Seaside Nights

by Melissa Foster

  Did it bring him a feeling of freedom to be able to achieve such opposite parts of his personality? Were they really opposite? Or were they two parts of the same? Was his aggression in the ring like her focus and skill when crafting a tattoo or painting? Could he have been right about that? In Sky’s mind, it was like comparing apples and oranges, but when she was with Sawyer, there was no part of him that felt aggressive. The things he said and the way he moved, everything seemed natural and easy, not overly planned. And when she’d seen him in the ring for that brief time, she had to admit that even though he’d harnessed all that power and used it to knock his competitor to the ropes, he wasn’t swinging wildly or chasing the guy down. He moved like a panther on the prowl, slow, controlled, and when he struck, it was one fast punch, whereas the guy he was fighting was throwing a number of punches that Sawyer had easily blocked.

  He was leaning over a glass case now, his eyes focused on something, his body relaxed, and when he turned and caught her looking at him, his smile shot straight through her.

  They meandered through a few more shops and ate dinner at a café overlooking Commercial Street. After dinner they headed back toward her shop. The crowds had thinned, and the lights of the shops illuminated faces of a younger crowd. Music filtered out of bars, and drag queens stood out front of playhouses and bars handing out postcards with information on their shows. A guy playing a guitar sat on the steps of the library, surrounded by people listening to his music.

  “I love it here,” Sky said as they stopped to watch the guitarist play. “I love the energy of the people and the music, the colorful shops. And the pier. God, I love the pier so much, and the smell of the water at night, when the temperature dips and the fishy smell turns to something crispier, more alive. Everything about this town makes me feel good.”

  “I’ve always liked the diversity of Provincetown, but it’s been ages since I’ve spent any time walking around here. Spending time with you reminds me of the things I’ve been putting on the back burner, like enjoying an evening out. It seems like I’ve been training hard and working on the renovations to the cottage forever. Before the addition of the handicapped ramps, I worked on other projects, like raising the floors to eliminate the step down to the living room, and before that there was the renovation of the bathrooms to make them handicap accessible.”

  “Wow, you have been busy. I didn’t realize you’d done so much.”

  “It’s all worth it. That house means a lot to our family, but, Sky, spending time with you is better than anything else in my life. When I’m with you it doesn’t matter what we’re doing. You make everything special. You make me feel alive in ways I haven’t for a long time.”

  “We make each other feel that way, Sawyer. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

  “Even though I’m a boxer?”

  She reached up and touched his cheek, then answered him with a smile. “Even though you’re a boxer.”

  “You can’t imagine how much that means to me. This is my last fight, and I know I’m going at it hard, but I have to win. It’s one fight. Then I’ll retire, and you won’t have to worry about my fighting anymore.”

  “One fight. I think we can weather that storm. Just don’t get hurt.”

  “I’ll try not to get hurt. I want time with you, Sky. The last thing I want is to be injured. But you don’t have to worry. I’m an animal in the ring. I’ll kil—” He stopped himself, as if he didn’t want to use the word kill around her. “I’ve got this. I’ll win this fight.”

  Sawyer had a new, even more confident bounce in his step as they walked down the street toward her shop and the music faded behind them. People chatted on the steps of Puzzle Me This, and a man sat with his black Labrador retriever on the stoop of Shop Therapy. The thick scent of sage hovered in the air like marijuana at a concert. Sky leaned her head on Sawyer’s shoulder as they walked, feeling relaxed and comfortable.

  When they reached the shop, they both admired the freshly painted sign. Inky Skies was painted in a font that looked like a tattoo, with parts of each letter thickly painted and other lines so thin they were barely visible. Each letter was perfectly scripted. Teardrops appeared to be dripping from the bottom of the k in Skies. Clouds were painted above the words, fading as they sank halfway down behind the letters. Flecks of black spewed from the top of the k in Inky, fanning out into a flock of colorful birds, and in the bottom swell of the script I in Inky, Sky had painted a golden half-moon.

