Barefoot at Moonrise (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 2) Read online

  Leaning back on the pillows, she crossed her legs, locking her hands behind her head to think about him. His boyishly cute features had morphed into handsome lines, strong bones, and shoulders that never—

  “Knock, knock.”

  She sucked in soft breath and popped up, blinking at the sight of…those very shoulders.

  “Ken?” His name came out a little breathless.

  “Am I interrupting your escape from a reunion from hell?”

  Her heart rate tripled. “Not at all,” she said. “I just needed some air.”

  “Want some company?”

  And then it felt like her heart actually stopped for a moment, along with time. Pressing her hand to her chest, she considered all the possible, polite ways to say no.

  “Yes.” It was all that would come out.

  He took a step inside, nearly as tall as the heavy yellow drape that hung over them and all around. Forget the air. The minute he was in the cabana, it all seemed to be gone. Space was tight. And suddenly the tropical air smelled spicy and masculine.

  She inched up, but he held out his hand. “Stay there. You look comfortable.”

  Very slowly, she eased back on the cushions, aware of every cell tingling.

  He sat on the edge of the chaise at the bottom, not far from her feet. “I’ve been wanting a chance to talk to you all week.”

  She managed a steady breath. “Yeah?”

  “So I followed you.”

  “That’s…a little stalkery,” she said on a surprisingly nervous laugh.

  “Not really.” He lightly tapped her toes, the split second of contact searing her skin as effectively as his admission. “I was hoping that you left your shoes and a trail in the sand on purpose.”

  She hadn’t…or maybe she had. Maybe that was her subconscious calling card and invitation to him. Deep in her heart, she wanted this moment more than anything, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

  “So you tracked me like the Eagle Scout you once were,” she said.

  He laughed, sounding pleased she remembered. “And now I’m a firefighter, which some might say is the grown-up version of an Eagle Scout.”

  “You are grown up,” she said on a soft sigh.

  He ruffled his hair. “The white stuff started showing up in my late thirties. I blame the stressful job,” he said. “I should probably do something about it.”

  “Something like change the color? Are you out of your mind? It’s…” Gorgeous. Sexy. Hot as hell. “Nice,” she managed.

  He jutted his chin in acknowledgment of the compliment, letting his gaze drift over her like he couldn’t control where his eyes wanted to go. “You grew up pretty good, too, Beth.”

  The way he said it, with a little longing and lust, sent a blast of heat through her. “Oh, I…have hit the big 4-0.” She tried to keep it light, but nothing she was feeling was…light. Her limbs were suddenly heavy, and each breath was a battle. Ken had done that to her as a teenager every time he leaned in for a kiss. She could only imagine what he could do to a forty-year-old woman who hadn’t had a date in years.

  She’d always wanted Ken in the most primal way. At fifteen, it made her uncomfortable and scared and curious…and she’d said no every time their make-out sessions got too heated. But now…kissing him would still make her uncomfortable, but in the best possible way.

  He placed his hand on the other side of her crossed ankles and leaned over her. The position was casual, comfortable, and made her whole lower half clutch from the mere proximity of him. “You sure have been tough to nail down this week.”

  “I’ve been a little distracted, sorry. I tried to give that planning committee my all, but I had some work stuff I was dealing with.” It wasn’t a lie, but she certainly hadn’t been swamped this past week. She realized early on that it would be best if she avoided Ken.

  He inched closer and let the hint of a smile pull at his lips. “Is that your excuse for missing the all-important arranging of the floral centerpieces that you so kindly signed us up for?”

  She’d signed them up in a moment of weakness and hope, before she’d heard rumors about what he wanted in his life. “I had something…unexpected come up.”

  “Ah, I see. The house-flipping business?” he prodded.

  So he’d been asking about her, too. Or maybe he looked her up before the reunion even started. Or looked up her father, a possibility that made her stomach drop with bad memories.

