almost pass for a girl of the forties, with her flowery dress and sandals. Since when did he find such outdated and retro type of dress so appealing?

Since Emily.

He didn’t think anyone else could pull it off like she did. Probably because it was way more than just a dress. Or a hat. Or a pair of shoes. It was the unique woman who filled them. Everything came so easily for Emily, he thought. Including dancing.

Matt shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t dance.”

“Well, I do,” Jake said, and pushed his way toward Emily.

Matt’s gaze remained on the rescue swimmer as Emily turned when Jake cut in, smiled and took over the dance. A slower modern tune picked up and Jep, mouthing a particular favorite Irish swear and pouting, flopped down on a bench next to Matt.

“Did you see that?” Jep complained.

“See what?” Matt asked. He watched Jake’s hand slip to Emily’s lower back. The man leaned in and whispered something. Matt watched Emily toss her head and laugh.

“Ha! You know exactly what, boy.” Jep slapped Matt’s thigh. “I can see you seething, son. See it in your eyes.” He chuckled. “Pure Irish fire.”

“Hey,” Eric said, leaning beside Matt. “You had your chance, old boy.”

“Had a chance at what?” Nathan said as he joined them. The wind had blown his hair out of the ponytail he wore and it was sticking up all over. He was eating a funnel cake.

Jep nodded. “Jake swiped Emily right out from under Matt’s nose.”

“She’s already danced with every soldier over the age of eight-five, plus Jep,” Eric offered. He flicked something from his shirt. “Matt said he don’t dance. Jake took off.”

Nathan whistled low. “Man, that was the dumbest thing you’ve done in a while.”

Matt watched Jake bend his head close to Emily’s ear, and Emily pulled back and gave him a wide grin.

He’d had enough. Shoving Eric, who did nothing but laugh, Matt took a deep breath and made his way to the dance area at the end of the pier. Taller and broader than Jake, he stepped up and placed his hand on Emily’s shoulder.

“Hi, Matt,” Emily said, looking up at him and slightly out of breath. Her strangely shaped eyes gleamed. “Are you here to cut in?”

Jake sort of just looked at Matt.

“Yep.” Matt grasped Emily by the arm and pulled her away.

“Bye, Jake!” Emily called back. “Thanks for the dance!”

A rousing cheer erupted, not just from Ted, Wimpy and the World War II gang, but from the Malones, as well. Matt scowled at his ridiculous brothers, as well as Jep and his dad as he and Emily passed by. She almost had to run to keep up with Matt’s long strides.

“Hey, where are we going?” Emily finally asked.

They made it to the end of the pier and Matt stepped off, Emily right behind him. “I don’t know.”

In the sand, Emily rounded on him. Her cheeks were flushed; her eyes were bright and flashing. And the corner of her mouth tilted upward. She poked his chest with her finger. “You’re angry.”

Matt couldn’t hide it. But he wouldn’t confess it, either. So he kept his mouth shut. Glowered.

Emily’s hazel eyes narrowed in a mock frown. “
Why
are you angry? Exactly.”

“We’ve...got work to do,” he stammered, and pulled his truck keys from his pocket. He knew it was lame. He didn’t care. “A hell of a lot of it. Early. In the morning.”

A slow smile stretched Emily’s mouth as those eyes, so perceptive and striking, bored a hole in his. “Oh, yes. We sure do, don’t we?” She tapped her temple with a finger. “Wow. Boy. It’s a good thing you’re so on top of our time schedule.” She quirked her lips. “Know why?”

Matt had a hard time feeling grumpy now, despite how much fun she seemed to be having while dancing with that idiot Jake. “No.”

Fast as lightning, Emily grabbed his keys and darted off. “Because if you want your keys back you’ll race me to the top of the lighthouse!” She laughed and ran fast over the sand and back up onto the boardwalk, dodging people and the few remaining vendors. “Last one to the top’s a rotten egg! Mattinski!”

“Dammit, Emily!” Matt hollered.

She kept on running. Farther away. With his keys.

“You go. Chase.”

Matt turned to find Hendrik standing on the boardwalk. He waved his hand and jutted his chin toward the lighthouse. “She is fast. You hurry.”

