Love Me Tender (Seven Brides, Seven Brothers) Read online

  Nick jammed his hands into his pants pocket as he headed towards his car parked in front of the house. He slid inside and revved the engine of his Porsche, enjoying the sound of its raw power. Once he rounded the corner and made his way away from the peaceful vibe of Ocean Street, he increased his speed, reveling in the feeling of weightlessness as he navigated the curves alongside Breezy Beach. There was freedom in this moment. He didn't have to think or feel or remember. He was soaring.

  His house was located a few minutes from Breezy Beach. His brother Wyatt's house sat all the way down the stretch of beach overlooking the water, with Blue and Sarah's currently under construction cottage a hop, skip and a jump away. Although he loved the water, his own home gave him a nice view of the ocean, but wasn't right on its doorstep. He had a lot of trees on his property, which gave him the isolation he sometimes craved. There was a neighboring cottage down the road, but since it hadn't been occupied in years, a sense of serenity surrounded him. He had to admit, he enjoyed his solitude.

  All evening he'd been out of sorts. His brothers were dropping like flies. Blue had married Sarah in June, while Ryder had gotten engaged to Tess a few weeks later. Then, out of nowhere, Remy had fallen head over heels in love with Gabrielle, a new hire at Sweet Treats Bakery, the business his family owned. Like the true romantic he was, Remy had proposed to his lady love in the most heartwarming way possible. Even though he was happy for all three of them, it felt like his band of brothers was dissolving. It was quickly dwindling down to the remaining four of them who were bachelors. Himself. Wyatt. Brandon. And Mac.

  He'd never particularly wanted to settle down. The idea of a wife and kids didn't appeal to him all that much. Everything he'd ever needed had always been satisfied by the Donahue clan, his large and loving adoptive family, and his acclaimed restaurant, The Cove. Owning his own restaurant was a dream come true. Ever since childhood he'd fantasized about owning a restaurant where people could come and enjoy an evening of fine dining in a beautiful setting. His road hadn't been easy. As a dyslexic, he'd had to work longer and harder. But he'd done it. He'd fought tooth and nail to get the financing, and then he'd worked his tail off to make The Cove a thriving, popular restaurant.

  His professional dreams had all come true. Yet, at the moment, it did nothing to quell the turmoil raging in his soul. He hated this unsettled feeling nestled inside him. Worrying about his mother was weighing him down. And it felt like everyone was deserting him. They were all pairing off into couples. That particular feeling played with every insecurity he'd ever had. Abandonment. Loss. Emptiness.

  Shake it off, he told himself. Stuff it down where it belongs. He hadn't achieved anything in this lifetime by wallowing in the past. If he let it, the past could pull him down like quicksand.

  You are Nicholas Donahue. You are Nicholas Donahue. Son of Maggie and Alec Donahue.

  He repeated the mantra several times in his head. As always, it served to center him.

  As he drove down Harbor Lane road towards his house, he noticed a light shimmering in the distance. Was someone out here in the woods? He drove a little further down the road, noticing the small cottage illuminated like a brightly lit lantern.

  What were lights doing on in Trudy Marke's cottage at this time of night? There had been a few cases in the past year of homes being vandalized with spray paint and destruction of property. Trudy had passed away last year after being in an assisted living facility for a long time. No one had lived in this cottage for ages. A memory rose up—summer nights with the hint of lavender floating in the air, soft brown hair that flew in the breeze, a lopsided smile that tugged at his heart—he pushed them away as he always did. There was no sense in daydreaming. The past was firmly rooted in the past.

  In the here and now he needed to go investigate what was going on in the empty, abandoned cottage.

  *

  Layla Delgado looked around the cottage with a shake of her head. Even though she'd been in Breeze Point for two full days, all her hard work seemed to have been in vain. The cottage still looked as ramshackle and dusty as when she'd arrived. She sank down into a velveteen love seat, letting out a huge sigh as she leaned back in the chair. Even though inheriting this place from Aunt Trudy had been a godsend, at the moment it didn't feel like it. It was a mess! Maybe she needed to hire a cleaning service. No, that wasn't the answer. With limited funds, she couldn't afford to squander any money on a maid service. No way. She had big plans with her savings.

