Seaside Lovers: Grayson Lacroux (Love in Bloom: Seaside Summers)

by Melissa Foster

  “Here, baby.” Grayson handed Parker a tissue for the tears she didn’t realize she was shedding.

  “She said she was living out west and had a surprise for me. She said she’d be here on the eighteenth. I never even thought to ask how she’d found me, or for her phone number. I was so overwhelmed, but I felt so good after that call. I was afraid to leave the house, in case she called again, so I waited. Throughout that week and the next. When she didn’t call and didn’t show up, I wondered if I’d imagined the call. I waited for weeks, which turned to months, then years.”

  Parker felt Grayson’s steady gaze on her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of Sarah as she revealed the anguish she’d suffered.

  “Every October fifteenth I remember our call. At least now I only allow myself to dissect every word we said on that one day. For years I went over it in my head every day, wondering what I’d said that made her not want to come back.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t anything you said,” Parker reassured her.

  “Did you try to have the call traced?” Grayson asked. “To track her down?”

  Sarah shook her head. “If I had done that, Abe would have been notified because her case had never been resolved, and then there would be no chance of her returning. I still have hope.” She turned to Parker again. “When I saw you standing on my porch, my mind reached for Miriam. That happens a lot. I search the face of every blond-haired, blue-eyed woman, wondering if that’s what my daughter might have looked like at that age.”

  She reached for a frame on the table beside her and showed it to Parker. “This was taken a few weeks before she went missing.”

  Parker took in the girl’s straight honey-colored hair and vacant blue eyes. She looked sad despite her smile. Parker saw a hint of that vacancy in Sarah’s eyes, like the missing pieces of their lives reflecting back at the world—a look Parker recognized all too well, having seen it in her own reflection for so many years.

  **

  GRAYSON HAD LEARNED many things from his father, but perhaps the most important lesson was when to hold his tongue. He applied that lesson now, sitting on the front stoop of Matt’s home, waiting for him to arrive, as Parker paced the yard, rehashing their visit with Sarah. She’d been taking apart every sentence, every facial expression, every unspoken emotion, for a half hour.

  “Do you think she had the same thoughts we did after the call when Miriam never showed up? That it wasn’t really her daughter after all? Or if it was, maybe something had happened to her? I couldn’t live like that, without knowing the answers.”

  He forced himself not to move from the step, because if he held her in his arms, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep from saying what had been eating at him since he saw the picture of Miriam.

  “She has no choice,” he finally answered.

  “Not now she doesn’t. But back then? She could have done something.”

  “She was afraid of Abe finding out. Besides, it was 1989. How advanced was technology back then?”

  “I don’t know. I was only a year old.” Her eyes filled with sadness.

  Damn, he could take her angst, but he was no match for her sad baby blues. Unable to stay away, he pushed from the stoop. Taking her in his arms, he gazed into her eyes, loving her so much he ached.

  “She did what she felt was right, sweetheart. I know you want to help her, and I’m sure you’re wondering how you can help track down her daughter, but you’ve done all that you can. You’ve given her back something she went years without.”

  “Yeah, a diary full of bad feelings.” She touched her forehead to his chest. “Did I make a mistake? Should I have left well enough alone? Do you think she’ll be okay, or do you think she’s falling apart right this very second because of the diary?”

  He lifted her face again, unable to concentrate on her questions as love for his caring, thoughtful girlfriend obliterated every other thought. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  “You’re not answering my questions.”

  He cocked a brow, having already answered the same questions at least four times since she’d begun analyzing their visit.

  She sighed.

  “We’ve gone through this, sweetheart. She’s doing whatever it is she needs to do to deal with having the diary after all these years.” But he wondered if there was something else she could do, and decided to feel her out. “Did Miriam’s picture look familiar to you? Did the timing of her call and the fact that she never showed up ring any bells?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Was it possible he’d seen only what he wanted to see, and he was barking up the wrong tree?

