The bartender walked by and collected Nick’s empty.
The blonde waved him to wait and then turned to Nick. “Can I buy you another?”
“No thanks.”
Ignoring him, she turned back to the bartender. “Bring Mr. Fortune—Nick”—she angled her head his way and tried what Nick could only imagine was her most seductive smile on him, which left him unmoved, before facing the bartender once again—“bring Nick another of whatever he’s drinking. And I’ll have a . . .” She stuck the tip of her bright red nail in the tip of her teeth and thought for a moment. “A piña colada.” She batted her eyelashes. “Don’t you just love those drinks with the little umbrellas in them?” She giggled and smiled and waited until the bartender left before continuing. “I’m Ashlie, by the way. That’s Ashlie with an ie.”
“Nice to meet you.” Good manners died hard.
A heavy application of makeup at first made Ashlie appear older than she was. But up close, Nick realized she was barely old enough to be legal. She was dressed in a short, skintight, bright red dress with unbelievably high matching heels. He’d bet his last race winnings that Hope had never worn a dress quite that . . . small. One he could wad up into a ball and fit in the palm of his hand—with room left over for shoes.
At the thought of Hope, his mood soured once more.
“My brother is a huge fan,” Ashlie continued. “He has the races on the TV all the time. I guess I got hooked after watching so many. And that’s how I knew it was you.” She leaned forward and picked a peanut out of the bowl in front of him. Her arm brushed purposefully against his. She smiled and popped the nut into her mouth, then slowly licked the salt off her fingertips. “You’re even better looking in person.”
Even if Nick had been inclined to take her up on her clear invitation—which he wasn’t—one look at her blond hair would stop him dead in his tracks. After today, he’d had enough of blondes to last a lifetime.
Their drinks arrived. Nick grabbed a few bills out of his pocket and handed them over.
“That’s awfully nice of you.”
Nick hadn’t been born yesterday. There had been a lot more Ashlies who had “bought” him drinks. “No problem.”
“Darren, that’s my brother. He’d have a cow if he knew I was here with you. Last year for Christmas, I helped him shop for Darren Jr., his son. My nephew,” she clarified, as if Nick couldn’t have figured that one out for himself. “We had to drive to five different stores until we found what he was looking for. D.J.—Darren Jr., that’s what we call him—just had to have that racetrack. You know, the one with your picture on it? And your car in it?” She flashed him another smile before curving her bright red lips around the straw.
“The clerk at the last store told us they were selling out quicker than they could get them in,” she continued after taking a sip. “I don’t know who was more excited on Christmas morning, my brother or little D.J. I just love kids. Do you have any?” she asked, switching topics faster than she blinked her eyes.
“No,” came the automatic answer. Then a picture flashed through his mind of Hope and two nearly grown children.
“I didn’t think so. I mean a guy like you . . .”
Nick knew exactly what she meant by a guy like him.
“And since you were voted People Magazine’s Hottest Bachelor earlier this year, I guess I can assume you’re not married?”
Nick’s “No” was crisp and curt. That was one answer he was still positive of.
Ashlie held up her left hand and waggled her ring finger. “Me either.” She glanced around the lounge, her smile pure invitation when she turned it back on him. “This place is kind of dull. I know somewhere we could go that’s nice and private.”
Nick was just about to say no when he caught the look in her eyes. It was like a mirror into his own vacant soul. He shook off the thought, wondering where that had come from. He was just in a foul mood and it all centered on one person.
“I’m sorry”—he softened his refusal with a lie—“but I’m waiting for someone.”
She forced a smile. “Oh. Sure. Maybe another time.”
“Hello, Nick.”
The soft voice came from behind. Slowly, Nick turned around.
Hope stood there looking both determined and nervous. She’d changed out of the shorts and T-shirt she’d been wearing earlier and now wore a long-sleeved, white cotton shirt and a pair of jeans. She’d left her hair down, the sides secured loosely at the back of her neck. Its thickness fought the confines of the clip and curls cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.
There was nothing fancy or designer about her outfit. Nothing to make her stand out or draw attention. But that didn’t matter. She still stood out, still drew attention. And not just his, he noted as he saw other men turn and stare. That pissed him off for no good reason.
He was just about to tell her to leave; he’d said everything he’d had to say earlier today, and the only thing that mattered was tomorrow when he was going to see his kids. But as he continued to look at her, he couldn’t help but notice a deep-seated weariness that seemed to pull at her—push her down as if the weight of it were far too heavy for her delicate shoulders. Unwillingly, he felt his anger weaken, then caught himself. Hope was the last person who deserved sympathy.
Hope looked over to Ashlie. “Am I interrupting?”
There was a sharp edge to her voice. Nick would have laughed if there’d been anything humorous in their situation. She was angry. Rich. If she wanted to see real anger—give him about two seconds.
Glancing between him and Hope, Ashlie obviously felt three was a crowd. She stood and grabbed her purse. “Don’t mind me, I was just leaving.” But before she did, she scribbled something on a small white napkin and pushed it into Nick’s hand. “If you should change your mind.”
