The Wedding Fling (12 page)

Will’s destination was only fifteen minutes on foot, and it was the perfect weather for a stroll. But he stopped in his tracks when he made it to the main road, and saw Leigh emerging from a taxi, a large shopping bag draped over her arm. She waved to him as the cab drove off.

“Wow, you’re
very
early,” he said.

“I found exactly what I needed in the first store. I didn’t really feel like being around all those people, so I figured I’d just hang out on the dock while I waited for you. But here you are.”

He nodded. “No takers on the three-thirty flight.”

“Should we just head back now?”

They should, but Will’s heart was set on his little side trip, and he didn’t reply quickly enough.

“Did you have plans?” she asked.

“Not really.” He glanced down the road.

She smirked at him. “Yes, you did. Go ahead. I can wait. I told you seven, and I can entertain myself until then.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re the worst celebrity I’ve ever met—hopeless at being demanding.”

“Yeah, I know. But I really don’t mind.”

“It was nothing. I was just going to walk past that property I want to buy.”

“Oh. For the club?”

He nodded.

“Can I come with you?”

“No, you can’t, because I’m not going. I’m taking you back to Harrier.”

“I’d love to see it.”

Will would more than love to see it—he
needed
to see it. It felt like the only place he could find answers for this dilemma. “Don’t you want to get back, get ready for your interview? Get your head in the game?”

“That’s the last thing I want, Captain.”

He hesitated. His reality check would bring anything but clarity with Leigh in tow, but he couldn’t go without her, not without looking rude and suspicious. If she knew how badly he needed money, would she think him capable of doing a deal with the tabloids? It made him sick to wonder, and to know that once, briefly, he
had
been capable of it.

“Please?”

He sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be quick. It’s just under a mile from here. Can you walk that far in those sandals?”

“No problem.”

“All right then.” Will stowed her shopping bag inside the terminal and locked up, and they headed down the quiet road.

“You seem blue,” Leigh remarked after a few minutes.

He smiled at that. She must be having as crappy a day as he was, yet she was perceptive enough—kind enough—to pick up on his gloom. “I am.”

“How come?”

“Oh, just... That gig I mentioned, the one I thought would give me enough cash to buy the place we’re going to.”

“It fell through?”

“It did. Wasn’t worth it.”

“That’s too bad.”

No, it’s really not.

“Dare I suggest you consider selling
The Passport?
Or is that on par with auctioning off a vital organ?”

“Vital
or
reproductive, and yes. I’d sooner sell most any bit of my anatomy before I let anybody get their hands on my plane.”

“Figured. Well, since your gig’s wrecked, you could probably make a nice chunk of change selling an interview of your own,” she said glibly.

A dagger sank into Will’s heart, the pain so sharp he actually winced. Terrible enough that he’d so nearly done as much. Worse still that she thought him above it.

She touched his arm. “Sorry. I was just making a joke. A bad one. I’m really sorry that your funding’s looking shaky. I shouldn’t have been so flip about it.”

Will’s throat was too tight to reply, so he nodded. Leigh rubbed a friendly hand between his shoulder blades, and he felt his heart break—a sharp snap in his chest that hurt worse than anything he could remember. How did people live with guilt like this, day in and day out? How had his mother been able to pick up and move on, lugging this feeling around with her, heavy as a corpse?

Neither he nor Leigh spoke until they reached the shabby neighborhood that was home to Will’s quickly fading dream. He waved to a couple of the locals he knew. To Leigh their leisurely loitering probably seemed like the enviable pace of island culture, but Will knew better. Far too many of this area’s residents were unemployed. If he ever got his dad’s club under way, he’d be proud to create a dozen new jobs, and to hopefully one day draw a steady stream of tourists to this otherwise forgotten corner of the city.

He led Leigh down a couple streets to a gravel drive.

“That’s it,” Will said, pointing. It was an old vacation home, once luxurious, now sun-bleached and patched with plywood.

“Wow.”

