Barefoot at Midnight (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 3)

by Roxanne St Claire

  There were also a few regulars Libby had seen popping in and out over the past year, including three very old ladies who cabbed over from an assisted-living facility in Naples. She’d seen them in here before and always thought they were sweet, especially the one with a walker who had to be near a hundred. Never too old to try a gastropub, Libby mused.

  Of course, when the new chef came out to say hello, Walker Woman and her prehistoric posse cooed like a bunch of teenagers at a boy-band concert.

  Old ladies love me.

  She smiled, watching him work his little fan club. Truth was, all ladies loved him.

  A little while later, they got another crew from Casa Blanca and, toward the end of the night, two couples who Libby had a feeling were there in true support of Law Monroe. Of course, she knew them all from the Mimosa High reunion that had taken place back in March. A reunion that had obviously ignited more than one happy ever after.

  A little twinge of something that had to be jealousy pinched her chest, but Libby smashed it with an easy smile at people who she, too, had become friends with that week.

  “Looks like we’re having a reunion of the reunion,” she joked as she greeted Ken Cavanaugh and his visibly pregnant fiancée, Beth Endicott, then gave Mark Solomon and Beth DeWitt another hug.

  “Are we too late for dinner?” Beth asked.

  “Not at all,” she assured them. “Did you tell Law you were coming in?”

  “I did,” Ken said. “But we had a meeting up at Casa Blanca that took longer than we thought.”

  “Wedding planning?” Libby asked as she showed them to the roomiest booth near the bar, which was keeping Dan busy tonight, too. “I understand the resort is doing the closest thing to a double-ring ceremony that four people whose combined age is about two hundred are allowed to have.”

  They all laughed, taking their seats. Mark Solomon, a handsome man nearing his fifties with plenty of style and grace, let Emma slide in first. The shadow of sadness that had hung over Mark the day he’d walked into the reunion-planning committee meeting had been replaced with a sense of peace and happiness that he wore well.

  And when he looked at his bride-to-be, it was easy to see she was the source.

  “You can tease all you want, Libby,” Mark said, “but when you hear who we just met with, you’ll be begging for an invitation.”

  “Which I better get,” she said. “I was one of the first people Lacey put on that committee, and I’m pretty sure I added your names.” She pointed to Mark and Ken. “You all have me to thank for this overdose of prenuptial joy.”

  “Thank you,” Beth said, a hand on her growing belly. “We all had no idea how our lives would change when we signed up to help with the reunion.”

  Their lives, she thought, leaning against the booth and smiling at them all. She was more happy than envious, she told herself. These were good people who deserved love. Everyone deserved love, right?

  “So who’d you meet with? Priest? Florist? Lawyer?” She gave a playful wink. “Pardon my cynicism. I’m afraid I’ve been down that aisle one or two times.”

  “Well, you never had this band at any wedding,” Mark said. “We just spent two hours with none other than Eddie James himself.”

  Libby felt her jaw drop wide open. “Seriously?”

  Emma’s golden-brown eyes danced with pleasure. “The Lost Boys were my favorite band, and the father of one of the wedding planners is Donny Zatarain of Z-Train.”

  “I knew that,” Libby said. “Willow has taken a bunch of my yoga classes, and we’ve gotten to be really good friends. She doesn’t go around telling the free world that she’s Donny’s daughter, so I’m impressed she shared that. And more impressed that she’s getting Eddie James for you.”

  “Who’s getting Eddie James?”

  Libby turned at the sound of Law’s voice as he approached the table, a huge smile on his face at the sight of his friends. After a round of greetings and hugs, Mark picked up the story that definitely trounced everything else.

  “So it turns out that Eddie has been trying to get the Lost Boys together for some kind of reunion album,” he told them.

  “They broke up years ago,” Libby said. “I thought they had a huge and ugly falling-out.”

  “They did,” Emma said. “But Eddie’s been talking to them and looking for a very under-the-radar way to have a few test gigs to see how it goes.”

  “And you want your wedding to be a test?” Law asked.

  “Why not?” Emma and Mark said at the same time.

  “And they’ll do ours the night before theirs,” Ken said. “For practice, which is fine with me.” His smile widened as he put his arm around Beth’s shoulder. “Gonna be a great night in Barefoot Bay.”

  She smiled back at him. “Another one,” she said under her breath. But Libby heard the whispered comment and saw the light in their eyes as they looked at each other.

  That pang of envy got a little stronger this time, and a little more difficult to ignore.

  Law put an easy arm around Libby’s shoulder. “Hey, we got plenty of Eddie James and the Lost Boys on the old jukebox, don’t we, Lib?”

  She felt a bit of warm color rise to her cheeks, remembering their sexy dance to Blown Away. “We sure do.”

  The other two couples looked at each other, not hiding their surprise.

  “We?” Mark said. “You two act like you both own this place.”

  “Or neither one of us,” Law joked. “Let me treat you guys to an amazing dinner, and then the kitchen will be closed and we can talk.”

  Libby got them drinks and chatted for a few more minutes as the restaurant completely cleared out. The buzz at their table was infectious, though, and Libby couldn’t help pulling up a chair and talking until it was time to get the feasts Law had prepared.

