by Tracy Ewens
Hollis smiled. “Not today. I’m in a good mood and I happen to like New Jersey, so she was safe. Besides, challenging people are my specialty.” Hollis sat back down in her chair and crossed her legs.
“You should have sunglasses on out here.”
“Said the man who is the color of a lobster.” She shaded her eyes and looked up at him. “What happened, by the way, did you forget sunscreen?”
Her uncle shook his head. “It’s stupid. I took this paddleboard yoga class Toro was offering and I was so tired, I fell asleep on the beach after.”
Hollis held his eyes for a beat, trying to figure out if he was joking. “You do yoga?”
He shrugged, waving to a lady walking two almost-identical miniature fur-ball dogs toward the beach. “Not usually, but I thought I’d try. Last time. I think I pulled something.”
“You should probably start with yoga on land first before attempting to balance on a board, don’t you think?”
“Probably. So what did Big Earl couple want?”
“They had legitimate complaints. No extra towels and they didn’t get a welcome basket.”
“Shoot, I was meaning to tell Candy.”
“It’s all right. I told them we’d fix it right away and I gently guided them away from my gorgeous day.”
“You threw in a bottle of wine and flowers. I heard. You’re good at this, Tots.”
She laughed then realized her uncle was serious. She was on a fine line with seconds to respond before she appeared to be a snotty elitist. Maybe that wasn’t who she really was, but prior to getting her feet back in the sand, she had been accused of such behavior.
“You think?”
“I do. I mean I know you’re crazy educated, but what you did with that woman is not found in a book. You’re genuinely concerned about people.”
“Let’s not get carried away. It’s more of a kill ’em with kindness philosophy.” Hollis stood.
“Well, it works. You’re incredible, you know.”
Hollis was stunned. “I don’t these days, honestly. Thank you.” She kissed her uncle on the cheek and before she cried or jumped into his lap and asked him to read Where the Wild Things Are with the voices and all, she turned and ran right into Matt.
“Perfect, you’re here. I’d like to take you somewhere. Are you free?” He steadied her.
Hollis looked back to her uncle, who was sporting an interesting pair of tie-dyed pants and collared shirt that in no way matched. “Will you take care of Big Earl for me? You can grab a bottle of wine from my now-neglected stash and I put some larkspur at the hostess station, so you can have Candy put those in their room.”
Her uncle saluted and waved her to go.
Hollis turned back to Matt, still remembering his mouth on hers but not wanting to be obvious. “It seems Mr. Miyagi is letting me go. Where do you want to take me?”
“It’s a surprise.” He took her hand and led her to the parking lot.
“Once again, I’m”—she looked down at her striped shorts and flip-flops—“not exactly dressed for a surprise.”
“You are for this one.” He opened the passenger door of a black SUV and climbed in to drive.
“Is this yours?” Hollis asked, putting her seatbelt on.
“I hope so.” Matt pulled onto Highway 1 with the sun now dropping lower in the sky. “We need to hurry up.”
“Why? Is this a Mercedes G-Class?”
Matt turned briefly then focused back on the winding coastal road. “You know cars?”
“I know this one. Something doesn’t make sense here. Either your parents are supporting you, which I find hard to reconcile given what I know about you, or this mystery programming job pays extremely well. What’s going on?”
“It’s an old one. I think it’s like 2010 or somewhere around there.”
“Uh huh.”
“It was a gift.” Matt smiled.
“From who?”
“A lady friend.” His brows wiggled, sending his glasses up and down.
Hollis laughed. “Oh, so that explains it. You have a sugar mama.”
Matt nodded.
“Well, you are kind of hot, so I can see why the older country club gals would want a piece of that.”
He took her hand and kissed it as if they’d been together forever. They had in fact, but not like this. The road stretched out into the bay then curved back in, and Hollis was mesmerized. The beauty of the area was never lost on her, and she could get used to the calm pulse of her heart.
