Excerpt from
PARADISE COVE
by Patrice Wilton
Copyright © 2015 Patrice Wilton
Cardiac surgeon Sean Flannigan lost his daughter to a rare form of leukemia; he can mend broken hearts, but his is beyond repair. Kayla Holmes, along with her sisters, inherited guest cottages in the Keys after their stepfather died. Their high spirits and positive energy are a beacon of light that directs Sean’s sailboat into Paradise Cove. Can Kayla’s compassion find a crack in Sean’s armor? Sometimes love isn’t enough to heal a wounded heart.
CHAPTER ONE
Kayla Holmes ran into the front office where the cool air greeted her like a slap in the face. Summer in the Florida Keys was brutally hot, and yet the moment you escaped inside the chill factor was almost worse.
“Mom,” she gasped, rubbing her bare arms. “Who is that man moving into Rhapsody? I saw him a minute ago bringing in fishing gear and several duffle bags. Looks like a week’s worth of supplies.” The two bedroom cottage was near the beach; one of their best properties and priced accordingly.
Anna Jones smiled and peered over her sparkly reading glasses. “Why,” she said with obvious pleasure, “that’s our new guest. Sean Flannigan.” Her dark eyes sparkled. “And it’s not a week. He’s staying for three months! Three months, and he paid up front.” She rubbed her hands together, nearly bouncing in her excitement, though she lowered her voice and glanced toward the door to ensure they were alone. “This kind of revenue is just what we need to see us through the summer. Now if we just get another one or two long term guests, we wouldn’t have to worry so much.”
“Mom, you don’t need to worry at all. Leave that to us girls. Our shoulders are broader than yours.” Kayla gazed down at the petite five-foot two-inch woman who had somehow born three daughters that were all half a foot taller. Other than that, they shared the same flashing brown eyes, dark curly hair, and olive skin that tanned well—a gift from their Greek heritage.
“Instead of standing here talking to me, why don’t you go welcome Mr. Flannigan? Help him settle in,” Anna said with a teasing wink. “He’s kind of cute. I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band, and he owns that big sailboat down at the marina.” She came around the counter and gave her daughter a push. “Go on now. Introduce yourself.” She brushed a speck of dirt from Kayla’s tank top. “On second thought—maybe you should clean up first.”
“I was weeding, Mom. I’m not going to change so that I can help our guest move in!” Kayla tossed her hair back, picking at a few stray strands that stubbornly clung to her damp cheeks. “He’s in the Keys for heaven’s sake—if he isn’t used to a little sweat, he soon will be.” She paused at the door. “Besides, I’m not looking for romance. Brian and I just broke up six months ago. I plan on enjoying my freedom.”
“Well, a girl at your age should be married, not wanting her freedom. Whatever that means. You’re not getting any younger. Thirty-one and still single! A beautiful girl like you. Where have all the good men gone?”
“You married them,” Kayla answered with a laugh. “Well, two of them anyway.”
“Yes, and buried them both too.” Anna sighed, and waved her hands. “Off you go. Make sure Mr. Flannigan has towels and bathroom supplies.” She removed her glasses with theatric flourish. “He’s got an accent, which is kind of sexy.”
“Sexy…really?” Kayla pretended shock, although her mother was only fifty-six and extremely youthful. “Where’s he from?”
“I couldn’t tell. Sean Flannigan sounds Scottish, but I don’t think it’s that.” Anna gave Kayla another gentle push toward the door. “Go ask him and then we’ll know for sure.”
“Jeez, Mom. Don’t be doing any matchmaking. Taylor, Brit and I will find our own men when we’re ready.” Kayla stood at the screened door, gazing out. “This place needs a lot of work.”
When their step-dad died last fall, he’d left the small seaside resort to his stepdaughters and his wife. It was supposed to be his retirement plan, but a sudden heart attack stole that from him.
“I know, honey, and I’m glad for the work. It gives me something positive to do instead of moping around.” Anna put her glasses back on, blinking against tears.
