Shayla's Story (The Mathews/Clemmins Family Series) (4 page)

Mat squeezed her
fingers and smiled joyfully into her eyes. “Will you marry me?”

Time stood still.

Air trapped in her
lungs.

Finally, she
released a long deep exhale.

“Mat,” she whispered
with one tiny shake of her head, barely enough for anyone else to notice.

Grandma Alice
snarked with a hic-up, “Married? I always thought that boy was gay.”

“Mother!” Mrs.
Huntston barked with a snap of her fingers.

“I thought—”
Mat suddenly lost his power of speech.

“I’m just
so…surprised.” Shame tangled with the words, strangling her throat. She didn’t
want to hurt him, but their relationship had been riddled with uncertainty
lately. She laid her hand on his forearm and he tensed beneath her touch. “I
just need some time to think about it. That’s all.”

The room fell
silent, hanging on the edge of awkward impatience.

She watched as his
poignant, humiliated gaze swept around the table. Shayla fought the urge to
bolt under the watchful stares of his family and shocking gasps adding to her
increasing discomfort. If looks could kill, Shayla would be road kill. She
shivered as fear coiled in the pit of her stomach.

“Of course.” Mat
rose to his feet in a state of confusion. “Excuse me.”

Silently, Shayla
followed, rushing down the hall to a library. Heartbreaking tears rolled down
her face and dripped off her jaw, falling to the marble floor.

He closed the door
partially behind them.

“I don’t know what
to say,” she answered sincerely, burying her face in her hands. “I’m not saying
no. It’s just...”

She turned toward
him, wanting to hold and comfort him, but he sat rigid half on the edge of a
desk with his arms folded and fists stuffed under his arms.

“Well you are sure
as hell not saying yes either.” A new angry edge clung to his tone. He took a
ragged breath.

Blood pounded in her
temples. She went to him, tucking her fingers in the folds of his arms. “You
caught me off guard and…and we’ve been arguing a lot. I never get to see you.”

“I know I screwed up
at the gala. I want to prove to you that you mean more than anything to me. I
thought—”

A knock sounded at
the door.

Mrs. Huntston
marched across the threshold. Her blade thin lips stretched tight and anger
darted from her stare. She stood chest to chest with Mat, throwing her finger
in his face. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Mother, this
is—”

“And you!” She
turned, lurching toward Shayla, animosity humming between them. “Who do you
think you are? How dare you embarrass me like that? As if posing
nude
wasn’t bad enough! Now you have the
audacity to say
I just need time to think
about it
!”

A flicker of shame
crawled over her flesh. “I’m just being honest.”

“Now you decide to
have morals?”

“I apologize if I
embarrassed either one of you, but I need to be certain.” Gaining her wits,
Shayla raised her chin indignantly. Her arms fell stiff at her side holding her
hands in tight fists. “And I have morals. I posed nude to raise money and much
needed awareness to heart disease.”

“You took your
clothes off for the entire world to see. Did you bother to consider for one
second the backlash your attention-whore antics cost me?” A vein near Mrs.
Huntston’s left eye bulged as her face turned red.
 

Anger splintered and
flashed like a warning beacon. “You have no right to judge me, Mrs. Huntston.
None.”

Mat interceded.
“Shayla, can you give my mother and I a few minutes?”

“Gladly.”

Raised voices
spilled into the hallway as she searched for a bathroom to retreat. Her hands
trembled as she turned on the faucet. She splashed cool water on her face,
washing away streaks of dark mascara. Her head was a mess and she needed time,
time to think. Her hands lay flat on the counter as she stared at her
reflection in the mirror.
What was he
thinking?
Snatching a tissue from the box, she blew her nose and tossed it
into the toilet before closing the lid and sitting on it.
You can’t fix everything with a gift, Mat. That is much more than a
bracelet or pair of earrings.
 

Staring up at the
ceiling, she dragged her fingertips unconsciously over her neck. She would
never hurt him, but she couldn’t give Mat the answer he was looking for, not
yet anyway. When Mat asked her out on their first date, she felt like the
luckiest girl in the world thinking,
How
could a man like Mat Huntston be remotely interested in dating a girl like me?
Their backgrounds couldn’t be any more contradictory, but at this point...

After a brief mental
struggle of guilt verses rationality, she returned to the library.

Angry whispers
escalated loud enough for her hear from behind the door. “It takes more than a
beautiful girl in a bikini strapped to a surfboard to marry into
this
family, Mathew! You are a Huntston.
Stop thinking with your penis. You’re acting just like your father.”

Mat said nothing,
but Shayla envisioned the anger and hurt plastered to his face.

“We are making
history. Is that what you want to contribute to your lineage? Your family
heritage? The daughter of a drunk…an abuser? You’re willing to dirty up our
good name, leaving smudge marks on your future children?”

