Ask me to Stay

by Osburn, Terri

  Doreen dropped back into her chair. “Oh no, honey. I want to see how this turns out.”

  Kendall didn’t have the time or inclination to untangle that one. He stepped outside and loomed over the temperamental woman. “What was that about?”

  She tipped her face up, flashing the smile of an angel. “What was what about?”

  “In there,” he said. “Where’d that come from?”

  Tilting her head, she frowned. “I don’t know what you mean. I was finished looking around and didn’t want to rush you, so I came out here to wait.”

  Now she was messing with him. “You weren’t pissed when you walked out here?”

  “Why would I be angry?”

  Kendall noted her change of phrasing. “You tell me.”

  Rising gracefully from the chair, she placed the floppy hat back on her head and met his gaze. “I truly don’t know what you imagined, but I’m fine. Should we move on with the tour? Or did you want to visit a little longer with your lady friend?”

  Something about how she said lady friend set him on edge. “I’m ready if you are.”

  “Are you sure? Doreen seemed very happy to see you. Don’t cut your visit short on my account.”

  Kendall wondered if he’d hit his head somewhere between showing her where to find the water and entering the center. “We’re only here on your account. If you’re done looking around, then we’ll go.”

  “Okay, then. You’re in charge.” Halfway down the stairs, she added, “We can probably wrap this up well before eleven thirty, so you can make that lunch date.”

  “What lunch date?”

  “With Doreen.”

  “Why do you keep talking about Doreen?”

  “You’re right.” She held up a hand in apology. “Your private life is none of my business. But if you’re trying to keep your relationship a secret, you probably shouldn’t flirt like that with an audience.”

  Flirt? What the . . .

  “Hold up.” He marched down the stairs to catch up to her. “First off, Doreen is married. And second, I grew up with her son. The woman is old enough to be my mother.”

  “You don’t have to defend yourself to me.”

  “Who’s defending?”

  “Kendall, your yelling is scaring the birds.”

  Clamping his jaw shut, he ran a hand through his hair and stared hard at the woman pushing his buttons. “Get in the damn cart.”

  She stayed put. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You’re upset.”

  “I’m fine,” he growled.

  “You don’t seem fine. Maybe we should do this tomorrow.”

  No way in hell was he going through this two days in a row. “Get. In.”

  Amos barked from the back seat of the cart, and Liza jumped into action. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

  The words were aimed at his dog, but Kendall didn’t care, as long as she got in the damn cart. And if she ticked him off again, he’d conveniently stop at one of Bruce’s hangouts and let him take care of her.

  Chapter 5

  Despite her lack of enthusiasm for this tour, Liza found herself enjoying it. Quite possibly due to how much fun it was to drive Kendall up a wall. She’d planned to play innocent outside the Welcome Center, but watching the utter confusion on his face had been much more entertaining than expected.

  The revelation that Doreen had a husband also lightened her mood, although Liza would never admit as much aloud.

  As they traveled the bumpy island roads, Kendall pointed out various species of birds, the one cleared field available for helicopter landings, and the firehouse, which she could have recognized on her own. The gleaming red-and-white engine inside the open garage looked much too large to navigate the dirt paths she’d seen so far, but they must have a way to make it work. The truck had reached the firehouse, after all.

  They passed a series of homes, all different in size and style. Each was set back in the trees as if it had sprouted from the earth alongside the oaks and pines. One stood four stories tall, while another was comprised of two three-level homes joined together. Like Ray’s house, they were all built on stilts to keep them high off the ground.

  Kendall had explained that many of the owners spent only weekends or summers on the island, leaving the homes available as rentals to tourists for the rest of the year. He stopped at the end of one driveway to point out the unique structure ahead.

  “This is Francine’s place. She’s a mostly full-time resident, like me and Ray.”

  The home consisted of two structures, one larger than the other, connected by a short walkway. The odd shape set them apart from the rest of the homes.

  “Are those round?”

  “Octagons,” Kendall corrected. “Symbolizes good luck in China. That’s where her family emigrated from.”

  Liza pulled out her phone to take a picture. “Do you think she’ll mind?” she asked.

  “People take pictures all the time. She’s used to it.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.” After capturing the shot, she put the phone back in her sweater pocket. “Do you think she’d show me the inside?”

  Kendall set the cart into motion. “She’ll probably insist. Just be prepared. Francine likes to talk.”

  “So she’s the opposite of you.”

  His eyes cut to hers, brow furrowed, until he spotted her smile. “I’m talking now, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, you are.” Liza realized they’d been getting along for a good fifteen minutes. A record for their short-lived acquaintance. Maybe they could find common ground, after all. “Considering our rocky start, I appreciate your taking me around like this. Bringing Ray’s world to life on the page will be easier after experiencing it myself. At least as much as I can during the month I’m here.”

  The body beside her tensed at the reminder of why she was on the island.

  “You said last night that you don’t want Ray to do this book. Why is that?”

  His sigh blended with the wind. “Some things should stay in the past, that’s all.”

