Isle of Hope (9 page)

Muscles bunched in his jaw, he wove his way through the parking lot toward the Intracoastal, determined to give her a piece of his mind—or what was left of it—about strolling a beach by herself at night.

Because Lacey Carmichael may have played him, tempted him, and left him for dead, but she didn’t deserve some half-drunk cowboy or ballplayer giving her trouble.

He gritted his teeth, looking both ways before he strode toward the beach.

Not unless it was him.

Chapter Eight

Releasing a weary sigh, Lacey plopped down on the sandy shore of Butterbean Beach and tented her legs, hands clasped around them as she peered up at the blue-black sky. Her anger at Jack suddenly seemed as scattered and far away as the stars winking overhead.

Okay, God, I blew it.
Her eyelids weighted closed.
Again.

Chin on her knees, she breathed in the earthy scent of the marsh and seawater, her guilt mingling with melancholy over the once-familiar sights, sounds, and smells of one of Jack’s and her favorite haunts.

A man-made beach just off the boat ramp at Skidaway Narrows, Butterbean was where locals went to launch their boats, swim and sail on rope swings, or have a private picnic far from the crowds on Hilton Head or Tybee. She could hear the gentle lapping of the water against both the shore and the towering wooden tide pillars that jutted out of the Intracoastal, where seagulls perched during the day. The salty breeze shifted and she wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell of dead fish, reminding her of the rich life cycle of low-country marshes and tides. Death, giving way to new life, making it richer, deeper, stronger than ever before. A rebirth that set the heart and soul free.

Just like You did for me …

Except for tonight. Tears stung at the thought and Lacey inhaled sharply, grateful that no matter how many times she screwed up, God had her back with His strength, His healing, His unfailing love. That no matter what, He would make good from her mistakes.
For my power is made perfect in weakness …
Her lip quirked. Heaven knows she could certainly keep the Almighty busy, that was for darn sure. She remembered just how weak and shallow her life had been without Him a few short months ago. Empty and haunting in spite of endless pursuits, plans, and pleasures that brought no peace, no hope, no real happiness at all.

Her thoughts drifted to Jack, and a heaviness settled on her shoulders like the cloying press of humid air when the sea breezes refused to blow. He and her father were the main reasons God had sent her back, to show them His unconditional love just like God had shown her. Not only to bring healing to them and herself, but a renewal of hope and faith to the people she loved. Through grace, patience, and hard-earned humility.

Not
temper.

A low groan ground from her lips as she buried her head in her arms, voice raised in frustration. “Ooooooh … I screwed up, and I’m so sorry.” With a harsh grunt, she gouged up two fistfuls of sand and pelted them toward the water, emitting a growl. “Talk about epic fail.”

“A talent of yours, apparently.”

Lacey’s head jerked up and spun around, heart thumping like a flat-bottom gigging boat on the water at full speed. “Jack,” she rasped, body flashing cold and then hot at the shock of seeing him standing not five feet away, hands slung low on his grass-stained pants. “W-what are you doing h-here?”

He slacked a hip, moonlight revealing a scowl on his handsome face. “No, a better question is
why
a girl who’s supposed to have a brain in her head is walking the Redneck Riviera at night by herself?” The scowl thinned into a smirk as his gaze trailed from her sandy feet up her bare legs to the short hem of her sundress, now bunched to her thighs. “Unless, of course,” he said with a nasty smile, “you’re
looking
for that kind of trouble.”

She bristled.
Nope, but apparently I found it.
Hopping up, she yanked her dress in place and brushed off the sand, fully aware that sniping back at a bitter ex-boyfriend was no way to make amends. With a silent prayer, she tamped down the old temper by counting to ten. Taking her time to pick up her purse, she finally looked up with as much humility as she could scrape together. “I appreciate your concern, Jack,” she said in a careful voice, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I suppose it was stupid to wander off like that.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Yeah, well, I guess it can’t be helped.”

She blinked, brows bunched in confusion. “Pardon me?”

Those wide lips that once had devoured hers pinched flat, as narrow as his cobalt blue eyes, which now morphed to black. “It’s in the DNA, apparently—both ‘wandering’ and ‘stupid.’”