 
“I’m pretty sure my father already
dirtied up our good name.”

“She grew up in
single wide trailer for Christ’s sake.” Mrs. Huntston paused. “We discussed
this. I thought you were going to gain my campaign some Hollywood heavy
hitters. Not get engaged to the niece of one it’s biggest playboys!”

“With any luck
you’ll get both. I told you, I’ll have his niece and his vote.”

Every morsel of
Shayla’s trust crumbled like a sandcastle with the incoming tide as she lurked
outside the door.

“I love her, Mother.”

“You do what you
have to do, but don’t you dare fuck up my campaign.”

The door opened and
Mrs. Huntston glared at her with nark narrow eyes, not uttering a word.

A hot wave of
resentment and rage replaced her shame and mortification. As if the proposal
wasn’t a big enough shock for her to consider, now she had to decide if Mat had
dated her for the perks of campaign contribution or because he loved her.

Shayla entered the
room, leaning her shoulder against the door jam. Her heart and cheeks burned with
her rising fury. “Now I’m a vote? Or more importantly, should I say, my uncle’s
vote? How could you?”

Mat hung his head,
scrubbing his hands over his face. “No, Shayla. You are not a vote and this has
nothing to do with Tommy. That’s my mother talking, not me.”

“She said enough for
both of you.” The dark walls of the library felt like a cage. “I gotta get out
of here. Take me home.”

They didn’t offer
goodbyes or Happy Thanksgivings, simply walked out the door. After a brief
silence, Mat apologized repeatedly for the searing words of his mother,
swearing that had never been his intent.

Mat gazed out the
windshield. “I won’t lie, Shayla. I did
calculate
it’d be a win-win situation, you, the wedding and the campaign. It just seemed
like the perfect solution.”

Numbness from
reality swirled around her kept her speechless for most of the drive. The
forty-minute car ride felt like four hours. Judging by the pain and anguish in
his eyes, she believed him. His mind worked analytically and she didn’t doubt
his intention aimed for a perfect solution. Unfortunately, there would be no
easy systematic answer for what just happened. Being a mere piece of the puzzle
would never be enough.

Pulling into the
driveway, he reached for her hand with an imploring and hopeful half-smile. “I
want to fix this. Can I come in?”
 

“You can’t fix every
mistake with a gift, Mat. I need some space. I need to think.”

“I’ll give you the
space you need, but I want you to wear this.” He retrieved the brilliant
engagement ring from his jacket pocket.

She shook her head,
rejecting the offer, but he slipped it on her right hand instead of the left,
making certain she had a symbolic, tangible token of his affection. “I do love
you, Shayla. I thought—”

“It’s not that I
don’t love you, Mat. I just need to take a break for a while and decide what
the right choice is for me.”

“Take the time you
need, Shayla.”

Mat was a
good
man and he’d make a good husband,
but Shayla couldn’t help but think he might not be the one for her.

Winter arrived the
day after Thanksgiving, dampening her spirits further. Refusing to submit to
the dreary cold weather, she managed to get a few good swells in along with a
handful of the regular board junkies on the beach.

After an
anxiety-filled phone call full of confessions, Carrie Ann rushed over.

“I don’t know if I
want to marry Mat.” Shayla shed no tears, but a deep frown remained tattooed to
her forehead. “And his family…I don’t fit in, especially now. His mother is so
conniving. His proposal quickly turned into an all-about-her agenda. You
should’ve seen the hatred in her eyes when I couldn’t answer. And she slammed
me for posing nude. She was livid.”

 
“That woman is never going to accept you.
If you say yes and marry him then she will
deal
with you, but she is never going to
like
you. It has nothing to do with you. That’s her flaw, Shay. Not yours. And
believe me, that bitch would approve if you posed naked for the benefit of her
campaign.”

“He’s perfect in so
many ways. He’s smart, responsible, rational, generous—”

“Those are all great
qualities, but how about what he doesn’t give you? Sometimes the traits a man
is missing can be just as crucial as the qualities he holds.” They sat
cross-legged at each end of the couch facing each other. Carrie Ann leaned
forward, patting Shayla’s knee, their bond more like sisters than best friends.
“The fact you don’t have an answer might be answer enough.”

****

She dabbed concealer
on the dark smudges of exhaustion lay beneath her eyes. Expelling a long
exhale, she tossed the stick of cover-up back into her makeup bag. “It’s no
use.”

She scoffed to the
worn out reflection staring back in the mirror. “Nothing is going to cover
these bags.”

Shayla hadn’t slept
but hardly a few hours a night for the past week, and lack of sleep started to
take its toll. She hadn’t spoken to Mat in days. While he was being kind enough
to give her the space she needed, their separation left Shayla no closer to an
answer.