  She went back to the kitchen and helped him load up trays. “This is a lot of food,” she said, eyeing the beautiful bounty. He’d gone all-out for his friends, with every plate a masterpiece.

  “I thought we’d join them,” he said. “Everyone gone?”

  “Yes, even the president of the Law Monroe Fan Club who gave me a banging good tip.”

  “Charity?” He grinned. “Love that old broad. Okay, let’s go.”

  They took the trays out, set up the food, and squeezed into the booth across from each other to share the meal with friends.

  They all chatted about the reunion and how it had changed their lives, talked about Emma’s new job at Casa Blanca as the VP of marketing and, of course, the weddings in early October.

  And with each shared look, secret touch, and spontaneous kiss, the delicious food sat a little heavier in Libby’s stomach. She’d gotten everyone else’s drinks but her own, so she reached for Law’s O’Doul’s with a question in her glance.

  She needed something to quench the thirst for…what they all had.

  Oh, Libby, have you not learned your lesson about forever love?

  Law gave a little nod and then frowned as if to silently ask if she was all right.

  The conversation was flying, and it was no time to say, Well, gee, Law, I’m feeling kind of blue with all these about-to-be happily married people, longingly looking at yet another man who all but wears his expiration date stamped on his forehead.

  But he kept his gaze on her, then stood, reaching out his hand. “C’mon, Lib, let’s put some music on.”

  She let him pull her out of the booth and didn’t mind at all when he put his arm around her and walked her to the jukebox, certain the others were noticing the affection.

  “You look like a woman who didn’t love her duck confit flatbread,” he whispered.

  “I adored every bite,” she assured him, a little touched that he was so in tune with her feelings and a little terrified he’d figure out they were deepening.

  “So what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she said, letting him stand her in front of the jukebox and press himself against her back. He’d shed his chef’
s coat, and she could feel the warmth of his body through a thin T-shirt. “Let’s pick an Eddie James song to get them in the mood for their weddings.”

  “Not our song,” he whispered into her ear, the words and air sending a million chills down her back.

  “No underground bees?”

  He laughed. “Not for them. When I hear Blown Away, I want to be alone with you. Soon. Tonight.” He added a kiss on her neck that had its usual impact on her balance.

  Holding the edge of the jukebox, she let her eyes skim the song titles. “Um, Broken Vows? One of my favorites.”

  “Maybe not the right message for this crowd,” he joked.

  “Nah. They’re too far gone to think about the inevitable broken vows.”

  He tsked in her ear. “Such a pessimist.”

  “You’re the one who called love a myth.”

  “Did I?” He slipped an arm around her waist and settled her back against his chest. “Well, those four might be an exception.”

  “Hey, we’re waiting for our Eddie James music,” Mark called.

  “Unless you two want to just make out for a while,” Ken added.

  “Annnnd…I’m in high school again,” Law said on a laugh. He let go of her long enough to press a few buttons on the box, and the beat of a fast rock song started, getting a cheer from the table. “Bon Jovi. Can’t go wrong.”

  “Livin’ on a Prayer,” Ken called out. “Great choice.”

  Law danced her back toward them just as Ken brought Beth out of the booth, ignoring her protests that pregnant women shouldn’t dance. Mark and Emma joined them, and before Libby realized what was happening, the six of them were dancing to a song that hit the charts when almost all of them were in high school.

  Law took her hand and moved to the beat, holding her gaze, laughing, belting out the words with everyone else, surrendering to a moment of craziness Libby was certain they’d all remember.

  When the song ended, Mark pulled Emma close and kissed her like no one else existed on the earth, let alone watched in the room. Beth and Ken hugged and laughed and kissed as well and rubbed her baby bump together.

  And Law looked at her like…like something was so missing in their lives.

  Oh God, Libby, don’t make this mistake again. It’s sex and nothing else.

  An ancient pain crept up from her stomach and tightened her throat. When would she learn that for some people, forever wasn’t in the cards? Not for her and certainly not for this man whose entire belongings fit in a room upstairs and who casually talked about moving to Arizona the way other people talked about going to the store.

  The next song started, with the now familiar notes of Blown Away.

  He smiled and pulled her all the way into him for a kiss, already starting to slow dance.

  “I thought that was just for us,” she said.

  “As fate would have it, our song played.”

  “Fate and you hit that button.”

  He laughed, but suddenly stopped at the bit of static and then nothing.

  “Damn jukebox,” Law said as the protests and complaints rose. “We’re going to have to fix that,” he added to Libby.

  “Yeah,” she said, but deep in her heart, she knew there was no fix for what would happen if she let herself fall for Law. It would end and it would hurt.

  And she was starting to not care how much it would hurt.

  Was it worth it for, what? Five orgasms and a truckload of tears?

  Maybe.

  * * *

  Something had changed with Libby. She was a little distant after the kiss, quiet after their friends had left and they cleaned the kitchen and closed for the night.

  Oh, they talked about the success of the evening and a few menu changes Law was mulling over. She shared some anecdotes from the dining room and, as always, relayed numerous compliments to the chef.

