Merry with a Captain (Love Beach, Holiday Collection)

Chapter 1

Fletch propped his foot on the stool beside him and raised his finger to the bartender. His leg still ached like a son-of-a-bitch. He been told to expect it, but he’d not really believed the docs and had played it down. He wanted to be back on board Intrepid , and it irked him he couldn’t, but at least he knew the yacht was in good care under Micki.

The bartender came over, wiped the counter in front of him and put down a coaster.

"What can I get ya?” he asked. He looked like an old sea dog and much like how Fletch felt.

“Just whatever's on tap, local brew. And could I have a menu, please?" He was hungry, and this was his first time at this salty dog bar.

He’d arrived in Love Beach just a few days before and had planned to surprise Beck, but discovered he was out of town. So Fletch was on his own. He'd also found out Micki had gone with Beck, and a skeleton crew was aboard Intrepid, which only made him more antsy he wasn’t.

The last months since he’d broken his leg, he’d been rather isolated and looked forward to local company, but, maybe it wasn’t so bad being on his own since he had to go through physiotherapy. At least he was by the ocean.

He’d had to learn to wind down and chill. He’d always been go-go-go ever since he was a kid, never able to sit still. He kept himself busy most of the time, but that came to a screeching halt last June thanks to breaking his damn leg. Skateboarding of all things. These last months since his surgery had been agonizingly difficult and painful.

Of course, Beck and the crew had given him the gears saying he was too old and brittle for that kind of nonsense. Thirty-eight was not old! When Beck had called him an Old Sea Dog, he’d countered with ‘Just a Sea Dog’.

He’d gotten used to flying solo since the splat at the skate park. Everyone was busy over the summer, and he was barely able to walk, left on crutches and with quite the contraption on his leg. His doctors had released him with the condition he continue to check-in and getting physiotherapy. He could do that here in Love Beach, so he could be close to the yacht. He had his first physio appointment scheduled for next week.

It was almost the end of November, and already the Beach was festive. Lights, trees, and decorations everywhere. He’d never really been a huge Christmas fan, not a Scrooge or anything, but it had been tough when he was a kid. Little money, Dad always out working, same with Mom, and he’d been left alone to fend for himself. Anyway, he shoved those childhood thoughts away. It hadn’t been the best of times, nor was there any lingering happy memories, just misery.

But for the time being, he was going to enjoy this beach bar, have a few brews and a bite to eat. Music was good, location was fantastic, atop the cliffs close to Passion Cove. He needed to be near the sea as salty water ran through his veins. He’d found a room at a motel close by while he had physio and until he could get back on Intrepid.

Deep down he knew he wasn’t the same after the break. His balance was off, and he tried to ignore the ache, but it was playing havoc with his sea legs. He didn’t want any Peg Leg nick names, which the crew would likely give him if he didn’t heal up like new.

He still had a very slight limp, and he hoped it would go away with time and he did his best to hide it, even if it caused him tremendous amount of pain later. Mostly he could grin and bear it. But today, it was being a bastard, and he grimaced just as the bartender placed a frosty beer mug on the coaster and slid a menu to him.

“You good friend?” he asked.

“Yeah, just this damn leg. I broke it last June, and it still plays up.”

“Ah yeah, the older you get, the harder you heal. Step lightly, my man,” he said with a smile.

Fletch stopped himself from shaking his head and saying a smart remark that he wasn’t old. The dude was much older than him and just offering wisdom.

“Any recs?” Fletch asked while looking at the menu.

"We may look like a dive, but the food is good. Anything off menu will do you proud," the bartender said.

Fletch nodded.

“You new in town?" the bartender asked.

“Kinda. I was here last spring until June. But I'm back now. The name is Fletch.” He stuck out his hand.

The bartender took it, and they shook. “Hank. Just holler when you're ready to order.”

Fletch scanned the menu, and Hank left to attend some folks at the other end of the bar. Everything on the menu was typical fare, but the fish and chips caught his eye. Hopefully the fish was fresh, especially with the sea a stone’s throw away.

