Island Reunion with the Single Dad
Autorzy
Traci Douglass
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17,6K
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16
CHAPTER ONE
WELCOME TO WHIDBEY ISLAND...
Dr. Morgan Salas stared at the large wooden sign near the pebbled beach, with its carved twin eagles and painted seascape, an image of the car ferry she’d just departed across the bottom. She took a deep breath of fresh Pacific Northwest air drifting through the window of the sedan, the late-September air crisp with the scents of fallen leaves and recent rainfall. For the first time in recent memory, she felt...happy. Lighter. More hopeful. Maybe she could find some measure of the peace and contentment she’d lost when Ben died. She had a month here. Perhaps it would be enough.
She’d enjoyed the trip from Mukilteo, Washington, on the mainland to the tiny, quaint coastal town of Clinton on the island. She’d had twenty minutes on the ferry to just enjoy the scenery and leave her cares behind. Hopefully. Maybe. Okay, probably not, but she was working on it.
From what she’d researched online, Whidbey Island was known for its “reserved individuality” and “effortless ease.” She prayed some of that ease would rub off on her while she was here. First, though, now that she was on dry land again, she had to get to her appointment on the other side of the island near Freeland.
Morgan checked out the open window of her rented sedan for oncoming traffic on the two-lane asphalt ahead, then managed to get around a few slower-moving cars until she was on the open roadway again. Cool wind in her hair, she passed several signs as she headed out of Clinton for the Scenic Isle Way, part of the Cascade Loop and the only section entirely contained within an island. She’d read about that, too, being something of a fact geek. The views here were gorgeous, no doubt. The knot between her shoulder blades and a bit more of her old anger and grief drifted away. And sure, maybe the roads here were bit narrow and...whoa! Those hairpin turns seemed to come out of nowhere, but it was all good. She’d take it slow and steady. That always won the race, right?
Well, usually. Unless someone cheated. Like Ben did.
Her pulse kicked a notch higher as she glanced at the clock in the dashboard. Twenty minutes.
She could still make it on time, barring any more holdups. She hated being late.
Except just ahead, traffic had slowed again. Dammit. Morgan slowed, then leaned out the window, craning her neck to see the problem. It was the middle of nowhere, farm fields bordered by forest on either side. But a slight incline ahead kept her from seeing beyond it. Huh. In the distance, animals grazed, and she spotted a few tourists gawking and taking pictures.
What could possibly be out here to cause such a ruckus?
Ugh. Morgan did not have time for this. Not today, anyway. So, after checking again for oncoming traffic, she nosed out of line into the opposite lane then hurried up the incline, thinking she’d bypass the crowd. Except when she got to the top of the hill, all she saw was sheep. Sheep everywhere. Including a big one square in her lane.
Alarmed, Morgan slammed on the brakes, only to have her back tires fishtail off the still-wet asphalt. Crap. Silence thudded loud in her ears as the sheep in front of her watched impassively, chewing its cud. Cursing, Morgan tapped her accelerator, hoping to nudge all four tires back onto the roadway. Except that, coupled with the slick and muddy berm, only made her slide farther into the ditch. Hands shaking, she closed her eyes as she careened backward, heart pounding, praying she wouldn’t end up as a warning story on the news. Woman illegally passes traffic, ends up trapped and dead beneath a ton of flipped steel. Kids, don’t try this at home.
In the end, though, the sedan’s back end came to rest gently against the trunk of a huge pine tree while the front half of the car climbed crookedly up toward the road like a drunken college coed after a bender.
Lord, help her. She hadn’t even been here an hour and things were already going downhill. Literally.
After a quick full-body shake to disperse some excess adrenaline and make sure she wasn’t injured, Morgan set about figuring out how to get unstuck from her current situation. Her train of thought was quickly derailed, however, by the passenger door flying open. Stunned, she stared wide-eyed at the last person she’d ever expected to see again.
Ely.
No last name. They’d never exchanged them. The one-night stand she’d never forgotten.
Not even after ten years.
“Are you okay?” he asked, cutting through her befuddled thoughts.
“Uh...” Morgan frowned.
Am I okay? Maybe I hit my head after all, and this is all a hallucination.
She took a deep breath and gave a small prayer of thanks that at least he didn’t seem to recognize her. “Uh...yes. I think I’m—”
“Hang on a minute and let me check you over.” Before she could finish, he’d reached over from the passenger side to run his hands over her arms and legs, checking for injury, but that only made her scalp tingle more.
“Stop. Please!” Out of sorts and far too aware of his hands on her body, she pulled away, heat prickling her cheeks. “I’m fine. Just a little shaken. Thank you.”