  But something was different, and Law could feel his high hopes of ending the night horizontal and wrapped in each other’s arms, preferably naked and in bed, slipping away with each soft sigh she must have thought he didn’t hear.

  When she came back into the kitchen from closing up the bar, she had a glass of wine.

  “That looks good,” he said, rinsing a pan he’d just washed.

  “I’d offer you one, but…” She angled her head. “Do you ever miss it? I mean, when all your friends are having a party, and beer and wine are flowing?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Not really, not in the way you’d think. I miss how booze could erase the things I didn’t want to think about, but not how it made me feel.”

  “I’ve never had a drink to try and forget something,” she said, taking a sip as if testing the wine for those kind of magical qualities. “I usually drink to unwind or take away inhibitions, but since I already danced like a tenth-grader at the prom, I’ve proven I can do that sober.”

  “Maybe you don’t have things you need to forget.” He lifted a platter from the sideboard and started to wash it.

  She gave a dry laugh. “You forget about my two miserable marriages. Plenty to forget.”

  “I still can’t believe Jasmine’s father really left you and her for his ex-wife.” Talk about stupid.

  “Well, he did. He should never have divorced her in the first place, and I shouldn’t have rushed into marriage and a baby at that age. But it all seemed so…stable to me.”

  He paused in the act of scrubbing the porcelain, studying her. “That’s what you were looking for.”

  “Always,” she said. “I hate that feeling that the world is out of control. I felt it when I found out Mike wasn’t my father, and then with my first marriage, and my second. And then…Jake.”

  She put the wine down as if she just realized it loosened her tongue too much.

  “You’ve been looking for men to balance you, when all this time you could do it yourself.”

  She nodded. “I’d like to think that. But…I can’t do everything myself.”

  He smiled, catching her drift. “Some things do require help. Like…” He handed her a towel. “Dishwashing. Takes two.”

  She took the towel and the clean platter to dry it. “Yeah, I have a long history of bad decisions where men are concerned.” She rubbed the water off. “Long. Ugly. And I really wanted to put a stop to that.”

  “Why do I hear a ‘but’ lingering?”

  She looked up. “But then I met you.”

  “Is that what I am? Another bad decision?”

  “Not yet.”

  “The night is young. We could make many bad decisions.” He took the platter from her and set it on the counter so she’d put her arms around him. Normally, he wouldn’t wait to kiss a woman this close and willing and beautiful. But after the vibes he’d been getting for the last hour or so, taking his time seemed like a good idea.

  “What are the things you wanted to erase?” she asked. “The stuff with your dad?”

  He stared at her, wanting to kiss so much more than talk.

  “You’ve said enough for me to know it was bad, Law. Will you tell me more or does it hurt to talk about it?”

  He didn’t answer right away, mostly because he was trying to think of the right way to respond. He could tell her what happened, of course, and what he endured. But would she understand? And what would she think of him?

  “Law?”

  He studied her for a second as an idea landed in his head. “You need long sleeves,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You can wear my chef’s jacket. It smells like the kitchen, and that will actually ward off mosquitoes, because there are a lot of them out there.” The more the plan settled over him, the better it felt.

  They shouldn’t have sex—at least not yet. Not until she knew what she was getting into and what he was all about.

  Libby frowned, shaking her head, her blue-gray eyes clouded with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “And I only have one helmet, but you can wear it.”

 
; “Wear it…where?”

  “Up to—what did you call them?—the islets and the inlets.”

  “Why would we go there?” she asked.

  “To talk.” He turned and grabbed her wine glass, handing it back to her. “Gas up, yoga bear. I’m taking you for a ride, and you might want to lose a few of those inhibitions. After that, you can tell me what happened to you tonight.”

  “Nothing happened tonight.”

  “Drink it or toss it. I want to go.” He went to grab his chef’s jacket and the keys to his bike, happy with the decision.

  Blessedly, she didn’t argue, but finished the wine in a few impressive gulps. She put the glass in the sink and took his jacket, still eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Why are we going up there? I mean, if you just want to go back to my house and, um, talk, Jasmine most likely won’t be home tonight and Sam’s left for a deposition in Sarasota.”

  “Good to know, but we’re not going there yet.”

  She walked with him out the back door, waiting while he locked up and following him to where he’d parked Bonnie in the back. Then she stopped.

  “You’re not scared of motorcycles, are you?” he asked, unhooking the helmet.

  “I’m scared of you,” she said softly. “I’m scared of how much you could hurt me and how little I care.”

  The wine worked, he thought with a smile. “You don’t have to be scared of me, Libby. But come with me and let me show you exactly who and what I am. Then, if you still want to go down that slippery slope, I’ll go with you. But not until you know everything about me.”

  She took the helmet and nodded. “That’s fair. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Even with a helmet and long sleeves, a warm, summer breeze covered Libby enough to make her feel hot and reckless and daring. The little bike was in great shape but had to be as old as she was…but still roaring, she thought with a smile. Law skillfully guided them through the streets of Mimosa Key, then up the far back roads of the eastern side of the island.