Defiant Heart (Starlight Cove Book 1)

WAS THERE anything better than a small-town festival? No, there absolutely was not, and no one could convince me otherwise. Add in the fact that this festival was only yards from the beach, and I was completely smitten.

Brady and I had strolled down Main Street, and he’d surprised the hell out of me when he’d linked his fingers with mine as I’d dragged him into every tent while I sampled all the wares. And then he’d lugged all my purchases around before finally running back and dropping them at the car. We got a few curious glances—none more so than from Beck and Addison when we’d strode up, hand in hand, so he could get his lobster rolls and demand a vegetarian dish for me since I “couldn’t live off funnel cakes alone” and I would just “be hangry later” if I didn’t “eat some real goddamn food”—and I couldn’t even blame them.

The sheriff and the woman he kept arresting? Impossible.

And yet, somehow…not.

I didn’t know what had changed between us—maybe everything. Maybe nothing at all. Maybe our differences were exactly why this worked, just like with my parents. Exactly why whatever was happening between us didn’t feel anything but right.

After a couple hours of mindless wandering, I could tell Brady was getting antsy. He wasn’t exactly a people person, and being the county sheriff meant he knew everyone, and everyone knew him. We couldn’t walk ten feet without someone calling out a greeting or stopping to say a quick—or not so quick—hello. And while I fed off the interaction, I could tell it drained him.

Finally, after the fifth interruption in the past ten minutes, I dragged him toward the beach. “Come on. We need a break.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Thought that was pretty obvious, Einstein.” I swept my arm out in front of us, gesturing to the stretch of shore we were headed toward.

“This part of the beach closes at sunset.”

I gasped, holding my hand in front of my mouth as I widened my eyes. “Oh no! What if we get arrested?”

“Luna…” he said in a low, warning tone.

I tugged him to a stop, tucked my hand into the front of his jeans, and pulled him closer. “Aw, come on, Sheriff. You can play the big, bad cop later. I’ll even let you cuff me.”

“You’re playing with fire, you know that?”

“I’m counting on it.” I reached for his hand again, tugging him along behind me. This time, he came willingly.

It was darker out here, the lights from the festival barely reaching the shore and the waning crescent moon didn’t provide much illumination, so I pulled out my phone, turned on the flashlight, and held it out to guide our way. Once we were far enough away that just the faintest hint of the music and the raucous laughter from festivalgoers reached us, I pocketed my phone, dropped to the sand, and pulled Brady down behind me. I fitted myself between his legs, leaning back against his chest and deeply inhaling the salty ocean air.

I shuddered, the breeze coasting in off the ocean chilling me, and Brady wrapped his arms around me, tugging me close and imbuing me with his warmth.

“If you planned to sit by the ocean at nine o’clock at night this time of the year, you should’ve dressed warmer,” he grumbled against my neck.

“Why would I need to dress warmer when you’re my own personal furnace? Besides, I didn’t know we were going to come out here until I grabbed your hand and started walking this direction. I never plan anything.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah, yeah, you hate it and I drive you nuts. But where’s the fun in planning everything?”

“I’m not looking to have fun. I’m looking to keep people safe.”

“You’re pretty good at that, you know.” When all he gave was a grunt in response, I continued, “Like last night. Convincing me to go with you.” I smiled when he just snorted. “Convincing me, dragging me away…tomato, tomahto. Either way, I’m glad I listened.”

“Me too.” The two words were so filled with emotion, they shot straight to the center of my chest.

I snuggled deeper into his embrace, tipping my head to the side to give him room to nuzzle my neck and remembering what Mrs. Engles had said earlier. About all the hardships Brady’s family had faced and how something had changed him. “When you said people died in these storms, I thought you were being facetious. But you weren’t, were you?”

He was quiet for several long moments, then he finally said, “No. I wasn’t.”

“Your mom?” I whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Was she camping by the ocean, too?”

A heavy gust of air left him, and he tightened his arms around me. “Nope. I’d have found her if that was the case. I was on duty that night, so I wasn’t at the resort. If I’d been there, I could’ve…” He exhaled a harsh breath. “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything. I could’ve told her we had the goddamn rules in place for a reason. Forced her not to break them.”