“Of course it does.” She squeezed her mom’s hand. “We’re in this together.” Kayla mentally went through a top priority list of things to do. “First we’ll get the grounds spruced up, and a new deck for the pool, then I’d like to paint the units before fall. It needs a clean, refreshed make-over. The sooner the better.”
Paradise Cove Cottages consisted of twelve efficiency cabins with small kitchens, a living area, and a covered patio to enjoy the view. The larger units faced the ocean, whereas the one-bedrooms were grouped around the pool next to the beach. All needed updating.
“Doesn’t mean you girls can’t find time to meet some nice men, does it?”
“That’s exactly what it means.” She smiled to soften the words. Her mom had loved being married and wanted to see her daughters with husbands and children of their own. Kayla wasn’t opposed to the idea, but she could wait. “We have plenty to do here that will keep us busy. I’m sure not going to chase after romance. I’m happy to wait until it finds me.”
Anna put her hand on Kayla’s arm. “Fine, just don’t go running away from it, either.”
“I don’t plan to. It’s just on the back burner.” She’d dated a guy in Philadelphia, a sales manager with a big company, working himself up the corporate ladder. It had been fun and games for awhile, but he was more interested in moving ahead than moving in with her. They’d called it quits when Kayla told him she was moving to the Keys.
“Don’t let that burner wait too long. Time has a way of slipping by, and you need to grab happiness when you can.”
“I will, Mom. Just as soon as we get this place up to snuff. Allan would want it that way. You know he would.”
Her mother blinked back tears. “I know. He’s up there looking down on us, and we will make him proud. We will.” She sniffed and smiled. “Off you go now. I’ve got to set up an appointment for the Conley family to go snorkeling this afternoon.”
“I’ll take over the office at noon—give you a break. Why don’t you go into town? Get away from here for a few hours.”
“I might do that. Oh, what do you think of The Good Life as a name?”
“Name for what?” Kayla asked. “A boat?”
“No. Our cabin.”
“It’s fine, Mom, but let’s hold off on that until we can get them all redone. It’s just not a priority.” Each cabin had a wooden plaque above the door. The previous owner had called one Rhapsody, the next, Serenity, then Tranquility, and finally Harmony. The smaller units were Bliss, Happy Days, Smooth Sailing, Hooked & Baited, Hibiscus, Bougainvillea, The Palms, and then there was their own cottage. Passions.
“That’s probably best since we want to paint all the units anyway,” her mother agreed. “But us four unmarried women living in a cabin called Passions just doesn’t seem right. What will people think?”
“Who cares? One look at this place and they’ll know we’re not running a brothel.” The cottages were set back from Overseas Highway, the one and only road that took visitors from the mainland to the Keys. A dirt path lined with scattered palm trees, scrub brush and pines led to the office where her mother and all three sisters rotated shifts. They had a pool, some swings and a couple of bikes for the children, and rented out kayaks. Not glamorous, but family friendly. “Right now we need to stick to our business plan.”
“All right, all right.” Anna walked back to the desk and sat down before the computer. “See you later, dear. Don’t forget our guest.”
“I won’t.” Kayla closed the door behind her so her mother could enjoy the air conditioning. Then she headed toward the cabin on the beach to give Mr. Flannigan a warm welcome. Three month’s rent would go a long way right now. Paid in cash. How unusual.
“Hey,” she called, watching the man’s backside as he hauled a large duffle bag toward the cabin. Not bad. “Welcome to Paradise Cottages.”
Turning around as if startled, he dropped the bag near the porch and stuffed his hands into his khaki shorts. He nodded at her and mumbled, “Good morning.”
She tried to identify the accent, but failed. South African? Australian?
He was tall and thin, probably about fortyish, with sandy brown hair that curled around his ears, and a four o’clock shadow at ten a.m. His features were ordinary, not too big, not too small. Kayla wouldn’t call him handsome, but that might be due to the scowl on his face.