  “Yes,” she said vaguely. “That’s my business.”

  “Like those people on HGTV?” he asked.

  “Only it takes more than a half hour to renovate a house.”

  He nodded, both of them falling silent for a second, giving the other one a chance to talk. Finally, he said, “Do you work for, uh, your dad’s company?”

  Yep. Her father. Ken still hated him and blamed him, of course.

  “I don’t work for my dad,” she said. “I own my own company and run my own business.”

  She could have sworn his shoulders relaxed a little. They needed to avoid that topic. “So, how’s your life, Ken?” she asked. “Are you…married?” She knew he was divorced, but didn’t want to make it that obvious she’d talked about him with other people that week.

  “Single,” he said. “Though I was married for a while. It didn’t work out.” He put a casual hand on her ankle, then lifted it as if he realized he shouldn’t have. “I heard you’re divorced, too.”

  But he didn’t seem to mind her knowing that he’d been asking about her. “Yeah, I am. No kids, though.”

  “No kids for me, either.” There was just enough sadness in his voice to tell her that the rumors she’d overheard about Ken wanting a family were probably true. Still, she had to be sure.

  “Sounds like you wanted them.”

  “I do,” he said. Present tense, she noted with another painful swallow. “I’d love to have kids,” he added, unwittingly hammering the nail into her heart a little harder. “What about you?”

  She’d have loved to have kids, too. But that ship had sailed…and sunk. “No, none for me.”

  He angled over her a little bit. “Really?” he said. “I would have thought you…well. I guess I imagined you’d want to have kids.”

  She had. Desperately. “Well, I don’t, and I’m forty years old.”

  “So? You could adopt.” Damn it, he sounded hopeful. She shifted, then started to push up.

  “Don’t leave,” he said, holding out his hand to stop her. “I’ve wanted to talk to you all week. It’s the whole reason I volunteered for that stupid planning committee.”

  It was? “Why?”

  “I wanted…” He placed his hand on her bare foot. “I have…something important to say to you.” He caressed her skin, as if talking involved…touching.

  She tried to swallow, but failed. During those few seconds, neither spoke. In only moonlight, she could see his dark eyes and thick lashes, and an unreadable emotion.

  She braced herself for the worst. The accusations. The lawsuit that never happened. The blame. The family hate. “Okay,” she whispered, ready for whatever may come.

  “Okay,” he repeated, as if getting his thoughts—and nerve—together. “I know it’s twenty-five years late, but, man, I…acted like a complete jerk. I said stuff I shouldn’t have. I blamed you for things that weren’t your fault. And I…I threw away a damn great girlfriend.” His voice cracked a little, and he looked as if he might want to avert his eyes, but refused to. “I want to apologize, Beth. I want to say that…I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

  She let out a long, slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding for…well, for two and a half decades.

  Her heart folded as she reached over and touched the empty space beside her. “Lie down next to me, Kenny. I’d love to put that dark past behind us.”

  Chapter Two

  It was easy to accept the invitation, sliding up the oversized chaise to get next to her. “Only you,” Ken said softly as he d
ropped his head on one of many pillows, facing her.

  “Only me what?”

  “Can call me Kenny.” He gave in to a smile. “And make me like it.”

  “It suits you, even with your salt-and-pepper hair and a few laugh lines around your eyes.” She reached out and touched his cheek with a featherlight fingertip that nearly shocked him. “At least, I hope those lines are from laughter.”

  “Mostly. And some stress in life and on the job,” he admitted, putting his hand over hers. “I have to tell you, Beth, you’ve gotten even more beautiful, which is unbelievable, because back then, I thought…” He didn’t even know how to put into words how he’d felt. “Well, I thought you hung that thing right there in the sky.”

  “Aww.” She smiled. “That’s sweet. Thanks.”

  He inhaled and let it out with a noisy sigh, letting their clasped hands settle between them. “Thanks for letting me apologize now,” he said. “How I acted that day has bothered me for all these years.”

