Barefoot by the Sea (17 page)

“I guess.”

“You guess? You were condom-close in the pantry.” She tried not to think about how hypocritical that statement was, considering what she and John had done against the wall last night. Ten more minutes and she’d have been naked.

Then she had to blabber about a baby.

“Well, I like him and he likes me.”

“Of course he likes you.” Tessa toed a shell, barely seeing what it was since something far more delicate was in her hands. “What’s not to like? You’re pretty, smart, fun to be with, and…” She probably shouldn’t add the obvious, but she did anyway. “You’re the boss’s daughter.”

“Aunt Tessa! That’s not why we’re dating!”

“So you
are
dating him?” Which made sex only a little less horrifying. She
was
seventeen, even if they’d celebrated her birthday less than a month ago. Not a child anymore, but definitely not a grown woman.

“We’ve been talking for a while now, but it’s official,” Ashley said.

“Talking about what?”

She rolled her eyes, tsking as if Tessa was a dinosaur. “Talking is, like, pre-dating. First you check each other out, then you friend each other on Facebook, then you talk.”

“On the phone?”

“Text, mostly.”

Except they weren’t texting in the pantry. With a condom.

“Then he asks you to go out,” Ashley said.

Which was okay, wasn’t it? Of course Ashley was old enough to date. “So you’ve been out with him?”

“Not out-out. But out.”

“I don’t speak teenager, Ashley. What does that mean? Has he taken you to dinner and a movie? Miniature golfing? The mall? Out for ice cream?”

Ashley laughed. “You sound like you’re hyperventilating, Aunt Tess. We hang out.”

Which, Tessa remembered, was what she was supposed to be doing with John right now.

Too bad. Ashley was more important. “So do you usually hang out in the pantry?”

“He was working and…” She let the sentence fade to nothing. “He lives at home and so do I, so sometimes we—”

“Of course you ‘live at home,’ Ashley—you are a teenager. Barely seventeen, still in high school, and he’s old enough to…vote.” Among other things.

Her smile faded. “You’re going to tell my mom, aren’t you?”

They were almost at the end of the resort property, where the beach curved and Lacey and Clay’s house sat. “Listen, Ash, if you’re dating a guy—any guy—you have to tell your mom.”

Ashley stopped walking, looking down at the sand, silent.

“When are you going to tell her, Ash?”

She shook her head. “If I tell her, it’s over.”

“What does that mean?”

Struggling for a second, she looked out to the Gulf, emotion and the reflection of the water turning her eyes to a deep green. “Either she’ll fire him or he’ll leave me.”

“Ashley, you have to tell her.” Tessa reached for her hand to underscore her point. “First of all, you don’t keep secrets like that from your mother. Secondly, you haven’t given her a chance to fire him or not.” Although, knowing Lacey, she wouldn’t be happy. “And, third, I don’t know how you ‘leave’ someone you’re just hanging out with, but on principle, what kind of guy is he if he bolts at the first sign of trouble?”

Like he’d done about ten minutes ago.

“No, no, it’s not like that,” she said.

“Then what’s it like?” Tessa knew she should back off, but couldn’t. Every red flag ever made was flying in front of her face and this was
Ashley
.

“It’s like this,” Ashley said, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a fight. “He needs this job so bad, Aunt Tessa. His mom’s…he doesn’t know where his mom is.”

And that was heartbreaking, but not what concerned Tessa most about this boy-man.

“And his dad is…”

What was commonly known as the town drunk. Only, word on the street was he was more like the town stoner.

“His dad lost his job at the hardware store. Marcus needs the money from this job so much.”

“He’s supporting his dad?”

Ashley shook her head. “He has a dream, Aunt Tess. He got his GED and now he really wants to go to a culinary school. He’s a good guy, honestly.”

Tessa exhaled. “Dreams are…important,” she said, striving for encouragement but not wanting to offer too much of it. “And, after he goes to culinary school and you go to college, and maybe graduate school, then you both work for a few years and figure out who you are, then…” She’ll never remember Marcus Lowell. “Then you can date him.”

Ashley laughed softly at how much Tessa stretched the timeline. “What if I want to date him now?”

