Barefoot in Lace (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 2) (6 page)

And then he brushed the thin hair aside and pressed his lips to her exposed scalp, burning her skin, searing her heart, and making her want to spin around and take some of that kiss directly on her mouth. All of it.

But she fought the impulse, and broke the contact, walking a few steps away from him, knowing she was being very smart to turn down a night swim with a hot guy…but it still felt like the dumbest thing she’d ever done.

* * *

Momma’s home!
Alex slammed her finger on the controller to pause the game, but then reality bit. Momma couldn’t be home. She was dead.

The pain in her gut, so familiar she barely thought about it most of the time, rose up to her chest and squeezed some more. Would she ever get used to it? Probably not. Definitely not.

Another soft female laugh, light and airy—like Momma’s when she was excited about something—floated through the house from the living room.

Who was that? Alex stood slowly, dropping her controller to tiptoe down the hall, but before she reached the next room, she heard that laugh again and recognized it instantly. The pink-haired lady.
That’s
who he’d gone to see?

A weird sensation seized her, something like anticipation and longing and familiarity all at once. That lady reminded her of Momma.

“Alex? Gussie’s here to play that game with you.”

Alex took a step farther, coming through the archway, sucking in a breath when she saw the lady wore a bright yellow sundress.

Momma would have
died
for that dress. She made a face, realizing how wrong that thought was. Momma
did
die.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Gussie said quickly, making Alex wonder what her face gave away.

“No, no, I do want to play.”

“Great.” Her tone was so friendly and natural, Alex relaxed a little, something she rarely did when Uncle Tommy was in the room. He was so dark and serious, and obviously hated her so much that Alex just wanted to hide from him.

“What should I call you?” The question sounded awkward, and Alex could practically hear her mother correct her or cover for her daughter’s lack of social skills. But Momma wasn’t here, so Alex would have to stumble through conversations, and life, without her. “Miss…Something?”

“Gussie works for me,” she said, coming closer. “Or Princess Peach.”

Momma was Peach. Always,
always
. Ever since Alex taught her to play Mario Kart, Momma had been Princess Peach on the Sugar Scooter. She won only when Alex secretly let her, and then she would jump up and down and holler, “Peach rules!” and they’d both laugh, and Momma would point at the screen when Peach was on the podium like she was a boss.

“Or I can be someone else,” Gussie said, probably because Alex had zoned out thinking about her mother.
When
would that stop?

“No, you can be Peach. It’s fine.” It was
right
, somehow.

She headed down the hall, fighting that weird sensation Momma used to call
déjà woo-woo
. She’d say, “We must have dreamed this was going to happen, Alex.”

Alex
wished
all this was a dream. That she’d wake up and Momma would be sitting on her bed, making up her stupid poems and singing her silly good-morning songs.

“Would you like something to drink, Gussie?” Uncle Tommy’s question broke through Alex’s thoughts.

“Whatever you have,” Gussie said. “I won’t ask for Snapple, though,” she added with a laugh.

Alex whipped around. “Why not?” Snapple had been Momma’s number one favorite drink. “It’s the best.” Of course her uncle had forgotten to buy the raspberry Snapple Alex had asked for.

“Because I accidentally broke the bottle he was buying at Super Min today. Was it for you? God, I’m sorry I was such a klutz.”

Alex burned a little, ashamed she’d assumed he’d forgotten. “S’okay,” she said.

In the den, she turned on a light because she remembered Momma always wanted the light on when she played. Even when she got better at the game—which had taken months—she still needed the light to see the controller and remember which button was which.

“I don’t need a wheel,” Gussie said as she settled on the sofa. “I can play with the stick.”

Obviously, this lady didn’t need a lesson on the controllers. As Alex sat in the recliner, she couldn’t help giving Gussie a curious look. “Why are you doing this?”

Oh, God, there she went again, blurting out stupid questions. But Gussie shrugged and smiled, glancing at the door and leaning closer as if they shared a secret. “I’m kind of addicted to the game,” she admitted on a whisper. “It’s hard to find a worthy opponent.”

