“Way to go, bud. Way to stick with the plan.” He shot Cap a stern look, although he wasn’t entirely to blame. “We were supposed to keep to ourselves.”
Unconcerned, Cap hopped back onto the bed Sage had vacated several minutes earlier to begin her search above deck. The scruffy rapscallion turned in three circles before collapsing onto the comforter with a contented huff.
“Sure, take a load off. I’ll search for the diary by myself,” Flynn teased. Except, he didn’t move from where he stood. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the soft, inviting bed.
Sage had slept between those sheets last night. Those very pillows had cushioned her head. They probably still carried the sweet, honeyed scent of her shampoo.
The tantalizing vision of her perfect body stretched beneath the covers sent his pulse sailing into dangerous waters. He shook the mental image aside. Although, it took a few minutes for his overactive heart rate to get its act together.
Had she been able to sleep last night? Her eyes looked a little red and puffy, as if she’d been crying. Did it have anything to do with him? With Kevin? Their complicated past? Or something else entirely?
The urge to comfort her, to be the one she leaned on in times of need, still permeated his being, like the impulse lived in his DNA. But he’d given up that role the day he’d betrayed her trust.
Oysters. He might not always be great at picking up on subtleties, but this time, the subtext practically screamed at him.
Why had he invited her to breakfast, anyway? Was he a glutton for punishment? Being with Sage was like some kind of exquisite torture—he needed to be near her even though her presence evoked a parade of regrets.
Last night, he’d lain awake, staring up at the stars as vast and innumerable as all the dreams he’d buried in his past. Dreams of his life with Sage, of sailing around the world on a professional regatta team, of eventually settling back in Blessings Bay to raise their three kids. Two girls and a boy. Sage had wanted to name the eldest girl Quinley after a character from her favorite book. He’d agreed to the offbeat name because, back then, he would’ve agreed to live on Mars if she’d asked him.
He thought of the last request she’d made—the night his brother died—and a sharp pang gripped his chest. The pain moved north, pricking the backs of his eyes. He blinked furiously and gritted his teeth, burying the memory deep in the bottomless pit of his mind where it belonged.
“All right, Cap. We gotta find this diary and get out of here.” He turned a full 360, scanning the room. “If you were some lady’s diary, where would you be?”
Cap lifted his bushy eyebrows but didn’t budge to help.
“Please, don’t get up.” Rolling his eyes, Flynn strode to the nightstand, which seemed like the most logical location. Maybe it had a false bottom drawer or secret compartment?
Sage’s satchel purse rested on top. He grinned at the quirky style. Multipatterned patchwork with tassels. Fun colors with a vintage, bohemian vibe. Definitely not a designer brand. A single glimpse of the faded fabric would make his mother recoil.
Beside the purse sat a worn book without a cover. A few smudges marred the cream-colored paper. But even without a proper binding, Flynn knew the title by heart.
The Curious Quest of Quinley Culpepper.
“She was nuts about this book,” he told Cap, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I think it’s what sparked her dream to open a bookstore.” His fingers itched to feel the pages, to hold something so dear to Sage’s heart.
Growing up, she’d begged him to read it, convinced every living soul on earth would benefit from its uplifting storyline about a young girl looking for her father who found her own self-worth instead. But as a kid, he hadn’t wanted to invest the time inanybook, let alone one about a twelve-year-old girl. Flynn smiled ruefully at his shortsighted younger self. He’d missed out.
Now, he owned a first edition—that had cost him more than he cared to admit—and had read it cover to cover at least a dozen times. He wasn’t sure why. Some sort of self-flagellation, he supposed. He felt closer to Sage, which made his heart ache beyond reason, which led to him burying the book in the back of his closet until he dragged it out again a year later to repeat the agonizing process.
Cap nudged his hand, as if he wanted Flynn to finish the story.
“She never had a chance to open her bookstore,” Flynn confessed, sadness and shame constricting his chest in equal measure.
Even after he’d left town—after he’d left Sage—he’d hoped her dream would come true. He’d felt confident it would. After all, in his estimation, she could do anything she set out to do.
He’d maintained his subscription to theBlessings Bay Gazette, keeping an eye out for an article on Sage and the grand opening of her bookstore. The day he’d learned his mother had opened The Best of Times—her vanity bookshop that blocked Sage from opening her own—he’d called his parents from a business trip in British Columbia. It was the one and only occasion he’d ever raised his voice to his mother.
He wasn’t proud of his angry outburst—or of the subsequent years he’d barely spoken to her—but he’d suspected her sudden interest in literature had been more spiteful than cerebral. What he didn’t understand was why his mother had maintained a vendetta against a woman he’d already cut from his life.
Women—even the ones closest to him—were a mystery.
“What do you think Sage wants withMira?” He scratched Cap behind his ears, surveying the room again.
Whatever the reason, he wanted her to have it. And that desire only grew the more time he spent with her—the more he felt the same indescribable, uncontrollable urge to see her smile.
Somehow, he needed to find a way to fulfill his promise to his brotherandensure Sage didn’t lose this dream, too. Whatever this particular dream entailed.
Was dual ownership possible? Or a lease agreement?
