What Janie Wants (18 page)

Zade glared at the pink and orange horizon and jingled the loose change in his pocket. Pesos were a pain in the ass. Every time he went home, he always forgot to exchange them and ended up with a handful that never made a return trip. He had twice as many this time, thanks to shopping with Janie.

Six forty-five. Every time he checked his watch, the thing seemed a little heavier. A weight to remind him of how much he had at stake. He let out a frustrated breath and spun for the seating area by the front desk. She could still show. Janie was smart. Brave. Surely, she’d see the truth in those pictures. She wanted this as much as he did. He knew it the same way he knew what shots to capture.

Arlo poked his head out of the office. “You want a coffee?”

“
Nah, man. I’m good.”

The bullshit line garnered him a lifted eyebrow from his uncle, but Arlo kept his mouth shut and ducked back to work.

He should’ve done more to change Janie’s mind. Stayed with her and held her while she worked through things. He damn sure shouldn’t have left her alone with that nasty stranger’s disdain rattling around in her head. God, some people were idiots. Shortsighted, arrogant idiots. Maybe he should go down and check on her. Make sure she was okay.

“
I’m the one they’re going to judge.”

The truth she’d blasted him with cut through him for about the seven-hundredth time. Painful as it was to admit, she was right. No one was going to see him with Janie and waggle a scolding finger his direction. They’d lob it all at her. He could stand beside her, insinuate himself in her defense where he could, but she’d bear the brunt of it every single time.

He pulled the extra thumb drive he’d created last night out of his pocket and plunked down on one of the sofas. What if this was all he had left of her? Hell, he wasn’t sure he could even look at the damn photos again if he couldn’t follow it up with flesh and blood contact.

A car’s engine rumbled behind him, tires squeaking on the cobblestone circular drive. His taxi. Seven o’clock on the dot.

No Janie.

Arlo moseyed out with his hands in his pockets, mouth pursed to one side. “I can ring her room, if you want.”

Instinctively, he rubbed the space above his heart, seeking guidance. His dad had been the one to teach him the trick. Shown it to him only months before he died. He’d tapped Zade’s sternum and laid his palm over it.
“Right here, son. This is what’s important. Listen here.”

He’d listened, but it hadn’t worked. She’d asked for space and deserved having her request honored. “Nah.” He picked up his carryon and camera bag, and slung them over one shoulder. Holding out both arms, he hugged his uncle. “Thanks for the sweet digs. It made for a helluva visit.”

Arlo glared up at him when Zade stepped away, that bushy dull brown mustache of his hiding the stern line of his mouth. “If she doesn’t realize what a good man you are, she doesn’t deserve you.”

Zade tried for a laugh, but even he wasn’t convinced. “Cut her some slack. You didn’t see that woman’s face. Not fair to judge her for being honest about what she’s willing to put up with. People are assholes.”

He clapped Arlo on the shoulder. “Tell Aunt Dahlia I said bye.”

The only answer he got was a terse nod and a scowl that said Janie’s checkout experience wouldn’t be as friendly as the check-in.

Five after seven. No one in the lobby except Arlo.

He turned for the green and white taxi idling by the bell stand. Son of a bitch, this hurt.

A knock sounded on the door. “Housekeeping.”

Janie jolted upright in bed, heart slogging from a dead standstill to a full-out run. The blackout drapes were pulled tight and tiny streams of sunshine blasted around the edges. The down comforter lay draped across her legs and her phone sat in the middle of the otherwise unmade bed.

What the heck? She’d talked to McKenna for almost an hour, telling her all about Zade and then—

Oh, damn. So much for just closing her eyes a second.

On the nightstand, an empty glass of wine and an almost empty bottle sat next to the alarm clock. 9:15 AM.

Shit.

She scrambled from the bed. God, she hadn’t even changed out of yesterday’s swimsuit and cover up. She shoved her flip-flops on, grabbed her bag with one hand and tried to smooth her hair down with the other. It didn’t matter. No one around here gave a damn what anyone else looked like anyway. Zade was what was important.

She threw the door open, and the sweet girl who’d tapped at her door jumped back. “
Hola.
”

“
Sorry.” Janie waved her into the room. “Go ahead.” She hurried down the hall, legs pumping as fast as she could without actually running. Oh, to hell with it. She jogged into the nearly empty lobby. For once, a bellman was on duty, a gangly Mexican boy who couldn’t be more than eighteen, leaning on the bell stand with his chin propped on his hand looking bored. No Arlo. No guests.

No Zade.

She hustled to the office and paused at the open door. The outer room was empty. IKEA styled cubbies and file cabinets lined the two widest walls and an oblong woven mat in cerulean blue and sunshine yellow stretch over the adobe tiles in the center. Another door stood open in one corner, leading to a well-lit room beyond. From here, all she could see were more cabinets, but the subtle clicks of a keyboard filtered from somewhere inside.

“
Arlo?” She knocked on the door jamb.

The clicking stopped.

“
Arlo, it’s Janie. Can I come in?”

Wheels whirred and clunked against the tiles and someone shuffled in her direction. Arlo strode in, his haphazard appearance the same as always, but the flat mien of his pale blue eyes made her take a step back. “Is there something I can help you with, Ms. McAlister?”

She clutched the door jamb and cleared her throat. “I was supposed to meet Zade this morning. Have you seen him?”

