Barefoot in the Sand Page 10

  Ashley screamed again and followed the order, her skinny arms flailing as she stumbled through the waist-high water. Lacey ran toward her just as David made a loud noise and—dear God, had he punched the shark? Kicked it?

  The fin disappeared, then popped up again, fifteen feet away and headed out into the Gulf.

  Instantly David dove into the shallow water toward Ashley, popping up in front of her just as Lacey reached them both.

  She threw her arms out to grab Ashley, but her daughter turned and fell into David’s embrace.

  “Daddy!”

  “Baby girl.” He kissed her head and hugged her like… like he actually cared about the child he’d demanded Lacey abort.

  “Daddy, you saved my life.”

  “No, sweetheart, you saved mine.”

  Crumbling into the water, an adrenaline dump and cold reality bit Lacey harder than the rare tiger shark in the Gulf of Mexico ever could. Silhouetted in the sunshine, Ashley and David hugged like there was no tomorrow.

  But there was, only now it included a man with the totally apt name of Fox.

  Chapter 11

  After dinner, Lacey could hear David and Ashley laughing in the living room, a bittersweet sound to a mother’s ears. She loved to hear Ashley happy, with a giggle that was quick, easy, and joyous. Despite the history, the absence, and a lot of unanswered questions, Ashley had just seamlessly accepted David into her life.

  It was shocking, really, that she didn’t harbor more of a grudge. Was the loss of her home and all her stuff enough to make her realize what was important in life? At fourteen? If so, Lacey could learn a lot about maturity from her teenage daughter.

  Then again, David had a gift. He wielded that irrepressible charm like a razor-sharp blade, slicing away anything that got in the way of people liking him. Somehow, when he teased Ashley he made the empty years disappear, and when he enthralled her with a colorful story about diving with crocodiles in Botswana, Lacey could see her daughter’s eyes fill with awe and forgiveness.

  Ashley could forgive David, so why couldn’t Lacey?

  Because she didn’t have to. They had made an arrangement many years ago. David held no paternal rights to Ashley, and any gifts and money he gave her were out of concern and care. No strings attached. In return, Lacey had told him he could see Ashley whenever he wanted.

  She just hadn’t thought he’d ever want to.

  She pushed the faucet handle, making the water run louder into the sink, scrubbing the pan with vicious swipes, drowning out the sound of all that happiness in the living room.

  Her hands itched to do something other than clean. She eyed her mother’s pantry, knowing it was stocked well enough now that she could knock out something simple for dessert. A cobbler, maybe. Or tropical napoleon, which she’d been testing before the storm. He’d be impressed with that.

  She grunted softly and whipped the wet sponge. Why should she impress him?

  Although he’d certainly impressed them with his cooking skills, making a remarkably good country-style chicken and not letting any of the girls lift a finger.

  How could she not invite him to stay here, sending Tessa and Zoe to the Ritz to bunk with Jocelyn for a few days? Lord, she hoped it was a few days. Or less.

  Yes, the invitation made sense; the house was too crowded and the decision to move everyone around to accommodate David had seemed smart when adrenaline was soaring and arms were hugging and rational thinking took a backseat to dramatic life-saving dives.

  A few minutes ago, when she had a moment to say good-bye to the girls, Zoe had whispered, “Bet he planted the shark.”

  Zoe meant it as a joke, but part of Lacey—the dark, nasty, resentful, unforgiving part—wondered exactly what David Fox was capable of doing just so he could redeem himself in his daughter’s eyes.

  “We’re going over the causeway!” Ashley burst into the kitchen, practically vibrating with excitement. She hadn’t brushed her hair after swimming, so it was a wild mess, and she still wore the bikini Jocelyn had bought her, with a tiny pair of gym shorts rolled down nearly to her pelvic bone. She looked like a delicate flower, lithe, tan, reedy, and blown by the exciting winds of life. No, David Fox wasn’t a wind. He was a cat-five hurricane and, damn it, she’d already weathered one of those.

  “Now?” Lacey asked.

