Risking the Crown (The Crown 2)

“You’re an islander, Sierra. At least you used to be.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Used to be.”

She walked to the car. “I’m sorry about your dad. Really.”

The ignition started and I watched as she rolled down the windows before backing out of the driveway.

I strolled over to her door. “Hey. What do you say we do something later?” I put my hand on the window edge.

“What? This again? I think last night proved we are a colossal disaster.”

“No Long Island ice teas this time.”

She chewed her lip. “I don’t know.”

“How about this? Let’s go to the Cape for the day. It’s hot. You shouldn’t be locked up inside cleaning up shit. Let’s take the boat out. Remind you that you really are an islander.”

“But—the charity—”

I shrugged. “Leave them a note. I’ll pick you up on the pier in an hour.”

I saw the corners of her pink lips curl. Damn she was still gorgeous.

“Ok. I can do that. And I’ll pack some sandwiches?”

I slapped the side of her car. “You better. I eat a lot. See you in an hour.”

I watched as she backed all the way out of the drive and realized I needed to get the cooler ready. I had a full day of drinking to do.

13

Sierra

I placed the open slices of bread on the cutting board and furiously spread mayonnaise and mustard over them.

I couldn’t believe Roger Wyatt was dead. The man I blamed for ruining my life wasn’t here anymore. It was a lot to take in. What did that mean for Blake? He was dealing with the death of his father. I had missed so many events in his life.

I hurried to wrap the turkey sandwiches and tuck them inside plastic sleeves. He would be here any minute. I couldn’t think about Blake’s dad or the past. Today was all about the future.

I watched Blake anchor his boat on a secluded end of the bank where few tourists visited. I wondered if he tried to stay away from potential fans on purpose. I was constantly at odds trying to figure him out. He had to be feeling that way too. Was that what this was? An attempt to make me fall in love with the island again so I wouldn’t sell the house?

Light bounced off the water and caught the glistening of a swimming school of fish. Sometimes wild ponies could be spotted on top of the dunes, playing a game of tag. I peered at the horizon, looking for the horses.

It had been eight years since I had been to the Cape, but Aunt Lindy had taught me well how to pack for a day at the beach. I’d never forgotten her lessons. I had a cooler full of drinks, sandwiches, and suntan lotion. Blake smiled as he loaded the cooler and other bags onto his boat.

“You know I usually just bring a six-pack of beer and sometimes a bag of chips.”

“I wanted to make sure we had everything we needed.” Maybe three bags were too many for a day trip, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him.

When we anchored, he helped me spread the blanket on a stretch of beach a few feet from where the waves were lapping against the shore.

I sprawled out on the blanket with a book while Blake started on a beer. I kept reading the same page over and over again. I couldn’t get past the second paragraph. Every time I looked up at Blake, all I could focus on were the endless amounts of chiseled muscles. There was something mesmerizing about his bronze skin, and my imagination was taking over as I watched him rub more lotion on his arms and chest.

“Either you can’t take your eyes off me, or you want some of this. Do you want me to put some on you?” Blake held out the lotion bottle with a coy grin. “The sun is serious today. I would hate for you to get burned.”

“All right.” It made sense. I didn’t want to get a sun burn this late in the summer.

I rolled onto my stomach, allowing him full access to my back. He poured a generous amount of coconut-scented oil in his palm. He rubbed his hands together, working the lather all over my back.