Then they were back where they’d started. Tessa didn’t answer.

“Because of the color of his skin?” Ashley challenged.

“The color of his skin has never even occurred to me,” she said honestly. “And you know damn well that would never, ever matter to your mother or Clay or even your father.”

“Oh, Dad really likes him.”

Tessa blinked. “How does David know him?” David Fox hadn’t been on Mimosa Key for two years and the last time he was, he’d done his damnedest to ruin Lacey and Clay’s budding romance. Since then, Ashley had gone to see her father, rekindling a long-dormant relationship, but he certainly hadn’t been here.

“They’re Facebook friends. Dad’s excited for me.”

Tessa tried not to respond to that. David Fox, of all men, should know the dangers of young and impetuous love. Ashley was the result of Lacey’s college romance with the world-traveler trust-fund baby who called himself “Fox.”

Another thing that would make Lacey uber-skittish when it came to Ashley dating.

“Please don’t tell my mom.” Ashley’s voice cracked with a mix of plea and fear.

“Ashley, you and your mom have never had secrets.”

She finally looked up, her eyes brimming with moisture. “But that was before.” Her voice cracked, and so did Tessa’s heart.

“Before what, honey?” She took Ashley’s hand between hers, dying to pull the girl into her arms but knowing that might stall whatever she was about to admit.

“Before…”

Before Clay? Ashley and her stepfather had a great relationship. Before the resort? Her life was a thousand times improved now. Nothing had changed, except…

Oh, of course. “Before the baby,” Tessa said.

Ashley’s face confirmed the guess. “It’s like their whole lives are consumed by twenty pounds of screaming, shitting, wide-awake-in-the-middle-of-the-night monster!”

Tessa almost laughed at the description. “He’ll get better, Ash, and you love Elijah.”

“Of course I love him.” She swiped at a tear. “I feel awful even saying anything, but my mom’s barely looked at me since he was born.”

A total Ashley Exaggeration. “You know that’s not true.”

“Everything is Elijah. He needs to be fed. He needs to be changed. He needs to be picked up. And, then, there’s the resort. And Clay. She’s out of time and I think she…” The tears were streaming now as they got to the heart of the issue. “She forgot about me, and we used to be so close.”

Tessa’s whole chest swelled with sympathy. No, not sympathy. Empathy. There was nothing worse—no emptier, achier feeling—than being ignored by the one person you count on to pay attention to you. God, she knew that.

“Please, Aunt Tess.” Ashley’s mouth quivered. “Just for a little while, let me figure this out.”

She didn’t know what to do, but her heart folded enough to give Ashley that much. “Okay. But don’t do anything stupid, and let me think about how to handle this.”

“You don’t have to handle it. Don’t do anything.”

At least she could ask John to keep an eye on that boy.

“If I don’t tell your mom, I’ll be…” Doing the thing she abhorred: keeping secrets.

“You’ll be an awesome aunt who loves me so much.” Ashley smiled. “And pays attention to me.”

Of course, that got to her. “For now, Ash. Just for now. And, please, whatever you do, be careful.”

Tessa had no idea how long she sat on the beach, halfway between Lacey’s house and the resort, halfway between certain she knew what to do and total indecision. Long enough for a few sanderlings and terns to pitter around her, their bird feet etching prints in the sand as they pecked for food she didn’t have.

Rubbing the silky smooth inside of a duck-clam shell, she stared at the undulating navy water of the Gulf, watching the blue morph to fiery orange as the sun slid closer to the horizon. The colors faded in her mind, though, replaced by images of mothers and daughters, and a poignant awareness of how much damage and love and emotion could be folded into one complex relationship.

Did she think her relationship with a child would be any different? Of course, it could—

“Hey.”

She startled, pulled back from her deep thoughts and drawing in a quick breath at the sight of John walking toward her, his silhouette and long shadow spotlighted in the burnished-gold rays like some kind of sun god casting a long, strong, daunting shadow.

“Hey.” Really, it was all she could manage. The T-shirt clung to broad, strong, endless muscles and the sun highlighted the smattering of artwork on corded forearms.

