Ryder's Bride (Brides Bay Book 1) Read online

Ry bit back a sigh. People couldn’t seem to get what racing meant to him. He wanted to be on the track so badly that the interval between races was actually painful. Motorcycles were in his blood and bone, as was the drive to win. Racing his sportbike was the only thing that helped him forget his trashed hockey career.

  Well, not the only thing. When he was with Claire, the old regrets faded too. Her touch, even just her presence, was pretty magic in that way.

  “Is everyone in Brides Bay a little old lady when it comes to this sort of thing?” he asked sarcastically. “Your brothers found something to build a life around after hockey. That’s what I’m trying to do too.”

  For a couple of moments, Carter looked like he might have more to say. But then he stood up and extended his hand. “I hear you. And I’ll be pulling for you every time out.”

  Ry got to his feet for the handshake. “Thanks, buddy.”

  Carter was a solid guy and a damn good builder. Sometimes he was annoyingly honest, but that only showed he was a straight shooter—a man who had the guts to confront a client who was giving him a lot business.

  Derek aside, Carter Pierce was the closest thing to a pal Ry had found since he hung up his skates.

  * * *

  Shouting slogans at a protest demonstration was the last thing Claire had intended or wanted to do this afternoon. Painting, playing guitar—heck, even picking up dog poop at a client’s place—would have been preferable to getting involved in a hastily convened event at the Promise Island Bridge. But when Anson buttonholed her a couple of hours ago and told her she damn well better be there, Claire had very reluctantly agreed to head on down to the bridge. It was a small town and she didn’t have a good excuse to take a pass. Her absence would have been noticed big time.

  She was already running late for the rally’s scheduled start, because her interview with Beth Brocklebank had gone on longer than she’d planned. Virtually the whole paper this week was going to be devoted to the Lobster Festival, and the editor was writing a feature article on the surprise performance by Claire and her guitarist. Since she knew Ry would hate that idea, she’d insisted on talking to him before Beth approached him for some quotes.

  But when she called him, he’d said he had no interest in being interviewed and had no desire to see his name or his picture in the local paper. She’d bit back a sigh and hadn’t argued with him. She knew what he was like and couldn’t blame him for wanting to preserve as much privacy as possible.

  Still, it stung that he hadn’t called her since Saturday night. No doubt he was still trying to process what had happened between them, both in his bed and under the stars. She sure was. The night had knocked her emotional equilibrium completely out of kilter, leaving her sure of only one thing—that she’d never felt for any man what she was feeling for Ry Griffin.

  She forced herself to focus on the narrow, lightly traveled road to the bridge that connected Promise to the mainland and prayed the protest wouldn’t last long. The point of the event was to show that stuck up Carling Middleton, as Anson described her, that Brides Bay folks weren’t about to give up on free access to the island without a fight. Since almost everybody knew Mrs. Middleton took a yoga class at four-thirty, three days a week, he’d scheduled the protest to start at four. That way they’d catch her on her way to Spy Hill and have a chance to give her a firm but respectful earful about her misguided plans to gate the island.

  A few homemade signs and plenty of chanting were intended to help get the message across.

  In theory, it sounded like a reasonable way to make their point to the island residents, especially those who hadn’t yet made up their minds. Claire’s reticence was mainly due to her aversion to taking any risk of pissing off her island clients. Plenty of other people were in the same boat, depending like her on islanders for much of their business. Despite that, Pam and Tammy were going to be there, and probably Carter and a number of other friends. She figured if they could risk losing business by standing up for what they believed, she’d better be prepared to do it too.

  As she neared the bridge, it dawned on her that she hadn’t yet passed a car coming in the other direction—into town from the island. Ever since the building boom got underway, Promise residents were constantly heading to Spy Hill to shop, fill up their tank, dine, go for a bike ride, or often just pass through on their way to Brunswick or Portland or somewhere even farther afield. To get anywhere, they had to cross the bridge and then drive down this short stretch of county blacktop. The fact that the road was deserted now sent warning chills down her spine.

