Wild Hearts (Wild Hearts series) Page 3

  “Thank you. Ma’am.” Faith added as she tested the word out. It felt foreign in her mouth, but nobody seemed to notice.

  “Just call me Mama Mae, dear. Or Mama, if you’re comfortable.”

  Faith left the thick cloth napkin beside her plate and headed out of the house. The lawn stretched for what seemed to be miles, a rich green like she’d never seen before. In the distance, she caught sight of horse stables. A young man was leading two mares, one brown and one white, toward a fenced-in area.

  The morning sun was warm, the early humidity adding a sheen to her skin. Before she’d left California, Natalie had told her, “Southern women don’t sweat, they glow.”

  Faith retied her hair as she made her way along the trail. She pulled a ball cap out of her waistband and pulled her hair through the gap in the back. A small prop plane whirred ahead of her, and Alex stood with his back to the trail.

  Suddenly, a bundle of nerves exploded in her stomach. Faith ducked behind one of the oaks to calm herself.

  Except for the scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face, Alex was incredibly fucking fine. There was no denying it. He was a touch taller than Caleb, probably just over six feet. The mop of dirty blond hair, the scruff of a beard, and those cold blue eyes were undeniable.

  It didn’t hurt that below the tight T-shirt and worn jeans, his body was sculpted like some kind of God’s.

  Alex turned quickly. His eyes caught hers, and his face went black. She felt redness creep across her face, the shame of getting caught. Without a word, he climbed into the plane, and the idling engine roared to life.

  Faith’s heart pounded mercilessly against her chest. She felt like she was a kid who’d been caught passing notes in study hall.

  Alex stared at her and lifted his hand in frustration. You coming or not? he seemed to ask.

  Faith hustled toward the plane and climbed into the passenger side—thankful for the growl of the engine to drown out the sound of her heart.

  He gestured roughly to the seatbelts, and before she’d even clipped them into place, they were taking off down the short runway. It was unlike anything she’d experienced before, worlds apart from the demanding commercial flights she was used to. Faith sucked in her breath as she felt the wheels lift off the pavement. In seconds, they were soaring above the greenery.

  The massive estate looked like a miniature. The wilderness below, wild and thorny, was also beautiful. Like a rose, Faith thought. Just past the rising forest, the land sloped down toward white sandy beaches. Thick, tall trees framed the paradise below.

  “That’s Smuggler’s Cove, there,” Alex said and pointed to a natural cul-de-sac.

  His voice still carried that southern drawl, but it wasn’t nearly as thick as his mom’s, Caleb’s, or anyone else’s who lived at the inn. She was still trying to figure out exactly how they were all related. “Why’s that?” she asked, eager to keep the conversation afloat, especially if it had nothing to do with how she had crept up on him.

  “Why do you think?” Alex asked pointedly. He sighed. “Pirates used to bring all kinds of goods ashore there. Over there,” he said, and pointed to another white plantation home, “that one’s yours.”

  “Mine,” she repeated as she gazed down at the property. From above, it looked like all the others. “Can we go down?” she asked.

  He nodded and started to angle the plane toward an open field.

  As they descended, a strong memory from what must have been twenty years ago hit her hard. She remembered being in a similar plane, pressed against her father’s leg, and peering over him toward the islands below. They’d seemed a lot farther away then, she thought. And there was that little blonde girl again, her sticky fingers gripped between Faith’s. She shook her head to clear the memories.

  As soon as they landed and Alex killed the engine, she knew this estate was nothing like Greystone. But maybe it can be, she told herself. The grass was overgrown and wild with clovers. It was just a short hike toward the house, but Alex kept a fast clip just ahead of her.

  It was still early, but the heat had already started to get to her. “Hey!” she called to him. “Can you slow down?”

  Alex turned briefly. “There’s only one house here,” he said. “You know where you’re going. ʼSides, I thought you’d been here before?”

  “I . . . I don’t remember much,” she said. “Just glimpses, you know? I must have been five, six, or seven at the most the last time I was here. Mostly I just remember from a few old photos.”