Her mouth fell open … right before she slammed it shut again, afraid of what might come out.
One. Two. Three. Four …

He shifted with a casual fold of arms, muscles corded as hard and tight as the flex of his jaw. “Both clearly talents of yours …”

A snappy comeback all but rammed against her teeth.
Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

His eyes raked her head to toe. “Along with teasing and tempting the locals, I guess,” he drawled, his mouth hooking into a cold smile that told her he was baiting her, pure and simple.

It worked.

She slanted in. “Okay, I’ve had about enough of your snide remarks, Jack O’Bryen,” she said with a step forward, all but spraining her finger when she poked him hard in the chest. “I came back to make amends, not butt heads with some hotshot Romeo who’s not man enough to let bygones be bygones.”

He grabbed her wrist, fusing her to the spot. “Real easy when they’re not
your
bygones, Mike,” he hissed, all but spitting the words in her face.

She stared at him in the moonlight, his grip as stiff and smarting as her neck, now painfully craned to confront his towering six-foot-three. Anger throbbed in his eyes as wildly as her heart throbbed in her chest, and the smell of beer on his breath was a painful reminder of just how much she and her family had altered his life.

And then in one fractured beat of her pulse, the years suddenly washed away like the tide from the shore, revealing the godly boy she’d once pledged to marry. A kind and good man meant for far better things before tragedy had befallen them all. Fingers quivering, she slowly placed her palm over the hand that shackled her wrist, her tears blurring the features of this man who still claimed a piece of her heart. “Oh, Jack, I still grieve over the pain my family and I caused, and I hope someday you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me because I so desperately want to be your friend.”

“My friend,” he said in a slow, menacing drawl, hand dropping listlessly to his side while his gaze bore into hers. “The last time I saw you, Mike, you wanted way more than that, as I recall.”

Her heart stuttered when he slowly skimmed the side of her face with his thumb, sending once-familiar shivers through her body while he caressed the shape of her mouth. Warm, dangerous shivers that collided with pinpricks of warning when his gaze drifted to her lips.

No, Jack, please—not now, not like this. Not while beer and bitterness poison your mind …

“I wasn’t willing then,” he whispered, slowly tugging her close with a slide of his hand to her waist. He tightened his hold, and alarm rolled in her belly as paralysis struck. “But trust me, sweetheart, I’m more than willing now …”

All protest seized in her throat when his mouth took hers with a vengeance, as if he were paying her back for every kiss he’d denied himself so many years ago when virtue trumped attraction. She shivered at the taste of beer and bitterness in his mouth, tinged with a touch of Tootsie Roll, his trademark candy that instantly swept her years back to his kisses on the dock. Only this wasn’t that kind and tender boy anymore who’d once treasured and taken care of her. No, this one jerked her close, hands wandering at will, and she suddenly knew he was punishing her, not only for breaking his heart, but for all the times she’d punished him with temptation, testing him to the max.

Just like he was testing her right now.

“Jack, stop!” She shoved him away, stumbling back when she broke his grip.

His eyes glinted with anger. “What’s the matter, Lace? You begged for it once, remember?” His mouth curved in a hard smile. “I’ll just bet you give out more samples than the little old ladies at Sam’s.”

Needles of shock stabbed over the cruel intent of his taunt. To make her feel small and cheap like her dad always had, his painful barbs sending her sobbing into Jack’s arms, the one person who’d always understood just how much Daddy had hurt her.

“Don’t think you’re anything special. Any whore can get ’em excited.”

Against her will, the hot sting of water welled in her eyes, familiar tears over a father she could never please no matter how hard she tried. And, apparently, an ex-boyfriend with no qualms about turning the knife. Fingers quivering, she adjusted the purse on her shoulder and turned away, salty wetness slicking her face as she stalked across the beach.

“Lacey!”

She heard the regret in his voice, but she dare not stop, not with sobs rising in her chest over the wound he obviously meant to inflict. A sharp and slicing stab straight to the heart, meant to make her bleed. She broke into a run.
Well, good for you, Jack—you met your mark.

“Lacey, wait!”

