Jax eyed the jet ski waiting for him. It was a loan from Lance and his brother—when they weren’t manning their ice cream shop, they were big jet skiers. In the summertime, like normal people.

Not many were crazy enough to go jet skiing in the dead of winter, but tradition was tradition.

Lance was grinning when he handed over the key. The kid was facing a virtual death sentence with his cystic fibrosis, but he knew how to enjoy life. He’d lavishly decorated the jet ski with Christmas lights. Sawyer had helped him, and both had promised that everything was battery operated and waterproof so Jax probably wouldn’t get electrocuted.

Good to know his friends had his back.

Out on the water about two hundred yards, three shrimp boats waited, also lavishly—aka garishly—decorated, ready for him to escort them in parade-like fashion. “Good times,” Lance said and grinned.

Jax turned his face upward. Lots of clouds, but no snow or rain. That was good. But it was forty-eight degrees, so “good” was relative. He pulled on the thick, waterproof fisherman gear the shrimpers wore so at least he wouldn’t freeze off any vital parts.

The crowd woo-hoo’d as if he was stripping instead of putting on gear, and he rolled his eyes. Looking out into the faces, he locked gazes with Maddie.

She shook her head. Obviously, she wasn’t over the whole lawyer thing—not that he blamed her—and just as obviously, she thought he was crazy.

He’d have to agree there. He smiled at her. She didn’t return it. Ouch. He’d have to work on fixing that, but one problem at a time. Stepping into the water, he straddled the jet ski and took another look at the shore.

Ford and Sawyer were grinning. So was Chloe.

Bloodthirsty friends.

Maddie had her hand over her mouth, so he wasn’t exactly sure what her expression was now. He hoped it was sympathy, and he also hoped that he could get that to work in his favor in a little bit when he needed warming up.

As he’d imagined, the next ten minutes passed in a frozen blur as he rode the jet ski and lead the shrimp parade. Then he was back on shore, being warmly greeted and wrapped in blankets. Sandy shoved a mic into his hand and a piece of paper. The crowd hushed with expectant hope.

“Eight hundred and fifty-six shrimp,” Jax called out.

No one had guessed that exact amount, but one person had come close at 850. He accepted another piece of paper from Sandy with the winner’s name. He read it silently and looked at Maddie, who stared back, thoughts closed but a little pissiness definitely showing.

Trying to convey both apology and self-deprication, he smiled at her. “Maddie Moore,” he said to wild cheers.

Maddie’s mouth fell open.

Chloe helpfully shoved her forward.

“But I didn’t put any tickets in,” Maddie said as Jax grabbed her hand in his and pulled her up onto the makeshift stage.

Ford and Sawyer were cracking up. So was Chloe, and Maddie narrowed her eyes at her. “How many tickets in my name did you enter?”

“Fifty.”

“Me, too,” Ford called out.

Sawyer grinned. “A hundred from me. Good cause and all.”

Okay, Jax thought, so maybe sometimes his bloodthirsty friends came in handy.

“I entered my name one hundred times,” Lucille called out, disappointment clear across her face. “Damn. Maybe next year…”

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” chanted the crowd.

Jax had stopped shivering, but he still had some serious warming up to do. Both his own body, and Maddie, because her eyes were on him, cool and distant.

Yep, definitely needed some warming up. Kissing sounded like a great way to do that. Holding Maddie’s very resistant gaze in his, he tugged her close, looking forward to this for the first time all day.

“You’re freezing,” Maddie whispered.

“Yes.”

She sighed and slipped her arms around his waist, tipping her face up to his. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.” He stared down into her beautiful eyes and felt his heart catch with all the possibilities he felt, not to mention hope—an extremely new emotion for him. “I plan on changing your mind about me.”

“Jax—”

“I’m sorry, Maddie. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but you have to know, I’m not a lawyer now. That was my past.”

“I know.”

“Kiss!” yelled the crowd.

Maddie fidgeted in his arms, clearly not thrilled with having an audience for this. He ran a slow hand up her throat before cupping her jaw, leaving his other hand low on her back in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. “You okay with this, Maddie?”

Surprising the hell out of him, she answered by cupping his icy face in her hands and going up on her tiptoes to reach him. He met her halfway, bending low to cover her mouth with his. He heard her suck in a breath and knew his lips were icy. Apologizing with a soft murmur, he changed the angle to get a better taste of her.

Then she surprised him again.

Her mouth opened for his, and the sweet kiss turned into something else, something sensuous and intense. Heat exploded within him, melting all the iciness from the inside out.

Around them, the crowd whooped and hollered, and Maddie began to pull back, but he held her tight.

“Need a minute?” she whispered, a hint of humor behind the heat in her eyes as she brushed up against his erection.

“Maybe two—” He broke off with a jagged groan when she put her mouth to his ear. “Maddie, that’s not helping.”

But then she whispered something that did help.

“Just think,” she whispered. “It could have been Lucille.”

Ford was bartending, serving beer on tap to a line of customers. Jax, warmed up now, was behind the bar getting cups and restocking the alcohol. The booth was good for Ford because it made the Love Shack even more popular, which in turn was good for Jax because he owned the other half of the bar.

In fact, Jax coowned several businesses in town. It was what he’d done with his money when he’d come back to Lucky Harbor. He’d bought up properties in a sagging market to help the people who’d known and loved him all his life.

They were thankful, but he was the one who felt the gratitude. They’d welcomed him back, given him a sense of belonging when he’d so desperately needed it.

“Wake up,” Tara said with a little wave in his face. She’d come to his end of the bar, away from the line and the crowds, and was looking at him expectantly. “Yeah, hi. I’m looking for a drink.”