  He looked almost sorry for a second.

  Think of the upside, she told herself. The property was relatively far inland, which was good news since she’d read that rising tides had washed away some small houses and shacks used for fishing.

  As they approached the house, muscle memory took over. She somehow remembered where there was an old stump that was hidden in the tall grass. She remembered tea parties with imaginary china while her little cousin pretended the Mad Hatter was in attendance, the scratchy weeds that flicked at her legs, and how bizarrely enormous the spiders had seemed at the time.

  Faith remembered the two of them as they raced toward the grand estate when the triangle dinner bell rang. The boom of her father’s voice in the kitchen.

  As she approached the house now, it seemed like something out of a nightmare—and half the size of that she remembered. Of course, she’d forgotten the house entirely until she’d received the call from that estate agent. As soon as he mentioned Saint Rose and described the house and island, though, these nagging little memories started to pop up to surprise her.

  Faith knew she shouldn’t feel emotional about a house she’d forgotten about for two decades, but she couldn’t help it. Now that it had returned to her, she realized it carried precious memories: her father, though he’d been so sad at that time, and the little blonde cousin whose name continued to evade her but even so seemed so much warmer than the cousins she’d grown up with in California.

  It stung to see the house in such disrepair. Alex reached up to a nook on the porch and fished out a key. The wraparound was covered in dust and natural debris. “It could use some sprucing up,” she said as she looked around. One of the windows was boarded up, and the paint peeled away in numerous locations.

  “It’s been sitting here unused for a lot of years,” he told her as he unlocked the front door. “Think you’d be in better shape? After you. Ma’am,” he said as he held the door open for her.

  Faith wrinkled her nose as she stepped into what must have once been a fantastic foyer. In fact, she could somewhat remember the grandiosity. The Persian rugs and the twinkling chandelier. Now, it was covered in layers of dust that made the floors look dull. Overhead, there was exposed wiring, but the gorgeous chandelier she remembered was long gone. Faith coughed as she started to explore the first floor.

  Room by room, she took the house in. It has “good bones,” a realtor or flipper would say. But that probably didn’t do her much good on an isolated island like this. What am I supposed to do with this? Fix it up and then . . . what? She’d only briefly looked at the price of real estate on the island because there was absolutely nothing for sale. When she’d emailed one realtor in Savannah, they’d told her, “People on the island tend to stay there. Properties are generally passed down generations.”

  Faith traced her finger along the intricate molding pattern of the wainscoting. “I have no idea what to do with it,” she told Alex. “This is weird, but it’s like a bad print of what I remember. You know? Like I feel protective of it, though I barely remember it.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it should be a wilderness refuge. There are a lot of small land and sea animals that are only found on the Georgia coast.”

  She looked up, surprised, but Alex gazed fixedly out one of the windows. Or attempted to, anyway. The glass was so old it had turned cloudy. “Really? I didn’t know that,” she said.

  “I’m not surprised. Look, it’s up to you. I was just giving my
opinion.” He turned and walked out of the room. Judging by the built-ins, it used to be a library. Why is he so touchy about everything? Apparently even Georgia wildlife.

  Faith found him in the kitchen, where he examined the carpentry. “Can we go back now?” she asked. Being in the house, on that island, had started to flood her mind with scattered memories. She had flashes and glimpses of the past but without enough glue to piece it all together.

  He looked at her, wordless, and started heading back to the front door.

  “I guess that’s a yes,” she muttered under her breath.

  Alex locked up and started to walk back to the plane. Did I say something wrong? Maybe he has some kind of connection to this place. “Thank you for taking me,” she said. Faith had to half jog, half walk to keep pace with him. “I . . . I have a lot to think about.”

  Alex didn’t say anything. She could swear he somehow walked even faster.

  Faith looked around the property. It would be nice to restore the house. Fix it up. After all, she had the money now . . .