With a growl, Matt took off after Emily Shay Quinn. He watched her lithe body seemingly glide as she made her way to the lighthouse. How could something so childish be so innocent and alluring at the same time?

Never had the simplest gestures been so enticing to him.

Until Emily.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

E
MILY’S LEGS PUMPED
and she laughed as she tore up the boardwalk, until the stores and restaurants ended and the path turned to sand. She glanced over her shoulder once; Matt was running toward her, and she couldn’t tell if he was frowning or not. She didn’t care. He’d get over it.

This was
fun
. And she was going to make him remember fun if it
killed
her.

Soon the keeper’s cottage fell into view, and Emily leaped off the path and ran faster. The lighthouse stayed open until 10:00 p.m. each night—she’d asked Jep, who’d confirmed—so once she hit the shelled path leading to the entrance, she chanced another look over her shoulder. Matt had gained a lot of ground—he was right behind her.

A family of four was just leaving the lighthouse as Emily ran up, and it was a good thing, too, because she barely slowed down. The man held the door open for her.

“Thanks!” Emily called over her shoulder, and started up the 178 steps to the top. She didn’t look back this time; didn’t need to. She heard Matt right behind her as he opened the lighthouse entrance.

“You’ve gotten slower!” Emily yelled as she climbed.

Matt said nothing; but his footfall against the metal spiral staircase sounded closer. She peeked down as she ran. Inside, the dim lighting cast shadows and the musty smell of age and sea salt clung to the walls, but Matt’s massive form moved closer and closer, definable even in the shadows and low light.

“Emily, I swear,” Matt grumbled.

Emily burst out laughing and ran faster. “One hundred and sixty-two more to go!”

Round and round, up and up they both went, until Matt was right below her. He reached out a hand and swiped her ankle, just like he’d do when they were kids, and she squealed, but kept running. Scrambling for the top that seemed endless steps away.

By the time they did reach the top, both were laughing and out of breath. Emily hit the door first and pushed out onto the platform, into the brisk wind and saltiness, and Matt closed the steel door behind them. With their hands grasping the rail, they both sucked in air.

“My lungs are burning,” Emily said between pants. The wind lifted her ponytail and brushed the dampness against her neck. She turned to look at him and couldn’t help the grin. “I beat you, slowpoke.” She kept gulping in air.

“Yep,” Matt agreed, and he wasn’t nearly as out of breath as she was. “You cheated.”

Emily nodded, and moved her gaze to the sea. “I sure did.” She inhaled deeply, tilted her head back and closed her eyes and filled her lungs until they burned, then slowly let the salty air slip back between her lips.

When she opened her eyes, Matt was watching her closely. The white button-down shirt he wore pulled taught across his broad back. The jeans fit in all the right places. Although the crescent moon allowed only a tiny slice of shine, it fell on his face in just a way that made Emily unable to look away. A little dark scruff on his jaw, that impossible cowlick made her breath catch. His gaze, unwavering, penetrating, simply stared back at her. She felt her head swim, and she fought the urge to lean against the rail for support.

“Your face is so beautiful,” she said. He remained silent as she studied his features, each one separate, distinct. “Your eyes look like a puddle of syrup in the moonshine. Not green, or mossy—just like syrup.” Her eyes moved over his face. “And I like your throat.” She nodded at her assessment. “You have a nice Adam’s apple. And long eyelashes. And especially how your jaw is cut, like right out of marble.” She smiled up at him. “And I like your shadowy whiskers.”

Matt’s eyes, those syrupy puddles, darkened, and a full smile pulled his full lips apart. He looked away, then back down to her. He leaned closer, pushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Is that so?”

Emily’s skin tingled where he’d brushed it. She ducked her head, studying him further. “Wow. I really like your teeth.” She looked up at him, lightly tapped the two front top ones with her fingertip. “Are they real? Because since this is the first full-blown smile you’ve given me I wouldn’t really know.”

He chuckled. “You weirdo. Of course they’re real.”

She grinned back at him. “The most beautiful of Malone smiles, I think.” She winked. “Next to Jep’s, of course.”