  She didn’t say anything right away, her eyes searching his face in a way that made him wonder if she was gauging whether or not he was telling the truth, or merely studying his face. “You were young, in a lot of pain, and I took the brunt of your grief.”

  His chest squeezed. “Don’t let me off that easy.”

  “Time heals wounds, Ken,” she said. “And something tells me the sting of our breakup didn’t last as long as the deep pain from losing your father.”

  He swallowed, agreeing, of course, with that. “The fact remains that you deserved more than that. I know we were just kids—”

  “I was a kid,” she corrected. “I was fifteen and you were eighteen, a senior about to graduate and go into the Navy, and I was a sophomore who really should have been a freshman.”

  “Not your fault you were a kindergarten overachiever and they pushed you ahead.” Somehow, he’d gotten closer, inches away now, their fingers still threaded, their bodies turned to each other like a force of nature had more control than they did.

  “Thanks, Beth.”

  She gave him a questioning look. “For accepting your apology?” she guessed.

  He nodded. “And for being so gracious about it.”

  She gave his hand a squeeze. “Let’s close that chapter in our lives.”

  He swallowed against a thick throat. “You know what I think about?” he asked. “How much died that day. Not only a father of three, a loving husband, and one of the greatest men who ever lived. My family fractured. My world shifted. And we died. You and me.”

  She didn’t answer, holding his gaze.

  “I know we were from different social universes and just high school kids who were dating, but, Beth…I think we had a shot,” he said.

  Before his dad died, he liked to think that it didn’t matter that his family was poor and lived in Twin Palms, the poorest part of Mimosa Key. It didn’t matter that his dad worked for her dad and that the Endicotts were crazy rich, while his mother was a housekeeper at a motel and took in sewing for extra money. They had a chance.

  “And if I’d had a molecule of maturity back then,” he continued, “I wouldn’t have taken all my anger and hatred and blame out on you, on us.”

  “I don’t want to relive that afternoon,” she said, letting go of his hand to put her fingers on his cheek. “It happened. It was ugly.”

  “Ugly? I called you Satan’s daughter.”

  “Shhh.” She stroked his jaw lightly. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. We have so many better memories.”

  “We sure do.” Even in the dark of the cabana, he could see her eyes were still as blue as the summer skies over Barefoot Bay, fringed by thick lashes and framed with perfectly arched brows. She had a narrow nose over sweet, bowed lips he’d kissed so many times all those years ago. “God, those were a good six months. I remember the first time I saw you.”

  “At a job site on a blazing-hot Saturday afternoon in August. I remember how much I wanted to go to the beach that day with my girlfriends, but my dad dragged me on a site run before he’d drop me off.”

  “Believe me, I didn’t want to be working construction on my last summer weekend before senior year.” But his family needed money. They always needed money. “I was nailing in a window when someone said, ‘The boss is here.’ I looked up, and there you were with a pink bikini top under a see-through T-shirt and cutoff shorts.” He leaned closer. “And I slammed the shit out of my thumb.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t know that. But I remember you. Sweaty and hot and staring at me until I thought I’d melt right into the poured concrete.”

  Neither one of them said anything for a moment, both lost in that magical memory.

  “One look at you and I knew you were probably too young for me,” he finally said.

  “One look at you and I knew you were going to be my first boyfriend.”

  He gave her a smirk. “So I really didn’t stand a chance, huh?”

  She leaned in, letting her forehead touch his. “Nope.”

  “That must be why I ignored my dad, then.” He shook his head, remembering the lecture he got on the way home. “He was like, ‘Son, if you so much as talk to that Endicott girl, you’ll be grounded for your whole senior year.’”

  She closed her eyes, probably at the mention of his dad.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I love to talk about him, even to this day. He was a damn good father. I always hoped I’d have a chance to be half the dad he was.”

  “Oh, Kenny, I’m sorry.”