  Halfway to the plane, she gave up on keeping up with him. Instead, she let him barrel on ahead. He was brusque and harsh, but she knew he wouldn’t just leave her there. Well, maybe he would, but his mom certainly wouldn’t allow it.

  She fell back and watched his ass all the way back to the plane. What a waste, she thought. With that attitude, there’s no way he’s getting laid. Why in the world does he clearly spend all that time honing his body?

  Faith felt herself flush again. I’m the one who needs to get laid, she thought. Running around this island, checking out the rear end of a total asshole who couldn’t even drum up a little common decency.

  “Y’all coming?” Alex called to her.

  I wish, she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. “Yeah, yeah,” she said.

  It really was too bad he was such a stick-in-the-mud. If he weren’t, he’d be just her type.

  Chapter 4

  Alex

  He fell into his bed, exhausted and unable to remember the last time he’d gone to bed well after nightfall. Alex didn’t want to think about how tough his morning run would be. However, stressing about workouts was still better than thinking about that girl for one more minute.

  He’d been on edge the entire time they were together. The minutes with her had absolutely dragged. No matter what he had tried, none of his usual tricks worked. There was just something about her. Every part of her screamed sensuality, and it was a feeling he wasn’t comfortable with. As soon as they’d landed back at Greystone, he couldn’t wait to get away from her. It had been a nightmare to force himself not to burst into a full run back to the inn.

  Alex had thought that once they reached the inn, it would be easy to avoid her. That hadn’t been the case. Caleb had pounced as soon as they’d stepped through the door.

  “Y’all have a good time?” Caleb had asked. He stretched out the drawl like he always did around Yankees.

  “Yes!” Faith had said with a smile. “It wasn’t what I expected. But it has a lot of potential.”

  “You a real estate tycoon, ma’am?” Caleb had teased her.

  When she giggled, that smile and those lips lit up the room. “That hadn’t been in the plan, but you never know.”

  “How ʼbout I show you around the property?” Caleb asked.

  “Sure. Just let me go put on some more sunblock.”

  Caleb gave Alex a wink as she squeezed between them toward the staircase. They’d both watched, unabashedly, as she ascended. With every sway of her hips, Alex willed the shorts to ride up higher, even as he chastised himself internally for such a thought.

  “Goddamn,” Caleb whispered to him. “You ever seen anything like that?”

  “Not round here, maybe,” Alex said. “But that’s not sayin’ much.”

  “Right,” Caleb said with a laugh. He elbowed him in the ribs. “If they were all made like that on the mainland, you never would have come back here. Sorry, man,” Caleb corrected himself.

  Alex could see guilt for Rebecca all over his face. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he went into the family room with its picture windows overlooking the property. He heard Faith trot down the stairs, and Caleb let out an appreciative whistle. The door slammed behind them. Through the window, he watched Caleb offer an elbow while Faith laughed and swatted him away playfully.

  With a growl, Alex stomped to the kitchen, where Gwen was prepping. “Hiya, baby,” she said. Gwen had been part of the home, largely the kitchen, ever since he could remember. “You hungry? Want me to make you something?”

  “No. Thanks, though,” he said. “I’m just going to make a sandwich.”

  Gwen wrinkled her nose. “With that expensive ‘bread’ you get shipped here?” she said. She shook her head. “You know, we have bread here.”

  “This is low carb, high protein,” Alex said.

  “Bread’s not s’posed to be low carb or high protein.”

  Alex piled the sandwich high with the chicken cuts they sourced from the farm on the other side of the island. On a whim, he made a second sandwich and wrapped them both in tinfoil.

  “You goin’ somewhere?” Gwen asked.

  “Fishing.”

  Alex packed up the gear, grabbed a hat, and headed for the pier. Fishing in the abandoned location was the one thing besides running that relaxed him. Without reception, without a watch, hours felt like minutes. By the time the sun started to set, he had no bites but was sure the tension Faith stirred up had to have subsided.

  Damn, he thought as he made the short trek back to the inn. I didn’t think about Rebecca once.

