Elizabeth of East Hampton (For the Love of Austen #2)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Elizabeth Bennet was in his car.

Part of Will’s mind was still processing it, still prodding the fact to see if it was real. Even when she appeared on the beach, his first instinct was that she was a hallucination. He had been out in the freezing water too long and now his mind was playing tricks on him. But as she made her way closer, the details were too clear to be a dream: her red hair haphazardly thrown into a ponytail, her dark eyes startling against her pink cheeks…

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he turned the car onto the main road. He had spent the past month trying to shake her, shake this , but the moment he saw that red hair against the ocean’s varying shades of gray, it all fell away. An endeavor so futile that he suddenly couldn’t remember why he had attempted it in the first place.

And now she was sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his F-150, the truck he left out at the Montauk house, dripping salt water all over his leather seats.

“Sorry,” she murmured, pulling her arms around herself as if reading his mind. She was working so hard to avoid his gaze that it was amusing.

He almost pointed out that despite the leather seats and impressive dashboard, the truck was still filled with sand and the smell of salt and sun. It was well-used, and he wasn’t precious about it. But he knew it would come out harsh, so he stayed silent. Then a tremor ran through her body and her shoulders seized up as if to stop it.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

He knew he should have grabbed her a towel from the house. But she had been so desperate to get away from him that he knew it wasn’t worth trying. And to be fair, he had been just as desperate to make sure she saw his offer through. He hadn’t even changed out of his threadbare T-shirt and old Columbia hoodie that he had thrown on over his board shorts at the beach. It wasn’t ideal, but he also didn’t want to leave her alone.

This felt like a stolen moment, like the universe had made a clerical error and he had to exploit it before the world corrected itself. He had left his board on the beach and carried hers up the stairs along the cliffside. She avoided the house, pretended she didn’t even notice it there towering over the yard, and when he invited her inside to dry off, she declined. Still, he noticed how she studied the house’s facade when she thought he wasn’t looking, a brief but intense survey. Then she raised her chin and climbed into the passenger seat without a word.

She hugged her arms tighter around herself and shook her head. “It’s fine.”

No, it’s not , he wanted to say. The heat was already on its maximum setting, though, so he reached forward and pressed the button for her seat warmer.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

He nodded, waiting another minute before he spoke again. “What time is your reservation?”

Her eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

“Your lunch reservation. At Mike’s.”

“Oh. Right. Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Soon.”

“So… one?”

Her eyes darted down to the clock on the dashboard, then away again. “Yes. One.”

He tamped down a smile. He knew for a fact that during the off-season, Mike’s didn’t open until four. Even then, they didn’t take reservations. They barely had napkins. But he could also see the panic in Lizzy’s wide eyes, and he didn’t have the heart to call her out on it.

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to be late. They might give your table away.”

She smiled. It was brief, but he caught how her lips curled up despite how she tried to temper it.

It was a victory. A small one, but he took it.

Will forced himself to focus on the road again, navigating his way through town as “Captain Jack” by Billy Joel played softly on the radio. The truck was big, but she still felt close, too close. His head was swimming in the damp heat filling the car, and it took all his willpower to ignore how the wet strands of her red hair stuck to her neck, how her pink lips were slightly parted. How her thigh was just inches away from where his hand rested on the gear shift, fingers idly tapping to the music. But as the song swelled, he couldn’t help his gaze wandering up her leg to the tear still there on her wetsuit.

“I thought you were going to get that fixed.”

She turned to him, confused. Then he nodded down to her thigh.

“Oh.” Then she lifted her chin. “Yeah. I’ll glue it when I get back to the motel.”

“That’s too big for glue.”

“Glue will work just fine.”

“It needs a patch.”

“Well, I don’t have a patch. I have glue.”

“Then let’s get you a patch.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Isn’t it exhausting being right all the time?”

He ignored the comment, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, even as a familiar itch began under his skin, the same that crept up that day after the bakery. He stopped at the next intersection. But instead of turning left, he continued straight.

Her back straightened as she whipped her head around to glare at him. “My motel is off of Ditch Plains.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you heading in the opposite direction?”

“We’re making a detour.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “If you’re taking me out to a field somewhere to murder me, you should know that my aunt and uncle will worry if I’m not there in time.”

“You will be.”

“And not in pieces.”

He bit back a smile. “I promise to be a gentleman.”

She rolled her eyes and snorted out a laugh.

Jack’s Surf Shop was just off Seaside Avenue, a shack that had looked like it was about to fall down for the last twenty years. It had started life as an old mobile home turned convenience store, but in the years that followed, the owner had added driftwood and old boards to the sides, so now it looked like it had been cobbled together over the generations. And in a way, Will supposed it had.

He parked his truck out front and was about to get out when Lizzy spoke. “Where are we?”

Will paused. “The sign is right there.”

“Right, but why are we here?”

“Why do you think?”

She rolled her eyes again, and Will could see the reply already forming in her mind. He was almost looking forward to it. But then a shiver went down the length of her spine and he remembered why they were here.

“The sooner we’re in, the sooner you’re back to your aunt and uncle, and the sooner you can leave for lunch,” he said before she could answer.

She seemed to consider, then turned and opened the car door, stepping out and slamming it shut behind her. He shook his head, biting back his grin, and followed.

Inside, the shop was as chaotic as the exterior promised it would be. Merchandise—colorful bikinis and towels and boards and wetsuits—hung from every available space, while faded photos of customers filled in the gaps. The place still smelled like it had when Will was a child, a distinct blend of coconuts from an array of sunscreens mixed with the slight tinge of neoprene.

Lizzy came to stand next to him, staring up at the layers of items surrounding them. He couldn’t help but watch her from the corner of his eye as she surveyed the room. Her large, dark eyes divided by the delicate slope of her nose. Her flushed cheeks, full lips…

“Darcy!”

