Flirty: Whispering Cove, #4

Flirty

Whispering Cove

Cathryn Fox

Contents

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Epilogue

Afterword

Wet

Brazen

Silk

Yours To Take

About Cathryn

Also by Cathryn Fox

Copyright

Copyright 2017 by Cathryn Fox

Published by Cathryn Fox

Formerly published with Samhain Publishing

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Discover other titles by Cathryn Fox at www.cathrynfox.com.

Please sign up for Cathryn’s Newsletter for freebies, ebooks, news and contests: https://app.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/c1f8n1

ISBN 978-1-928056-53-9 

Prologue

Asalty breeze blew off the ocean, whispering through Harold Adair’s hair as he sat in his lounge chair and pushed his toes beneath the warm sand. His heavy eyelids began to droop, but the chill against his palm reminded him he held a half-full glass of his favorite rum propped on his barreled chest. He raised the tumbler to his lips and took a swig, allowing the amber liquid to quench his parched throat.

"Ahhh." Life couldn’t be any better.

His granddaughter, Andrea Adair—now McGrath—was home where she belonged. Married to her high school sweetheart, Andie had two healthy boys with her husband Brody. Said boys were playing beneath their watchful parents’ eyes.

Harold smiled.

Donal followed a sand crab moving sideways to avoid the stick the naughty boy used to poke at it. His twin brother, Daniel, chased a receding wave. When the wave made an about-face, the boy squealed. He spun around, his chubby little legs going a mile a minute as he tried to outrun the water licking at his ankles.

Daniel’s giggles warmed Harold’s heart, until the crab Donal harassed got wedged between two rocks and the child turned his attentions to his brother. With a shove, Daniel ended up facedown in the sand and water. Before the ocean could engulf the child, his father ran to his side, jerking him into the safety of his arms.

The scream Daniel released as he spat sand out of his mouth made Brody, the local sheriff, frown. If your momma wasn’t here I’d tan your hide, Donal.

The twenty-month-old puckered his lips. His big blue eyes took on a sad puppy-dog look that always did Harold in.

As Andie approached, she shook her head and narrowed her sights on her husband. Who are you trying to kid? You’ve never raised a hand to either of these boys. She dropped to her knees before Donal. You know what you did was wrong. I think you need a time out.

Momma—

No, Donal. She pushed to her feet, her hands propped against her slender hips. She glared down at the child, who inhaled a ragged breath, clearly on the verge of tears. You don’t treat your brother like that. Now get to the blanket and sit beneath the umbrella until I say you can get up and play.

Andie?

Brody, I don’t want to hear ‘boys will be boys’. She extended her arms toward Daniel and he crawled into them. Brushing away the sand caking his face, she held him close and kissed his forehead.

Daniel was the quieter of the two—a gentle soul. His brother? Well, that was another story. But they were both angels in Harold’s eyes.

Let’s clean you up. Brody, he’s yours to watch while I’m gone. She glanced to where Donal sat. Silent tears streamed down his dirty cheeks. I want to see him sitting right there when I return. She leveled a firm eye on her husband, who had the good sense to simply nod, before she pivoted and walked away.

Errol Wilson chuckled. She’s a good mother. A stiff breeze blew the thin piece of gray hair that was usually combed over his bald head to the side. After he patted the stringy stuff back in place, he reached for the half-empty bottle of rum propped in the sand by the leg of his lounge chair.

Aye. She be the best. There was no better in Harold’s eyes.

Errol filled his glass and frowned at the remaining contents of the bottle. Looks like it’s time for another bet.

Byron Mitchell swirled the amber liquor in his glass, making the ice cubes clink against the sides. My cupboards are bare too.

The arthritic man made up the final member of their threesome. Together they had finagled their wayward grandchildren to return home. With a little more conniving, they had even gotten them hitched and settled down. Now and then they tried their hand at matchmaking and had become quite successful.

The way Harold saw it, they were doing this town a service. I agree. It was time they put their matchmaking skills to work again.

I’ve been thinking, Errol said.

Laughter burst from Byron’s mouth. Did it hurt much?

Real funny, you ol’ blowfish. Yet Errol chuckled at his friend’s teasing. What do you say we make this bet a little more interesting?

Byron leaned forward in his chair. What do you have in mind?

Let’s change it up a little. How ’bout a public declaration by either the man or woman.

Byron’s brows shot upward. In front of a crowd?

Harold liked the idea. The most creative expression of love.

Anywhere? Any size group? When Harold and Errol nodded, Byron continued. Since today is June first, the deadline should by the Fourth of July Parade.

The gleam in his eyes had Harold a little concerned. His friend of many years was up to something. Who should we be focusing on this year?

Byron looked over Harold’s shoulder. Here comes my man now.

Harold’s gaze followed both of his friends’. Ryan Alden? The boy recently returned to town.

Two months ago. After twelve years in the Marines, it’s time he settled down.

It dawned on Harold exactly what Byron had been up to. Why you scalawag. You’ve been sneaking around and preparing for our next bet.

Harold shot a look of disbelief toward Errol. When he expected his friend to join in berating Byron and he didn’t, it became clear he’d been the only one waiting for the next bet to be announced. But to confirm it, he asked, You too? When Errol shrugged, Harold grumbled, Well, you liver-lily pond-suckers. Who have you chosen?

Sam Doherty. Errol grinned ear to ear as he glanced over to Sam, who was playing catch with young Jake Caan on the other end of the beach.

He be old man Doherty’s grandson, right? The ghost hunter? Harold shook his head. Whoever heard of a grown man who believed in ghosts?

This wouldn’t have anything to do with the young woman who purchased Ol’ Lady Landry’s old Victorian house? Byron asked.

A sheepish expression spread across Errol’s weathered face as he looked at the big house overlooking the ocean at the far end of the beach.

Byron took a sip of his drink. What have you been up to?

Just a little funny business. You know I have a key to Ol’ Lady Landry’s place.

You be scaring the poor lassie out of her wits. Harold thought of the big, creaky house. It was perfect for a little mischief. He glanced toward Byron. Suppose you have someone in mind to match Alden up with?

Byron nodded toward Carmen Smith as she walked from the water in her fifties-style swimsuit. It’s about time that young chickadee settled down.

Her older sister, Aimee, had captured Byron’s attention at Christmas time. Two months ago she had married her daughter’s baby daddy, as it should be.

Byron raised his glass and Errol clinked his against it. Best you get to fishing or cut bait. He rose from his chair and glanced to the large Victorian house down the beach. I have a little tomfoolery in mind.

Harold harrumphed. Of all the rotten things for his two best friends to have done, he was now behind the eight ball.

He gazed around the growing crowd, stopping when he caught sight of Lauren Savage, Brody’s secretary from the police station, playing volleyball. Now she showed possibility. The attractive blonde had been in town for almost two years and hadn’t reeled in any particular man.

A very pregnant Tabby and her brother Devon Taylor walked up to Brody, reminding Harold one of their sisters had come of age. If Harold remembered correctly, Katrina, or Kat as she was known around these parts, had recently returned from college this year.

Yes! Lauren’s squeal of delight as the volleyball she served struck the sand inside the boundaries on the other side of the net grabbed Harold’s attention, before he glanced at Devon once more.