  “We have to get some games! Grandma doesn’t have any.”

  Of course not; they never played games in this house. Unless you call “count Lacey’s faults” a game.

  “Okay, you can take my car.” Because the alternative, the motorcycle David had arrived on, was not up for negotiation.

  “Mom, we’re riding bikes.”

  “You’re not going on his—”

  “Bicycles.” David popped in behind Ashley, a glint in eyes that were so identical to his daughter’s that the sight took Lacey’s breath away. “Relax, Mama. Ashley says you have a couple of beach cruisers, and I saw a Wal-Mart right in Fort Myers. It’ll be no problem.”

  “Over the causeway?” Yes, she sounded lame, but Lacey had never let Ashley ride that far, even if there was a bike lane. “It’ll be dark before nine and the tires need air and—”

  “It’s only six-thirty, Lace,” he said, putting a possessive hand on Ashley’s shoulder. “We’ll pump the tires at a gas station and I’ll take good care of her. I can’t believe she’s never ridden bikes over the causeway. That’s the first thing I’d do if I lived here.”

  “No, you’d dive off it.”

  He grinned, clearly delighted with the comment. “We’ll work up to that.”

  Lacey glared at him. “Not funny.”

  “Chill, Mama.”

  She gritted her teeth to keep from demanding he stop calling her that.

  “I already saved her once today,” he said.

  Ashley turned to look up at him, adoration in her gaze. “He’s my hero.”

  Oh, puhlease. “Can’t you just stay on the island tonight? Maybe take a drive over the causeway tomorrow? We have a deck of cards, that I’m sure of.”

  “See, this is why we never made it, Lace.”

  “Excuse me?” He was going there now? In front of Ashley?

  “You’re so risk averse. You can’t live like that.”

  “Actually, you can live longer like that.” She resisted the urge to snap the dish towel at him. Instead she dried the pot, maybe a little more furiously than necessary.

  “And, sorry, but I’m a parent, David. With that title comes certain responsibilities. Like keeping your child safe.”

  “Mom! He freaking tore into a shark with his bare hands to save me today.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Exactly!” Ashley stood next to David, metaphorically and literally aligning herself with him. “And I totally trust him and, seriously, like everyone I know rides bikes over the causeway, so we’re going. Let’s go, Fox.”

  “You can call me Dad.”

  Cripes, pick a name already. And not Dad.

  “Dad.” Ashley couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice. “We’ll be back before it gets dark, Mom.”

  “Wait a sec, Ash.” David stepped closer, taking the towel from Lacey’s hands. “I’d be happy to forgo a bike ride if you’d come with us.”

  She swallowed hard. “I’m going to bake you guys something. A surprise.”

  He nodded knowingly. “So you still head to the flour and sugar when you’re strung out, huh?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Mom, he so knows you!” Ashley exclaimed, delighted. “Mom always stress bakes. It’s awesome.” She stopped, realizing what she said. “I mean, not that you’re stressed, just that we get to eat your amazing cakes and stuff.”

  “It relaxes her,” David said knowingly, that insider info just irritating Lacey more. “Then I’m ordering something light and delicious. Oh, Lace, remember that French apple tart you made once at my apartment?” He slapped his hand to his chest. “Mother of God, I think that’s when I knew I lov
ed you.”

  She just stared at him, numbed by the comment. “I lost my tart pan in the storm,” she said softly. “How about meringue cookies?”

  “Perfect.” For a minute she thought he was going to kiss her good-bye. And it seemed so natural. But he didn’t, instead backing away and gesturing to Ashley. “Let’s go, kiddo.”

  They were out the door before Lacey could think of any reason to make them stay, any reason that wouldn’t make her sound like a petulant child or a big old jealous meanie.

  Anything like Ashley, he’s going to leave and break your heart again. That’s what he does, baby.

  She walked to the door, watching them round the yard toward the garage.

  “Ashley!” Lacey called, and even as she did she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She had no parting shot, no special warning. She just had to see her daughter’s face.