The sound of his name broke through the Beach Boys playing overhead. Will turned just as Ray Foglia emerged from the back, smiling and holding out his hand. “What’s up, man? Forget something yesterday?”

Will shook his hand and smiled. “No, I’m all set. But my friend needs some help with her wetsuit.”

He nodded to Lizzy. She was staring up at him and seemed dumbstruck for a moment but recovered quickly, turning to Ray. “I think he’s talking about this,” she said, motioning to the rip along her thigh.

“Oh, that’s a good one.” Ray turned to Lizzy and winked. “But definitely not the worst we’ve seen. You’ll have to try harder next time.”

Her apprehension seemed to melt away and she smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

“Glad to hear it.” Ray nodded down to her wetsuit and then started toward the back again. “Let me borrow that for a few minutes and we’ll have you on your way.”

Lizzy’s smile fell. “Oh. Right. Okay.”

Her cheeks were already pink, but somehow reddened even more as she looked around for… what exactly, Will wasn’t sure. A dressing room, an escape?

Then Will realized the problem. She might not be wearing anything underneath. Shit .

“We can come back another time,” he said, low enough so only she could hear.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll just take this off and he can patch it, right? Easy peasy. No problemo.” She forced out a laugh that was probably meant to sound nonchalant, but only added to the tension.

When her hand went around her back, flailing for the line connected to her zipper, he discreetly turned away. A few minutes later, he heard her throw the wetsuit over the counter to Ray. “Here you go.”

“Give me five and you’ll be good to go,” he said, and disappeared into the back room.

Will turned around but wasn’t prepared for what awaited him. Lizzy stood in a bikini, arms crossed tightly over her chest, the small scraps of fabric just enough to cover her while exposing the pale skin along her hips, the curve of her stomach…

This might have been a bad idea.

He reached around his back, pulling his hoodie over his head and handing it to her. “Here.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “No, I don’t—”

“Lizzy,” he said, his voice low and serious. “Take the sweatshirt.”

Her mouth snapped shut but there was still a long pause before she reached out to take it. She slipped it over her head slowly, and while he expected to mourn the view of her bare skin, a new possessiveness took hold when he saw his sweatshirt draped over her, so big it fell to the middle of her thighs.

She hugged the sweatshirt to her body as she looked around the shop. “This place is amazing.”

“It is,” he said, looking away.

Her head tilted to the side as her gaze slid across the photos behind the register, and he studied her face. The line of her jaw seemed infinite, a graceful arch that never ended, merely fell out of view in her hairline.

He turned away from her, taking a deep breath, and willed his mind to find something else to fixate on.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” Lizzy continued, still surveying the store.

“Ray isn’t exactly good at marketing.”

Her nose scrunched up. “His name is Ray?”

Will nodded, pretending to see something interesting on the other side of the room.

“Then who’s Jack?”

“No idea. I think Ray bought the place in the nineties and never got around to changing the sign.”

She laughed. It was deep and rough, and it hit a chord low in his gut. “Reminds me of the bakery.”

“How so?”

“There’s about a million things that we need to update, but just never get around to. The computer, the bookkeeping system…” Then she shot him a wry half grin. “The answering machine.”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, and it didn’t even occur to him to try. Not until he caught the look of confusion on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before. Now I’ve seen it twice in the last twenty minutes.”

He almost argued. Then he realized she was probably right.

“Here we go!” Ray bellowed as he emerged from the backroom. “Good as new.”

He laid the wetsuit flat on the counter, showing off where the hole had been, but which was now expertly mended beneath a patch. He’d even been able to match the purple neoprene.

“Wow,” Lizzy said, eyes wide. “I’m impressed.”

Ray laughed. “Don’t be. Darcy probably could have done this himself in five minutes.”

“Yeah, but it would have come with a ten-minute lecture on what I did wrong in the first place, and who has that sort of time?” Lizzy said with a dramatic sigh.

Ray laughed. “I like her, Darcy.”

I do, too. He almost said it before he could stop himself.

Lizzy caught it in his expression, though. She studied his face for a moment, as if trying to decipher a code there that she may have missed before. When she didn’t seem to find it, she turned back to Ray. “So, what do I owe you?”

“Nothing. It was my pleasure.”

Her lips turned down. “No, I can’t just take—”

He waved his hand at her, cutting her off. “I’ve been overcharging Darcy for years. One patch job is my way of making us even.”

The drive to the Ocean Surf Inn was quiet. Lizzy was still wearing Will’s sweatshirt and had her wetsuit in her lap as she stared out the window. Even when he pulled into the motel’s empty parking lot, she didn’t move.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, turning to offer him a smile.

“Of course.” He watched as she gathered up her wetsuit and gear, then got out to help her with her board. He lifted it out of the bed of the truck and handed it to her.

“Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?” he asked.

Damn it . The words escaped before even he had time to consider them. He wasn’t sure why he had even asked; he was positive she would laugh at the suggestion before walking off.

But she didn’t. Instead she just stared at him, a touch of confusion on her face. “What?”

“George is staying with me for the weekend. I’m sure he would love to see you again.” He paused. “Your aunt and uncle are welcome, too, of course.”

Her eyebrows pinched together, but she recovered quickly. “Oh. Right. Well, they’re busy so… um, yeah.”

She fumbled to put the board under her arm, to walk away. But once she made it to the curb, she turned around.

“But I can be there,” she said.

He nodded. “Great. Come by around eight.”

There was a long moment when the cacophony of sounds around them fell silent—the waves and the traffic and the seagulls overhead—and even longer before she finally turned and walked out of sight.

It was probably the last time he would ever see her. She might have accepted the invite, but it was likely done out of politeness. If Elizabeth Bennet actually showed up tonight, he would be blown away.