  Because she’d rolled down her window to take in some fresh ocean air, the noise from the rally reached her even before she rounded the final sharp bend about a quarter-mile from the bridge. She heard yelling and chanting, and then a car horn sounded, followed immediately by three or four more long blasts from different vehicles.

  Now it was clear why she’d seen no cars coming her way.

  Chapter 19

  The road was completely blocked by a pair of big Ford pickups parked to form a “V” in the middle of the bridge span. The black one belonged to Anson and the old white one to Colton Pierce. She spotted about a dozen other vehicles, including Pam and Tammy’s van. At least fifty people had assembled in front of the truck blockade, most of them holding up placards. On the island side, five vehicles were stopped in line, just short of the bridge.

  Claire resisted the impulse to bang her head on her steering wheel. Instead, she pulled off onto the shoulder, killed her engine, and waited a few moments to get her anger under control. She just hoped she’d calm down enough to not to push Anson over the bridge railing and into the bay.

  It was supposed to be a demonstration, not a damn blockade. Anson had been known to bend the truth from time to time, but she’d never known him to tell her a barefaced lie before.

  She got out and navigated her way through the cluster of vehicles and bodies. Dread took firm root in her gut as the protesters, led by Anson, chanted loudly and angrily waved their placards.

  What do we want?

  Free access to Promise!

  When do we want it?

  Now and forever!

  While it wasn’t the catchiest chant she’d ever heard, it did the job. She would have been fine to join in if chanting was all there was to it, but she’d be damned if she’d have any part in blocking off the island. Not even for an hour. Not even for a minute.

  She edged up beside the PamTam ladies. “Tammy, what the heck is going on? I was told we were supposed to just yell and wave signs, not block the darn bridge!”

  Her friend leaned in close for a dramatic stage whisper. “That was the plan, darlin’, but it didn’t work out that way and it’s not our fault. We were just standing in the middle of the bridge being all peaceful and nice until that jackass Marv Prince barreled past us, barely slowing down. The damn fool was so busy giving us the finger that he almost clipped Anson. Well, we weren’t about to stand for that kind of nonsense, so here we are.”

  “It would be Prince, wouldn’t it?” Claire muttered. “He’s such an asshat.”

  A rich, retired insurance broker from Connecticut, Prince had managed to alienate most of the people in Brides Bay by his arrogance and dismissive manner. Several of Claire’s island clients had told her that other than his golf buddies, people on Promise could barely stand to be in the same room with the jerk.

  “I threw my sign at the trunk of his car but missed,” Pam added forlornly. “I hit Colton in the knee instead. Good thing it didn’t hurt the poor guy.”

  Claire rolled her eyes.

  Tammy patted her wife’s shoulder. “Colton doesn’t blame you for tryin’, sweetie. Prince is a disgrace to all right-thinkin’ people.”

  Claire waved her hand toward the long line of cars backed up on the island side. “Just because Prince was his usual moronic self, you didn’t have to punish all those other people. Didn’t it occur to you that it might just alienate the very folks we want to convinc
e?”

  “Oh, stop your frettin’ girl,” Tammy said, patting her arm. “I reckon we won’t be here that long. We’re just going to make our point for a while longer, then we’ll let them be on their merry way. It’s not like a full scale blockade, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Not yet,” Pam added grimly. “That’ll come soon enough if those clowns over there don’t smarten up real quick.”

  Yikes.

  Claire gave up and headed for the front of the crowd where Anson stood like a sentry, his long legs spread apart and his nut-brown seaman’s arms crossed.

  She tugged at his elbow. “Tammy just told me what happened with Prince. I get it, Anson, but this nonsense is not going to help the cause. Don’t you think it’s just going to make islanders even more determined to put up that stupid gate?”

  “You’re late,” Anson said curtly, ignoring her question as he stared across at Carling Middleton.