“And a good morning to you.” She came forward with a big smile and a welcoming hand, wishing she’d taken the time to change out of her dirty shirt. “I’m Kayla Holmes. You met my mother, Anna, and no doubt you’ll meet my sisters soon. We’re very glad to have you with us and want to make your stay as comfortable as possible. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call. We live in the first cottage, Passions, and we’re available 24/7.”
Kayla’s cheeks warmed as she stumbled over the name of their cottage. Maybe her mother was right, and the name change needed to be moved up the list.
He didn’t smile or take her extended hand. “Sean Flannigan.” His brown eyes flickered over her, then shifted away as he inched toward his cabin door. “I don’t need much.” He pointed at the marina. “I’ve been staying on my boat for the past month. I’ll be fine once I settle in.”
He spoke in short sentences that didn’t welcome further conversation, but Kayla soldiered on. “Yes, well, there’s a small grocery store a few blocks down, within walking distance. We can book tours through the Everglades, or get you a reservation at any of the local restaurants. We also offer drives into town. Just let us know you’re interested and when one of us is free, we’d be happy to take you wherever you want to go. All part of the service we provide.”
His expression didn’t change. There was no warmth in his eyes, just wariness, as though he might have something to hide.
“Nice of you to offer, but I don’t need anything. If I do, I’ll let you know.” He had one hand on the doorknob.
Maybe he was a drug runner or arms smuggler. Something was off about him and it wasn’t just the accent. She stepped closer, wondering what he had in those duffle bags. “You don’t need groceries or anything?”
“I’ve come here for some solitude.” He didn’t move from the porch. His knuckles tightened on the knob.
“Solitude. Got it!” She jammed her hands into her shorts. “You want anything to go along with that solitude? A good book? Some nice music? Tequila?” She gave him a bright smile, hoping for a little one in return.
She backed away from his pointed look. “Okay. One last thing before I get out of your hair—we have happy hour every day at the pool. Four to six. Mom makes the best drinks in town. Guaranteed to give you a buzz. Not that you want one. Solitude and buzzes don’t really go together.” She squinted, reflecting on it for a second.
His jaw clenched.
“Or maybe they do,” she babbled on. “Not sure. Anyway, today her secret weapon for putting a smile on your face will be Mango Daiquiris. If you get away from your solitude for an hour you’ll meet my sisters and our other guests. We don’t have many. But there’s a nice family from Ohio. And a cute couple on their honeymoon.”
He walked into the cabin and shut the door behind him.
Well, of all the nerve! She’d only tried to be friendly. What was his problem? Rude and secretive. No one could live under her nose, especially in Paradise Cove, and Rhapsody no less, and do something sinister. They didn’t have a Sinister name plate, and they sure in hell weren’t about to put one up.
* * *
“What a pushy woman,” Sean mumbled as he tossed his duffle bags on the counter. He unzipped the heaviest one, taking out cans of soup and stews he’d been practically living on for the last few weeks. Now with a proper kitchen he could buy some fresh produce and good steaks. Fry up the last of the fish in his cooler while it was still edible. He enjoyed cooking, but he preferred putting in the effort when he had someone to cook for. Those days were gone.
“Happy hour? I don’t think so.” The short interaction with Kayla left him frazzled and certain he wasn’t ready for human company. And yet, he’d gotten lonely on the boat. He’d left Boston five weeks ago, with no particular destination in mind. He’d needed to clear his head and mend his heart. As a doctor he knew that those two particular areas were mostly untreatable.
The six months prior to his exodus from Boston had been spent in a two-bedroom condo not far from the hospital where he worked. It hadn’t been luxurious, but it had been convenient after the divorce. He’d continued on auto pilot, closing down emotionally so that he felt nothing. No pain. No heartache. No regrets.
Those had seeped in later. The divorce was a direct result of the death of their precious ten-year-old daughter, who’d lost the fight to lymphoblastic leukemia. His wife blamed him for not being able to save Sara. Punishing him had given Laura a reason to get out of bed each morning. He understood that, and didn’t blame her any. It had helped her survive something that no parent should ever have to face.
