Chapter 4
One bottle of chardonnay turned into two, and by the time they finished the last of Poppy Montgomery’s jerked chicken and rice, Merry felt more relaxed than she had in ages. She declined dessert—chocolate cookies made by Keebler elves—but said yes to a walk on the beach.
The threatening rain from earlier had moved further up the coast, taking most of the clouds with it. The result was a beach awash in glowing moonlight. The humidity eased with the deepening of the night, and the breeze billowing off the water was enough to raise goosebumps on Merry’s skin. She wished herself dressed in a diaphanous gown or romantic evening dress but was stuck with her cutoffs and tee-shirt instead. Not that Nick seemed to mind. He had traded his khakis for cargo shorts, offered a lightweight jacket to Merry, and they now strolled in comfort along the shoreline.
“I love feeling the sand between my toes,” she said as they meandered along. “I’d like to live by the beach someday. Maybe even here on Mimosa Key.”
“I’ve thought about it, too. I’ve been coming here for a few years now whenever I start a new Pi—to work. It’s nice this time of year.”
“I thought the rainy season was over, but there’s a tropical storm expected to make land tomorrow evening,” Merry said.
“Is there?” Nick stopped and looked out over the water. “You’d never know it tonight.”
Beside him, Merry followed his gaze. The whitecaps played with the moon, and the choppy water reflected the glow like bits of glitter.
“It’s raining moonlight,” Nick said.
Merry smiled as she stared at the dark horizon. It did look like moondrops dancing across the water.
“I’ve never noticed that before,” she said, entranced. “I suppose sunshine does the same.”
“Sundrops,” Nick said, turning to face her.
Merry shivered into the borrowed jacket and breathed the salt-tinged air. The breeze teased her hair, and she let it fly free, eager to embrace the moment. Tomorrow she’d be gone, her working vacation interrupted by family needs.
Merry’s mother had managed to disrupt her daughter’s life even in death.
“You cold?” Nick asked. “We can go back.”
“No,” Merry said. “This is perfect. I—I was thinking about—I’m leaving tomorrow. There’s a family thing, and . . .” She trailed off and tilted her head to look up at Nick. “Thanks for tonight. This was really nice.”
Nick stared into Merry’s eyes, his dark and searching. Her heartbeat sped when he took her face in his hands, and delight shimmered through her when he murmured against her lips, “It doesn’t have to be over yet.”
“No! What’s wrong with you? It’s too soon! Are you crazy? You don’t know the soul inside this creature yet!” the Faeries shouted.
The word “no” hovered between Nick and Merry, daring her to end the moment. She sensed Nick’s hesitancy a second before he drew away to look into her eyes. When she said nothing, moved not a muscle forward or back, he leaned in again and took her mouth with his. Warmth flooded through her and brought a shiver rippling across her skin. Nick drew her closer and deepened the kiss. Merry pressed into his warmth and reveled in the sensation of his lips against hers. Her limbs melted even as her spirit became empowered by the connection.
She had been careful, had denied herself, for so long. It felt good to surrender to her female instincts, and she immersed herself in the power of it, gave herself permission to enjoy this moment and this man.
God knew what the next few days would hold, especially with the drama unfolding online with that jackass Rickets. She had so much turmoil swirling her way over the next few days. But none of that mattered—not here, not now, not in this moment. In Nick’s arms there was only savory warmth and the thundering of their hearts.
Tonight, he was her silver lining.
***
Nick knew he shouldn’t touch her face, knew it was a mistake to put his mouth on hers, and knew he was lost the moment he did.
Merry Sunjoy was nothing he had expected and everything he didn’t know he wanted. He’d been so certain he knew who she was, this complicated lady who wrote about sunshine and silver linings even though it was clear from what she said that her world wasn’t built of them. There was so much more for her to say, and he wanted to be the one she said it to.
But now she kissed him as if her life depended on it, and he wasn’t about to screw things up by talking. Her hands coiled in his hair while her own silken tresses fluttered around them like a gossamer cloud in the salty breeze, and he was lost.