Alex smiled. “Me, too.”

“I haven’t played the latest version yet, have you?”

She shook her head. “Just this one. My mom was going to get me the new one for my birthday.” And another crappy fact came tumbling out of her mouth.

“Well, let’s see how we do with this one,” Alex said quickly, probably because talking about her mother made people uncomfortable. She’d noticed that, even with the people who came to bring them food and make sure she was okay. No one really wanted to talk about Ruthie Whitman, but merely looked at Alex and made her feel even sadder.

Her uncle came in holding three bottles of water. “Unless you need something stronger to play,” he said as he handed one to Gussie.

“Oh, no, I need my wits about me to win.” Gussie winked at Alex. “You might be better than I think.”

Alex looked over her head at Uncle Tommy, who had a slight smile on his usually scowly face.

Gussie tapped her controller with one move, clicked through the Wii screens like a pro, then zipped through the characters.

“Hello, Peachy,” she whispered when she picked her player and ride.

Alex’s heart split wide open. Momma never said that, but Gussie was so much like her! Easy, happy,
fun
.

“Alex?” Uncle Tommy asked, making Alex realize she’d been staring at their guest.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” She returned to the screen and clicked on Rosalina. “You can pick the course.”

“Let’s start simple.”

And just like that, Alex was back on the starting line at Mushroom Gorge, her thumb poised to hit the button exactly between seconds two and one to get a boost of speed that would leave her opponents in the dust.

Deep in her heart, she didn’t know if she should be happy like a butterfly or curl up and feel guilty because…this wasn’t Momma.

Except, before she blinked, Peach’s Sugar Scooter was flying so fast, Alex didn’t have time to do anything but
catch up
.

“Whoa,” Alex muttered, leaning forward, a frown tugging. “Holy crap.”

Gussie laughed heartily. “Weren’t expecting that, were you, Rosalina?” She fell back into the sofa with the relaxed ease of an expert player.

Well,
that
wasn’t like Momma.

“Which one are you?” her uncle asked.

Gussie and Alex shared a quick look, the kind two players give each other when someone clueless watches the race.

“I’m on the top screen,” Gussie said. “Watch and learn, my friend.”

Alex heard him laugh and was vaguely aware of how close the two of them were on the sofa, but since she was currently in ninth place—
ninth
!—she paid attention to the game.

Alex stole a glance to her right. “How often do you play this game?” She was an adult, despite the funky hair and wild makeup. “Aren’t you, like, forty or something?”

Gussie let out something between a shriek and a grunt, taking her eyes off the game to give Alex a
get real
look. “Are you kidding me? I’ll be thirty on August first!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

But not really, since the comment made Gussie slip out of the lead.

“Keep her distracted, Uncle Tommy!”

“Uncle Tommy?” Gussie almost choked she laughed so hard. “Oh my God, please tell me I can call you that.”

“Not if you want to live.”

But Gussie cracked up and looked at Alex, and they both laughed. Hard. Alex’s shoulders shook, and her heart danced a little, and she almost couldn’t catch her breath because it was like she’d forgotten how to laugh.

“Look at that.” Gussie waved her controller. “I was so gutted by being called an old bag that I let that little worm Koopa Troopa get ahead of me.”

Alex giggled. “I didn’t say you were an old bag.”

“
Forty
?”

“Now you know how to beat her, Alex,” Uncle Tommy said, getting into it with them. “A well-placed insult obviously takes her off-track.”

“Don’t help the competition,
Tommy
,” Gussie shot back, effortlessly flying back into first and over the finish line.

Alex stared at the screen and her own pathetic finish. “How did that happen? I never lose this game.” She fell back on the recliner, her whole body buzzing from the fight.

Or was it buzzing from something else? Fun. Laughter. That incredibly awesomely wonderful feeling of not being sad.

Next to her, Gussie was trying to explain to Uncle Tommy how the controller worked, but the conversation didn’t interest Alex. All she could think about right now was how she felt, despite having lost the game.

She felt…
whole
.