  “Her daughter called days before the San Francisco earthquake.”

  “You think she…” She swallowed hard.

  He shrugged. The picture of Miriam flashed in his mind again, so similar to the picture Bert had taken of Parker at eighteen.

  “Oh no. I hope not,” she said. “That would be terrible.”

  “Baby, the picture she showed us? Don’t you think it looked similar to the one Bert took of you?”

  “What? No. She…” She stepped away and paced. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m not saying anything. I’m thinking out loud.”

  “Well, don’t,” she snapped. “Whatever it is you think you’re putting together, don’t.”

  “Baby.” He reached for her and she stepped back, her face a mask of hurt and anger. “I’m sorry, but the dates, the picture. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but what if I’m not?”

  “You definitely are,” she snapped. “My mom’s gone, Grayson. And I hope Sarah’s daughter isn’t.”

  He reached for her again, and she let him hold her this time. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you, but what if the dots connect? What if your birth mother was Miriam Stein? A genetic reconstruction DNA test could give you the answer.”

  “What? No. Absolutely not. My mother was Sherry Collins, not Miriam Stein. You’re grasping at straws. Do you know how big of an area the west is? She could have been anywhere out there, not just in California. I just…I don’t want that for her. I don’t want that for me. What if I get my hopes up, and then it’s not her?”

  He softened his tone. “But what if it is? It would mean you have a grandmother you could get to know. You’d have your family.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It would mean my mother ran away from parents who didn’t love her enough. It would mean she was killed because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, all because her father was too self-centered to love her or incapable—”

  She was shaking all over, and he realized just how big of a mistake he’d made.

  “I’m sorry. Shh. It’s okay.” Goddamn it. He couldn’t put her through this. He could be way off base, and she didn’t need another thing to worry about. But what if this was the link she’d always hoped for? How could he turn his back on that possibility?

  Parker exhaled loudly. “I trust your judgment, Grayson, but I think you’re way off on this. I can’t even begin to give it serious consideration. I don’t want her daughter to be dead. I want her to be off somewhere living her life, angry or confused or whatever, but alive.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  PARKER SAT ON the stoop beside Grayson and rested her head on his shoulder. It had been twenty minutes since he’d mentioned the similarities between the picture of Miriam and her younger self and the coincidence of the dates of Miriam’s call and her mother’s death. Now it was all she could think about—and she didn’t want to think about it for another second.

  “I’m sorry I pushed the issue about Miriam,” he said for the tenth time. “I probably saw something that wasn’t there.”

  She wasn’t sure if he’d seen similarities that didn’t exist, or if she didn’t want to see whatever he claimed to—and she didn’t really want to know.

  “I’m sorry I got so upset. It’s been a stressful afternoon, but you didn’t deserve that.” She
leaned into him, and he put his arm around her, which settled some of her anxiety.

  “I don’t know what’s taking Matt so long. He’s never late, and he’s not the kind of guy to blow us off without a phone call.”

  She was thankful for the change in subject, but she knew he was still thinking about the picture, wondering if there was a connection and keeping those thoughts to himself. He loved her enough to suffer through his questions in silence, and she loved him even more for it.

  “I’m sure he’ll be here when he can. Maybe he got hung up with a student or something. At least it’s nice out and we’re together. Thank you for being here. It means a lot to me.”

  “Always, baby.” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her.

  She pushed away all the troubling thoughts and surrendered to the blissful feeling that always accompanied their kisses. A car door closed, startling Parker. She jumped from Grayson’s lap.

  “Matt’s seen people kiss before.” Grayson rose to greet his brother.

  Parker had seen pictures of Matt in Grayson’s house, but she barely recognized him in the disheveled man stepping around the car. His hair was going every which way, as if he’d been stuck in a crosswind. His button-down shirt was untucked, torn at the shoulder seam and across the chest. Smears of what looked like blood stained his arm and streaked his face.