Her cell phone
resting on the granite countertop buzzed, vibrating its way across the counter.
Seeing her uncle’s face scroll over the screen, she gave a tired smile,
answering the phone. “You must be reading my mind. I’ve been thinking about you
all morning and was going to call you.”

Her voice sounded
dismal even to her own ears. He knew her better than anyone else did. She
desperately needed advice and Tommy would always give it to her straight. His
warm laughter sparked a much needed smile of relief.

“You were?” He
paused briefly, curiosity building in his tone. “What’s going on, Shay?
Everything okay?”

Tears and the week’s
events spilled out. At one point she paused, her gaze anchored to the floor
wondering if she should mention Mrs. Huntston’s ulterior motives. Ultimately,
she opted to keep Mat’s mother’s scheming intentions to herself. Her uncle was
a force to be reckoned and very protective of her. He could bury Margaret and
her campaign before it even got off the ground.

She knew what his
answer would be, but couldn’t resist asking through broken sniffles, “What do
you think I should do?”

“Obviously, I don’t
believe in rushing into marriage. Only you can decide if Mat is the right guy
for you. I’m proud of you for not caving under the pressure of his family.” His
tone turned pleasant and teasing. “As a matter of fact, it just so happens I
have the perfect solution for you.”

“You do?” She kidded
back through a shaky breath.

“Yep. Pack your
bags, Shayla. You’re coming to Greece.”

“Greece? I’m not
coming to Greece.” Water works threatened again as big tears blurred her
vision. She was touched by his thoughtful offer. He would stop at nothing to
cheer her up. “I’m not crashing your vacation with Tess.”

“I’m not asking
you.” Her uncle cleared his throat, holding back his own emotions. “I’m getting
married in four days. You’re coming to Greece.”

Speechless, she damn
near dropped the phone.

“What?” Her jaw
dropped open as she waited for the punch line. Full of excitement, she leapt to
her feet and threw her hands in the air. “Shut the front door!”

“I’m doing it, Shay.
I have finally found the right woman.”

“Oh, my God!” Heat
radiated from her smile beaming from ear to ear. “I knew you loved her. I’m so
happy you!”

“I’m not sure if a
wedding is the perfect solution for your dilemma, but regardless—”

“Stop right there. I
could not be happier, Unc. I wouldn’t miss your wedding for anything.”

“That’s the good
news. The bad news is that you are going to be very busy when I break the
story. I want to handle this with kit gloves and control the announcement very
sensitively. The blow back will be tremendous and Tess has no idea of what to
expect.”

 
“Got it. I’ll take care of it. What can I
do?” Her enthusiasm began to build. “Do you need me to get a hold of anyone?
Flowers? Church? What do you need?”

“I’ve got most of it
handled, but I need you to stop in Las Vegas on your way.”

****

Taxiing into the Las
Vegas terminal, Shayla unlatched her seatbelt and swallowed her pride. When
Tommy asked her to make flight arrangements for Tess’s three children, she
politely agreed to schedule them a private jet further explaining she would
depart from Los Angeles and meet them in Greece. Her uncle scoffed at the idea,
insisting they fly together. Not wanting to sound like an angry toddler, she
settled without ushering a word of complaint.
 

Shayla dressed
casual in her favorite dark jeans and long-sleeved cotton sweater tee for the
long flight. Her fingernails strummed against the fine leather armrest. She
couldn’t evade meeting Tess’s kids forever. Unfortunately two of Tess’s kids,
Tracy and John, hadn’t been welcoming to her uncle over the summer when he and
Tess began dating. Her son’s actions, attacking her uncle, verged on deplorable
in Shayla’s eyes. Even though Tommy assured her she’d love them, she remained
skeptical.

Tommy was known for
his list of girlfriends as much as he was for award winning movies. Granted,
even though his reputation as a playboy was well deserved, she still resented
the harsh judgment laid out by others. The media had a way of trivializing the
good charity work he did, always accentuating his personal flaws.

Pressing the heel of
her boot into the carpet, she obstinately scooted her bum deeper into the fine
leather, allowing her head to fall against the headrest as the flight attendant
opened the door.

Keeping her eyes
closed wouldn’t make them disappear.

Shayla lifted a lid.
Peering toward the front of the cabin, she recognized Tess’s oldest daughter by
her long, dark, coppery hair. Tommy described her as a younger version of Tess
with a reserved personality.

“Hi.” Tracy’s mane
fell over one shoulder as she extended her hand to the flight attendant.
Catching Shayla out of the corner of her eye, she nodded with a small smile,
taking in the surroundings of the private jet. “Wow.”

Rising out of her
seat, Shayla took a deep breath, attempting to shake off her preconceived
grudge. After all, they were about to become family.

“You must be Tracy.”
Shayla held out her hand, only to be greeted with an exuberant smile and warm
embrace.

“I am.”