All the way back to the villa he stopped every few steps to kiss her, because he couldn’t get enough. He’d once thought that Merry Sunjoy was the equivalent of breathing cotton candy. He’d been wrong. She smelled of warm vanilla and tasted like heaven, and the next time he asked her what happiness looked like, he wanted her to scream his name.
They stumbled through the door of the villa, drunk on kisses, on each other. Nick nibbled along the curve of Merry’s shoulder and breathed in the tantalizing scent of her. Hands in his hair, she dragged his mouth back to hers as he lifted her against him. He wanted more from her than she’d ever be able to give him tonight, even if she was still in his bed come morning.
Her cell phone rang from inside her purse on the sofa.
“Oh, no,” she said, gasping for breath. “That’s my sister’s ring tone. I—I have to get that.” She said the words but did nothing to obey them. Instead, she wrapped herself around Nick and kissed him until he thought he’d scream with need.
Again, the phone blared—and again, and again.
“I better—I better get that,” Merry said, breathless.
Nick released her and stepped back, watched her rush to her phone, and steeled himself for bad news.
“Holly?” Merry said. She looked up at Nick, and her eyes widened. “Ben? What’s going on? Is Holly okay?” Her gaze remained steady on Nick’s, as if he was the one keeping her grounded, but her body sagged and her eyes welled with tears. “Oh, no. I’ll have to make some phone calls, see if I can change my flight to something earlier. Keep me posted, okay? I’ll text my new flight information, but don’t worry about picking me up at the airport. I’ll rent a car. I love you, too. Bye.” She dropped the cell phone onto the couch cushion and squeezed her eyes shut, but tears dripped out in spite of her obvious effort to stay them.
Nick drew Merry against him. He held her while she cried, didn’t look for explanations, but created a cocoon for her inside his arms. He wasn’t good with offering comfort and had learned a long time ago that the less he did, the more it seemed to help.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “My sister was in a car accident. Someone T-boned her. No broken bones, but she has a concussion. The hospital is keeping her overnight.” She drew back to look at him as more tears welled in her eyes. “That was her husband, Ben. I-I’m probably way overreacting here, but . . . our mother died in a car accident a year ago this Saturday, so it’s still too fresh, I guess.” More tears welled, and she wiped them away with her hands. “I have to get back to my hotel room and pack. I was heading home tomorrow anyway, but I’m going to try to get an earlier flight.” She sniffed again and stepped away from him, stiffened her back, and grabbed her purse. “I have to go.”
“I’ll walk you back to your room.”
“It’s okay. I think it’s better if we say good bye now.”
“It’s late, Merry. I’m walking you back. Keep the jacket,” he said when she made a move to shrug out of it.
They walked to the main building in silence. Nick would have walked her all the way to her hotel room door, but she insisted on a quick goodbye in the lobby after they exchanged phone numbers.
Merry lifted to her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for a great evening. And what almost happened tonight—you should know that I don’t—I’ve never—so soon—” She lost the words when her cheeks bloomed red.
“Things happened pretty fast tonight,” Nick said. He brushed his knuckles over her dimple and resisted the urge to press his lips against it. “But I think you’ll agree that we might have the beginning of something more here. I hope we have the chance to see where this goes.”
Her smile lit her eyes with warmth, and she gave him a quick hug before she walked away.
“Merry.” He waited for her to stop and look back at him. “Good luck. And keep my number on speed dial.”
“Thanks,” she said.
And what, he wondered as he strolled back to the villa, was the silver lining in this? What would Merry Sunjoy find in her sister’s misfortune to constitute any sort of rainbow?
From where he was standing, it sounded like nothing but a lot of bad news.
Nick let himself into the villa and detoured to the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of milk, grabbed the chocolate chip cookies, and carried both to the living room. He powered up his laptop and tried to do some writing, but ended up sitting back with his snack, dunking and munching while he pondered his hours spent with Merry.