He put down the menu and looked at the reflection of the room in the mirror on the wall behind all the liquor bottles. It was festive. Christmas lights twinkled a mixture of those old incandescent bulbs that he remembered as a kid and LED lights. Quite a mashup. A sad, crooked, fake tree was in the corner, also decorated with lights.

The booths were full, and some tables were on the deck overlooking the ocean. He waited until Hank came back, ordered his food, and told the older man he was going outside. He carried his beer, walked through the open garage-like door and found a table next to the railing which was pretty close to the cliffs, and he looked over. It was a long way down. The sun was setting and cast a Creamsicle glow across the sky.

He drew in a big breath and held it. Nothing like fresh sea air.

Yep, he was glad to be back by the water. He craned his neck, leaning over the railing to see if the marina was visible from here. Maybe he'd be able to see Intrepid . No luck.

Gazing out over the darkening waves, he searched for ship lights out on the horizon. There were some, heading to who knows where. He was getting a bit chilled and thought he might go back inside, but the waitress brought his food.

"Thank you," he said to her.

It was the biggest plate of fish and chips he'd ever seen. A massive piece of fish sat on top a pile of fries. They weren't skimpy with portions. There were two pots of tartar sauce with plastic lids, a healthy size bowl of coleslaw, and a plate of fresh bread and butter. He flipped one of the lids off, took a fry and dunked it. Popping it into his mouth, he nodded his approval; homemade, excellent, and tangy. Just as he liked it.

He broke off the end of the crispy piece of fish and dragged it through the sauce. The fish was fresh today, he could tell. The old boy was right, this place may not look like much, but the food was good.

There were no Christmas carols being played on the ancient jukebox, and good old country music filled the bar, drifting out on the deck. He looked into the open doorway and saw some people had gotten up to dance. He liked seeing people enjoy themselves. More had arrived and the place was busy.

He watched the crowd, finished his beer and food. Just as he was about to stand up, a woman passed the doorway that caught his attention. She was tall, dressed in jeans and a jean jacket, and her curly hair was so blonde it was almost white. It reminded him of that singer in that country music band.

He shivered when the breeze blew off the sea, so he picked up his plate, and carried it inside. He put them on the bar near the entrance to the kitchen, and asked for his check.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and when they had, he looked around. It shouldn't be hard to see her with her blonde hair. He gazed through the crowd of dancers, and saw her on the far side of the room. He couldn’t tell if she was with someone. If she wasn't, he’d definitely go and say hi. He paid his bill and leaned on the bar to ease his leg.

The music stopped and people went to their seats, leaving him a clear view of her across the room. She wasn’t with a guy. She laughed with her friends, having fun, and margarita glasses, both empty and full, scattered across the table along with a big plate of nachos. He smiled; it looked like a girls’ night out.

Fletch barely noticed the other women she was with, he only saw her. And as if she felt his gaze, she turned and looked at him. He was surprised, but he smiled.

She returned it, which he took as an indicator to approach.

He walked over doing his best to not limp, and she seemed not to notice which bolstered him. He’d ask her to dance if another song came on.

His step faltered when she got up and walked toward him. They met halfway.

"Hi," she said when they were a few steps apart.

"Hi yourself," he replied with a smile. “Would you like to dance?"

She nodded, her curls bouncing, and he was enchanted. She had the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen. Turquoise, ringed with a darker sea blue that would rival any tropical lagoon.

"I'd love to, but there's no music." She tilted her head and gave him a sassy look. Just like that, he was smitten.

"Well there's a couple of ways we can remedy that. We can pick a song or get to know each other over a drink. You choose." He watched her contemplate the choices, a smile on her face.

"I choose drinks.” Her smile lit up her whole face, and her eyes danced, vibrant against her deep tan. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and was momentarily lost for words.

"Okay, then, let's go find somewhere to sit,” she suggested.

“Ah yes,” was all he could manage. Snap out of it buddy!

She hooked her arm through his and led him to an empty booth by the previously open overhead door that had been closed, likely because of the chill.