“It never gets old,” she said, turning her face to the wind. “Are you seriously thinking I’m leaving this conversation with the explanation that you’re some rich woman’s boy toy?”
“Yeah, I really like that. It sounds like the perfect thing to send my parents right over the edge. It might make them wish they’d bought a puppy instead or that I’d been in that car instead of John.”
Hollis was stunned as the memory of Matt’s family rushed back to her. In their isolated dance to find one another, she’d forgotten. “That’s not funny. Take it back.”
Matt shook his head. Damn him, he never took things back when she asked.
“How are your parents?”
Matt was no longer smiling. “I told you, my dad had hip surgery and my mother is perpetually disappointed that I didn’t at least produce one grandchild before getting divorced and shattering her dreams.”
Hollis had to remind herself that he’d been married. It was part of his life now, part of their adult histories. Their stories had evolved and when she looked back at Matt, she realized he was older. Sometimes when they were this close to the ocean, she forgot.
“Is he in pain?”
“He’s still sore, and yes, he’s still a pain. I spoke with Toro, though, so we might try to get him in the water.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“We’ll see. I might have to use a tranquilizer gun.”
They laughed and drove for a few more minutes before Matt said, “Your sister is getting married?”
“She is. In a little over a month now.”
“Do you like Garrett? That’s his name, right?”
“Yes and yes.”
He smiled at her one-word answers. Hollis shared pieces of the Sage and Garrett story. Caught him up on the rest of the Jeffries sisters and mentioned that her parents were planning a trip to India for their anniversary.
“Wow, most couples go to Paris.”
Hollis smirked. “Not mine. Every time, it’s someplace new.”
“I remember that. Does that bother you?”
“Does what bother me?”
“That they’re so… accomplished. I’ve always thought they cast a fairly big shadow.”
“No. I don’t mind.” With the weight of discussing their families, she couldn’t tell why, but she took her hand back and looked out the window as they pulled into a parking area.
She had never been to Lawson’s Landing—another first. She’d been clamming before, but never on Tomales, which was strange because she and her family had spent so many summers here. It felt intentional on Matt’s part, as if he was continuing to add to their present in the hope it would somehow dilute the past twelve years. So much of their history swirled around this area that it was difficult to be original on a date. Date. Is that what this is?
It took less than an hour before they were slopping around the dark black mud in their waders. The guy who set them up had asked if they wanted one bucket to share, and Matt shook his head and snatched up two buckets before Hollis even had a chance to answer. He knew Hollis. Had he not grabbed an extra bucket, she would have insisted. They each needed to have their own because that was the only way to know who picked the most clams.
Sometimes, he wasn’t sure Hollis was even aware that she naturally made everything a show-up event; all of life’s experiences turned into a contest of sorts. Hollis worked her own clam tube and shovel. Matt knew there were men who would be annoyed or intimidated by her
ability to grasp and conquer, but he found it incredibly sexy. After about an hour, the sun was starting to set and they came together to see if either of them had reached the fifty-clam limit.
“Thirty-six, thirty-seven. I’ve got thirty-seven, you?” Matt asked.
Hollis had a smudge of sand across her cheek and a face that said she did not have thirty-seven.
“Did you stick your tongue out at me?” he asked as he reached out to wipe the sand off her face.
“Sure did.” She backed up, bucket in hand.
“How many did you get, Holls?”
“Enough. I didn’t go over. Are you ready to leave, because I should get back to—”
He faked like he was going to walk away but turned and grabbed her around the waist. Hollis dropped her bucket as he swung her around. The sun was creeping lower and they did need to get back, but her cheeks were flushed and her clothes stuck to her every curve… and those waders. Matt had never noticed how sexy waders could be. God, she was like the difference between the cloistered air conditioning of a San Francisco boardroom and the fresh cool ocean breeze.
Still holding her, before she could say anything, argue or debate, he kissed her, ran his hands along the sides of her breasts, and when her own hands began to travel his body, Matt allowed himself to feel all of her. Maybe he would regret this later, tell himself he should have pulled back after kissing her. That was probably how it would play out. Instead of having her for the rest of his life, messy, complicated, and so capable of making him feel everything, she would return home. Once the novelty of the cove wore off and she returned to her expensive shoes and even more expensive men, he would again be the fool.