  She closed her eyes and envisioned the black and pink sign with the frilly lace tutu. Layla's Dance Studio. She smiled at the vision of little girls lined up at the barre with their toes pointed in an imperfect manner. Oh the things she could teach them. Grand jetes. Plies. Ronds de jambes. Recitals and sugar plum fairies in winter time. Little faces full of joy and anticipation. Oh, how she prayed this would all work out. God had been by her side on this journey and she couldn't help but feel He was leading her to where she needed to be in this world.

  Crack. The sharp, staccato sound echoed in the stillness of the evening, jolting her out of her thoughts. She turned towards the window as a shadow raced past it. Fear shot straight through her. Her heart began to thump wildly in her chest. Even though instinct told her to run, her legs felt like cinder blocks. He'd found her. Somehow, he'd managed to track her down in Cape Cod, a place she'd believed would be her haven.

  With a guttural moan, she got up from her seat and scrambled to the kitchen counter, her breath ragged and uneven. She stretched herself across the butcher block counter and grabbed a knife from the stand. Reeling backwards, she positioned herself so that she couldn't be seen through the windows. With the knife firmly in her grip she flattened herself against the basement door. Her chest was moving frantically up and down. She was breathing through her nose.

  A knocking sound filled the silence. She let out a soft cry. Just when she'd thought she was safe, he'd found her! She gripped the knife even tighter, praying she wouldn't have to use it.

  “Hello. Is anybody in here? My name is Nick Donahue. I live in the property next door. I saw the lights and wondered what was going on.”

  Nick Donahue. The name brought to mind the smell of the ocean, silky sand in her waist long hair and games of hide and seek in the sand dunes. With trembling fingers she placed the knife down on the counter. She wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans and moved toward the door.

  Nick Donahue! The name, coupled with the husky sound of his voice, caused a dozen emotions to flutter through her. A feeling of joy pulsed through her, along with a sliver of anxiety. Had he changed over the years? Would he even remember her?

  A shaft of light illuminated him as he stood at her doorstep. As soon as she opened the door, the past rose up and greeted her. She almost sighed at the sight of him. Dark brown hair. Eyes the color of espresso. Olive skin. Tender, kissable lips. It was amazing, she realized, how Nick had grown even more handsome over the last decade. She would never have believed it was possible.

  Even when he was at his happiest, Nick tended to have a brooding quality about him. He'd always had that air about him, as if he wasn't ever fully content. She knew a lot of it was tied up in his past and his early origins. Perhaps she was just imaging things. After all, she hadn't seen him in ten years.

  He stared down at her, his face shuttered. “Hi. Sorry for intruding. I'm Nick Donahue.” He held out his hand in greeting.

  She stared back at him. Did he really not recognize her? “It's been a long time, Nick.”

  Nick blinked. Then his brown eyes widened. She watched as shock registered on his face. He took a step forward into the light.

  “Layla!” Her name came out ragged and rough. “Layla Mason.”

  She nodded her head, then said, “Yes, it's me. Only it's Layla Delgado now.”

  “I can't believe it. You look so different.”

  She ran her hand through her shoulder-length, brown hair. The Layla he'd known had worn her hair all the way down her back. She'd als
o had glasses. She felt a little self conscious under the weight of his gaze, especially since she'd been cleaning right before Nick arrived. Were there cobwebs in her hair? Dirt smudges on her face?

  “It's been what....ten years? W-What brings you back to Breeze Point?” Nick's brows were furrowed and there were slight creases around his eyes.

  “Why don't you come in,” she suggested, waving him in over threshold. As soon as he stepped inside the energy in the room shifted by sheer virtue of Nick's presence. She'd forgotten how tall he was. It felt as if he was towering over her 5'6 inches. He was well over six feet, she imagined.