Hope watched the young woman’s disappearing back for a few moments before facing Nick once more. “Sorry if I ruined your plans for the evening.”
She didn’t sound sorry in the least.
He started to ask how she’d located where he was staying and then stopped. This town was the size of a dime. Everything about it reminded him of the place he’d grown up—the place he’d spent the first nineteen years of his life fighting like hell to get out of. Small towns with small minds. Where when your father was the local drunk, you were branded right along with him.
“Why are you here, Hope?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“What’s obvious is that unless you’ve brought my kids to see me”—he made a show of looking around even though he knew Joshua and Susan weren’t with her—“I have nothing to say to you. I said everything I had to say earlier. Tomorrow, bright and early, I’ll be on your doorstep and my kids had better be there.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Nick. There’s a lot we need to talk about.” Hope’s voice held a strength he’d never before heard.
Good. She’d need it by the time he was through with her.
Nick turned back around, ending a conversation he had no intention of having.
“You can’t pretend I’m not here,” she said after a slight pause.
With every part of him, he wanted to ignore her. But even back when they were just kids, Nick had found that all but impossible. “Why not? You’ve been doing a damn fine job of pretending I don’t exist for the last sixteen years.”
“Nick—”
Her voice was cut short and against his better judgment, he found himself looking to see why.
Her gaze was no longer on him but focused on a point across the counter. Nick turned to see what had captured her attention.
Hovering nearby, intent on soaking up their every word, stood the bartender. He didn’t even have the manners to turn away when Nick stabbed him with a stare. Instead, he shrugged and kept on staring as if this were the most excitement
the bar had seen in years.
Knowing the size of the town, it probably was.
Nick would be damned if he was someone’s sideshow. Besides, now that he thought about it, there were a few things he wanted to say to her that were better said tonight, away from Joshua and Susan’s earshot. He stood. “Fine, let’s talk.”
He didn’t bother to see if she followed as he made his way to the back of the room, across the deserted dance floor. He found a table in the corner and pulled out two chairs. He was about to take his seat when he realized it didn’t matter where they sat in the bar, there was never going to be enough privacy for what he had to say. Not only did they now have the bartender’s full attention but just about everyone else’s as well.
Obviously Hope had come to the same conclusion. “Maybe we could go somewhere else?”
Nick didn’t know much about this small town, but he was sure it wasn’t any different than the one he’d been born into or the others he’d sailed through. Everything but the bars closed with the setting sun. He thought about the few possibilities left and, zeroing in on the only one that made sense, he offered, “We could talk in my room.”
* * *
IN my room.
The speech Hope had carefully rehearsed since leaving the hospital flew out of her head. She felt herself grow flustered—her heart sped up and her palms started to sweat. She took a step back and then another, smacked into a nearby chair. It skittered a short distance across the wooden floor. Even with the jukebox playing and the din from the other patrons, the noise seemed overly loud.
“N-no . . . I . . . d-don’t . . . th-think . . .” She stammered and stuttered before clamping her mouth shut.
“Grow up, Hope. The suggestion wasn’t a come-on.”
Mortification flushed her cheeks. She felt as young and naïve as he accused her of being. She was an adult. A mother. No longer a love-struck teenage girl who’d willingly and eagerly done anything he’d asked. So why was it that he could still unnerve her?
She squared her shoulders. “I know that.”
She drew in a breath and regained control of her emotions, or as much as she could. She glanced around the lounge—more to avoid Nick’s gaze than anything else. Several pairs of eyes—and ears—were still focused on them. Staying here wasn’t an option. Going up to Nick’s room wasn’t even a consideration. The first had no privacy and the second, too much. She thought quickly. “Take a walk with me?”
For a moment, it didn’t seem as if Nick would respond. Then, “Lead on,” was all he said.
They left through the hotel’s main entrance and made their way down Main Street. With each step they took, she felt his nearness. It was as if there were only so much oxygen in the air, and a man like Nick was granted more than his fair share. It had always been that way. Even when they were teenagers.
Even though it was the height of tourist season, downtown was deserted. Businesses had locked up hours ago, flipped their OPEN signs to CLOSED before heading home for the evening. Victorian-inspired streetlamps, more for decoration than practicality, lined the walkway. But even in the weak light, Hope easily found her way along the familiar path.
When Dana had asked earlier what it was like seeing The Nick Fortune, Hope had shrugged off the question. Now she could think of little else. This Nick Fortune—the man walking next to her—was not the boy she remembered. This Nick was everything she’d believed and also feared he’d become: a success, for sure, but also a man driven by ambition, fueled by a single-minded determination that left no room for anyone or anything else. He radiated a power and a control she was sure many found seductive and intriguing—like the woman in the bar. But not Hope. She’d lived with a father who thought only of himself, and it had led to the ruination of their family when he’d left and never come back. He’d left, and a few years later, so had Nick.
Men left. It was the only truth Claire had ever given Hope.