Why had the good Lord decided that little Sara was the one to go? Had it been her bright smile, her love and joy, her pure heart? Had she been too good for this world? Did Sara look down upon them now, and see how bitter they’d become? How her death had caused a rift so deep and wide, that it could never be healed? He hoped not. Instead, he liked to think she was upstairs amusing the angels with her silly jokes and cheerful ways.
Sara had died just over a year ago and the remembered pain lanced through him, nearly bringing him to his knees in the tiny kitchen of the cabin. Sean knew it would never go away, but he was starting to remember his daughter with good memories too, not just the endless surgeries, the dozen rounds of chemo, or her weak body as she lay dying in a hospital.
He sank into a chair and looked out the window. Children played on the beach—one was running with a kite, the other had a bucket and a shovel and was making a sand castle.
The image made him smile sadly as he remembered the past, but at least he was strong enough now to take out the precious moments he’d been given with his daughter and look at them with love, instead of just anger and hurt. Far worse than the pain, would be to forget one single minute of Sara’s young life.
Two women in big sunhats and shorts over their swimsuits hiked the beach, gesturing with their hands as they talked. He’d seen them plenty of times from the deck of his boat, or as he’d fished from the pier. He knew they were Kayla’s sisters, and that the three women ran this place with their mother.
He told himself they weren’t the reason he’d chosen to stay in Paradise Cove. Sean had no interest in getting to know these happy, laughing women so full of life, so carefree, as though they’d never faced tragedy.
Yet, something had drawn him here besides the convenience of the marina next door. Was it loneliness, he wondered? He’d been divorced for less than a year, but alone much longer than that. Was it human nature to crave the solace of other strangers, the sounds of voices? If so, why had Kayla’s cheerfulness nearly sent him running?
He didn’t understand himself anymore. He was clever. Brilliant, some thought. But he couldn’t answer why he was here anymore than he could find a cure to save his baby girl. What good was intelligence or medical knowledge if it failed you in the end? He was the same as anybody else. Not smarter, and certainly not better. He bled. He felt. He cried. He was just a man.
Sean got out of the chair, wiped damp tears off his face with a paper towel from the dispenser on the counter and continued to unpack his bags. Instant noodles went into the cupboard, along with peanut butter and jelly, and half a loaf of bread. Kayla had mentioned a grocery store nearby. If he was going to be here for three months, he should probably rent a car. He hoped he wouldn’t regret the impulse to stay awhile.
He sniffed the milk, rearing back at the sour smell, then dumped it down the sink, and the small coffee creamer too. The six pack of Corona fit in the fridge and he stuck a bottle of scotch on the side counter, under the cupboard where he’d seen the glasses.
Shoulders slumped, he felt drained of energy. The simple motion of unpacking had zapped most of his strength. Previously he’d been an active man, but living in cramped quarters for the past month had atrophied him. A walk would do him good. He felt stiff inside and out.
He took a long hot shower, enjoying the full power of the spray and having room to move after the confined space on the boat. Then he dressed in an old but favorite pair of jeans, a clean blue tee with a fish head on the back, and headed out. He stopped at the office for directions, but instead of the attractive middle-aged lady, Kayla stood at the bookshelves by the desk. They had tourist information on the top half, and used books on the bottom. She was adding one to the collection. He glanced at the title. The Seductress and the Rake. His wife had enjoyed historical romances as well.
“Hey,” she said with a sunny smile. “How can I help you, Mr. Flannigan?”
He hadn’t been called “Mister” in a long time. But the “doctor” title seemed inappropriate, and he didn’t need any formality. Matter of fact, he wanted to be “average Joe” and stay invisible. “Call me Sean.”