“What rules?”

“We only had two. Never sail alone, and never during a storm.”

God, I could feel the anguish lacing his words. A picture suddenly materialized in my mind, an image of the gorgeous, auburn-haired beauty at the helm of a sailboat in the middle of a ravaging sea, all alone. My heart ached. For him. For their whole family. For what they’d lost.

We were quiet for long moments, just the faint notes from the band and the sound of the waves filling up the space around us. And I let him just be. Offered him my strength in the silence.

After a few minutes, I said, “Tell me about her? What did she do?”

He was quiet for a long moment, and I worried I’d pushed too hard, reopened a wound that hadn’t ever quite healed. But he surprised me when he answered, “She ran the resort. She loved it. It’d been in her family for three generations.”

“Four now, with you and your siblings running it, right?”

“My siblings more than me, but yeah.”

I didn’t buy that—Brady may not have been at the resort for ten- or twelve-hour days, but I’d been around enough to see that not a day went by when he wasn’t there, checking in on things. Not just with the resort, but with his siblings, as well.

“She was a sailor?”

“Yep. Taught us all. Levi took to it more than anyone, but we all know how.”

“What about your dad?”

Brady stiffened, the subtle relaxation I’d managed to coax out of him gone in a blink. “He was a former factory worker, but he lost his job when the factory closed. And then everything went to hell.”

I made a soft sound of commiseration. “I’m sure that was tough.”

“Especially for an alcoholic. Especially after my mom died.”

I knew if we weren’t sitting like this, my back to his front, with the cloak of darkness shrouding us, he wouldn’t be so open with me. With anyone. Just like I watered myself down so others could swallow me, Brady hid away the parts of himself he didn’t want others seeing. He never let his guard down—hell, I wasn’t sure he even allowed himself that vulnerability with his siblings—but he was now. With me. And I was nothing more than a starving woman, scrambling to pick up any morsel he dropped.

“Is that why you don’t talk to him anymore?” Though I didn’t have any real experience dealing with loved ones facing addiction—as long as you didn’t count work or weed, which my dad and mom, respectively, were quite adept at—I’d had enough friends in school whose family members suffered from addiction, either alcohol, pills, or hard drugs. I’d seen firsthand the wreckage it could cause. Could understand why, in the wake of dealing with the fallout of something like that, especially following a parent’s death, someone would grow fierce. Protective. Rigid and unbending. Controlled.

“I don’t talk to him anymore because he wants it that way.”

I linked our fingers together, brushing my thumb over the back of his hand, trying to give a tiny bit of peace back to him. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No?” He breathed out a humorless laugh. “Did you see a welcome mat in front of Cottage Thirteen? ’Cause I sure as hell didn’t, even though I show up every week without fail.”

My thumb froze against his hand, my entire body going still. Wait…the cottage he’d dropped groceries off at earlier today was his dad’s?

“I didn’t know he lived in Starlight Cove. I just assumed—”

“That a father wouldn’t bail on his kids when times got tough? After they’d already lost one parent? Maybe most, but not mine.”

I resumed the soft brush of my thumb against his skin, not knowing how much longer I had before he clammed up, but wanting to find out as much about him as I could. Wanted answers so I knew how to help. Knew what I could say or do that would make him feel better. “Does he speak to your siblings?”

“Nope. He’s been nothing but a selfish bastard, but we still can’t leave him behind.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve all been doing little things for him, but I’m the only one who knows that particular secret.”

“What kinds of little things? You bring him groceries?”

“And pay any bills he has. Beck drops off food from the diner. Addison changes out the porch flowers and decorations every season. Aiden brings him fresh linens and takes care of his laundry, and Ford leaves him a new book each week.”

God, my heart ached for them. All of them. My parents had left me on my own for most of my life, encouraging my independence, but I never doubted they’d be there when and if I ever needed them to be. To know that your own father was right down the road but didn’t care enough to even open the door when you stopped by had to be the worst kind of rejection. The worst kind of heartbreak. And it was one Brady faced each week, without fail.

