Christina Skye - Butterfly Cove

“And I’m finally making progress.” Walker glanced at Caro. “Go on. She needs to rest and I’ve got to beat some sense into this drain. And you, gorgeous, are distracting me,” he said with a low laugh.

* * *

AN HOUR PASSED. The storm winds continued to pound the coast, and there was still no word from Olivia. Jilly frowned and then dialed the hardware store.

“Yep, Olivia Sullivan was in here, but that was two hours ago. I hear there’s been some kind of mudslide on the coast road. Maybe she got caught in that. Traffic is backed up for miles in both directions. There was a bad accident above Butterfly Cove.”

Jilly fought a wave of panic. “What kind of accident? What happened?”

“Don’t know. Somebody told me a minivan from school was involved, but that’s all they knew.”

Jilly tried her friend three more times and got no answer.

Down in the kitchen, Walker was washing his hands at the sink, looking smug, the way a man did when he had just tackled a nasty plumbing problem.

“You did it?”

“That I did, though the supplies Olivia is bringing back will come in handy.”

Jilly rose on her toes and kissed him deeply. “My hero. But I’m worried. It’s not like Olivia to be out of touch for so long. She’s always hyper-responsible. And she left the hardware store hours ago. I called and checked.”

She took the cup of coffee Walker held out to her. “I’m going to try her cell phone one more time. Then I’m calling the police.”

When Jilly dialed Olivia’s number again, the phone rang twice. There was a click and a man answered. The voice was husky and rough, and he sounded tired.

Jilly frowned. “Who is this?”

The man cleared his throat. “This is Officer Russo. Who am I speaking to?”

Jilly gave a muttered oath. “Rafe? Rafe Russo?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, the party you are speaking to happens to be Jilly O’Hara. Olivia’s friend. Your friend, too, unless you’ve forgotten. Now will you kindly tell me where Olivia is?”

“She’s been in an accident. She’s at the emergency care clinic down on Admiralty Street. But don’t get yourself worked up. She’s stable and she’s going to be fine.”

Jilly’s hand clenched against her chest. “What—what kind of accident? What happened, Rafe?”

“Mudslide on the coast road. She managed to maneuver her car to avoid hitting a minivan full of kids, which was a brave thing to do. In the process, she spun around and slammed into my police cruiser. She got my attention.”

Jilly took a deep breath. “And she’s really okay?”

She squeezed Walker’s hand tightly as he stood beside her, giving silent support.

“I’m not lying, Jilly. Olivia is fine. They are going to keep her overnight for observation. She’ll have to watch that shoulder for a few weeks. No lifting. No quick movements. I just checked with the doctor, and they gave her something to make her sleep, but I’m going to stick around until she wakes up.”

Jilly frowned. Rafe was sticking around, was he? This had promise. Jilly had never found out what had gone wrong between the two of them back in high school, but it looked as if they were going to get a second chance.

“That’s great, Rafe. I’ll come right over.”

“No, you sit tight. The storm is knocking out power lines everywhere. The governor has called an emergency alert. People need to stay off the road tonight so rescue crews can get in and out.”

“Then keep me posted, okay? Have Olivia call me when she wakes up in the morning. And Rafe?”

“Yes?”

His voice was cooler, Jilly realized. He sounded about a hundred years older than he had been the last time she had seen him. Probably war did that to you. “Thank you for staying with Livie. And welcome home. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hell of a first day back,” Rafe said dryly. “But I’ll take mudslides over IEDs any day.”

CHAPTER THREE

“OLIVIA SULLIVAN? SHE’S right down the hall, Deputy Russo.” The harassed clinic nurse looked up from her computer and nodded at Rafe. “But she’s still sedated.”

“Not a problem. I’ll just look in on her for a few minutes.” Actually, Rafe was relieved by this news. Seeing Olivia again had left him off balance, unprepared for the wave of emotions that had come in the wake of their meeting. He wasn’t sure how she would feel about seeing him again either.

She’d probably throw a shoe at him.

He deserved all that and more.

Rafe opened the door to her room and moved quietly around to her bed. She was still asleep, her breathing slow and regular. An IV line dripped from a bottle over her head and Rafe thought she looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

But tired.

Thinner.

Too pale, and not from the accident.

Why wasn’t she glowing with life, married with three kids and a big house overlooking the cliffs?

Rafe frowned as he watched light play over her pale features. He had thought of her more often than was comfortable since coming back to the States from Afghanistan, but he was a different man from the confused and angry teenager who had run off to join the Marines a decade before. And Olivia had been a huge part of his boyhood. He had trailed home after her in the twilight, curious about the big house where she lived and the important man who was her father. His curiosity had turned into protectiveness when he heard some of the boys say she was tongue-tied and the girls say she was stuck up.

Rafe had figured she was just shy, and he had taken time to draw her out. Over time they had become unlikely friends, arguing over food and books and television shows. And eventually they had become more than friends....

Rafe pushed away the bittersweet memories.

He wasn’t here to stir up the past or pick up where they had left off. The new Rafe played by all the rules. That meant making sure he hurt no one, and he figured the best way to avoid hurting Olivia Sullivan was to stay out of her way.

Except staying away became impossible when their cars had crashed together in the storm. She had been brave to choose a possible accident over a certainty of impact with the stalled school minivan.

Brave but crazy, Rafe thought grimly.

Olivia had always taken her responsibilities seriously. Sometimes he had felt as if he had become one of her responsibilities—a mini-crusade to reform the town ne’er-do-well and see him brought into the fold.

Rafe hadn’t wanted to join the fold, not on Summer Island or anywhere else. He had accepted Olivia’s efforts because for most of his school years he had been crazy in love with her, ready to do anything to get her into bed, with those long, soft legs wrapped around him in blazing passion.

But when the opportunity came, Rafe saw how unprepared she was for sex and the power of her own passion. He had backed off completely. He didn’t ruin innocent girls—and he refused to cause Olivia pain.

He had left Summer Island shortly after that.

He had started to call her many times in the years after he left, but each time good sense had stopped him. What did a smart, beautiful, rich girl like Olivia need with an angry screwup like him? She had never seen his dark streak and his anger. Rafe had made sure of that. But the Marines had pulled that part out of him. They had used his anger, honing his traits of independence and command to make him into a valuable weapon. Rafe had been very good at the jobs they gave him in Korea, Iraq and Afghanistan.

He knew that training made him different now. War had marked him deeply, and sometimes he wondered whether he could ever go back to comfortable civilian life after the things he had seen—and done.

Olivia’s hand shifted on the bed. Rafe moved back as she took a rough breath and opened her eyes, staring around the room groggily.