  “I can’t get over the sign, but why didn’t you name it Inky Sky?”

  She dug her keys from her bag and unlocked the front door before answering. He followed her into the dark shop, and she sensed him all around her—in the pulsing air, in the coiling heat in her belly, in her swelling heart—as if he’d already become a part of her. As she put her keys and bag on the counter and reached for her poetry book, she felt his father’s presence, too. She didn’t even know the man, but she somehow felt like she did from reading his poetry. Her friends thought she was mooning over C. J. Moon, but it was his words that spoke to her. The emotions he’d put down on paper that wound around her insides and tied themselves into a little knot of hope. And now his son—his wonderful, romantic, caring son was standing behind her as she lifted herself up on the counter and sat facing him.

  Gazing into Sawyer’s intensely dark eyes as he moved between her legs and placed his hands on her hips, she knew his father had poured all of those emotions into him. Of course Sawyer was made of warmth and strength and loyal fiber. Of course he was thoughtful, loving, and romantic. Sawyer Bass was placed here on earth just for her.

  Her pulse quickened with the thought. It was one of those thoughts that her friends might roll their eyes at and her brothers might scoff at, but Sky didn’t care about any of that. Everything he said spoke to her. Every touch, every glance, every whisper when she was in his arms, drew her further in. She already knew she’d never get enough of him. A tiny pulsing nag in the back of her mind ticked off the word fighter, and she rolled it over in her mind. Why would the universe drop a fighter in her lap? Someone who did something so far afield from the things she believed in?

  His words sailed through her mind.

  Because you’re strong enough to be weak when you need to. That’s a blessing. Most people are so hardened to their feelings that they mask them. I see it every day in the ring. Hell, Sky, I do it every day of my life.

  The answer was easy.

  Because you needed me, too.

  “I didn’t name the shop after myself,” she explained. “I know everyone thinks I did, but I didn’t.” She flipped through the poetry book and began reading. “Sun drifts, moon breaches, cool air whispers into the night. Tears fall, arms comfort, birds in the distance take flight. Waning crescent, smother my cries, take me up to the inky skies.”

  She gazed up at him with solemn eyes. “It’s one of my favorite poems.”

  “It’s my father’s.” His voice was thick with emotion.

  “It’s destiny,” she whispered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  SAWYER AWOKE THE following morning to soft paws stepping onto his chest. He opened his eyes and found Merlin’s scrunched-up furry face staring down at him accusingly, as if he’d taken his spot on the bed. Sawyer shifted his eyes to Sky, fast asleep beside him. Her head was nestled against his chest, one thigh rested over his, and her arm was draped possessively over his stomach. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder, covering her bare breast, save for a small patch of ivory skin. He never knew it was possible to feel so much for someone so quickly, but every ounce of his soul was wrapped around Sky Lacroux. He’d never met someone whose essence was so similar to his own.

  Merlin stretched his paws straight up the center of Sawyer’s chest, then sank to his belly and closed his eyes. A second later Sawyer felt the gentle vibration of his contented purr. Sawyer closed his eyes and draped one arm across Sky, and with the other he stroked Merlin’s back. Life didn’t get
much sweeter than this.

  He thought about the day ahead and the sparring he’d undergo during training. The doctor’s warning came rushing back, and his thoughts turned to his father. He’d call him later that morning and see how he was doing.

  Sky sighed in her sleep, and he pressed a kiss to her head. She was such a nurturing and loving person, and so sensual, open, and trusting, that it made him want to do everything he could to make her happy. As he lay there beside her, beneath her precious kitty, with the sun peeking through the curtains and the scent of their lovemaking lingering around them, he knew he needed to get a grip on the emotions she’d awakened in him. He knew that the second he stepped into the ring, thoughts of her would be right there with him, reminding him that it was no longer just his head, just his body—if he wanted Sky, he owed it to her to remain in one piece, wholly functional and cognitively capable.

  That meant that he needed to practice even harder, hone his every move even more effectively. Remain completely focused.