Why did her bright smile illicit such a negative reaction from him? Sean could tell it was genuine. He’d seen her smiling and singing to herself earlier when he’d walked from the marina to get a room. She’d worn a big straw hat that covered most of her face. He’d wondered what the heck she had to sing about. Had to be a hundred degrees in the sun, and she was working hard, cleaning the walkway from the pool that led to the beach. Bending over and pulling weeds between the wooden steps, trimming the wild grass that grew along the sides. She’d been sweating buckets, but catching sight of him, she’d wiped her forehead with her arm, grinned and waved.
Even at her worst, she was a stunning woman. Yet he hadn’t returned the wave. Instead, he’d plowed on, head down pretending he hadn’t seen her.
“Sean, then. We’re all curious about your accent.” She smiled again, darn near blinding him. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”
He did mind, but he answered anyway. “Boston. For the past twenty-five years.” Conversation seemed forced to him now. For a month he’d drifted alone on his boat, only stopping for gas and food. He didn’t have much to say anymore. Not to strangers, not to family or friends. He didn’t want their words of sympathy or to see a look of sadness in their eyes. Even a light-hearted chat with a pretty woman couldn’t muster any appeal. He was part of the walking dead. Just no one knew it.
“Before that,” she persisted. “It’s not a Scottish brogue, is it?”
“Nope. Born in Australia.” He tried a smile which felt stiff and unnatural. More of a grimace. “Moved to the States when I was sixteen,” he mumbled, shifting his feet, eager to get away.
“Do you say things like “dinky-di?” She laughed and brushed back her dark brown curly hair. “I worked at a Hyatt in Philly, and we had a rugby team in. I heard them use it a few times.”
He scowled. “Not if I can help it.” Must have been the work that she’d done for a hotel chain that made her so damn customer-service oriented. Probably should have stayed on his boat where there was peace and quiet, only the occasional squawking of a seagull flying by.
Ignoring his bad manners, she walked across the office to the small refrigerator that held cold waters, taking one for herself, offering him another. “So, what brought you here? To South Florida?”
He accepted the water, uncapped it and took a big drink. “Look, I just stepped in to find out where the nearest market is, not to answer twenty questions.” After a few more slugs of the water, he placed the bottle on the counter. He knew he was being rude, but she seemed damned determined not to leave him alone. Enough was enough. “Appreciate the water though,” he said, taking a step toward the door.
“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to be friendly. You want to keep to yourself, it’s all the same to me.”
He shrugged his shoulders, hoping to shed his guilt. “I just don’t want to talk about myself, that’s all.”
“Fair enough.” She pointed at the door. “When you leave here, follow the dirt road to the street, then turn right.”
Sean shot her a look of apology. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t stand to be around people. She was just doing her job, and his rudeness was not to be excused. “I’m sorry for jumping down your throat. Got some things to work out. Talking doesn’t help.”
Clearing her throat, she said, “It’s okay.” She kept her eyes averted. “There’s a small general store about three blocks from here. You want a better selection, you’ve got to go a couple of miles. Big supermarket down the way a bit.” She glanced at her watch, refusing to look at him. “If you can wait an hour, Mom will be back. She can drive you.”
“Thanks, but no. The walk will do me good.” He opened the door and the heat hit him like an open furnace. Walking far in this humidity might not be such a great idea. He glanced back. “I was thinking about renting a car while I’m here.”
“Good idea.” She stood, as if waiting for him to say something else. Letting him know she thought he was a Grade A jerk.
“Can you make the arrangements or is there a place in town?”
Kayla nodded. “I can look after it. No problem.” She gave him that blasted smile once again. Like she just couldn’t help being ridiculously happy.
“Thanks.” He turned and started toward the road ahead, heading for the shade of the large palms.
Kayla called out, “Don’t forget happy hour. You’ll be back by then, I hope.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he answered, shaking his head. He had zero intention of showing up to drink girly drinks with a bunch of strangers. Maybe he could find a dark bar, a beer and a burger, and hang around until the damn thing was over.
“Perfect,” Kayla said in her cheerful voice.
He left without a backward glance.