It was the first time since Momma died that Alex felt like her arms and legs were connected to her body and her head wasn’t about to thud on the ground and her chest didn’t feel like a big empty pit of nothingness.

Could that happen from one game of Mario Kart? That she’d
lost
?

“Want to try something a little easier, Alex?” Gussie asked, a playful tease in her voice. “Moo Moo Meadows?”

Alex turned, absolutely unable to wipe the smile off her face. How weird was that? “How about Ghost Valley?” No one—not real or a computer opponent set to “difficult”—had ever beaten her at Ghost Valley.

“That’s my favorite course.” Gussie clicked through the game choices, barely looking at the screen. “Let me at it.”

Uncle Tommy leaned his whole body closer to Gussie, his blue eyes—usually so scary to Alex—didn’t look terrifying at all when they were directed at Gussie.

“You’re a beast,” he whispered, but Alex heard the tease in his voice.

Gussie grinned back at him, the two of them looking at each other as if…as if…

As if they
liked
each other.

Alex tried to wrap her head around that, but the game started and Gussie kicked her butt one more time. But for some reason, it didn’t matter. This was too much fun.

They played six more games, and Alex lost every one. Still, she never wanted the night to end, but when it did, Alex did something she hadn’t done since Momma died. She fell asleep without crying.

Chapter Five

An incessant, angry, relentless buzz hummed like a freight train under Tom’s head.

“What the…” Managing to open one eye, he saw nothing but darkness. And heard nothing but the growl of—

His phone. He reached under the pillow and pulled out the cell, blinded by the light of the unidentified number on the screen. And the time. 6:15. Who the hell would call him at this hour?

Then his brain engaged, and he recognized the country code. France. He squinted at the words.

L’Eau LaVie S.A.

The French bottled-water company. Hadn’t his agent canceled that job? Or had it somehow slipped through the cracks? Grunting, he tossed the phone on the floor and flipped over, letting his eyes adjust to the palest streams of sunlight through the metal blinds his sister thought qualified as window treatments.

The house was small and lowbrow, but, damn, there’d been some laughter in it last night. Alex’s giggles had been music to his ears, and he knew who he had to thank for that.

The phone buzzed again, which was definitely
not
music to anyone’s ears. Well, shit, he was awake now. Reaching down, he patted the floor, found the phone, and thumbed the screen, mentally cursing his overpaid agent who probably handed the cancellation off to an assistant who’d screwed up.

His bad mood firmly established, he hit the screen hard. “DeMille.”

“
Monsieur
DeMille!” The woman’s voice was thickly accented, low-pitched, and unfamiliar. “Oh,
bien, bien
!
Madame Voudreaux, le directeur de
—”

“English or I hang up.” You had to be rude to the French. It was the only attitude they really respected.

“
Bien
. Of course. I am sorry. I am Suzette Voudreaux, the vice president of advertising for LaVie.”

The VP was calling? Shit. He sat up, his head clearing. “You were supposed to be contacted by my agent.”

“Oh, we were,
monsieur
, and he explained your situation. May I offer my deepest condolences for the loss of your sister?”

“Thank you.” He barely whispered the words, her genuine sympathy coming through enough for him to feel bad for hating on his agent and even worse for having to cancel the job. “And I’m sorry I had to bail. Your campaign sounded interesting.”

He didn’t take a lot of commercial product work, but they’d planned to shoot the iconic LaVie bottle as a fashion accessory, as he understood the concept, and they wanted TJ DeMille to give the photography that ultra-couture look. Which he totally could have done, except—

“
Monsieur
, I am calling personally to ask you to reconsider your decision.”

It was hardly a
decision
. “I can’t,” he said simply. “I’m not working…for a while.” Except for a
wedding
this weekend. “The situation is complicated.”

“I understand the situation,
monsieur
. And I have a proposal for you.”

No, she didn’t understand the situation.
He couldn’t go
. He winced and rolled over, ready to dump the call.

“We are prepared to offer you a completely enhanced compensation package.” She practically purred this news. “We will provide you a fully furnished three-bedroom apartment in the center of Nice.”