He managed a laugh. “I know it’s not much to look at, but it’s been standing since the twenties. Built to last.” He took her around the side to the real selling point, the gorgeous stretch of beach. Will had taken it upon himself to clear away the worst of the trash a week ago, when the tabloid had called and made this pipe dream seem possible.

“Oh my gosh.” Leigh stopped at the edge of the sand, taking in the view.

“You should see it at sunset.” Twice Will had forfeited the comfort of his bed to lie out here and nurse a few beers, dream about what he’d do with this property, fantasize about his dad’s face when he finally saw the realization of his wish.

Now, though...Will felt little hope. But his father had worked his ass off to give Will everything he could, and it seemed so obvious now that he couldn’t ever have repaid that selflessness with a gift funded with tabloid money, taxed so steeply at someone else’s expense. And not just someone—Leigh. Not just
someone
at all, but a woman who’d managed to burrow deeper into Will’s heart than any other.

He’d taken a huge gamble, opting to grant his dad’s wish the hard and slow and honorable way, but he could feel good about this place once more, even if it might not be his for two years or more. Two years his father might not have...

“So tell me about it,” Leigh said. “What’s your vision?”

“Where to start?” Will led her close to the water and they turned to stare at the house. It hurt to fake enthusiasm, but he put on a decent show, thinking she’d suffered enough disappointment for one day. “A huge porch or patio on the back, lots of seats, room to dance and have a live band. And I want two bars—one inside, and one right on the sand.”

“And food?”

He nodded. “Grill out here, as much local food as possible. Probably not a real dinner menu, but starter-type options. More emphasis on the music and drinks. If someone in the neighborhood wants to sell me on a restaurant idea in the future, I’m open to it. But I’ve never done anything like this before. I’d like to keep it simple to begin with.”

Leigh studied the house, as though picturing everything he was. “Would you be sad, giving up being a pilot?”

“Being a pilot was all about mobility, a job that lets me live someplace just like this.”

“But owning a business will ground you.”

“It will. But if I can manage to get my dad down here, I’ll
want
to be grounded, for as long as I’ve got with him. In the future, if my wanderlust comes back, I could always sell it, if it does well.”

“It’ll do well,” Leigh said firmly. “I can see it already.”

He smiled at her. “Me, too.” He could see it so clearly, even as it seemed to slip further and further from his grasp.

She sat down on the ground and Will followed suit. He checked his phone’s clock. “We can’t dawdle too long.”

“Just a few more minutes. Tell me what else you’ve got planned.”

“Well, lots of places to lounge. I want people to linger, and feel comfortable dropping in and shooting the shit for a few hours.”

“You’ve got great seating right here,” Leigh said, sifting the sand through her fingers.

“Indeed I do. And no televisions. No Wi-Fi. I want people to come and meet strangers and hit it off. Could be great for the neighborhood. I’ll need vendors and workers, plus a few people could make a killing driving tourists back to their hotels at last call.”

“The area did seem a bit rough when we were walking through.”

“A cruise line used to have a port just up the beach, until the year I moved here. Then they switched to one closer to downtown, and all the tourist traffic went away. I’d love to bring just a little of it back, and see this place the way it used to be.”

The conversation trailed off, and other thoughts tugged at Will. “I know you weren’t eager to talk about it earlier, but how are things? Back home?”

Leigh drew the sand into a pile before her, addressing it. “Complicated. But not as complicated as it felt when that gossip broke. It was good to bite the bullet and talk to my mom. And getting a plan in place with this interview, feeling like I’m in some control of the mess I left behind.”

“Good.”

“But I
will
have to talk about the party during my interview, I’m afraid. I won’t get anyone in any trouble, if I can help it, though. I’ll be honest about basically forcing you to let me come along. And I won’t mention you specifically. I’ll tell them I party-crashed, since I pretty much did.”

“I can’t tell you how much everyone would appreciate that. It’s not a firing offense—the staff know that letting the guests have their way trumps all other policies. But it sounds like you’re feeling better? About things back home?” Soon she might be missing her real life. And he’d miss
her,
he realized. What a strange sensation. Strange and vulnerable, a reminder of why he’d always endeavored to keep people at arm’s length, even those he occasionally welcomed into his bed.