Her voice trembled, to her eternal mortification. This was ridiculous. Ely was just a man. A man she’d had sex with, once upon a time. Also, a man who obviously didn’t even remember her anyway. She was making a huge deal out of nothing. He shouldn’t affect her like this. She obviously didn’t affect him at all. Ely didn’t seem to care in the least.
Well, other than the fact he was trying to get her out of her predicament. Okay. Fine. That part was helpful. She peered past his broad shoulder toward the crest of the ditch, where the same tourists who’d been photographing the sheep were now snapping pictures of her. Perfect. Exactly how she wanted to start her monthlong stint on the island. As a photo op. Morgan cleared her throat and fiddled with her horribly wrinkled shirt to avoid looking at him. “Did anyone else slide off the road?”
“Nope,” Ely said, his tone a bit curt now, his expression clearly irritated. He leaned back, muscled arms braced on the door frame, filling the space like he had a right to, sucking up all her oxygen. He shrugged, then narrowed his gaze on her. “Probably because no one else was driving like a maniac. These roads get very slick after a rain. You could’ve killed yourself or someone else pulling a stunt like that.”
Her hackles rose, her chest tight. “First of all, I’m not a maniac. I have an important meeting to get to. And second, doesn’t it rain all the time in the Pacific Northwest? That’s kind of what you’re known for it, isn’t it?”
She forced herself to inhale. Arguing with him wouldn’t get her out of this any sooner, and she couldn’t risk missing her appointment. Time to end this here and now. And if that meant swallowing her pride, fine. “Sorry. You’re right.” She bit her tongue and forced a smile. “I wasn’t thinking. Can you help me get out of here, please?”
“Of course.” His voice and expression softened, and her heart did a weird little flip.
Damn. He looked so much like she remembered. Dark and handsome and windswept, his smile revealing dimples in his cheeks. Lord, she’d forgotten the devastating effect those dimples had on her common sense. Ely hiked his chin toward the door behind her and said, “Hop out and I’ll see if I can’t get you steered back onto the road.”
Still dazed and shaky, Morgan undid her seat belt and opened the driver’s side door. Stepped out on wobbly knees, only to find her new shoes stuck in mud almost up to her ankles. Before she could despair too much, Ely was beside her, his tawny gaze twinkling as he tried, and failed, to keep his smile from growing into a full-blown grin.
“Go on and help her out, Ely!” someone shouted from up top.
“Put those capable hands of yours to good use, Doc!” another guy yelled.
Blood whooshed in her ears, and Morgan wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment. Because it certainly felt like she could, especially when Ely grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into his arms. A sucking sound echoed as her feet popped free of the muck, but all she could focus on was the feel of his hard chest against her, the heat of him through her clothes, his clean scent of soap and sandalwood. She’d forgotten how tall he was, a good foot above her own five-four. Strong, too. An unwanted shock of desire curled her toes inside her ruined pumps, and Morgan pushed hard against him. “Put me down, please.”
He walked a few feet over to a grassy area and did as she asked. Their gazes locked and time slowed as the years drifted away. Suddenly they were back on a beach on this very island. Two young, stupid college kids living like there was no tomorrow.
Except life had taught her too well that there was always a day after.
“Sorry.” She looked away, not sure why she was apologizing. Her stomach clenched, even though she’d done nothing wrong. Neither had he. Ely blinked down at her a beat or two, then took her hand to silently lead her up the side of the ditch to the berm. People clapped as they emerged at the summit, and she tried to look less discombobulated than she felt.
Morgan hated unwanted attention. The glare of the spotlight. The constant searing scald of gossip. She’d gotten more than enough of that after Ben’s funeral. The whispers behind her back from the staff at the hospital. Conversations ending abruptly whenever she appeared.
Even though rationally she knew this was different, it felt all too similar. Moving stiffly, she sidled off to the side as Ely went back down into the ditch to gun the sedan’s engine, sending a spray of mud flying as he zoomed the car back up onto the roadway. The crowd finally dispersed.
He left the engine running and walked back to Morgan, stopping a foot or so away from her.
“You’ve got...” he said, frowning.
“What?” Scowling, Morgan self-consciously wiped her cheek.
“No. The other side. Here.” Ely tipped her chin up with a finger, then swiped his thumb across her jaw. Her lungs tightened and she thought she might pass out, completing her humiliation. Her skin still tingled even after he let her go. “There. Gone. Just a speck of mud.”
“Oh...” she mumbled, touching the spot, nearly drowning in his eyes before pulling herself to safety. Flustered, she smoothed her hands down the front of her pantsuit to make sure nothing else was stained or missing. Yep. She must’ve hit her head and knocked something loose. Like her common sense.