  Sky’s hand moved up his stomach to Merlin’s back. “Mm. We have company. Sorry.” Merlin purred louder.

  He loved her hazy morning voice. “Don’t be. Merlin and I have an agreement. I get to sleep beside you in the bed, and he gets to use me as a mattress. It seems pretty fair to me.”

  She lifted her head and looked up at him with sleepy eyes and a contented smile. “I like that deal, too.”

  Merlin stirred with her movement and lifted his head, as if he were deciding whether he should close his eyes and try to sleep or if his snuggle time was over. A second later he walked leisurely off Sawyer’s chest and leapt from the bed.

  Sky laughed softly. “Think he knew I wanted to get closer to you?”

  Sawyer rolled over her, gently lowering her to her back as his chest rose above hers. He loved the feel of her beneath him, soft and warm. He brushed her hair from her forehead and looked beneath her sweeping lashes to her sleepy eyes.

  “You’ve lured me in to you, Sky.”

  Her lips were faintly pink, lighter than after they kissed, after their passion turned them dark and well loved. The urge to kiss her was strong, but not as strong as the desire to tell her exactly how he felt, to reveal to her the way his thoughts turned to her at every move.

  “I’m totally falling for you,” he admitted. “If we keep spending time together, I know I’m only going to fall deeper into your depths.”

  Her fingers trailed up his side as she swallowed hard, her eyes never wavering from his, turning mildly serious. He felt her pulse quicken, and he knew she felt his speed up, too.

  “Should I be worried?” she asked in a whisper.

  He smiled at her response. She never said what he anticipated, and it made her even more appealing.

  “Only if you’re going to have second thoughts about us. I’ve never given away my heart before, Sky, and honestly, it’s a little scary.” He fought fierce competitors, willingly opened himself up to a physical beating every damn day. But nothing—nothing—compared to what Sky could do to him if she walked away, even after a few short days. He could only imagine how his feelings for her would grow after another week, a month, a year.

  “I think I’m done with second thoughts,” she answered. “I can’t fight what’s between us. It’s too big.”

  “I want to fall into you, Sky, and never find my way out.”

  She pressed her hands flat to his back and whispered against his lips, “Fall, Sawyer. I’ll be right there with you.”

  ***

  LATER THAT MORNING, on her way to work, Sky stopped at a yard sale and found the perfect chair for the shop. The paisley fabric was a mix of blues, wines, creams, and yellows. It had an old-fashioned look to it, though it was obviously much newer and in perfect shape, save for the comfortably used look of the cushion. The guy who sold it to her loaded it into her car, and once her busy afternoon was over, she’d have Blue help her carry it inside.

  She spent the first hour at the shop researching Parkinson’s. She read about the progression of the disease, the symptoms and eventualities that Sawyer and his family were facing. She wanted to know as much as she could, to better support Sawyer, and the more she read, the more she connected dots between her father’s alcoholism and his father’s disease. They weren’t the same, of course, because her father’s deterioration into alcoholism was voluntary and Sawyer’s father’s disease didn’t have a remedy waiting behind the doors of a medical facility, the way her father’s had. But her father had dealt with a disease that was stronger than him, the same way Sawyer’s father was. The same way her mother’s life was stolen from her. She wondered what it felt like to be a man, the pillar of strength for a family, and to feel that strength slipping away. For her father, she thought perhaps he readily gave it up in order to keep his sanity after losing his wife. He probably saw it as a reprieve from the pain and loneliness—and she knew just how lucky they were that he’d done well in rehab and had remained sober ever since.

  Sawyer’s father didn’t have that option, and even without having met the man, he had her love and her respect. And she already knew she’d do whatever it took to help his family.

  She spent the rest of the day moving between painting the final touches on the sign out front and tattooing customers. She’d barely had a chance to breathe. She didn’t even have time to slow down and fill Lizzie in about her and Sawyer when she popped in at lunchtime. Her mind had been drenched in thoughts of him ever since she’d left his arms that morning, when he’d said he had a surprise for her tonight. He wanted her to get to know all sides of him.