Not this time, his stupid heart whispered. Every time, his mind whispered back. Matt watched Hollis break free of his arm and try to run in her waders and decided not to listen to either. He grabbed his bucket and couldn’t manage to wipe the smile off his face. Whatever way this thing played out, he had created a new memory. The sound of her laughter and those waders would surely carry him a few more years.
Chapter Fifteen
Lawson’s Landing had a shower, but the mere sight of his clinging T-shirt was enough to shut her brain down, so Hollis was certain a shower scene after the great afternoon they’d had was a bad idea. That had not kept her from spending most of the drive home imagining ripping his clothes off and finding all that sand. When they pulled up to Mitchell’s Cove, Matt grabbed both buckets from the back and contributed even more to her fantasy as his arms flexed under the weight.
“Oh, look at you two go. Special change,” Mitch called over his shoulder to the chef in the back. “Okay, now get out because dinner starts in an hour and I don’t want sand on my floor.”
“Seriously?” Hollis was about to shake her hair and send the sand flying but decided to behave. Instead, they backed out, careful not to shake the wrong cuff or jiggle the wrong pocket. Obviously not ready to say good-bye, they settled themselves on a concrete bench off to the side of the entrance.
“I got more clams than you,” Matt sang quietly as he leaned over and kissed her neck.
Hollis shook her head then grabbed his face and kissed him. It was sort of a punishment kiss, a thin line between love and hate type of thing. Even playful, his lips weakened her knees.
She was so lost in him she didn’t realize they had company and certainly didn’t feel the sleaze that was Reese. Sort of like those puzzles in the Sunday paper that asked, “What’s Wrong with This Picture,” when Hollis opened her eyes, her mind posed the same question.
“I heard you liked it rough, but jeez, you’re a mess.” Reese whistled, all of his class plainly on display.
Hollis felt like the earth had skipped a beat on its axis as her two words collided in an instant. She stood up and brushed at her shorts. “What do you want, Reese? How did you find me?”
“I want to know when you’re coming back. If you’re done playing… sand castle with whoever this guy is?”
She glanced quickly at Matt then took Reese’s arm and led him back toward her cabin. “Your asshole is showing, let’s get you indoors.”
Reese laughed. “Strangely, I’ve missed you, Hollis.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Seriously, it’s been two months now. No one fired you, so what the hell are you doing here?”
“Finding myself.”
He appeared puzzled, as if the concept was foreign. “Are you finished?”
“No. I need a couple more weeks. I’ve been checking e-mails, staying on top of everything. Christ, this morning I was on a teleconference with a guy from Spain.”
“I know. I was there.”
“Then what the hel”—Hollis pictured the crazy mom—“What are you doing here? The consultants are working with Zeke. I received an e-mail last night and they’re optimistic about progress. I’ll be back when I’m ready.”
“Megan is getting awfully cozy with Corning.”
“Oh, who cares. It’s not like he’d be the first boss Megan’s ever slept with.”
“Ouch.” Reese took a piece of her still sandy and crazy wavy hair. “I like this version of you. Kind of wild.”
Hollis cringed because no matter how many times he tried to turn on the sexy, the idea of ever getting wild with Reese was out of the question.
“Time to go, Reese. Head back and tell Megan that I’m fine and if she or Corning need anything, they have computers.” She led him back to the parking lot and noticed he had a driver waiting. Her eyes went wide.
“A driver, huh? Are they paying for your lunch and dinner too?”
Reese winked and climbed into the seat offered by the uniformed man now holding open the back door. “Hurry back,” he managed to get out before the door closed.
Hollis found she was ill equipped to deal with Reese or anything work-related with sand in her shorts. Or maybe that was simply a metaphor for happiness. It was entirely possible, she had started to realize that happy and her life back home didn’t go hand in hand at all.
