Barefoot in Pearls (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 3) (17 page)

Ari beamed. “We’re so happy we chose Casa Blanca as our home base, Lacey. Your staff couldn’t be more wonderful.”

It was Lacey’s turn to grin at the compliment. “When I think that not so many years ago, my daughter and I stood in rubble with no idea what to do with my grandfather’s land…” She didn’t finish and Ari jumped on the chance she’d been looking for.

“Your grandfather, one of the founders of the island. Along with Balzac Valentine.”

She nodded. “They were part of the original settlers of Mimosa Key.”

“Maybe not the most original,” Ari said, choosing her words carefully. “Surely this island was part of the great Indian nation of Florida.”

Lacey’s golden eyes sparked. “Oh, I do believe it was, Ari, thousands of years ago.”

“Did you grandfather, or his friends, ever find anything to prove that?” Ari asked.

She leaned back, thinking. “The Indian face.”

“What?”

“I don’t mean to be politically incorrect. That’s just what he called it.”

Ari waved off the apology, a surprising shudder shimmying through her. “What he called what?”

“He had this…like a face made out of wood.”

“A tribal mask?” Ari suggested.

“I guess, I don’t know. I remember it from when I was a little girl. The paint was faded and chipped, but it was very authentic looking.”

“Where is it?” she asked, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. A mask like that could help an expert identify the tribe that lived here and prove that Native Americans had inhabited Mimosa Key.

Lacey gave her head a negative shake. “Gone with the wind that swept through Barefoot Bay, I’m afraid. That hurricane was ruthless with our stuff.”

Ari tamped down disappointment. “Do you know where he found it?”

“No clue at all.”

“Any pictures of it?”

Lacey laughed. “You really want to see that face, don’t you?”

“I’d like to—”

“You better be in there, Ari Chandler!” Gussie’s voice came from down the hall, along with her footsteps moving at a fast clip. “Because you better spill every blasted detail and not leave out a single thing—” Gussie popped into the doorway, a coffee cup in each hand, a pack of mail under her chin, her green eyes glinting like gems. “Oh, hi, Lacey. Sorry to be screaming in the halls.”

Lacey laughed, taking one of the coffees so Gussie could grab the envelopes with her free hand. “Like I don’t bring a toddler in here to scream in the halls.” She put the coffee in front of Ari. “I take it that’s for her.”

“Unless you want it,” Ari said quickly.

“No, thanks. I better get to a staff meeting.” Lacey tapped Gussie’s shoulder, offering her the seat she was vacating. “Where I will announce that we’re having the Ivory wedding here in the spring, thanks to you terrific bridal consultants. And sorry I don’t have more details for you, Ari. I’ll ask my mom if she remembers anything about that mask or has a picture. I doubt it, though.”

“Thanks,” Ari said, giving a wave good-bye. Before she could take a sip of coffee, Gussie practically launched forward.

“I know he’s my brother, so I don’t want, you know, the goriest of gory details, but you better tell me everything anyway, including…” Her voice faded, thank God. “Why don’t you look happy?”

Ari blinked at her. “I don’t look anything.”

“Exactly. You should be rapturous.”

“What are you talking about?”

Gussie looked as confused as Ari felt. “Didn’t you spend the night with Luke last night?”

“I did not.”

Gussie shook her head, not buying it. “He never came home after his dinner date with you. I wasn’t born yesterday, Ari.”

He hadn’t gone home last night? A slow tendril of dread wended through her. “Where did he go?”

Gussie coughed on her sip of coffee. “I thought he was with you. I thought you guys had—”

“We didn’t,” Ari said. “We”—
almost did, but then I told him the truth
—“said good night at the bottom of the stairs, and I went up to my apartment. I’d assumed he went to yours.”

Gussie frowned. “That’s weird. Where else would he stay?”

“Maybe he came and went before you noticed.”

“I would have heard him. What did you two talk about?” Gussie asked.

“Oh, the usual. Life, work, the house he’s building, the fact that I won’t…don’t…can’t…”

Gussie’s shoulders dropped with disappointment. “You turned him down?”

“I just met him,” Ari fired back, remembering all too well a similar conversation they’d had when Gussie met Tom. “Do you expect me to fall into bed with him?”

“You said he’s The One.”

Ari sucked in a breath. “I didn’t tell you that, Gussie.” Of that she was certain.

“You did, after you met him, you said you’d met The One. You didn’t tell me that it was
Luke
. But I put Two and Two together and came up with Obvious.”

A slow drain of blood started in Ari’s brain, filling her chest with more dread. “You didn’t tell him that, did you?”

“I…” Gussie paled, too. “I might have. You know how I, um, don’t always filter. Didn’t you tell him?”

“No!”

“But why not? If he’s the man for you, he should know it.” She gnawed on her lower lip, clearly getting the magnitude of the problem from the look Ari was giving her. “Shouldn’t he?”

“Yes, exactly,” Ari said. “He should know it. He
would
know it. He has to know it or it’s not…real.” The word fell into the pit of her stomach like a boulder.

Always, always the question: Was anything she felt real? Was this sensation that Luke was different and right and perfect for her real? Or did she just dream it up?

“He’s a guy, Ari,” Gussie said. “Sometimes they have to be hit over the head with things.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“There are rules for this ‘One’ thing?” Gussie asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Not rules. But as far as my grandmother explained it to me, both parties are instantly aware of the feelings. No one needs to be told anything. And, anyway, he’s…”

Gussie moaned softly when Ari didn’t finish. “He’s what?”

“He’s only interested in sex,” she said quickly.

“Again, human male species thing, but Luke is a pretty cool guy. What did he do to make you think that?”

“When I told him I was waiting for…”
Love
. Oh, God, why did she admit that? “Anyway, he couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“You told him you’re waiting for one particular guy, but you don’t know who he is, but you think that maybe he’s Luke, but you’re not sure.”