Leigh flattened the sand pile and traced grooves in it with her fingertips. “I’m glad I finally picked up my phone and got that out of the way, talking to my mom...and my ex.”

“Oh.” Will conjured up that photo again.

“It went surprisingly well.”

His middle gurgled. “Well as in there’s hope for the future for you two, or...?”

Leigh laughed. “Weren’t you in that huge bed with me last night? Or in the shower or on the sand? Did I seem like I was praying for a reconciliation?”

Pride and relief relaxed Will’s body. “No, I guess you do seem pretty over him.”

“He’s over me, as well.” She paused before adding, “He’s already moved on, actually. He moved on months ago, as far as I can tell. With someone else.”

Will blinked at her, a different ache taking up residence in his chest. She’d hinted at as much before, but to know for sure...

She stabbed holes in the sand. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that. I haven’t even told my mom. I’m not sure why I just told you, actually.”

“I won’t tell a soul.... That’s why you ran?”

She nodded. “I found out the morning of the wedding.”

“Oh, Leigh.” He stared at the sky, trying to imagine how awful that must have felt. “He told you? Or someone else did?”

“No, it was a total fluke, the way I found out. But I get now that it’s been for the best, even with all this drama. I wish I’d found out well before the date so it would’ve just been a broken engagement, not a big, juicy scandal. But this has been a good kick in the butt for me. It just confirms that this isn’t the life I want anymore. Maybe I never did.”

“So what will you do instead? Any clue?”

“No clue. But I want to get far away from that nonsense, both professionally and geographically.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Ooh, I dunno. Maybe someplace like this.” She stretched her legs out before her, and Will tried to ignore how smooth her bare skin looked, and the memories of how it had felt against his.

He checked his phone again. “We ought to head back to the dock.” He was about to stand when Leigh suddenly grasped his wrist.

“How would you...” She stared at the sea.

“How would I what?”

“This may be nuts, but maybe it’s not.... Since your funding fell through,” she said slowly, turning to face him, “how would you feel about letting me back you? To start your business?”

“What?”

“You need the money, and I need a project. Well, not a project—I don’t want to take over your vision or anything. But something to feel invested in. A part of.”

He was confused in a way he’d never experienced before, a panicky, hopeful, sickening sensation. “I’m not sure.”

“I know you probably wouldn’t be in a position to buy me out for quite a while, but I’d love to be a part of it. If you could get a proposal in order and all that.”

Will already had the proposal—he’d pitched it to a dozen banks and been turned down for a dozen loans. He had no savings since his father’s hospitalization, and his wages and the neighborhood were the reddest of red flags.

“I’m not sure,” he repeated in a murmur.

“I’ve got a decent chunk of money in the bank, and quite a nice check coming for this interview. I’d love to help you. To fund something I actually care about, not just some anonymous stock portfolio. I know it’s a bit risky, but it wouldn’t destroy me if it didn’t pan out. Though of course it would be a success,” she added quickly.

“You’re sweet to say that, but you’re right, it’s risky.” Will had no doubt it’d succeed, though—he’d see to that personally. He turned to stare at Leigh.

“What?”

“You’d really, actually want to do that?”

She smiled. “I would. I’d be honored. And I promise I don’t plan to move down here and hover around the place and micromanage every little detail. Just the money. And maybe a free drink here and there,” she added with a smile.

He imagined the opposite. Leigh indeed moving down here, being a regular—perhaps even a
daily
—fixture in his life. A pleasant thought, if viewed through the lens of romantic idealism. And a strong and blinding lens it was.

“I’m still not sure. Please don’t think I’m trying to patronize you, but you’re at a weird point in your life. If everything’s about to change for you, it’s probably not the smartest time to make a huge financial commitment. I know what this island does to people, too.”

She nodded. “It makes you want to feel a part of all this. But my offer...I do mean it. And obviously we’re not signing papers tonight. I’ve got plenty of time to change my mind. And plenty of time to convince you what a genius idea it is,” she added, nudging his shoulder with hers.