  “No, no.” He pulled her closer. “Tonight’s about me apologizing, not you. And let’s leave the families out of it. That’s what we did for six long months.”

  “Not long enough,” she said on a sigh. “Well. Long enough to get to second base,” she teased.

  He laughed softly, knowing exactly what she was referring to. “That was a good night.”

  Her eyes twinkled with the shared secret of a make-out session out by the goat farm on the east side of Barefoot Bay.

  She leaned into him. “You know, that was my first orgasm.”

  He sucked in a little breath on a laugh. “It was?”

  “And it’s still one for the books.”

  “You remember it?” He couldn’t believe that.

  “I remember…the essence of it,” she said, her voice sultry enough to send a solid blast of blood from his brain to parts south. “I remember that sort of heady feeling of danger and excitement and…need.”

  His mouth went dry. “We were…needy.”

  At eighteen, he’d been in a perpetual state of hard and desperate, and talking about it now, while inhaling the floral scent that clung to Beth’s hair, was enough to make him that way again. He trailed his finger down her bare arm, getting a jolt of satisfaction that he could still give her goose bumps.

  “You know, it’s a damn shame we never got to have sex,” he said.

  “Sure was,” she said. “I would have loved for you to have been my first, but I was way too young.”

  “See what I mean, though? If we’d stayed together, we could have waited until I came back after the Navy and…” He dragged that finger back up her arm, settling on the sweet skin of her throat. “We could have lost our virginity together.”

  “If only we could turn back time.”

  If only. “We could pretend.”

  “How?” she barely whispered the word.

  “Like this.” He lowered his face and placed his mouth on hers. Instantly, years disappeared. Bad memories faded and old feelings rose to the surface. It was old times, back in Barefoot Bay, kissing under a sweet, silent moon.

  Ken honestly couldn’t remember a kiss that felt better.

  * * *

  There was so much left to say, so many years to cover, but Beth let go and returned the kiss. As soon as he ducked into the cabana, she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she tasted him, flicked her tongue against his, and whimpered in her throat when he deepened the contact between their mo
uths.

  They’d talk later.

  She didn’t realize how much she’d been aching for him, but her body responded instantly, and so did his, growing harder each second as his hands—large and oddly still familiar—started roaming her body, making her burn to do the same to him.

  She tunneled her fingers into his hair, taking control of his head to angle him where she wanted him. One leg curled around his, locking them closer and letting him press against her stomach. She bowed her back, lifted her chin, and invited his kisses down her throat.

  A sudden burst of laughter and conversation echoed over the beach as the sound of many footsteps hit the wide wooden deck well behind them.

  “The dance thing must be over,” he murmured, still intent on pressing kisses on her throat, one hand slipping around to the side of her breast.

  She moaned as he thumbed her nipple. “Think we’ll get caught?”

  Someone shouted. A group howled in laughter. The strains of a Journey song started filling up the night.

  “It’s kind of like high school all over again,” he said.

  She laughed, a memory floating back like the chorus to a song she hadn’t heard in years. “Like the time we made out in the janitor’s closet and that old guy who was always stuffing tobacco in his mouth yelled at us.”

  “Yep.” He pushed up to get off the chaise. “Hang on, these cabanas close up.”

  Taking one side of the thick yellow drape, he drew it to the middle, then brought the other one to meet it, securing it with hook enclosures.

  He turned to her, and her breath slammed into her chest at the look on his face.

  Coming back to the chaise, he leaned on one knee, the cushion dipping with his weight, his eyes searing her. “Bethany,” he whispered. “Still one of my all-time-favorite creatures who ever roamed the earth.”

  That made her smile, and when he climbed back on their little bed, his hand settled on the thigh exposed when her skirt slid up, making her mouth go bone-dry and her lower half pool with desire.

  “I really came out here to talk to you,” he said, hovering over her.

  She slipped her bare feet between his legs. “I really came out here to be alone.”