“Actually, yes. But I didn’t tell him I thought he was that guy.”

“I did,” Gussie said, standing slowly. “So, I’m sorry if I screwed things up.”

“Nah, I did that all by myself,” Ari assured her.

Gussie crossed her arms, thinking. “I guess I really don’t know him anymore. I’ve tried, we’ve talked, of course, since we reunited, but he’s got a guard up around him that I don’t remember from when he was young.”

“People change,” Ari said, wistfully dreaming of a man who’d at least be responsive to the idea of one true love. Not one who shot up and ended their evening when he found out she wanted sex to be with someone special and lasting.

“I suppose.” Gussie scooped up her coffee and some of the mail, leaving an envelope hand-addressed to Ari. “Didn’t mean to make assumptions, Ari.”

“It’s okay.”

As Gussie walked to her desk, she took out her cell phone and tapped the screen, probably texting Luke. Trying not to be anxious about his response, Ari tore open the envelope with a little too much force, yanking out the single sheet of notepaper.

“Oh, he spent the night at the job site,” Gussie said.

Words danced before Ari’s eyes, nothing making sense. “
What
?”

“I guess he crashed in that creepy house.”

“No, I mean…what the hell is this?”

The words were typed, printed off a computer, in all caps.

PUT THE PEARLS BACK WHERE YOU FOUND THEM

Ari flipped the paper over, but it was blank. No return address on the envelope that was postmarked in Naples, Florida, where much of Mimosa Key mail was processed. Not a clue anywhere, except for the low-grade hum that buzzed through Ari’s hand, growing stronger until she had to drop the paper on the desk. A word danced in her brain, but she couldn’t quite grab it.

“What’s that?” Gussie asked, looking over Ari’s shoulder.

“I don’t know, but…”

Gussie reached for it, examining the paper, squinting at the words, reading them out loud.

Ari closed her eyes, trying to remember how Grandma Good Bear taught her to listen to the universe.
Go still. Block out all sounds. Focus on the word.

“What the hell does that mean?” Gussie asked, looking at the paper. “This is—”

“Shhh!” Ari tapped Gussie’s arm, frustrated to be so close to hearing something but not quite getting it. “Greed.” There. There was the word. Greed.
Greed
?

“Weird,” Gussie finished.

“I know, it is.”

“I meant you’re weird, but I love you for it.” She tossed the paper back. “And that’s probably from some psycho bride. Check the Casa Blanca lost and found and you’ll find plenty of forgotten pearl earrings.”

But Ari didn’t think this note came from a bride. “I will,” she said, even though that wasn’t necessary. She knew which pearls this was about, and she was taking that necklace to a safe-deposit box today.

Chapter Fourteen

Ari finished wrapping the five samples she’d decided to take to the archaeologist who worked at the Mound House museum up in Fort Myers Beach and carefully placed them between layers of bubble wrap and tucked them into the top of the crate. She was finally finished going through everything, certain she had some real artifacts. Some shells, some coral, but some pieces with real value, though she couldn’t be sure until she got a professional assessment.

Pouring a second glass of pinot noir, she carried it to the sofa where her MacBook was open to the map and directions to a place less than an hour away, known as the Mound House archaeological site.

Curling into the corner of the couch, she sipped wine and clicked through the pictures of the museum and Case House, a structure that had been built more than a hundred years ago on land that once teemed with Calusa Indians.

They were nothing like the Miwok of California, but Ari found the basic Native American similarities in beliefs, clothes, and customs in this tribe that lived off the sea rather than the land. Everything she discovered was familiar, recalling her long, lazy summers of traipsing along next to Grandma Good Bear on various sojourns to festivals, protests, craft events, and museums.

As Ari thought of those days, a palpable pain squeezed her chest, trying to fill the hole left by her grandmother.

She reached to the table, cupped the wine glass, and lifted it to the air. “To you, Grandma,” she whispered. “I have no doubt what you’d tell me to do: the right thing for the people…even if it costs me The One.”

Or would Grandma Good Bear’s old brown eyes pop with horror at the thought of giving up—

The knock on her apartment door was so sharp and loud, Ari startled, spilling a drop of wine on her sleep pants and sending her heart knocking just as loud. For one crazy, stupid, blasted second, she imagined Grandma Good Bear was at the door to tell her what’s what.

“Arielle?”

But it was Luke, and that did nothing to slow down her heart rate.

He knocked again, with a little impatience. What the hell? He was the one who’d gone MIA all day. Not that she’d expected a word from him, or even a phone call. And definitely not a late-night visit.

She glanced at the computer clock as she got up. Did nine thirty qualify as a booty call?

Only if there was booty involved.

She brushed her hands over the thin cotton T-shirt she wore, tugging the material so it almost reached the top of her flannel sleep pants, imagining him seeing her dressed like this. A bolt of anticipation slammed her whole midsection, then tumbled lower. She still wanted him, and maybe she should let go of archaic promises and see what happened if she got him.

There was always the possibility that sex would clear up the question of whether he was The One or she’d just made that up. And it sure as hell wouldn’t feel bad to try. Maybe he was here to give it another go. Everything tensed at that possibility and how much she wanted that. Wanted
him
.

“Arielle, I know—”

She opened the door, silencing him.

“We should talk.” He looked down at her, a day’s worth of beard darkening his hollow cheeks, his never-the-same-color-twice eyes locked on her, the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple a visible sign of a man who’d gulped. Hard.

“Luke, I—”

“Please, Arielle. I need to tell you something.”

She didn’t even hesitate, opening the door wider and gesturing him in, taking the time to let her gaze slide over his black T-shirt and faded jeans, a little mud around the bottom and on his work boots.