  Grayson embraced him. “Missed you,” he said, as if this were Matt’s everyday appearance, which was unfitting of a Princeton professor.

  “You too. Sorry I’m late.” Matt flashed a crooked smile at Parker, which softened his chiseled features. “It’s nice to finally meet the woman who’s got my brother’s head in the clouds.” He embraced Parker.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” She followed him to the door, stunned by their lack of conversation about Matt’s torn and bloody clothes. She mouthed, What happened? to Grayson. He lifted his shoulder in a casual shrug. This was a great distraction from her worries about Miriam, but now she had all sorts of new concerns racing through her mind.

  “Come on in.” Matt tossed his keys on a table by the door and began unbuttoning the few remaining buttons on his shirt. He nodded to the living room. Cardboard boxes were stacked two and three high. The framed picture of Parker and Grayson kissing sat atop one of the boxes, and two couches sat at odd angles near the back wall.

  “Did you just move in?” Parker asked.

  “No.” Matt wrinkled his brow like she’d asked a ridiculous question. “Make yourselves at home.” He hiked his thumb over his shoulder toward the staircase. “I’m going to shower and change, and then we can head out to dinner.”

  “Sounds good,” Grayson said to his brother’s back as Matt ascended the stairs. “Sweetheart,” he said to Parker. “I’m going to grab our stuff.”

  She followed him out. “What do you think happened to him?”

  “Who knows.” He pulled their suitcase from the trunk and headed back toward the house.

  “Grayson? He was bloody and his clothes were torn. Aren’t you worried?”

  “About him?” He laughed. “Matt’s like Clark Kent. Clean-cut professor by day, superhero by night.”

  She stopped cold. “What does that mean? He beats up bad guys? Flies through the air with a cape?”

  He reached for her hand, bringing her into the house with him. “Not usually.”

  “How can you be so nonchalant about this?”

  He shrugged again, and she followed him downstairs to a bedroom, where he set their things down and wrapped her in his arms again.

  “Sweetheart, he’s not a dangerous guy. Matt’s as straitlaced as they come. But if there’s trouble—a car accident, an unfair fight, an old lady needing help crossing the street—Matt jumps in. Always has. No big deal.”

  She could easily imagine Grayson doing every one of those things and coming out of the fight with the same calm demeanor he’d possessed since she’d known him.

  “It’s not a big deal. Don’t overthink it.” Grayson stripped down to his briefs to change for dinner, making it easy for her to stop thinking about Matt.

  Matt joined them a little while later, freshly showered and dressed in a neatly pressed white button-down and a pair of dark slacks, looking very professorial. Now that Parker wasn’t focused on his torn clothing, she saw that where Grayson was broad and thick chested with muscles that rivaled that of a bodybuilder, Matt was athletically built, but leaner and slimmer at the waist. His features were more angular than Grayson’s. He was handsome, as all the Lacrouxs were, but he didn’t hold a candle to her man, who took her breath away in a pair of low-slung jeans and a black button-down rolled up to his elbows, exposing the muscular forearms she loved to touch.

  Matt jiggled the keys hanging from his finger. “Dinner?”

  Parker wondered what type of spell their parents had cast that enabled them to remain calm in the face of any storm—and how she could get some of that potion.

  **

  LATER THAT EVENING Grayson sat on the edge of the bed in Matt’s guest room, rationalizing the calls he’d made to Hunter and Caden when Parker had been on the phone with Luce. No matter how hard he tried not to think about the possible connection between Parker and Miriam Stein, it was right there, refusing to be ignored. He loved Parker too damn much to let even a remote possibility of finding her family go and he loved her too much to cause her the anguish of false hope.

  He looked across the room at her now, sorting through her toiletries, still wearing the little black dress she’d worn to dinner, and he hoped he’d done the right thing.

  “I had a nice time tonight,” Parker said. “That was crazy about the cat in the sewer.”