“The line’s over there. I’m not serving, I’m just—”

She tapped the bar. “Listen, sugar. Lucille just asked me about the stick up my ass, okay? I need a drink pronto. Make it a double.”

He grimaced. “Beer, wine, or eggnog?”

“Well, hell. Wine.”

Jax poured her a very full glass and handed it over, watching as she tossed it back like a shot of Jack. “Tara.”

“Yeah?”

“You have to tell her.”

Tara stared at him, then sat and dropped her head to the bar. “I’m going to need more alcohol for this. And something far stronger than wine.”

Jax reached beneath the bar for a shot glass and a bottle of Jack that Ford had squirreled down there for… hell, he had no idea.

“Bless your heart,” Tara said fervently as he poured her two fingers.

“You can’t keep this from Maddie any longer.”

“Watch me.”

Jax shook his head. “When Phoebe asked me to draw up the blind trust five years ago, she also asked me for a promise. That you be protected at all costs.”

“Not me.” Tara shut her eyes. “My secret. She wanted my secret protected.” Her eyes flew open. “Which means you can’t tell.” She sounded relieved. “You can’t, you promised—”

“But you didn’t,” he said.

“Jax.”

Who’d have thought that a promise to a dead woman would result in betraying a person he’d come to care for so deeply? “I don’t break my promises, Tara. Ever.” Not to mention professional confidentiality. “But when Phoebe put all her liquid assets into that blind trust—”

“It left her in a precarious position when she needed cash. And then you gave her the loan against the inn.” Tara’s eyes filled with misery. “I never meant for either of you to have to be in that position—”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But now I’m sitting on two secrets from a dead woman. Secrets that aren’t fair to either of your sisters.”

“You care about Maddie.”

“Yes, I do.”

“A lot.” She leaned in and looked deep into his eyes. “She’s not just a quick lay to you.”

Hadn’t been for a while now, the knowledge of which had pretty much sneaked up on him. “You have to find a way to tell her,” he repeated softly. “Or I’ll find a way for you.”

Tara stared at him, then thrust out her glass.

He obligingly refilled it, and she drank it down with a shudder. “I haven’t told anyone,” she whispered. “Ever.”

“This isn’t just anyone. It’s Maddie. She deserves to know what you’re holding back and why. And she deserves to know the domino effect of it all, the inn, the loan, the trust, all of it.”

Tara closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “I’m just so… ashamed.”

Understanding that all too well, he covered her hand with his. “You were just a kid, Tara. You got in over your head and paid dearly. There’s no shame in that. You’re giving it more power by keeping it a secret.”

“I know.” She pulled her scarf closer around her neck. It was green and sparkly, and very, very crooked. “She’s making you one now,” she said, seeing where his gaze had gone. “It’s multicolored. And ugly as sin, bless her heart. I need another shot, sugar.”

He poured, then watched her toss that back, as well. “You okay?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Liar.”

Tara blew out a breath. “She made me this scarf with love, and lots of it, even though I’m the one who stresses her out when I fight with Chloe.”

“So stop fighting with Chloe.”

“She wants us all to be together.” She closed her eyes and pushed the empty shot glass his way. “Here in this town where I made my biggest mistake.”

“Maybe it’s time to stop looking at it as a mistake. There’s got to be something you like about being here, or you’d have left when you had the chance.”

She stared down at the scarf, fingering the yarn. “I’ve been cooking.”

“And damn well. I’m partial to those bacon bleu cheese burgers, myself.”

“I am good,” she said, looking both proud and a little surprised. “And somehow I agreed to work at the café and stay for the rest of the month, which is crazy, given how badly I want to be anywhere other than here. I’m working at Eat Me Café, for God’s sake.” Lifting her head, she leveled her baffled gaze on his. “Let me repeat that. I work at a café called Eat Me. What kind of idiot does that make me?”

“The good-sister kind,” he said. “Tell her, Tara.”

She closed her eyes, then opened them. They were shiny now, and he feared that she was going to cry. But he should have known better.

“I can’t, Jax,” she said. “Not yet. I’m not ready.”

He let out a long breath. Not what he’d wanted to hear. He ached for Maddie, ached for what he was beginning to feel for her knowing that they’d all held so much back from her. Taking Tara’s shot glass away, he poured another glass with water.

“She wants things we can’t give her, Jax. She wants us to be a family. I don’t know anything about family.”

“You’re wearing the scarf she made for you,” he pointed out. “That seems like a sisterly thing to do.”

“She’s been so alone. Her father’s a good man, but he’s a set designer. She spent most of her childhood on location, in the makeup and hair trailer or the production office. Her friends are all transient by the very nature of her job, changing from one project to the next. None of them have called her that I can tell. Her closest friend was her boss, and he dropped her like a bad habit when she got laid off due to the… situation.” She put her hand over his, making him realize he was squeezing the bottle of Jack with white knuckles. “He wasn’t the one who hurt her physically,” she said softly.

“Someone did,” he said flatly. “Someone hurt her plenty.”

Tara nodded and sipped her water. “Past tense, though. She’s getting stronger. You should have seen her giving poor old Mr. Jenkins what-for when he tried to rent another boat this morning.” She smiled fondly. “She got all up in his grill, made him sign the form at her desk and say please and everything.”

He would have enjoyed seeing that. “She was down a quart in self-esteem and confidence when she first got here.”

“And that’s changing, in good part thanks to you.” She stared into her glass. “She wants to make a go of this place. Only a complete bitch would turn her down.”

“Then don’t turn her down.”

Chapter 17

“Learn from others’ mistakes. You don’t have

enough time to make them all yourself.”

PHOEBE TRAEGER

A few days later, Maddie headed into the tiny laundry room of the inn carrying a load of rags and towels. As an afterthought, she added in her filthy sneakers.