Matt was still sitting on the bench outside the restaurant when Hollis sent the mystery man off in some car and walked toward him, still covered in sand. He would have smiled, but her face told him the smiling portion of the day was over. It was dark now and the bugs zapped at the two lights above the wooden sign that read Mitchell’s Cove in sprawling blue script.
“You like it rough?” Matt asked, part genuinely curious and the other part sarcastic.
“I do, rough and cold.” Hollis sat next to him with a vacant expression on her face as she ran her fingers through the sand on her leg.
“Hasn’t been my experience.” Matt smiled when she finally glanced over.
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long ago. Who was that… really great guy?”
“Reese Winterford.”
“Wow. He sounds like he’s from Game of Thrones.”
“That’s Winterfell.” She smiled, which was a good sign, but it was nowhere close to reaching her beautiful eyes.
“I stand corrected. He sounds like a spinoff of Game of Thrones. How does he know you like it rough?”
“He doesn’t.”
“Seemed like he might.”
Hollis shook her head. They’d both now resorted to one-word answers, and Matt could feel himself wanting answers to pieces of her that were no longer his business.
He watched her fingers thread through the sand on her skin. “We were having a perfectly great sunset until Mr. Creepy appeared and screwed the whole thing up. Let’s talk.”
“He’s a colleague.”
“Sleep with a lot of colleagues, do you, Holls?” Matt knew it was harsh, but he wanted a reaction, something.
“Fuc—”
“Ah, ah. Think of the children.”
Her jaw clenched as her eyes told him exactly where he could go without a single spoken syllable.
“Truck you. I don’t owe you an explanation for anything.” Hollis sat up straight, as if tha
t somehow gave her more power over the situation.
“True. Can I have one question?”
She inhaled and exhaled, and he could tell she was biting down on the inside of her bottom lip. Some things never changed. “What?”
“Were you in love with him?”
Hollis laughed a full hearty laugh and shook her head. “Matt, I haven’t been in love in a long time. No. I did not, do not, love Reese. He’s a complete ass… ociate.”
“Okay, then how long?”
“How long what?”
“How long since you’ve been in love?”
“Is this the part in the romantic comedy where I look deep into your eyes and say, ‘Not since you, Matt?’”
He didn’t flinch, didn’t show fear. He waited, hoping whatever outer shell she’d put up at the sight of that guy would wash away and sandy, happy Hollis would float back to the surface.
“I don’t do love anymore.” Her eyes melted a little in the glow of the overhead lights. She stood, brushing her hands together as sand continued to fall off, and turned to leave.
He reached for her arm, but the words stuck in his throat when she turned back. She was thinking about the last time she’d been in love. He couldn’t blame her—so was he.
“Me too, Holls. Me too.”
Their gazes held for a moment as if it were some other summer, some other time when exactly what they needed was right there in a stolen kiss or holding hands. Hollis shook herself free from everything he could tell was rushing through her and punched him in the shoulder.
“Ouch.”
“Cut it out, Matt. No one likes a soft, whiney guy. Man up.”
“Okay.” He pulled her into him and relished the total shock on her face for a split second before he kissed her. The outer shell was still there, but by the time he could taste the salt on her tongue, her hands climbed into his hair and they were back in their moment. Matt tried not to think about anything outside of the way her body responded to him, but he had a feeling things were about to get complicated. If they were in a “romantic comedy,” as she’d called it, this next part was his least favorite.
Chapter Sixteen
The following Monday, Hollis felt like she was drowning in paper. She had sifted through what felt like hundreds of invoices, receipts, and unopened pieces of mail that were all mixed together with cryptic notes scribbled on torn pieces of paper her uncle couldn’t even decipher. She put everything on his desk first thing in the morning then grabbed three empty boxes and began sorting. By the time Uncle Mitch entered with a tray of iced tea, she could see the wood of his desktop. When he tried to set the tray on top of one of her boxes, Hollis almost growled.