  Her body rigid, Mrs. Middleton was standing several feet away from them beside her red Mercedes convertible. She wore black yoga pants and a pink top she’d probably picked up at some upscale boutique in New York. For an older woman, she was fit and lovely—almost regal in bearing. Unfortunately, the head of the homeowners’ association could be as imperious as Marie Antoinette, and she would certainly not take kindly to a scruffy group of locals keeping her from her yoga class. Right now she was talking on her phone, and Claire had a strong hunch there might be a county deputy on the other end of the line.

  “I’m only sorry I wasn’t in time to try to talk you out of this boneheaded move,” she said frostily.

  Anson turned to glare at her. “Come on, Claire. You weren’t here to see what happened. That bastard Prince almost ran Pam and me down. That proved it wasn’t going to be safe to protest alongside the road, so what choice did we have but to shut the bridge down?”

  “Oh, horseshit,” Claire snapped. “What kind of logic is that? Just because Marvin Prince is an idiot doesn’t mean you should inconvenience everybody else on the island. Why not just report what he did to the Sheriff’s Office? They’ll give him a warning and maybe even a fine.”

  He scoffed. “These people here are standing up for what’s right. Are you with us or not?”

  “Of course I’m with you—on the issue. But I’m not with you when you’re breaking the law. And right now you’d better get those trucks off the bridge or you might end up in handcuffs.”

  “Don’t hold your breath waiting for the county lads to come, Claire. There’s no love lost between them and the Promise Island crowd. They think those CFAs are mostly rich assholes, just like we do.”

  “Oh, brother. I love you, Anson Dunn, but sometimes you can be a drama queen and a pretty dense one at that. If anything is going to solve this problem, it’ll be dialogue, not confrontation.”

  “Maybe you oughta think about getting a job at the United Nations.”

  “Ha, ha, you’re a laugh riot. Look, why get into a big fight when we haven’t even had a conversation yet with the homeowner’s association?” The mayor had tried to initiate a dialogue, but Middleton had put Elsie off, saying too many of her board members were away from the island. Claire, who spent a lot of time on Promise, was pretty sure that her excuse was a crock.

  “That’s not our fault,” Anson snapped. “We’re not going to sit around waiting for her royal highness to finally grant us an audience.”

  Over the blare of another horn—and there were now seven island cars backed up at the bridge—Middleton strode back toward her fellow residents. They all got out of their cars and went forward to meet her.

  Sighing, Claire joined the protesters and started to chant along with them. What else could she do at this point?

  As she got a better look at the group of men huddled around Middleton on the other side, her stomach dropped. Two of those guys were really good clients of hers. The prospect of losing important business suddenly seemed all too real.

  Yet as she glanced around at the faces of her friends—all dear, decent people she known all her life—she knew she had to stick it out with them. While the tactic was wrong, what the PIHA was doing was wrong too, and Carling Middleton did need to hear that message loud and clear.

  After a couple of minutes, Middleton turned on the heel of her expensive workout shoes and glared back at Anson. When the protesters saw the other island residents form a line behind their leader and start toward the bridge, a nervous silence suddenly fell over their group. Middleton looked like she’d happily shoot them all and toss their dead bodies in the bay.

  What Claire saw next was even more alarming. Coming around the last bend on the island side of the road was a leather-jacketed ex-hockey player on a big, black Harley-Davidson.

  ***

  Ry had run into more than his share of protests and demonstrations in New York and L.A. but never before in a sleepy, pint-sized place like Brides Bay. He slowed his bike to a crawl before he started to pass a line of empty cars. The drivers seemed to be confronting the demonstrators at the edge of the bridge. Carling Middleton was clearly their leader, while the annoying Anson Dunn appeared to be the front man for the protesters.

  And standing close to Dunn was none other than Ry’s sexy concierge.

  Claire was staring at him with an expression of…well, horror seemed to best describe it. He was a little surprised to see her there, even though he knew where she stood on the gating proposal, and it rankled him that she’d never mentioned that a protest would be happening today. They’d talked briefly on the phone this morning and she hadn’t said a word about it.