  She was pondering how many more sides he could have when Cree breezed through the front doors waving something above her head.

  “I love your new sign,” she said as she slapped a napkin on the counter. “And the yellow really livens up the place.” She knelt to lace up her worn black boots, then tugged on the bottom of her tank top, pulling it over the hips of her black miniskirt.

  “Thanks. I painted it yesterday. I didn’t expect you back so soon.” She wondered if she was just killing time before her shift started at Governor Bradford’s.

  “I didn’t expect to be back, but I forgot I had this, and I really wanted to get it done.”

  “Great.” Sky read the writing on the napkin. I’ll take it all. Hear it through. Wrestle your demons to remain beside you. She lifted her eyes to Cree, wondering if this was some type of trick Sawyer had put her up to. Those were the exact words he’d said to her after they’d made love the first time.

  “Where did you say you got this?”

  “Some guy left it on the bar a few nights ago. Why?” Cree was way too casual for this to be a trick.

  “I think my friend wrote it. I just wonder why he’d leave it there.”

  Cree shrugged. “I guess he didn’t like it. His loss is my gain. I have to get to work early tonight. Do you have time to tat me up?”

  “Sure, of course.” Sky took her into the back, and for the next forty-five minutes she permanently inked the words Sawyer had said to her after they’d made love onto Cree’s body. The words had seemed so heartfelt and sincere and had touched her so deeply that now jealousy snaked through her. She didn’t like tattooing Sawyer’s lovely words onto Cree, like they were hers for the taking.

  A steady stream of customers kept Sky busy all afternoon, which was a good distraction from the tattoo that had her mind spinning. Blue arrived sometime earlier to work on the renovations, and as Sky finished up a tattoo that had taken two hours on a guy’s calf, Blue finished applying a final coat of paint on the back wall.

  After the customer left, Sky closed up the shop and headed into the back to join him. She plopped onto a chair with a loud sigh, thinking about Cree’s tattoo.

  “What a day. I swear someone must be out there singing the virtues of tattoos or something.” She rubbed her stiff fingers.

  “That’s a good thing. It would suck if you had no customers.” Blue set the toolbox and painting suppli
es on the table next to Sky. “I’m just about done with the painting. I have some spackling and painting to get done upstairs, I want to build the shelves for your supplies behind your screens over there, and I think I can make a great row of built-ins upstairs. Then the place is all yours. Good as new.”

  “You’re the best, Blue. Thank you.” Not for the first time, she thanked her lucky stars for Blue’s friendship.

  “Paybacks are hell. You’re going to give me free tattoos for life and get me into Sawyer’s next fight, right?” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and cocked a smile.

  “Free tats? You’ve never let me put a lick of ink on you, but if you ever do, absolutely. And as far as Sawyer’s fight goes, I don’t think I’m going to go to it, but I’ll ask him for a ticket for you.”

  “Was it that bad watching him train?”

  Sky fidgeted with her bracelets. “It was like what I imagine it would be like to watch Merlin mangle a mouse.” She met Blue’s gaze. “The same way I can’t imagine my sweet kitty hurting anything, I don’t want to envision Sawyer hitting someone. But I saw it, so I know it’s real, unlike Merlin, who I can still pretend doesn’t ever kill mice.”

  She got up and paced. “You should have seen the two of them. Even I could tell that the other guy had no business being in the ring with him. He was smaller, and none of his punches connected with Sawyer, but Sawyer’s punches?” Her eyes widened with the memory. “Blue, he hit the guy hard.”

  “He’s supposed to. That’s what training is all about—perfecting his technique.”

  “Well, he sure perfected it. The other guy had a huge welt on his neck.” Sky stopped pacing and leaned on the counter beside Blue. “I’ve never been in this situation before, Blue. I really like him. I like who he is and I like everything about him—except the fighting.”