Yes, Nick would leave again. Walk away without a backward glance. But this time, Hope would be prepared. Earlier today he might have said he wanted to see Joshua and Susan, but she knew better. He’d never be the type of father her children deserved. Not only did she know the boy he’d been, but the whole world knew the man he’d become. Against her better judgment she hadn’t been able to stop herself over the years from reading everything she could find about him. Watching each television interview, every news clip. This Nick was the same as the Nick she’d known. A man with a mind solely on his career and being the best of the best. A man poised on the brink of being immortalized as the only driver to capture eight Sprint Cup championships. The last thing he’d want was a couple of kids, but that suited Hope just fine. There was only one thing she needed from him, and the moment he was tested, he could walk away again. They didn’t need Nick. The three of them had been doing just fine on their own.
“Any idea where we’re headed?” Nick’s voice broke into her thoughts.
She glanced around, got her bearings.
At the far end of Main Street, across the road, lay the opening to the boardwalk. It had been built decades ago; the thick planks looped along the inlet of water the town had been named for. Softened by time and the sea, the walkway appeared almost silver in the soft moonlight. Over the years, this boardwalk had become a place of solace for Hope and seeing it now, she realized it had been her unknown destination all along.
Hope inclined her head. “There.”
They made their way across the street and as they were just about to step back up onto the opposite sidewalk, Nick’s hand softly supported her arm. For the barest of moments his grip hovered against her elbow and then dropped away. A rush of cool air brushed across her arm and she shivered, not sure if it was from the air or the loss of his touch.
The weather-beaten boards creaked under their feet. The usually popular spot was deserted and the long, gently curving expanse of boardwalk stretched before them. As they walked along, she took a deep breath of the salt-tinged air, letting the magic of this soggy piece of the Pacific Northwest soothe her as it had all those years ago when she’d first arrived, scared and pregnant.
The boardwalk flared wide as they came upon a curve that overlooked the large bay. On a clear day you could see Mount Rainier in the distance. But tonight, it was only shadows and moonlight. In silent agreement, they stopped.
She stared out across the dark bay, not seeing the water at all. She knew what she had to say, but no matter how long or how hard she searched, she couldn’t find an opening. The fabric of their history had so many loose threads, an end was all but impossible to locate. Then she realized the beginning was the only place to start.
“You know what I remember most about growing up?” She didn’t wait for him to answer but plunged ahead, afraid if she stopped, she wouldn’t have the courage to start again. “I remember long hot days down by the lake. I’d hurry through my chores and before Claire could think of any more, I’d race over to your house and we’d jump in your old Chevy pickup and drive like the wind. We’d spend hours lying on our backs, gazing at the clouds and swatting mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds. And we’d talk. For hours and hours. About nothing and about everything. About dreams and hopes and fears.”
She rubbed her finger across the top board of the railing, felt its rough edges. Images of those long-ago days down at the lake crowded her mind. She could still feel the sun’s rays prickling her bare skin and hear the laughter and shouts from other kids. Sometimes the memories felt as distant as the stars, and other times, times like now, they felt as close and bittersweet as Nick.
“But in all those times, I never realized those were your dreams, your plans. There wasn’t room for anything or anyone else. Not me and especially not a child.”
“You had no right to make that decision without me.” His hard words cut through the soft night and into her.
For the first time since she’d started tal
king, she looked at him. In the moonlight, his eyes were as hard as stone. “And who was going to help me make that decision? You?” She gave a sarcastic laugh as anger and pain she’d thought long gone resurfaced. “How were you going to help when you couldn’t even return my calls?”
“I called,” he said flatly.
“In the beginning, yes.”
“Don’t blame this on me, Hope. We both know who’s at fault here. You hid my children from me.” Anger radiated from him, punctuated his every word.
She drew back, caught off guard by its potency. How dare he act like the injured party here. He’d abandoned her. Abandoned their children by not returning her calls, cancelling his phone, making it impossible for her to contact him. All the hurt and resentment she’d felt all those years ago pushed to the surface. She wanted nothing more than to lash out at him. To let him know how deeply his abandonment had hurt. But getting angry was not going to help. She needed his cooperation. Needed it desperately. And if continuing to keep her anger and hurt bottled up would help her gain that, she’d do it gladly. Joshua was who mattered now. Not her and definitely not the past. All that mattered right now was the very real and scary present.
“Nick, you don’t understand—”
“I understand. I understand that for nearly sixteen years you’ve kept my children a secret from me and now you’re trying to justify your lies. Well, I’m not buying what you’re selling. It’s obvious you believed they were better off without me in their lives.” He raked his hand through his hair and stared out across the water. Moonlight glinted off the impossibly hard angle of his jaw. But just as quickly as he’d turned away, he turned back. “Tell me this, Hope. Why? Why after all this time did you call me now?”
There were so many ways to reply to that question but, in the end, she knew there was only one. “Joshua has leukemia and needs a bone marrow transplant. Our best chance for a match is with a family member. I need you to get tested.”
Boardwalk Summer Page 5