  Dammit, all he’d wanted to do was make a quick trip into town to pick up a six-pack of beer and some dog food for Stanley. Now he was suddenly in the middle of a local drama.

  He ditched the bike near the lead car and strode toward the fray. He didn’t have much hope that he could talk sense into anybody but had every intention of telling that loudmouth Dunn where he could shove his idiotic blockade. He hated this kind of bullshit pressure tactic. If Dunn and his supporters wanted to convince every single island homeowner that they should back the PIHA’s gating plan, they couldn’t be doing a better job of it. Grabbing people in this kind of choke hold would make it crystal clear that a small group of local hotheads could turn islanders into virtual prisoners whenever something happened that they didn’t like.

  Middleton’s expression flashed relief as he came up to her. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here, Ry. Maybe you can talk some sense into those people. You apparently know them much better than most of us do.”

  She didn’t make that sound like a compliment.

  He found himself face to face with Claire, who grimaced and shrugged her shoulders in what seemed a silent apology.

  “I doubt they’d listen to me, Mrs. Middleton.” The last thing he wanted to do was try to play some kind of negotiator in this screwball standoff.

  “He’s right about that,” Dunn snapped. “Nobody here cares what the big hero thinks.”

  Ry crossed his arms over his chest and invested his stare with all the cold fury he used to direct at enforcers on opposing teams. Dunn flushed bright red and glared back at him.

  Middleton waved an impatient hand. “I’ve told these people that if they don’t clear the bridge, I will call the Sheriff’s Office and have them forcefully removed. And I will see to it that they’re charged with mischief. Every last one of them.”

  “Mrs. Middleton, please, there’s no need to trouble the deputies,” Claire said in a friendly but firm tone. “I’m sure our folks will be happy to go home once we’ve had a chance to explain our position.” She flicked a warning glance at Dunn. “Politely, of course.”

  “Yes, yes,” Middleton said. “We all know you don’t like our plan to restrict entry to the island to homeowners and their invited guests. We’re regret that, but you must appreciate that we have to deal with the problems before they get out of hand.”

  “Jesus H. Christ, lady, they’re hardly out of hand,” Dun
n fumed. “A couple of photographers go nosing around and you people go right for the nuclear option.”

  “It’s not just the paparazzi,” Middleton shot back, “though there have been a lot more than a couple of them, I assure you. What we’re most concerned about is the fact that since certain celebrities moved here, Promise Island has practically become a tourist destination.”

  When Middleton shot Ry an annoyed glance, almost like this situation was somehow his fault, all he could do was shake his head. He might have managed to piss off both teams of combatants without lifting a damn finger.

  “I’ll remind you that there have been plenty of instances of trespassing,” Middleton added. “Just ask the Sheriff’s Office if you doubt me. Frankly, we’re fed up with all of it. We’ve all paid a great deal to live in a peaceful, safe location like the island, and we’re starting to feel like we’re losing that quality of life.”

  When Dunn opened his mouth to protest, Claire elbowed him. Ry wanted to cheer—or laugh—because the scene was turning into a farce.

  “I understand completely, Mrs. Middleton,” Claire said. “Island residents have every right to expect privacy. We just think there are better ways of discouraging gawking and trespassing than gating off the island. We need to engage in some honest dialogue and find answers together, as a community.”

  Dunn glared at her. “You understand completely? Well, you’d better look around, Claire, because nobody else here understands like you do. What they’re planning to do isn’t about photographers and tourists—it’s about keeping people like us off the trails and the beach. These people don’t want the likes of us anywhere near them.”

  “Anson’s right!” someone from behind him shouted. “What’s got into you, Claire? You’re supposed to be on our side.”

  A disgruntled buzz passed through the group of protesters. Claire blinked, looking a bit stunned.

  “Knock it off. She’s right and you know it.” Meg pushed her way through the throng. It seemed she’d just arrived. She’d squeezed past Pam and Tammy and now stood shoulder to shoulder with Claire.