“What about Levi?” I asked.

“He’s the only one smart enough to leave Dad behind. I think he truly believes both our parents died when Mom did. Maybe one day, I’ll get smart like him and stop.”

I pulled out of his grasp and turned around, readjusting myself so I straddled his lap, his face held between my hands. His short beard scratched against my palms, his lips soft under my thumb as I swept it across his mouth. It was too dark out here to see his eyes, but I knew if I could, they’d be filled with pain and sorrow. Knew, too, that was why he’d shared this with me in the first place, out here, where I couldn’t see everything he tried so hard to hide from everyone else.

Everyone else but me.

“You won’t,” I said, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “You won’t stop.”

“Don’t be so sure.” He slid his hands beneath the hem of my sweater, resting his palms against my bare back. “I’ve wanted to. Every fucking week, I tell myself that’s the last time. And every fucking week, I go right back. Even when I want to, I can’t break out of my goddamn routine.”

“It’s not about that.” After all, wasn’t this, right here and now, him breaking out of his routine? He sat on this beach, illegally, just because I’d asked him to. Wasn’t everything where I was concerned him doing the very thing he claimed he could never do? He could, if he truly wanted to. Which meant only one thing. He didn’t actually want to abandon his father, even though it was clear the man had already abandoned Brady.

“What’s it about, then?” he asked, his voice gruff and filled with something I couldn’t name.

“It’s about you being a better man than he is. You not stopping has nothing to do with whatever routine you think you’re stuck in and everything to do with the fact that you won’t stop because you’re too good. You’re a good man, Brady. That’s why you keep showing up. Even for someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

He was quiet for long moments, and I rested my hand on his chest, feeling the soft, soothing thud of his heartbeat beneath my palm. Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice raspy as he said, “Thought I was a pain in your ass.”

I breathed out a laugh and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him tight to me as I locked my ankles at his lower back. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive. You can be both, as you’ve proven.”

With my arms and legs wrapped around him, I rested my cheek on his shoulder, listening to the rhythm of the waves behind me. Brady held me snug to his chest, his hands under my sweater, arms tight bands of steel surrounding me, like he was afraid I’d disappear if he didn’t hold me close enough.

He’d laid himself bare to me out here, and I knew that hadn’t been easy for him. Knew, too, that he wouldn’t want me to make a big deal out of it or fuss over him or what he’d told me. That wasn’t who he was. So instead, I gave him the kind of distraction I knew he needed.

I shifted on top of him, canting my hips so I could slide against his length, and smiled as his fingers twitched on my back, his cock hardening beneath me.

He tucked his face close, his words a whispered breath against my ear. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, lawbreaker.”

“What?” I asked with as much innocence as I could muster. Which, to be fair, wasn’t much. “I’m just trying to get comfy.”

He brushed his lips across my shoulder, and then he dug his teeth in sharp enough to make me gasp and grind down harder against him.

“Okay, that time I was trying to ride your dick.”

With a groaned laugh, he suddenly stood with me in his arms, his hands palming my ass as he walked us back the way we came.

“What the hell?” I asked. “Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“What if I wasn’t ready yet?”

“Then you shouldn’t have ground your pussy down on me like you wanted to get fucked on the beach.”

“Was it that obvious? You sure I can’t talk you into breaking another rule?”

“I’m not fucking you out here. Not unless you want me to rip a hole in your leggings, because I’m not taking them off. You’d be too cold.”

God, this man. He was gruff and stoic, a rule-follower to the extreme and my complete opposite. But he was caring and considerate, would fight to the ends of the earth for the people he loved, even if he hid those parts of himself away, burying them under bravado and barked commands.

“A good man and a softy,” I teased, wrapping my limbs tighter around him.

“You won’t be saying that in about fifteen minutes.”

I pulled back and grinned at him, catching my lower lip between my teeth as the lights from the festival softly illuminated his face. A face I’d come to love. His eyes were dark, heated. But I saw a warmth in their depths that hadn’t been there before. Warmth for me.

I refused to think about what that meant. Or what it’d do to him when I left.