  “Aunt Trudy left me this place in her will,” she explained. “It's been tied up in probate for a while, and I've been wrapping up some loose ends so I could come to Breeze Point and fix the place up.”

  Nick nodded. “I was sorry to hear about Trudy. She was one of the most memorable people I've ever met.”

  Layla let out a low chuckle. “And by memorable you mean a little eccentric, right?”

  Nick joined in with her laughter. Her heart leaped at the sound of it. She'd never quite forgotten how it sounded—robust and full of life.

  “She was a good woman, if a bit eccentric. It takes all kinds to make a world.”

  She looked away from the intensity of his gaze. She'd always been a sucker for Nick Donahue's lingering glances and pretty words. In the end, he'd broken her heart, and she'd never quite managed to ease the ache in her soul caused by his desertion. If it hadn't been a lifetime ago, she would call him out on it. But she'd made her peace with it ages ago.

  It was nice for him to talk so kindly about Aunt Trudy, considering all the obstacles she'd placed in their path the summer they'd first met. It made her smile remembering how creative Nick had been about finding ways to sneak around Cape Cod with her. By July, Aunt Trudy had found out they'd been seeing each other, and much to Layla's surprise, she'd given Nick permission to date her. “Your last name carries a lot of weight with me. Just don't let me down,” Aunt Trudy had told Nick with a warning shake of her finger.

  The memory warmed Layla's insides. Aunt Trudy had been loving, if a bit crusty in her demeanor. “She was always good to me, all the way down to her last moments when she left me this place.” Layla looked around her at the unassuming cottage. She knew underneath all this dirt and disrepair it was a fine place, one that she would gladly call home. Life had taught her that big houses and large bank accounts meant nothing when you were trapped in a gilded cage. Walking away from her life with nothing more than her wardrobe, personal belongings and her own personal savings felt like walking off a cliff and not knowing what was down below.

  “So you're fixing it up for a summer cottage?”

  “It will be more than a seasonal place,” she said. “I'm moving to Breeze Point, Nick.”

  “Really?” Brown eyes widened. His tone radiated surprise. “For good?”

  She bobbed her head, wondering if he considered her arrival in Breeze Point a good thing or not. He'd always been really great at shuttering his emotions. Although she knew it was tied up in his humble beginnings, at the moment she wished he was more transparent.

  “Let's just say for the foreseeable future. I quit my job in S-.” She stopped, then continued. “I quit my job on the West Coast, so I don't have anything to go back to. I've just recently gotten a divorce, so I'm looking to simplify my life.”

  Nick didn't seem to notice her slip up. She knew better than to tell anyone she'd moved here from Seattle. The less information she gave out the better. It was a crazy way of thinking, especially in regards to someone so solid as Nick Donahue. He would never knowingly put her in danger. But the last few years had taught her that keeping personal information close to the vest was vital to staying safe. It was a matter of life and death.

  “I'm sorry to hear about the divorce. That must be tough. Welcome to Breeze Point. Or should I say welcome back?”

  “Thanks. It's changed quite a bit since I was last here.”

  He locked gazes with her. Something flickered in his eyes, although she couldn't put her finger on the emotion. She no longer knew Nick the way she'd used to. Reading him used to be effortless, like studying the palm of her hand.

  “Some things have changed, but the important things have stayed the same,” he said.

  Had he stayed the same, she wondered? That summer ten years ago he'd been sensitive and tender, steadfast and sure. Always though, she'd sensed other emotions bubbling under the surface. They'd been inseparable, each others first true loves. But then, out of the blue, things had just ended between them. In the final analysis, she hadn't known him at all.

  Nick rocked back on his heels. “I hope life's been treating you well.”

  How did she even begin to answer a loaded question such as the one he'd just posed? Ten years ago she'd been full of hope and anticipation for the future. In her mind, she'd believed the future would unfurl like a great, big, colorful banner. Some of her dreams had come true, but along the way life had given her a few punches in the gut. She'd stumbled along the path and nearly lost her life to a man who'd promised to love her for a lifetime. How in the world could she tell Nick about everything she'd been through? Could he ever understand why she'd stayed so long with a man who had abused her, both physically and mentally? Did she even understand herself?