“
Oh, I’ve seen him.”

He knew. Damn it all to hell, he knew she was supposed to meet him. “Is he gone?”

“
Well, when his taxi came at seven this morning, there certainly wasn’t anyone here to stop him, so yes. He’s gone.”

Her stomach roiled and a sharp, stabbing sensation punched the back of her throat. He thought she didn’t want to try. That she didn’t want him. “Did he say anything? Leave anything?”

“
Why would he?” he snapped.

“
I thought he might leave a number. A way to contact him?”

He let out a long, bullish exhalation and glared at her. “The way I understand it, if you didn’t show, he leaves you alone. He might be young, Ms. McAlister, but even young men have pride. They shouldn’t have to beg. Not for any woman, no matter how special they might be.” He turned away and headed into his office.

She lurched forward. “Wait.”

Arlo paused and glowered.

She stepped back to the threshold and kept her distance. “I don’t blame you for being angry, but I promise you it isn’t what it looks like. Can you share his number with me? Let me call him and explain?”

“
Why should I? So you can string him along longer and hurt him again the next time some idiot looks cross-eyed at you?”

“
It was an accident. I fell asleep. I had every intention of going back to his room, but I drank some wine and I fell asleep.”

“
You fell asleep?”

“
I know,” she said. “It sounds terrible, but I hadn’t slept much the night before and wine always goes to my head. I didn’t mean to—”

“
You should have seen him.” A flush spread across Arlo’s cheeks and his wiry frame shook as he spoke. “He was in here every morning. That boy seldom got up before ten o’clock when he came to visit because he made a point of relaxing and enjoying his time away from work. But you. You had him up bright and early figuring out where he was going to take you next.”

She hung her head and tried to swallow around the growing knot in her throat.

“
So, no,” Arlo said. “I don’t think I’ll give you his number. If you want it enough, you’ll find a way to get it. Might be good for you to do a little of the chasing for once. See how it feels to put your heart out there, not knowing if the person you’re out to impress is going to stomp all over your feelings.”

The space behind her breastbone seized and her eyes welled up with tears. Two fat drops fell to the tile at her feet.

“
Zade’s always positive,” he said. “Bright. Even when he was pissed about his business, he knew he was going to find a way to get over it. You managed to dim that light.”

He spun and stomped away, but paused at the door to his office. “It’s ironic. I always thought it would be a hoot to see Zade get shot down because most women flock to him. After seeing him this morning, I wish like hell I could take that thought back.”

“
I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she whispered.

“
But you did.” And then he was gone.

Laughter rang out behind her. The carefree voices and plodding feet of people headed to the dining hall for a leisurely breakfast. In the distance, a splash sounded. Someone kicking off their day with a dip in the pool.

The bridge of her nose stung and goose bumps fanned out along her skin. She’d hurt him. Badly. Taken all his care and given him pain in return. Arlo was right. She’d flip-flopped on Zade too many times to count. Focused only on herself without a thought for how her actions impacted him.

Selfish. So, damned selfish.

She plodded through the center of the resort, past the pool and down the path to the beach. Her temples throbbed from the wine’s lingering effect and her shoulders sagged with a weight she couldn’t shake. She paused at the beach’s edge.

A couple strolled hand in hand where the water lapped the sand, their feet kicking up tiny drops of water with each step. Naked. Not a stitch of clothes on them.

Janie smiled as much as her heart would allow and waved.

Just like that. Not so much as a flinch at the sight. Accepting them exactly as they were. Six days ago she’d have run for the hills, or ducked her head in shame or shock. But not anymore. She’d grown.

The wind whipped her hair as she ambled down the beach. She was a fixer. A problem solver. There had to be a way to right the damage she’d caused. But only if she was serious.

Arlo had been right to call her on her fickle behavior. If she managed to find Zade, if he gave her the time of day once she did, she couldn’t ping-pong him around anymore. She’d have to talk to him. Stick by him and let him help her out when she hit a rough spot, and vise versa.

God, for a woman who’d been married twenty-two years, she hadn’t exactly brought a whole lot of wisdom to the table the second time around. She pottered down the long pier that sheltered the private cove. Her sandals thunked against the wooden slats and the ocean swished all around her, beautiful, sparkling, Caribbean blue.

At the end of the pier, the decking flared out to form a widened observation point. Two lounge chairs sat in one corner, a bright, multi-colored patio umbrella between them and angled to block the harsh afternoon sun. She quickened her steps, eager for the quiet and some time to figure out what to do next.

She rounded the corner and froze.

A woman with gray hair down to her hips and a ruby red sundress lay stretched out in one of the two loungers, propped up to enjoy the view. Her gold bangles winked in the sunshine and her toes were painted happy turquoise. A picture perfect gypsy.

“
Oh,” Janie said. “I didn’t realize anyone was out here.”

The woman gazed at the ocean. She smiled, serene and unruffled. Tucked behind one ear was a flower that matched her dress and reminded Janie of an iris, but more tropical. Her voice was a little frail, barely enough to carry over the whistling wind. “Have a seat. Plenty of ocean to go around.”

“
You sure?”

The smile grew, but her eyes stayed locked in place. She sat forward and patted the cushion of the lounger beside her. “I can’t see you, but I can feel your sadness from her. Sit down and let the ocean give you what you need.”