Hold Me Forever: Heron Harbor, #3

By Lea Nolan

Lark Donovan doesn't need anything besides her art. That's what she's told herself for years as she's traveled the country selling her paintings at festivals and teaching workshops. She's independent and takes life day by day, because that's the only way to keep from getting hurt. The only rule she's lived by is to never return to Heron Harbor Island, but that's one she has to break to be in her sister's wedding...

 

Police Chief Hunter McMullen loves his life on Heron Harbor. The only thing missing is someone to share it with. He thought he'd found that once and the rejection still stings, especially when sexy, free-spirited Lark Donovan returns for a family wedding they're both in. Reunited for the first time in years, they're thrown together to celebrate another couple's love--and damn if the sparks between them still don't fly.

 

Now, it's all Hunter can do to avoid convincing Lark with his hands, his mouth, and his body that they belong together. But he can already sense her pulling away—again. The only question is how hard they'll both fight to hold on to happiness...forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lea Nolan
• Release date: Aug 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393793731

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lark Donovan had sworn she’d never return to Heron Harbor island.

Yet here she was, waiting to disembark her RV from the afternoon ferry, ending a flawless six-year, island-free streak.

A mixture of apprehension, fear, and foreboding swirled in her stomach. Lark gripped the steering wheel tight, willing the sensation away.

This was ridiculous. She spent half her life traveling across the country alone, sometimes to remote and dangerous places. She could survive a week on a barrier island off the coast of Delaware, for cripes’s sake.

Except this trip might be more dangerous than any that she’d taken before. It certainly might be the most painful.

A strangled sigh escaped her throat as Lark leaned her head against the high-backed seat in the RV’s cab. It wasn’t fair. She should be looking forward to her sister Wren’s wedding to Smith Connors. Lark hadn’t seen Smith since her last visit to the island, back before he was a celebrity chef with his own restaurants, best-selling cookbooks, and cooking show. But rather than looking forward to a reunion, and tasting some of his mouthwatering creations for herself, she was dreading everything about this week.

Which made her feel horrible.

Because as much as Lark wanted to see her family, there was one person she was absolutely dreading seeing. And it was the one encounter she couldn’t avoid. Not because he’d lived here all his life, or because he was Heron Harbor’s Chief of Police, but because he was Smith’s best man.

But Lark didn’t want to waste another moment thinking about Hunter McMullen. There’d be plenty of time to deal with him later in the week when she had no choice. If she were clever, she could avoid him until the rehearsal dinner next Friday night. And then, if there were the slightest chance they’d come into contact, she’d improvise something to avoid awkward small talk. Keeping her distance would be harder at the wedding on Saturday, but she was prepared if they had to speak. She’d spent the eight-hour drive from Vermont rehearsing an arsenal of cool, composed, and nonchalant retorts.

Everything but an apology.

The ferry docked, and cars began their slow descent down the ramp and onto the island. It wasn’t always this time-consuming to get to Heron Harbor. Last fall, a massive storm had torn up the east coast and washed out the bridge connecting the island to the mainland. A replacement bridge was under construction, but from what Lark had seen of the skeletal structure from the ferry, it wouldn’t be done any time soon.

Lark coaxed Minnie, her ancient and beloved Minnie Winnie Winnebago RV, through the ferry parking lot and on to Oyster Avenue, the thoroughfare that ran the length of the island. Driving this road felt surreal. She hadn’t been here in nearly a decade, yet it could have been yesterday. She recognized every residence, light post, farm stand, and business she passed.

The phone in the cradle on the dash rang, and Lark reached to hit the speaker button. One of these days, she’d buy a Bluetooth stereo and answer calls like other twenty-first-century residents, but that’d take disposable income, and she didn’t have much of that these days. Keeping Winnie running was becoming an expensive proposition.

Ms. Lark! Oh my God! Ms. Lark, are you there? The young voice was high and shrill.

Lark’s heart plummeted to her knees. Kelsey? Is everything okay? The girl was one of Lark’s art students who lived in the community near the Vermont artist colony where Lark resided half the year. Kelsey had faced more in her seventeen years than most people did in a lifetime. She could be calling about her mother overdosing again or her brother heading back to jail.

It’s more than okay. It’s amazing! Kelsey sounded as if she was jumping in place. I got it!

A wave of relief washed over Lark, allowing her to breathe again. Kelsey was safe. Now to figure out what the heck she was talking about. Got what? Kels, you’re kind of giving me a heart attack.

The scholarship to RISD. I’m going to art school. She let out a whoop that nearly pierced Lark’s eardrum. It was a sacrifice Lark was happy to make. The Rhode Island School of Design was one of the best in the country. Kelsey deserved a spot in their incoming freshman class and the biggest scholarship they could offer. It meant more than getting an education; it gave Kelsey a path out of Briar’s Notch and a chance at a successful life.

Tears welled in Lark’s eyes. Oh, Kels, I’m so happy for you. You worked so hard for this.

I can’t believe it. It feels like a dream. Her voice broke with emotion. I couldn’t have done it without you.