Doing her best to regain her composure, Morgan stepped away and gave him her most polite smile, the one that appeased even her most irascible patients. “Thank you so much for your help. Now I need to go. Please excuse me.”
Gah!
Unfortunately, Morgan had no idea how to greet an old one-night stand. Probably because she’d thought she’d never see him again. He’d never called afterward, even though she’d given him her number, so obviously he hadn’t been interested.
Things had changed so much. She had changed so much.
“No problem,” Ely called after her as she walked back to her sedan. “Take it easy on these roads. Next time you might not be so lucky, and I won’t be there to help.”
Feeling like a five-year-old who’d gotten caught eating paste, she climbed into the car and resisted thunking her forehead on the steering wheel. Good Lord. The last thing she needed right now was driving advice from the guy she’d banged on the beach a decade prior.
As calmly as possible, Morgan refastened her seat belt, checked her mirrors, then started down the road again with her hands at ten and two. She needed to focus on her meeting and not on the gorgeous man from her past, who was growing smaller by the second in her rearview mirror.
Dr. Elyas Malik stood there along the roadside, watching Morgan’s car drive away, still a bit flummoxed. Who’d have thought helping a farmer herd his sheep off the roadway would lead to an unexpected reunion with the one girl he’d never quite forgotten?
Morgan.
After getting back into his old truck, Ely headed for home to change his clothes before he returned to the clinic. About a mile down the main road, he signaled, then turned off onto a winding lane that led through the countryside surrounding Wingate. The huge compound had belonged to his parents, his father’s pride and joy. It was nothing like Ely would ever have bought for himself, though. But after the plane crash, he and his brother, Sam, had inherited his father’s tech empire and everything that went with it. And while Ely had still pursued his dreams of becoming a doctor, his little brother, Sam, had chosen to take over the family business. Ely stayed at Wingate and Sam lived mainly in New York City, though he came back a few times a year to visit.
Most days, he didn’t think about the money. It was just a part of him. He was privileged and he knew it, and he did his best to always give back to others, both in his work and his life. But today, Wingate, his vast, sustainable home, was at the top of his mind, probably because the anniversary of his parents’ deaths was coming up next month. In fact, the internet was already awash with old photos of Ely’s parents and the rise of the techno-titan his father had become.
He still missed them, even after all these years, and because of them and what had happened to them when he’d been just eighteen, family was the most important thing for him. He was happy here on Whidbey Island, living his little, private life, with his son, Dylan. And yes, his own ill-fated marriage hadn’t worked out, but he’d gotten full custody after his divorce, mainly because his ex-wife, Raina, traveled so much for her job as a successful supermodel, and they both wanted Dylan to have some stability in his life. So, Ely’s main goal in life was to be present for his son. Sunday dinners, the holidays and the warm, fuzzy nights playing board games by the fire. But unfortunately, he was also a busy doctor with a thriving practice.
He made another turn and pulled up to the keypad near the metal gates at the entrance. Punched in his code, then waited while the gates slid open before heading up the steep drive to the house. Modern architecture full of steel and glass sparkled in the hazy sunshine. Gardens and greenhouses and several experimental labs sprawled around the main residence, generating sustainable crops grown only with water and air. It all fit right in with the Whidbey Island vibe.
Every day, Ely was reminded of the great man his father had been, and how he’d failed to live up to his father’s lofty ideals. Every day, Ely vowed to do better. For himself. For Dylan. There were many things money couldn’t buy, and he knew that better than most.
He hurried inside to change his clothes then get back to work, where his colleague Dr. Gregory Anderson was waiting to introduce Ely to his new temporary partner for the month of October while Dr. Greg and his wife took a much-needed and well-deserved vacation to Australia.
“Ely,” Mrs. MacIntosh, his housekeeper, called up to him when he was halfway up the stairs. “Is that you?”
“Yes. Why? In kind of a rush,” Ely called as he continued to his rooms on the second floor. In his bedroom, he quickly stripped off his mud-splattered shirt and dress pants before hopping in the shower. After a quick scrub, he pulled on a fresh pair of pants, plus a shirt and tie. Smoothed a hand through his dark hair that always had a mind of its own, a flash of memory rushing through his mind, making his breath catch.
Morgan. Their night on the beach, bathed in starlight and nothing else. They’d both been so young then, so naive. The world had changed now. For him, at least.
He swallowed hard, pushing those memories away. No. Life marched onward. You either went with it, got out of the way or got run over by it. And Ely was determined never to be roadkill again.