  “What?” But Ashley didn’t turn.

  I love you. “Do you have your phone?”

  “Don’t need it.”

  Since when could she not be tethered to that damn phone? Since David-Fox-Dad showed up.

  And they disappeared, with more happy laughter in their wake.

  Back in the kitchen, she headed to the oven to flip the dial and preheat just as her cell phone rang. And she remembered Clay.

  She stood stone still, long enough to debate what to say to him. And long enough to let the call go to voice mail, the technology most adored by chickens.

  Of course David’s appearance shouldn’t and wouldn’t change a thing as far as Clay, but it was a wrinkle she didn’t know how to smooth out yet.

  Clay would think she’d made up an excuse. But she certainly couldn’t slip out on a “date” tonight to watch Casablanca at his apartment. Instead, she listened to his message, enjoying the tenor of his voice as he promised to call later if he didn’t hear from her. Maybe she’d answer that call, but she wasn’t seeing him tonight.

  With a sigh she opened the pantry, stared at the pathetic baking shelf. Mother hated to bake, but there was probably enough to—

  I think that’s when I knew I loved you.

  She slammed the door closed, biting her lip as if that could stop the sting behind her eyes that had started when Ashley first called him Dad.

  Had he forgotten? Had he blocked out that conversation in Gainesville, the day he’d told her a child “doesn’t fit my lifestyle”? Well, at that age it hadn’t fit her lifestyle, either. And she’d had to deal with her parents. Her mother. The face of disapproval.

  Not that she’d been mad that Lacey had gotten pregnant. Oh, no. What upset Marie Armstrong was that Lacey didn’t have what it took to get David to marry her.

  She abandoned the pantry and the kitchen altogether to change the sheets on the guest bed. Passing the den, she glanced at the bookcase, her gaze drawn to photo albums that filled one shelf. There, in the middle, stood an album neatly labeled 1996–1997.

  Kind of a wonder Mother didn’t call that the Year of David.

  She pulled out the album and tucked it under her arm, heading to the backyard to curl up in what had become her favorite getaway lately, the hammock her dad had hung between two queen palms.

  Cocooning into the canvas, she opened the photo album and started turning the thick, plastic-covered pages, stepping back in time to the red brick buildings and moss-covered oak trees of the University of Florida. Those were happy days in Gainesville, especially the year she RA’d at Tolbert—and had met David.

  She’d finally settled on a hospitality major after trying and quitting at least three others. So even though that decision was going to cost her an extra year, she was certain she’d found something to see through to completion. And, of course, she’d made great friends on the fourth floor.

  She paused on a picture of the dorm on Halloween night, smiling at Zoe channeling her inner Posh Spice. And Tessa dressed to climb Mount Everest. Jocelyn hadn’t gotten into costume that night, but even if she had it wouldn’t have hidden the sadness around her eyes that remained there almost the whole year.

  And there was Lacey, beaming behind her girls, and bone skinny, damn it. She went as Little Red Riding Hood in a scarlet leotard and boots. The Big Bad Wolf showed up just a few weeks later when she’d gone to hear a guest lecturer speak for her Asian Cultures class, a world traveler doing a slide show on his near-death experience hiking Mount Huashan.

  To this day, she couldn’t remember a thing David Fox had said about his brush with Huashan Death, but she could describe the shades of green in his eyes, the music of his easy laugh, the strength of his hands, the shape of his lips. By the end of the lecture, she was fantasizing about marrying him.

  And he, she learned later, was fantasizing about something else with her.

  He got his way, and they were lovers by their second date.

  She flipped to the back of the book to spring of that year, the weekend she’d brought David Fox home to meet her parents. It was Easter, and she was two weeks pregnant but had no idea. She was also as in love as a woman could be, and would have given anything to spend her life with David.

  Anything but the child she carried inside of her, and that was what David wanted her to sacrifice in order to travel the world with him. Not only did she not want to travel the world; she wanted that baby.

  That baby, and more, to be honest. But that was not the life David envisioned.