  “Leave it to Matt to get tangled up in something.” Matt had told Parker he’d rescued a cat that had been stuck in a sewer after work, calming her concerns about his roughed-up appearance. Grayson had seen a shadowed look in his brother’s eyes, and when Parker had gone to the ladies’ room, Grayson had called him on it. Matt admitted to stopping a carjacking and not wanting to worry Parker, which made him appreciate his brother’s careful thought process even more.

  Grayson had taken advantage of their brief moment alone to tell Matt about the similarities in the photos and the dates surrounding Miriam’s last call and Parker’s mother’s death. Matt’s response mirrored Grayson’s thoughts. They have DNA tests for that. It sounded so easy, but Parker had been vehement in wanting no part of it, taking easy out of the equation.

  They’d had a nice evening despite the rocky beginning. After dinner Matt had given them a tour of Princeton’s campus. Grayson had almost forgotten how being with Matt was like spending time with both their mother and father. Matt possessed their father’s innate ability to remember everything he’d ever read or heard and their mother’s ability to get to the heart of any issue with just a few words. In the first few minutes of their walk, Matt had learned about Bert, Abe, and Christmas. Grayson had to admit he was a little jealous, considering it had taken him ten months to learn as much, but he took that as a good sign. Parker had been on such an emotional roller coaster lately, he hadn’t expected her to share much of herself with Matt. The fact that she had proved just how strong she was.

  Parker put her toiletries in the bathroom and glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

  She was so beautiful, standing inside the open bathroom doorway with her back to him. She stepped from her dress, purposely giving Grayson an eyeful—and wiping his brain clean of anything but thoughts of loving her, body, mind, and soul. She unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor. She hooked her fingers in the sliver-like sides of her thong and wiggled her ass as she stepped out of it. Then she stepped out of sight and turned on the shower.

  Grayson undressed as he walked toward the bathroom. He drank in her gorgeous silhouette through the foggy glass doors. Her head was back, her hands moving over her breasts, her ribs, and down her belly. Hard as steel and hungry for her, he squeezed the base of his cock as
he slid the door open and stepped inside, pressing his chest to her back.

  His hands slid over her wet skin, and he filled his palms with her breasts, teasing her nipples into taut peaks beneath the warm spray of the shower.

  “Mm. I was wondering when you were going to join me.” She ground her ass against his erection, sending lust to his core.

  “I’ll make up for taking so long.” He moved one hand down her taut stomach, to the wetness between her legs. “You’re so ready, baby. Did you start without me?”

  “No.” She lifted up on her toes. “I was waiting for you. Knowing you were watching me through the glass turned me on.”

  “Damn, baby. You drive me crazy.” Lowering his hips, he aligned the head of his cock between her legs and pushed in slowly. She was tighter when he entered her this way, and when he was buried balls deep, they both stilled. “Love how tight you are.”

  He lowered his mouth to her shoulder, sucking and biting just hard enough to cause her to gasp with pleasure. She reached behind her and gripped his hips as he began to move. She was so tight, so hot, so eager, the way she rose on her toes and sank down in fast succession as she rode him.

  “Faster. Harder.” She braced her hands against the tile wall as he pounded into her.

  He squeezed her nipple, knowing just how to give her what she wanted, and moved his thumb over her clit.

  “Grayson. Oh God, right there. Gonna…Oh Go—”

  Her hips bucked, her sex clenched in pulse after mind-blowing pulse around his cock, nearly drawing the come right out of him. Clenching his teeth against his own release, they rode out her climax.

  “I’ve got to see you, baby.”

  Turning her in his arms, he lifted her easily and lowered her onto his throbbing shaft. They both moaned at the intense pleasure. Their mouths crashed together in a feverish game of take and take and take some more. She clawed at his shoulders as he buried himself to the root time and time again. He was too lost in her to slow down. The sounds escaping her lungs and careening into his told him she was right there with him.