It was clear to him that she had no idea he was the man behind Scurvy Rickets. It was also obvious that he’d gone way too far with his jabs at her, in spite of the fact that both their sales were up as a result of their verbal back-and-forth. He didn’t like being thought a bully, especially since, in his estimation, Merry had given as good as she got—although he admitted her digs had been delivered with more diplomacy than his.
And either Phoebe was lying to him about Merry’s agreement with their social media sparring, or Merry’s agent was lying to Phoebe. He hoped it was the latter, because if it was the former, he’d have to look for a new agent.
He opened his laptop again, but this time went to Merry’s BBB blog. He scrolled through the comments until he found the one awaiting a response from her. She’d yet to reply, not that he was surprised, considering the current drama in her life.
Nick stared at the nasty comment he had left as Scurvy Rickets:
My work is entertaining and significant, Ms. Sunjoy, hence the Newsome Award. When was the last time your happy-happy-joy-joy syrup earned the same? Go ahead and review. I’ll wait. ZZZzzzzz…
She wasn’t wrong. That comment was written by a meany-head, a bully. It was inexplicably selling books, but it wasn’t selling the right message to anyone who read it, and she might consider it unforgivable when she found out he was the culprit.
Sure, his book sales were up. But maybe not up as high as if he’d been nicer. Maybe, he thought, there were parents who weren’t buying Pirates books because Scurvy Rickets was an asshole.
He sighed and wrote another comment, deleted it, and tried again.
And again.
And again.
He was giving the backspace key a major workout, so he slapped the laptop shut before he posted something stupid. The problem was that he was replying as himself, Nick Brubaker, instead of that old salt of the high seas, Scurvy Rickets.
So. What would Scurvy say if he wanted to apologize?
Well, that was the issue, wasn’t it? Scurvy never apologized. He set his sails for a different course and a new adventure. The books penned by Scurvy Rickets featured evildoers getting their just rewards at the hands of the sometimes subtly dark, but always hilarious, Pukefaced Pirates. But what of Scurvy Rickets, the author? Was there a way to turn him from the hardnosed blowhard he was into a kinder, gentler blowhard? Was there even such a thing?
It was probably best to leave well enough alone. Don’t apologize, because it would sound false, but don’t do anything to poke the bear, either. Let Merry reply however she chose, and Scurvy would let it go. He’d give her the last word, let her win the battle.
And sometime soon, Scurvy Rickets would have to learn how to apologize sincerely. Nick would make it part of his new book, he decided. Scurvy needed to admit when he was wrong. That was an important lesson for kids to learn, and if Scurvy could do it, then anyone could.
Merry was upset by all of this, and Nick had the power to make it stop. Maybe, if he put an end to it and let her come out on top, she’d forgive him—if she ever found out who his alter ego was. And, even though their relationship at this point consisted of little more than dipping their toes in the water, he needed to come clean with her, sooner rather than later, and contract be damned. If he wanted to continue seeing Merry—and much to his own surprise, he did—then she had to be told about Scurvy Rickets. But could he trust her to keep the secret, even if their relationship didn’t last? Million dollar question.
Nick’s cell phone chirped a new Twitter notification, and he swiped the screen to read his earlier message and Merry’s reply:
Scurvy Rickets @ScurvyRickets 16 h @merrysunjoy #BookBlissBlog=#BigBunchaBaloney dissing #PukefacedPirates. I say “Stick it where book-bliss don’t shine, lady.” #Beanbottom
And Merry’s reply:
Merry Sunjoy @MerrySunjoy 1sec @ScurvyRickets #PukefacedPirates rock but ur a bully. Barnacles to ur rosy red #Beanbottom, matey, cuz it's always sunny at #BookBlissBlog.
Nick laughed out loud. The lady had bested him, fair and square. He clicked over to her blog and scrolled to the comments where—yes, indeed, she had thumbed her nose at him there as well.
In response to his nasty comment about her work receiving no awards, she wrote:
Your work is both entertaining and significant, Mr. Rickets. It is you who are proving yourself to be neither. This is a civilized blog, not a sandbox for bullies. Play nice or walk the plank, sir.
Nick clicked out of Merry’s blog, closed his laptop, and smiled.