  “I don’t agree.” Liza ignored her driver’s eye roll. “History is important. Without people like Ray sharing their stories, so much would be lost. He was born in the 1920s. Can you imagine living through all of the progress that came after that?”

  They reached a fork in the road, and Kendall once again brought the cart to a stop. “The point isn’t what he’s lived through but that he keeps on living.” A cryptic reply that heightened Liza’s curiosity. “Besides,” he added, “nothing comes from looking backward. You can’t change what’s happened, so why dwell on it?”

  “Well . . .” Liza struggled to find a rebuttal. “A book isn’t about changing the past. It’s about sharing your experiences. Maybe he wants his story to live on after he’s gone. Would that be so bad?”

  Kendall stared off down the road to their left. “I guess not.” Changing the subject, he said, “The North Beach and the submarine tower are down there. There’s also some longer trails and a good spot for fishing, but it goes away from the main village, so we’re going to skip it today.”

  They made a hard right, sending Liza into Kendall’s side. He didn’t budge, and she struggled to keep any space between them. When they straightened out, she righted herself, but the sizzle from the body contact still radiated through her system.

  Sparing a glance his way, she expected to see anger in his features. Instead, he looked defeated.

  “You know this is Ray’s choice, right?” she said, feeling the inexplicable need to reassure Kendall that this book wasn’t a mistake. “If anything comes out that would put him in a negative light, I don’t have to include it.”

  “Wouldn’t that be unethical or something?”

  Writing a memoir was different from writing a factual article. As far as Liza was concerned, she was entitled to creative license. She’d never include an outright falsehood, but that didn’t mean details couldn’t be omitted when necessary for the sake of the stor
y.

  “I’m writing a narrative about a man’s life. We can include or omit anything we want.”

  Visibly relieved, Kendall relaxed beside her. “That’s good to know.”

  Kendall appreciated Liza’s willingness to compromise and wondered if she might go so far as to not complete the job at all. Of course, the book would be dangerous only if Ray revealed everything. They hadn’t discussed in detail how honest the older man intended to be, but Kendall had gotten the impression the book would be a tell-all in every way. Which would be a damn fool thing to do.

  Ray had been at the center of Kendall’s life for as long as he could remember. He was the reason the James family had moved to Charleston, and why Kendall had seen his dad only on weekends throughout his childhood. Even Kendall’s return to Haven Island after leaving the military had been for Ray Wallis.

  When Kendall was a baby, his father, Christopher James, had worked as Ray’s driver, but once they moved to the island, his duties changed. To what, the young Kendall never knew, but whatever he did kept him busy around the clock, robbing the boy of precious time with his dad. The only reason Kendall hadn’t resented his father’s boss was Ray’s tendency to treat him like a grandson.

  Whether hovering in the stands during his ball games or in a seat of honor around the table for birthdays and holidays, Ray was part of the family. It wasn’t until the week before Kendall had left for basic training that Christopher had sat his son down and shared the details of his work. Basically, his father’s main duty was to keep his employer alive. When the elder James died of a massive heart attack six months before his son returned from his third Middle East deployment, Kendall knew he’d inherited that duty.

  If this book came to fruition, the sense of security that had taken hold in the last decade would be all but gone.

  “Have we reached the end of the island?” Liza asked as he parked the cart at the edge of the path.

  “Technically, no, but this is the end of the road here.” After setting the emergency brake, he climbed from the vehicle. “This is Timicau Dock. It’s the shortest walk to one of the best views on the island.”

  Liza stayed in her seat. “Is it safe?” she asked.

  They’d passed the main alligator habitat, where he’d pointed out two baby gators hovering at the surface of the water, not far back.

  “You’re safe here,” he said, nodding toward a narrow pathway between the trees. “Come on.”

  Kendall led the way, ducking the few low-hanging branches in his way and making sure Liza stayed clear of them. When they reached the start of the narrow dock, the trees cleared, leaving nothing but blue skies ahead.

  “You can go on down first.” He stepped aside for her to pass.

  She gasped, eyes wide. “Oh my gosh, Kendall, this is beautiful.”

  “Yes, it is.” This spot had been the main reason he’d put his house at the end of the lane. “Go on down and have a seat on the bench.”

  Before Liza could take a step, Amos trotted past them.

  “He won’t jump in, will he?”

  For a woman who didn’t like dogs, she showed a lot of interest in his. “Amos knows to stay on the dock.”

  She floated down the pier, glancing from side to side in wonder. At one point she nearly lost her balance, forcing Kendall to steady her on her feet. His hands circled her waist, and the contact threatened to fry his brain. Along with other parts of his anatomy.

  “Thank you,” Liza whispered in a breathy voice.

  “No problem,” he replied, tone gruff.

  At least he wasn’t the only one feeling sparks.

  When they reached the bench at the end, she took a seat, and Kendall dropped down at the other end, leaving plenty of space between them. Amos took advantage of the opening and jumped up to lean against Liza’s side.

  “Traitor,” Kendall muttered.

  Rubbing beneath the dog’s chin, she asked, “What kind of grass grows in water like this?”

