Roxanne St. Claire - Barefoot With a Bad Boy (Barefoot Bay Undercover #3)

by Roxanne St Claire

  “You know,” he finally said, “you can be Isadora again. You can change your name, use these papers, and put the entire Lila Wickham chapter behind you.”

  She thought about that for a moment, wishing the idea captured her heart, but it didn’t. “No.”

  He dropped the box right on the eagle’s head with a thud. “No?”

  “That’s not what I want,” she said softly, turning to him. “I want to own that identity and keep those papers, but I love who I am now. I’m stronger, and I’m a fighter, and I’ve done some amazing things as Lila, including be a good mother to my son. I’m not ashamed of Lila Wickham, and I don’t want her chapter behind me. Do you?”

  He huffed out a sigh. “Then I think there’s a problem.”

  “A problem?”

  He gestured to the box, then bent over, finally getting on one knee to dig through it. “I sold my soul to get this stuff.”

  “Is that how Dexter helped you?”

  “Kind of.” He reached into the box and pulled out her passport. “He knew how to open doors so we could get this.”

  She took it and flipped it open, seeing her old face and name. “Okay. I like having the documentation, for all the reasons you mentioned, but I just don’t want to be her again.”

  “And this.” He handed her a folder, opening it to show her birth certificate. Again, she was happy to have it, free of the pressure to hide it, but… “Gabe, what is your point?”

  He stayed down on one knee, digging through the box, pulling up another legal document.

  She took the paper, taking in a breath when she read the top. “Rafe’s birth certificate.”

  “With my name on it.”

  “So he is officially and legally your son.”

  He looked up, his hand deep into the side of the box now, a devilish half smile torturing her. “Someone’s gotta teach that kid how to behave.”

  “Gabe…I…”

  “And this.” He whipped out a cracked driver’s license. Again, old face, old name, old her.

  “Isadora Winter,” he mumbled, looking at it. “You’re right, I guess. What kind of a name is that? It’s so…WASPy. Winter. And cold. And Wickham. So…crispy.”

  “Gabe, this isn’t about my name.”

  “Yeah, it is.” He pulled something out of the corner of the box, a small velvet pouch. “What you need is a new one. A name with more flavor and color. Something Italian.”

  At that moment, she realized what the pouch held, and that he was on one knee, and that all the people around them had stopped moving to watch.

  And she couldn’t breathe. He was doing this here? In the lobby of the CIA headquarters, smack dab over the CIA seal where they’d met?

  “Something like Rossi,” he said.

  Of course he was. This was Gabe. And this was perfect.

  “I think Lila Rossi has a nice ring to it.” He emptied the pouch into his palm, and a bright blue stone surrounded by diamonds sparkled in the sunlight that poured into the lobby. “This ring, as a matter of fact.”

  All she could do was stare into the eyes that were the same color as the gorgeous blue diamond he held in two fingers as he reached up and presented it to her.

  “Isadora Winter Lila Wickham, woman of my dreams and best friend I’ve ever had. I love everything about you, old and new, good and bad, weak and strong. Everything.”

  “Gabe.”

  He inched the ring back. “I’m going to get through this speech, Lila, and I’m going to do it without swearing once, to prove to you I can be the man you want by your side to raise Rafe. And maybe a few more.”

  “You are the man I want by my side,” she whispered, noticing that a small crowd gathered. Even well-trained CIA personnel couldn’t resist a man on one knee making his declaration.

  He cleared his throat and raised the ring again. “From the day I walked into you on this very spot, I knew you were the person I wanted to wake up with, to go to sleep with, to grow old with, and have a family with. You make me laugh. You make me think. You make me whole. And…” He closed his eyes and paused, gathering himself. “You make me trust. Will you please change your name one more time and marry me?”

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He smiled, his eyes welling up. “Say yes, Lila. Just say yes.”

  But she couldn’t say anything. All she could do was press her hands to her mouth and try to contain uncontainable happiness. “Yes.”

  And for the second time that day, they were applauded. Gabe slipped the ring on her finger, pulled her into his arms, and squeezed her tight.

  “Oh, hell yeah,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to kiss her.

  Epilogue

  “Gabriel, you’re good with funny names.” Nino put his hands on his hips and stared out at the beach, currently populated with friends and family, and a whole shit-ton of kids.

  “It’s one of my many gifts,” Gabe agreed.

  “What should we call this yearly festival?”

  “This cooking competition is going to be an annual event?” He popped a brew, sidling closer to his grandfather in the shade of the flowering trees at the edge of Barefoot Bay.

  “I think so. Everyone seems to be having fun. So, we need a name for this day when I cook Italian and Poppy makes Jamaican and everybody votes on what’s best. Not that there’s any real contest.”

  “The first annual sausage fest jerk-off.” Gabe lifted his beer bottle and gave his grandfather a grin. “Poppy will plotz.”