But she couldn’t because distance was the only thing she wanted from Jack O’Bryen right now. A hurt, little girl bolting away from rejection like she had so many years ago. Vision bleary, she stumbled on until a buried piece of driftwood hooked the strap of her sandal. It flung her headlong into the sand, breaking both her pride and her spirit as she lay there and wept.

The moment he touched her, she flailed and bucked like a catfish on the shore, wanting no part of Jack O’Bryen ever again. “Leave me alone,” she hissed, eyes swollen and body gritty with sand. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

Ignoring her, he knelt on the beach and bundled her in his arms, immobilizing her completely from any further thrashing about. “Lacey, I’m sorry,” he whispered against her head, tucking her body to his as he knelt beside her, his steel hold gentle but firm. Her heart drummed like that of a baby bird with a broken wing while his thumb slowly caressed her arm, his voice husky and low. “I didn’t mean it, I swear. I’m just …” She felt the hard shift of his Adam’s apple against her hair, the ache in his tone revealing the caring and tender boy who long ago had stolen her heart. “Angry inside, you know? And … still pretty hurt, I guess … over what might have been.”

Her body stilled in his arms. “I know,” she whispered, “me too.” Pulling away, she swiped at her eyes. “I never meant to hurt you, Jack, I swear.” She looked away, gaze fixed on the black waters rippling in the moonlight, remembering with painful clarity the awful row she and her father had the night he kicked her out of the house.

“Well, well—a whore for a pastor’s wife. That ought to put a pretty good dent in his career.”

“Why did you do it, Lace?” he said quietly. “Why did you leave without a word?”

She pulled back to look at him then, wishing with all of her heart that things could have been different. That her parents’ marriage had been better than it was. That her mother hadn’t cheated on her father, and that her family hadn’t destroyed Jack’s. Her eyes shuttered closed.
And that I hadn’t been so hell-bent on living life my way.
She drew in a deep breath. “I … wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment, Jack,” she whispered, “and I didn’t know … didn’t know how else to say goodbye.”

“So you took the coward’s way out.” The words came out sharp and clipped, making her wince.

She swallowed hard, desperate to make him understand. “We weren’t right for each other—”

“That’s bull, Lacey, and you know it.” A muscle throbbed in his temple as he leaned in, his gaze piercing hers. “We were crazy about each other. For crying out loud, you couldn’t keep your hands off me, and you were everything I ever wanted.”

“But not everything you needed,” she whispered, aching inside that the decision she’d made for his “good” back then had only backfired, driving him to the “bad” instead. She reached for his hand, clinging to it like a tether of hope, her eyes pleading with his. “The past is over and done, Jack, but we can start over again if you’ll let us—as friends.”

He stared at the hand that clutched his, gaze slowly lifting to hers. “Friends,” he said quietly, his eyes deep pools of hurt and pride and more than a little longing. “That’s how we started out before.” Her stomach flipped when his glance lowered to her lips. “What makes you think we won’t end up there again?”

Heat swamped her face, and she looked away lest he see the regret in her eyes. “We won’t,” she whispered. “We were oil and water back then, Jack, and we’re oil and water still.” She looked away then, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that the same thing that had separated them then, still separated them now. Her eyes flickered closed as she felt a wrench in her chest.

Faith.

Avoiding his gaze, she slipped her sandals off and slowly rose to her feet. “I need to go.”

“Lace.” He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets like an awkward little boy.

She forced herself to look up, her smile half-hearted at best. “Yes?”

His gaze locked with hers, the sobriety in his face so reminiscent of the serious young boy who had been her whole world. “I’m not sure I can be your friend.” He shifted, glancing away at the moonlit waters. “Too much past, you know? And too much hurt.” Exhaling a wavering sigh, he turned to face her head on, the faint pulse of a nerve in his cheek. “And way,
way
too much chemistry,” he whispered.

She nodded, stomach looping as she studied her bare feet in the sand for several seconds. “Okay. Well then, how about just friendly wedding partners?” Tipping her head, she glanced up with a faint smile, determined to forge a truce for Nicki’s sake, if not her own. “And I promise not to step on your toes this time,” she said, bringing a ghost of a smile to his lips over the first time they’d danced at her junior prom. “Deal?”