Tracy’s casual sexy
smile mimicked her mother’s. The cast of red in her hair accentuated her blue
eyes and the term pin-up girl suited her perfectly. Her gracious figure filled
out her skinny jeans and tan blazer to perfection, giving her a sensible chic
vibe.

Her younger sister
trotted up the steps and burst through the door bringing in the radiant
sunshine right along with her wide smile. She gave a quick wave to the
attendant and tossed her designer bag on the closest seat. “Holy shit!”

“Hello." Shayla
choked out a subtle laugh, surprised by their good-natured amiability.

Flying on a private
jet had the tendency of making a great impression. She typically flew first
class, at her uncle’s insistence when she traveled for work. Shayla had flown
on a private jet several times over the years, but it always felt like the
first time. It gave the illusion of checking in to a posh resort, leaving her
with the urge to inspect the luxurious bathroom amenities and expensive
chocolate placed on a dish beside her bed.

“This is my little
sister, JC.”

JC danced down the
aisle with a lively swagger, casting her arms wide, circling around Shayla and
Tracy. JC towered over each of them by a foot with heels on. “Damn!” she
squealed gleefully. “This is off the hook!”

Their radiant smiles
and charismatic energy were instantly contagious, easing Shayla’s reservations.

JC pranced down the
aisle, taking in the luxurious amenities of the jet. Her caramel hair, pulled
back tight in a stylish ponytail, bounced up and down with her enthusiasm. She
nodded in approval plopping down into her seat. “Now this is the way to fly.”

“Don’t let her fool
you, she hates to fly.” Tess’s son’s full robust voice filled the cabin,
sending chills down her arms. His eyes made a lazy descent down her body and
returned to her face. He ambled carelessly into the cabin, wide shoulders
nearly filling the passageway.

Dropping her smile,
Shayla took aim, shooting him an icy glare. He was unapologetically masculine
at a solid six-foot-two, physically fit and ready to take on anyone who got in
his way. A muscle jumped in her jaw as a wave of fury washed over her comparing
the size difference between him and her uncle.
Tommy would never stand a chance against those guns.

His powerful build
and an over arrogant attitude could have been construed by some as confidence,
but Shayla viewed him as a bar room bully. She vowed a long time ago never to
be intimidated by a man like him again. A lifetime of her father was enough.

He started toward
her with measured strides. She blatantly turned her back, directing her full
attention to the attendant. Heat skittered up her spine, spreading over her
skin as she remained fully aware of a large male presence lingering directly
behind her. After a brief conversation regarding scheduling and meal planning,
Shayla turned to take her seat nearly bumping face first into his solid chest.
Disregarding his faint smile tucked into the corner of his wide mouth, she
attempted to go around him.

He shifted directly
in front of her, extending his hand, “Hi, I’m John.”

Her gaze flickered
at the coffee colored Henley stretching over his flexing bicep. Her lip curled
as a warning for him to get out of her way. “Shayla,” she announced curtly,
dodging his gesture of a friendly
hello
and settling into her seat with a
humff
.

Judging by the
astonished look on his face, John seemed stunned by her snub. He raked his
fingers through the short layers of his dark hair and glanced around the lavish
interior, blinking repeatedly as if replaying what just happened. His glower
molded into a grin, forming a wrinkle on his sun-chapped complexion.

Arrogant smiles were
a dime a dozen in LA, but his egotistical grin sent blood surging through her
veins, turning her cheeks crimson. His condescending smirk only deepened her
urge to yell at him. He was such an unredeemable jerk. She wanted to stomp on
his toe or, with a bit of encouragement, kick him in the chin.

The attendant
methodically inspected the cabin, advising everyone to take their seats and
prepare for takeoff.

John motioned for
Shayla to scoot over so he could sit beside her.

“No,” she snarled,
appalled at the request, pointing at several other vacant seats.

Tracy and JC settled
into individual recliners a row ahead of her. Tracy recited words of encouragement
in a monotone voice, coaching her sister through take off.

Rays of sunlight
cast through the window, igniting interest in his eyes. She froze, momentarily
arrested by his intense gaze.

John placed a palm
on the headrest, easing his ripped chest closer to her face, giving her no
other choice but to move over and allow him to sit beside her. Sliding across
the leather, Shayla allowed her gaze to drift down his jean denim clad hips
lowering to take his seat.

Shayla grimaced,
silently huddling next to the window, huffily crossing one leg over the other
and both arms across her chest.

“How long is the
flight, Shayla?” He pronounced her name mockingly, provoking Shayla’s anger.

She lowered the
armrest between them and narrowed her eyes in a glare of resentment. “Fourteen
hours,
John
.” Unable to stop herself,
she continued with her own jab. “Or should I call you,
Rocky
?”

Offhanded amusement
wandered across his lips. “Is that what this is about?”

“How about
Muhammad Ali
or
Sugar Ray
?”

Their gazes battled
for a long moment.