  But as soon as he walked in the door, Faith was the first thing he saw. She’d changed into a familiar-looking white sundress spotted with tiny rosebuds. He couldn’t put his finger on it, and then he realized it was one of Mama’s vintage dresses. Alex knew it from photographs. With that simple change, the last traces of proper corporate lawyer faded away.

  Her eyes widened as Caleb crowed, “Look what the cat dragged in. Fishless to boot,” he added as he scanned for any catches.

  “Like you’re one to talk,” Alex told him. He couldn’t remember the last time Caleb had gone fishing.

  “You fish,” Faith said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “Can’t call yourself a local unless you do, ma’am,” he answered as he moved past them to put the gear away. Lee jumped out of his path, as always, while Matt hovered in the corner and took in how the dress hugged every one of her curves. Not that he could blame him.

  In the storage room, he heard murmuring and the clinking of iced tea in glasses while he hung up the gear. She’d seemed so surprised at his suggestion of a wildlife preserve. Isn’t that what Californians do? Sit around and talk about saving the environment? What does she think I am, some kind of yokel who doesn’t know there is a great big world out there?

  When he reappeared in the great room, his mama was in the center, where she led the conversations as always. “Alex! So glad you could join us. You missed dinner,” she said pointedly. “I called.”

  “I was at the pier,” he said.

  She sniffed but didn’t say anything more about his absence. “Well, at least join us for some sweet tea. Sweeten it with some gin for you?” she asked as she moved toward the cocktail table. The pitcher of golden iced tea was slick with condensation, eager to be poured into one of the cut-crystal glasses she made sure Jessie always kept perfectly polished.

  “With, please,” he said.

  Alex watched Caleb fawn over Faith. He circled her like a shark and mercilessly sized her up. Either Faith didn’t notice or didn’t care. He was certain it was the latter. For all her sense of wonder and enchantment of the island, he knew you couldn’t make it as a corporate attorney in San Francisco without being tough. She probably uses that faux naivety to her advantage like they all do, he thought as a cold glass was pressed into his hand.

  “I made it strong,” his mama whispered to him thro
ugh gritted teeth. “Maybe it’ll help loosen you up.”

  As much as he wanted to down the drink and get the hell out of there, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Faith. What is her game, anyway? Why leave what had to be a hellishly competitive environment to spend the summer hanging around an island and looking at a decrepit old house?

  Faith leaned forward to set her glass down on a handmade carved-stone side table, giving him a view directly down the dress. He glimpsed her lacy white bra and deep cleavage and felt himself start to stiffen.

  Fuck. Maybe I should text Erica soon and get this out of my system. Alex took a long swallow and finished the spiked sweet tea.

  “Thirsty,” Caleb commented and gave him a knowing grin.

  “More like tired,” he said. “Mama, you mind if I’m excused? I need to hit the hay, I’m beat.”

  “Well, if that’s what you need,” she said carefully with an arched brow.

  “Thanks. Night, y’all,” he called to the room in general. He was met with a sea of replies, though it was Faith’s that stuck in his head. That seductive, low growl she had.

  Alex made his way upstairs and clicked the heavy wooden door shut. He flipped on the fan and pulled his shirt over his head. Like expected, as soon as he closed his eyes his mind’s eye was filled with that cleavage shot Faith had unknowingly given him.

  He moaned, pulled one of the pillows over his face, and commanded Faith to leave his head.

  Soon enough, she was gone—replaced by Rebecca in that tight black-velvet dress of hers that had always been his favorite.

  She sat on the familiar tufted gray couch while tears of mascara ran down her face. “I can’t believe you did that! You went through my phone?” She blubbered. “That’s fucked up, Alex.”

  “That’s fucked up? You think that’s the fucked up part of the situation?” he said. She looked tiny curled up on that couch with a nearly empty glass of wine in her hand. He was aware of how he must seem as he loomed over her. Dangerous, like a predator.

  “Yes!” she said. “I trusted you—”