  She rocked the hammock, leaving the book resting on her knees, open to the picture. David’s hair had been black and long, curling over his collar, reminding her a little of someone else.

  Clay.

  The realization hit her hard, making her heart squeeze. Sexy, seductive, so good at talking her into things. Charming, smart, and completely compelling. Look what he’d done already.

  In the space of two hours she’d agree to let him work for her without proper credentials, to build an over-the-top five-star resort that would tax her professionally, financially, and emotionally, and she’d all but made a date to sleep with him.

  He’d done that with one scintillating conversation, a sexy drawing, and a few hot kisses.

  She pushed the hammock from side to side with all the resentment and second-guessing that was building inside her. What was wrong with her? Hadn’t she learned anything from her experience with David? Sure, she’d been careful with men for the last fourteen years, maybe too careful. But Clay Walker was David Fox all over again and she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

  Tears stung and she blinked against them. Damn it, why did David have to show up now and make her realize exactly how wrong Clay was? Just when she was about to have some fun? She never had fun, not the kind this young, hot, carefree guy was offering.

  All she did was scrape together a living baking cakes and trying to drum up business, then she gave every ounce of remaining energy to drive Ashley around and make sure her daughter had everything she wanted and needed. In her spare time she’d held that old house together with duct tape and hope. She’d had exactly six dates in the last five years and not one of those men had made a single cell in her body tingle.

  And then she’d met Clay and, well, forget tingling. He made her feel like she’d sucked her finger and stuck it into a light socket.

  But that’s how you get electrocuted, Lacey.

  A lump of confusion mixed with bitter self-pity filled her throat, sending a teardrop down her cheek. She swiped it. She had no time for this kind of wallowing. She had to be focused and serious about building a new life, not dreaming about sex with the architect she’d hired to do it.

  Screw that up and what would happen? She’d quit, like always.

  No, she couldn’t have the complication of sex with Clay. That was the one thing that had to go. If she didn’t sleep with Clay, then she wouldn’t be making the same mistake twice and she wouldn’t be risking her heart along with her building project.

  The minute she saw him again she’d tell him she couldn’t—

  “So, I’m gu
essing you dug deep enough to find an excuse to blow me off.”

  She turned suddenly, the album tumbling off her stomach. She lurched to grab it and rolled right out of the hammock onto the grass, staring up at the most gorgeous man she’d seen since, well, since that morning.

  And, damn it, all she wanted to do was reach up and kiss him. Just for fun.

  Chapter 12

  Clay kneeled next to Lacey, setting down the six-pack of beer he held in one hand and the DVD from the other. She didn’t move right away, looking up at him, her hair spilling everywhere, a tear streaking her cheek.

  “Are you crying?”

  “I’m fine.” She let him help her sit up, and just the contact with her bare shoulders made his hands itch for more.

  “Really? ’Cause you don’t look fine.” He couldn’t fight the urge to brush a wayward curl from her forehead, getting a flash of gold in her eyes in response. “Is this why you didn’t answer my call?”

  She tried to swallow, and it looked like it took a monumental effort. “Something came up.”

  He gave her a wary smile and lifted the six-pack of Mich he’d grabbed on the way to her house. “Better watch it. I brought Excuse Juice. Every time you make one, you gotta drink. I should have you good and loaded if you’re starting off with ‘something came up.’ ”

  She laughed softly, pushing herself up and making another quick swipe at her eyes. “I’ll take one of those. How’d you find my—never mind. You went to the Super Min, didn’t you?”

  He smiled. “Gloria was covering the register, and she told me where your parents’ house is.”

  He eased her back into the hammock, which swung under their combined weight and pushed their hips right next to each other. “You all alone out here, Lacey?”

  Pulling a bottle out of the carton, he kept his gaze on her while he twisted it open. “Where are your girlfriends? Where’s Ashley?”

  “My friends are staying on the mainland. Ashley is…” She hesitated, then finished with, “She’s out.”

  “What’s going on?” He handed her the bottle and she took it, puffing out a long breath and nodding thanks.