“I thought you forgot about me.” He approached slowly, giving her a chance to appreciate every inch, from the soft waves of milk-chocolate-and-hot-caramel hair all the way down to the bare feet that left a wake of sandbursts as he walked.

“I kind of did,” she admitted.

He thumped his chest as though her words had stabbed him. Slowing down, he searched her face, glancing around for clues, or maybe a sign of Ashley, and then he crouched next to her. A hint of kitchen aroma clung to him, floating toward her on salt air along with that raw scent of masculinity he seemed to exude.

“You okay?” he asked.

And then there was that
tenderness
. Affection and interest and kindness seemed so utterly out of place on a man who looked anything but tender or kind.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Need some help? Advice?” He reached into a breast pocket on his T-shirt and whipped out one of the after-dinner candies Lacey had ordered with the Casa Blanca logo on the wrapper. “Never met a woman who didn’t think chocolate could cure all ails.”

She laughed softly, taking the candy. “Do you have to be so utterly perfect?”

He eased onto his backside, right next to her. “Your bar is low, my dear. What’s going on? I missed my sous-chef.”

He missed her. Why did that make her stomach do incredibly stupid things? What was it about this man that made her as gooey as this chocolate would be if she held it much longer in her hand? “What’d you cook?”

“Delicious in a dish. Come back with me. We can have my very first chef’s kitchen dinner. It’s private and, evidently”—he lifted a brow—“quite the romantic setting.”

“So it seems.” She attempted a laugh. “Sorry I disappeared. I had a little disciplining to do.”

“What’s the problem? You don’t approve of her choice of friends?”

“It appears to be far more than friendship,” she replied, unwrapping the candy. “He’s a little old for her and she’s…”

“Naive and innocent?” he suggested.

“Yes, but that’s not why I’m troubled.”

He inched closer, managing to let their shoulders and thighs touch, somehow inviting without being invasive. “Tell me.”

And, just like that, she wanted to tell him everything. Dark, light, happy, sad, personal or public. He somehow drew her out that way. She took a bite of the chocolate, the creamy, minty flavor sweet on her tongue. As it melted in her mouth, she held the rest up to him. “I can share.”

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth enough for her to slip in the candy. She stole the opportunity to look at his lips, his teeth, the sexy growth of beard…and remembered how all that felt against her throat and cheeks.

“Waiting,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

“Watching,” she replied.

He opened his eyes and held her gaze. “Watching what?”

“You.” She leaned a little closer, so attracted to his mouth she couldn’t even pretend to not want to kiss him. But she slipped the chocolate onto his tongue instead, and before he tasted it, he closed the space and kissed her lightly.

Bathed in sunset, warmed by chocolate, close to a man who made every cell want to dance, Tessa grabbed the two seconds of pure bliss and tucked them into her heart, to be relived soon and often.

After a moment, he nudged her. “So? What’s the problem?”

“Ashley asked me not to tell her mother about him.”

“Difficult for you, I’d imagine.”

“Mmm.” She nodded, combing the sand next to her and closing over the duck-clam shell she’d dropped when she saw him. “Very difficult.”

She ran her nail along the shell’s ridges, mentally counting in tens, then multiplying that by a hundred. “What’s five thousand divided by three hundred and sixty-five?”

He looked surprised. “Why do you need to know?”

“Didn’t you say you do math like that in your head?”

“I did, and the answer is about thirteen and a half.”

She nodded, impressed. “You
are
a math whiz. Who’d guess that from a man with long hair, big muscles, multiple tattoos, and drives a motorcycle built to race off into the sunset?”

“Those may be things that terrify you, Tess, but none of those things says I can’t do simple division.”

“You’re right.”

“About the things that terrify you or simple division?”

“Both.” She held up the shell. “But, for your information, you figured out that for thirteen years, a sweet little mollusk called this home and lived in it, protected from all the dangers of the sea, until he was forced out to be food for some big shark.”

He looked equally impressed. “And you are a shell whiz.” He reached for the seashell but took her hand instead, clasping both in a strong, straightforward grip. “Who’d guess that from a woman with soulful eyes, sinful lips, no visible tattoos, and drives a truck big enough to haul a half ton of dirt.”