Robyn had noticed him long before he noticed her. Her body came alive when she saw him. He wasn't her normal type, what with his longer hair and beard. It was difficult to tell his age, because he didn’t look young, nor did he look older. She would guess late thirties, and if so, he wasn’t much older than herself.

He’d carried his beer outside, and she was mesmerized by the way he moved with almost a rolling gait, and his body radiated an energy when he walked. As if the air around him whispered to his will. Her reaction to him was so powerful her breath caught in her chest.

She’d fisted her hands, willing herself not to leap up and run outside, and had stayed put with her friends… for the moment.

A short while later, her friends were all abuzz.

"What are we whispering about?" she asked, resting her elbows on the table.

"That dude over at the bar. I've never seen him around here before."

"Neither have I," another chimed in.

“He’s one pretty hot looking guy. And look, he even brought his plate in from outside. Oooh.”

Robyn’s friend watched him with big puppy dog eyes, her chin resting in her palm.

"Well I guess I better check and see if I agree with you all." Robyn laughed and turned in her chair. Her world tilted when she saw him.

And now, a few minutes later they sat across from each other in their own booth. It was all she could do to not crawl over the table into his arms and let it all start here and now.

“Of all the gin joints…what brings you here?” she asked him, then felt kinda silly saying that.

“You’re an old movie buff?” His smile, oh his smile, she was done for.

“Uhm, yes. I like old movies, and foreign film as well. You?” Her thoughts drifted to them sprawled in tousled sheets, catching their breath after a very satisfying and mind blowing sexual adventure. She shook her head to snap out of the daydream, but she couldn’t chase away the arousal that raced through her. It wasn’t like her to respond so wantonly like this.

“You shook your head, meaning?” The quizzical expression on his face was cute.

“Oh, nothing, I was just thinking about watching movies,” she said, her voice low, and she leaned her elbows on the table. She saw his gaze flicker to her chest, and her blood ran hotter. “So, do you?” she asked him again.

“Do I what?”

“Like old movies?”

“Yeah, and foreign films, and I don’t mind captions either.”

She was going to be impulsive. She was going to take a leap of faith and it probably had something to do with the pre-drinks she had with her friends. But this man was just way too all that not to.

“Do you want to get out of here?” There. She did it, and probably gave him the completely wrong impression of her. She didn’t pick guys up in a bar.

He sat up, surprise on his face. She waited. What was he going to say? Did he think of her as a floozy now? Damn…she had to ride it out now.

His silence stretched out.

Then.

“Ah, yes. But are you sure?” He finally spoke.

The question surprised her. Didn’t guys normally jump all over an invitation like that? He was so damn sexy, gorgeous, and mysterious, surely he got propositioned often. Wait, how did she feel about that? Knowing he probably had many notches on his bedpost. The quick second she thought about it gave her an answer. Nope, didn’t bother her in the least. We all had a past, and I wanted to create one with him.

“Yes, I’m sure. Your place or mine?”

“Either. I’m in a motel just down the road. Got there today,” he told her. “Do you have a preference?”

“We can walk there since we’ve both been drinking.” Suddenly, she was all sensible and shit.

“I’ve only had one beer, and if you trust me enough, I can drive.” He smiled and she melted.

Oh lord.

“Motel, give me a sec to grab my purse and let my posse know.” She hurried over to her friends, burning up with arousal. She’d never felt like this before, and they hadn’t even touched yet.

“What’s going on?”

“Is he a creep? What a shame if he is.”

“He’s not a creep, he’s very nice, and I’m leaving with him,” she told them and reached for her purse.

“Wait, what?!” They shouted in unison and all turned to look at him.

He smiled and rose, walking over to their table. Lord love a duck, his hotness reached right down into her soul, and she heard her friends sigh.

“Hello, ladies, nice to meet you all. I’m Fletch Crockett.”

Her friends were momentarily speechless, which was a rarity.

“So, we’re gonna go now. Don’t worry, I’ll check in with you all.” She grabbed her bag and took Fletch’s arm.

Before her friends had a chance to protest, cheer, whatever, she whispered to Fletch, “Let’s go, quickly.”

He laughed as they left the bar.