  “Spartina. It’s typical in salt marshes along the coast.” Since they’d reached a truce of sorts, he ventured back to the book subject. “I don’t know much about publishing. You think this book of Ray’s might make some money?”

  “Why?” she asked. “Is he in financial trouble?”

  Not the direction Kendall intended to go. “Not that I know of. I’m just curious. Could it make money for you?”

  The concern she’d shown moments ago melted away. “Do you think I’m using Ray for my own benefit?”

  There was no way she was doing this for free. “Writing is your job, isn’t it? You aren’t here out of the goodness of your heart.”

  Pink lips flattened as she turned his way. “Yes, I’ve received an advance to come here and write this book. But that doesn’t mean I’m here to take advantage of Ray.”

  Kendall didn’t see why she’d take offense at the question. “Ray says you hit one of those fancy lists. I guess that made you rich and famous.”

  Blue eyes narrowed as the truce went up in flames. “What do you do for a living?”

  “A few things,” he replied, unsure what his work had to do with her writing books.

  “And how much do you make doing these mysterious things?”

  Information Kendall had no intention of sharing. “Enough to get by.”

  Her eyes snapped with righteous indignation. “Not a question you want to answer, is it? Then why is it okay to ask me?”

  He hadn’t asked for a bank balance. And Kendall never intended this conversation to be about her damn income, anyway. “All I asked was if you might make some money off Ray’s book. I was curious. That isn’t a crime.”

  “No, it isn’t. But what I do or do not make money off is none of your business. Ray reached out to me. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”

  The air crackled as she cut her gaze back to the view. If Kendall was smart, he’d drop the subject, but if she was already ticked off, he might as well get to the point.

  “Would you abandon the project if necessary?”

  She threw her hands up in frustration. “We’ve been over this. I already told you that I’m willing to leave details out. If you’re afraid the book will bring hordes of tourists to this island, I’ll change the name. And if it’s yourself you’re worried about, I will gladly leave you out entirely.”

  Kendall rose off the bench. “This isn’t about me.”

  “It isn’t about me, either,” she said, bolting to her feet. “I’m here for Ray, period. So unless you have something positive to contribute, keep your objections, and your assumptions, to yourself.”

  Amos whimpered as the pair embarked on a staring contest. When he nudged his owner’s hand, Kendall backed down.

  “Your tour is over. Let’s go, Amos.” Turning away from her, Kendall stalked down the pier with Amos running on ahead. Liza could follow him or stay on the bench to pout. He didn’t give a damn either way.

  What the heck is his problem?

  For two seconds, Liza held her ground as Kendall walked away. And then she remembered that being eaten by an alligator would be a horrific way to die. Self-preservation moved her down the pier fast enough to reach the sandy road right behind her cranky tour guide.

  She couldn’t help but be amazed at how he always started these arguments but acted as if she were the one who couldn’t play well with others. How was Liza supposed to react when he made her sound like a literary gold digger? Was she getting paid for this job? Of course. Was she using an unwitting old man to fill her pockets?

  Not in the least.

  Now she was more curious than ever why Kendall so staunchly opposed this book. If Ray had committed a crime, Liza had to assume the statute of limitations had expired long ago. Unless the crime was murder, and she couldn’t believe that was possible. Then again, she’d known her subject less than twenty-four hours. Not nearly enough time to know what he might or might not be capable of doing.

  Liza tried not to let her imagination run wild. If she’d
been brought here to tell the story of a man on the run, the book’s potential could skyrocket. Though she knew better than to make assumptions, a jolt of excitement sent her heart racing. This would go far beyond hitting a list and land squarely on major motion-picture material.

  “I’ll have your cart ready by morning,” Kendall said, startling Liza back to reality.

  “Thank you,” she replied, too distracted imagining the far-fetched possibilities to care about his surly tone. Of course, if she did learn something juicy, she’d have to do additional research. Releasing a book full of falsehoods would kill her career, which was already stalled.

  They made the drive back in silence as she mentally edited the list of questions she’d eventually present to her subject. To Liza’s surprise, they reached Ray’s house in a matter of minutes, arriving from the opposite direction.

  “Did we make a circle?” she asked, struggling to get her bearings. Without the typical landmarks, like stores and restaurants, Liza didn’t know how she’d find her way around.

  “Not exactly.” Kendall didn’t elaborate, and she wasn’t about to beg for an explanation. He’d said her cart would come with a map. Surely she could follow a simple map.

  Instead of dropping her at Ray’s stairs where he’d found her that morning, he drove the cart back to her private entrance on the far side of the house, parking near the bottom step without a word. Liza glanced over to see Kendall staring straight ahead, chiseled jaw tight.

  Men really were babies. With any luck, she would be free of this one after today.

  Taking the high road, she said, “Thank you for the tour.” As she climbed to her feet, Amos hopped out after her. “You stay with your owner, now.”

  The dog barked and trotted up several stairs. Liza did not want or need the four-legged company.

  “Are you going to call him?” she asked Kendall.

  The irritating man kept his eyes on the wall before him. “Let’s go, Amos.”