A mixture of pride and joy knotted in Lark’s throat. Sure you could’ve. You’re one of the most talented people I know.

Stop. We both know how much you taught me.

It was true. Lark had spent hours coaching Kelsey. But she’d never dare claim credit for the young woman’s brilliance. Lark had given her a nudge, but Kelsey had learned to fly. I can teach, but I can’t make you learn. That was all you.

You gave me free lessons. You didn’t have to do that, Kelsey said.

Lark had wanted Kelsey to flourish, so she didn’t have much choice. It wasn’t as if art lessons were a high priority for Kelsey’s mom, deadbeat dad, or serial criminal brother.

No, but you earned them. You didn’t rest on your raw talent. You put in the effort and showed up every week with new work. You’re the kind of student teachers pray for. Lark imagined Kelsey’s apple-round cheek’s flushing pink. The young woman hated compliments, no doubt the result of growing up in a dysfunctional, abusive home.

I’ll never forget what you did for me, Ms. Lark. If it weren’t for you, I’d be stuck here forever.

That was why Lark had expended so much energy teaching Kelsey, developing her portfolio, and guiding her decision on where to apply for college. Kelsey had too much promise to ignore.

Just give me one of your paintings when you’re famous, and we’ll call it even.

Kelsey laughed. That’s it? I’ll give you one now.

I’ll take it. Lark chuckled.

Oh! I know what I’ll make. And don’t worry, it’ll be small enough to fit in Minnie.

Sounds perfect, Lark said.

For the last five years, Lark had been splitting her time between living and working at the Belcher Art Colony and traveling the country in Minnie, giving workshops and selling her work at festivals. Traveling light wasn’t merely something Lark aspired to; it was a necessity. Aside from her clothes, crystal collection, and art supplies, she didn’t accumulate much in the way of stuff. Too many possessions made it harder to move, and she didn’t have space to store things anyway. Her apartment at the colony was tiny and bare bones, a junior one bedroom furnished with the basics. Minnie offered just enough space to sleep and work, especially after Lark packed the inventory she sold at festivals.

Lark’s existence seemed chaotic to most people, especially her sisters, Wren and Raven, who had serious jobs that kept them tied to one place. But Lark’s nomadic lifestyle was liberating. She didn’t bow to corporate masters who set random productivity goals and expected fifty-to-sixty-hour work weeks. Lark’s life was hers to schedule. She chose which universities or art leagues to teach at, which festivals to visit, and what art she wanted to make.

And because she was single, Lark never worried about being on the road too long. No one special was waiting for her back at the colony, a situation that Wren and Raven deemed wholly unacceptable. To set things right, they constantly fixed Lark up with men they met, refusing to believe that she didn’t want a boyfriend. She went on dates, but a relationship was the last thing Lark wanted. She’d been there, done that, and seen the error of her ways.

Remaining single was the only way to ensure the past never repeated itself.

So each night, Lark went to bed alone, content in the knowledge that she was free to live the life she chose on her own terms.

And that she’d broken the cycle. She’d never hurt anyone the way her mother had hurt her family.

The caller ID flashed across Lark’s screen. Wren was calling. If Lark didn’t take it, her sister would worry she was stuck on the side of the road somewhere.

Hey, Kelsey, my sister’s calling. I’d better go.

Is this the one marrying the famous chef or the one dating the super-rich guy?

Lark rolled her eyes. People were always so impressed by fame, money, and status. It was so silly. Those were the least impressive things about the men dating her sisters. The soul was what mattered. As far as Lark could tell, both Wren and Raven had found good men.

The bride, Lark answered.

Cool. Have a great time at the wedding. I’ll try to have your painting done by the time you get back to Vermont, Kelsey said.

Okay, but don’t rush. I expect a masterpiece, Lark joked.

Kelsey laughed. No pressure there.

Bye, Lark said, then switched calls. Hey, Wren.

What took you so long to answer? I was starting to worry you were stuck in a ditch.

Of course, she was because Wren, the eldest Donovan sister, was a perpetual worrier. Well, I’m not. Minnie gets me where I need to go.

Not always, Wren said, under her breath but loud enough for Lark to hear.

Shh, don’t jinx her. Lark gave the dashboard a reassuring pat.

Minnie might be old, but she always came through. Yes, it was true that Lark had called her sisters a few times when she was stranded and couldn’t afford the repairs Minnie needed. But with Wren and Raven’s help, Minnie got patched up and was back on the road. And Lark always paid her sisters back.

Where are you? Wren asked.

I’m close.

Behind the dash, a disturbing clang ricocheted. It was loud and sounded dangerous. And expensive.

Holy crap. Lark sucked in a breath.

How close? Wren asked.

The lights on the console flickered.

Um . . . real close. Lark stared at the instruments, hoping her eyes were playing tricks.

Nope, the clock, brake lights, and turn signal indicators flashed like a crosswalk sign.

Like where? Have you made it to the ferry yet? Wren pressed.

All at once, the gauge indicators went flat, the air conditioning cut off, and the hum of the engine sputtered like a dying rattlesnake.

Lark’s heart jolted into overdrive. Uh, I’ll call you back.