  “I'm doing well,” she said, choosing to focus on the here and now. At the moment she was feeling optimistic. For so long she'd lived in the shadow of fear.

  Being back in Breeze Point brought her back to a time and place where the future had seemed filled with possibilities. It transported her back to being eighteen years old and believing that the world was her oyster. With her family, her faith and Nick at her side, she'd held firm to the belief that her life would be the fulfillment of all her dreams. Things hadn't quite worked out that way. Being here in Breeze Point was her second chance at living the life she'd always imagined.

  “Are you still dancing?” Nick asked. “I remember how talented you were. And committed.”

  “I'm not dancing professionally anymore. For many years I danced with the San Francisco Ballet Company. I've hung up my ballet shoes as far as being a principal dancer, but I'll always be a dancer at heart. It would be a shame not to use the talents God bestowed on me.” Nick looked at her with a curious expression etched on his face. “From this point forward, I'm going to be teaching dance, hopefully at my own studio right here in Breeze Point.”

  A slow, easy smile broke out over Nick's face. It only served to enhance his dark good looks.

  “Wow. Impressive.”

  She felt her smile widening, buoyed by Nick's goodwill. “It's never too late to realize a dream. That's what my parents always taught me,” Layla said, feeling a pang as she thought of her hardworking, loving parents. They'd done so much for her. She was so happy they were living in Europe while her father taught at a university in Brussels. Having them on the other side of the ocean kept them safe and out of the loop. They had no idea of the nightmare she'd been living.

  “If you ever need anything, my house is just down the road,” Nick said.

  “The big one with the wraparound porch?” Layla asked. She could hear the surprise radiating in her voice. It was by far the most beautiful place she'd seen since she came back to Breeze Point. Two stories, lots of Bay windows and extravagant stonework on the front. It was simply stunning.

  “Yep. That's me,” he said with a nod.

  She felt herself grinning from ear to ear, despite her conflicted feelings towards Nick. “You've done well for yourself.”

  “Thanks. I can't complain. I own a restaurant here in town. The Cove.”

  Pride filled her at the idea that Nick had made a success of himself. She knew how hard high school had been for him due to his dyslexia. The inner fighter in him had persevered despite setbacks and challenges that would have daunted a lesser man. He'd graduated at the top of his class and had been accepted early admission to Sta
nford. Once again, a wave of nostalgia rolled through her.

  “I better say goodnight,” Nick said as he headed towards the door. He turned back towards her, his eyes radiating an emotion she couldn't decipher. Once upon a time she'd been able to read him like a book. Clearly, those days were over.

  “Goodnight, Nick,” she said softly, her insides doing flip flops at his nearness. Once he left she knew the cottage would feel way more lonely than it had before he'd arrived. His energy had lit up the small space like a firefly in a glass jar.

  As he walked towards his car, her thoughts were full of the past they shared and the love she'd once believed would last forever.

  *

  As soon as he slid into his car, Nick let out a huge breath of air. He'd been holding it in ever since he'd walked into the cottage and realized it was Layla standing before him. His hands were shaking as he clutched the steering wheel. Nick couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so blindsided by something. It was no small wonder he'd been able to keep his wits about him. Seeing Layla again was a blast from the past, one that catapulted him back in time to the summer after he graduated from high school.

  Layla Mason. Now Delgado. His first love. How many times had thoughts of her flashed into his mind like a bright streak of lightning? How many times had he looked her up online, only to find she was incapable of being found?

  How many nights had he lain awake regretting the decisions he'd made?

  How many other women had he compared over the years to beautiful, sweet Layla?

  The ensuing years had only added to her appeal. She no longer wore the tortoise shell glasses and she'd lopped off her waist-length hair. The hazel eyes flecked with gold were radiant. Her stunning locks now hung around her shoulders in a more modern style. And her figure had blossomed into that of a woman. She'd always been petite, but now she had a more womanly, dancer's physique. She was simply beautiful.