Everything okay? Wren asked, apprehension heavy in her voice.

Lark hated lying, but she wouldn’t give Wren the satisfaction of knowing something was wrong with Minnie. Not after she’d busted on Lark’s beloved RV.

All power died as Lark coasted the RV to the side of the road. Yeah, it’s fine. Just some traffic I’ve got to navigate. Her pulse thrummed in her ears.

Oh-kay. But don’t forget to call as soon as you get here. It’s important.

Right. Sure. Lark hung up. A headache began to form behind her eye.

Lark shifted the gear into park, then closed her eyes and breathed deep, centering herself. Almost immediately, the Universe’s healing energy enveloped her like a blanket. Her pulse slowed, and her shoulders slid back down her neck. The headache evaporated as quickly as it had appeared.

When her mind was quiet and focused, Lark thought through Minnie’s potential problems. The battery was only a year old, and the fuses had just been replaced. The engine could have blown, but there was only one way to know for sure. Lark whispered a prayer of positive intention and turned the key in the ignition.

It responded with a click, click, click.

Damn. She grabbed her cell, climbed out of the cab, then went to the front of the RV and popped open the hood.

Nothing looked obviously wrong with the engine. Minnie might need as little as a simple fix or a complete overhaul.

A police car whizzed past.

Lark froze.

Then she laughed. She was being ridiculous. The chances that Heron Harbor’s Chief of Police was on patrol and happened to drive past at this exact moment were practically zero.

Hunter would surely be downtown at the police station doing whatever chiefs of police did. One of his trusty patrol officers had to be driving that squad car, and they didn’t know her from Eve.

Lark opened her cell and searched for a mechanic with expertise with large vehicles.

The cop car’s lights and siren flipped on, and the car made a U-turn.

Crap. Lark’s stomach crumpled like a discarded can of kombucha as the vehicle headed straight for her, then pulled up behind Minnie.

Turning away from the open hood, Lark tilted her gaze up to the bright blue sky dotted with billowy white clouds. She whispered, Please, Universe, don’t let it be him. I’m not ready. Give me a few more days.

Footsteps crunched against sand and gravel as the officer approached the front of her RV.

Lark’s heart pounded with a mixture of dread and morbid anticipation. She should turn around, but she couldn’t bear to look.

The deep sound of a throat clearing pierced the silence. Looks like you need some assistance.

The familiar tone was like a knife through her heart. She spun on the heels of her boots to face the officer.

It was him, all right.

Her secret ex-fiancé.

Chapter 2

H unt. The air rushed from Lark’s lungs.

Hunter McMullen was every bit as gorgeous as she remembered, and then some. She’d thought his features were etched into her memory—his high forehead, heavy brow, square jaw, and thick neck—but seeing him here up close, she realized the image in her mind paled in comparison to the real thing. Her gaze tugged toward the impressive trapezius, delts, and biceps that stretched the contours of his uniform. Hunter had always had a great body, but whew boy, Lark didn’t remember his muscles piling up quite like this.

She had no right to gawk at him. Averting her eyes, she trained her focus on his close-cropped haircut instead.

Because he wasn’t hers anymore. She’d seen to that.

Lark, he said, a hint of caution to his tone. It’s nice to see you, though I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. He nodded at the engine beneath the open hood.

After all this time, was he angry with her? Wary?

She reminded herself to breathe and drew a deep inhale. Uh, yeah. My power went out as I was driving. I can’t get her started again.

He removed his sunglasses and arched his brow. Are you out of gas?

She blinked. Did he seriously think she was that dumb? No, I’ve still got half a tank.

He shrugged, and a hint of a smile crossed his lips. Goodness, how she’d loved kissing those lips. I know it’s a stupid question, but you’d be surprised how many people run out of gas and don’t realize it.

She wasn’t people. She was an experienced road traveler.

Maybe he didn’t know that about her. There was no reason to expect that he’d kept tabs on her life since they’d parted ways. After all, she hadn’t stalked his comings and goings, except for the few updates she’d heard through her sisters.

Unlike Lark, Wren and Raven regularly visited their family’s beach house on Heron Harbor and stayed current with the island’s gossip. So naturally, they’d told her when Hunter returned home and joined the police force, and later when he’d been promoted to chief. But since they had no idea that Lark and Hunter had dated, let alone how serious things had gotten, Wren and Raven couldn’t have known how agonizing it was to hear those tiny facts or how Lark longed to hear more.

Lark jutted her jaw with confidence. "I don’t run out of gas. And before you ask, it’s not my battery or the fuses, either. There must be something wrong with the electrical system. I need a mechanic, preferably someone cheap, one who knows how to fix RVs."

Hunter stroked his chin as his gaze scanned Minnie. He was probably wondering why Lark bothered keeping the old girl on the road at all. Most people would’ve given up on her, junked for her spare parts, then claimed they put her out of her misery. Not Lark. When the time came, she’d do the right thing and retire her road buddy, but that time wasn’t at hand. Minnie still had many miles in her.

Finally, Hunter shook his head as if he was agreeing to something under duress. I know a guy. But first, we need to get this thing towed off the road.