  Nino chuckled and wiped his hands on a mopina and lifted the lid of a massive egg-shaped ceramic outdoor cooke to send a mouth-watering whiff of steak and onions right at Gabe. “If I win, she will.”

  “You won’t win.”

  Nino flashed an angry scowl. “Son, wait until I whip out the pesto pizza. They’ll all be on their knees singing O Sole Mio.”

  Gabe gestured toward the tall, lanky imports Poppy had gone to Jamaica to fetch with her own personal babysitter, Chris Sloane, as an unlikely but remarkably useful escort. “Not those three. The deck is stacked, and you know they’re all going to vote for their Aunt Poppy.”

  Nino lifted his bushy brows. “Sorry, but they like their Uncle Nino. A lot.”

  “I bet they do.” Gabe threw an arm around the old man. “I sure as hell did when you came to live with us. I was about the age of that little one. What’s his name?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows from those holy names? I call them Skinny, Skinnier, and Skinniest.”

  “That won’t last long living in your house.” Gabe pictured the sizable kitchen in the rental on the south end of Mimosa Key where Nino, Poppy, and the Jamaican bobsled team had moved. The refrigerator already featured a picture of a “fat” statue of David that said “Eat More Pasta,” stuck there by a green and yellow smiley-face magnet that said “Be happy, mon, you’re in Jamaica!”

  It wouldn’t take long for that to be the most unlikely family home in history. And Gabe had his eye on a bigger house right down the street that had just come on the market. It would make the start of a great family compound on this island. Lila had already slid into a natural role of helping Gabe with the undercover business, which was humming along and making good money.

  Even Chris had stayed. He liked the island so much, he invited his partner to move down to the island so Chris could take a job with Luke’s company. The former secret service agent was fast becoming the top security specialist on staff, which was great because Rafe still loved the guy.

  “I’m kind of jealous of your new brood,” he admitted to Nino.

  “Jealous?”

  “Living with you and learning to cook and figure out life. It’s the best childhood a human can have.”

  Nino beamed at him. “I didn’t teach you to figure out life.”

  “Like hell you didn’t, old man. Now you’re going to do it all again, with another generation.”

  With a tight smile, he nodded and gave Gabe a misty-eyed look. “Because of you. If it weren�
�t for you, I’d be rambling around that big house in Boston, hoping a grandkid might come to visit so I could have a reason to…”

  “To cook?”

  “To live.” He squeezed the dishrag in his giant gnarled hand. “I can’t thank you enough for that, Gabriel.”

  “Oh, shut it. I love you, you old bastard. And those grandkids are all coming down in a month for a big beach wedding. They get one whiff of Bareass Bay, and we’ll be wearing Angelinos and Rossis all year long down here.”

  “I’d like that.” He shooed Gabe. “Now, get out of my—”

  “Nope. Gotta talk to you first.”

  Nino frowned. “About what?”

  “Rafe.”

  Nino looked toward the beach. “Look at him over there, Gabriel. Playing bocce like…well, like a ragazzaccio.”

  “He is a bad boy, isn’t he? God, I love him.”

  “Bad to the bone marrow.”

  Gabe gave Nino a look, not sure if he was serious or annihilating English. “I guess it’s in his bloodline,” Gabe said. “Which I’m going to tell him about today.”

  “Today?”

  Gabe nodded. “Lila and I are taking him for a walk. It’s time. You have any advice?”

  “Tell him the truth, which won’t make a lick of sense to him, but he’ll know you’re his father, for real and for certain.”

  “That’s what I want.” Gabe stuck his hand through his hair and sighed. “Think I’ll be good enough, Nino? It’s a damn…darn big job.”

  “Ehhh.” He made a typical Italian swipe of his hand. “You’ll be good enough. Clean up your mouth.”

  “I have the mouth of a pastor, for crying out loud.”

  “And teach him what’s important in life—family. First, last, and always.”

  That’s why they were having this conversation today. He wasn’t going to just be “Mum’s husband.” He was Rafe’s father. “Count on it,” he said.

  “And you know what else you need to do, Gabriel?” Nino lowered his glasses and peered over the rims, his old dark eyes full of sincerity and a lifetime of experience. “Don’t let the little man become the focus of your life.”

  Gabe frowned. “He’s our kid. I expect him to be the center of everything.”

  But Nino slowly shook his head. “She’s the center of your everything.” He pointed to Lila, who was crossing the sand holding Rafe’s hand now, talking to him. “She is your sun and your moon, your yesterday, and your tomorrow, your first and—”

  “I get the idea. She’s all that and more.”

  “You know, she reminds me of my Monica.”

  Gabe inched back, the compliment stunning him. “I’ve never heard you say that about anyone.”

  “Yes, there’s something about her.” He angled his head, thinking. “There’s a sweetness in her heart, you know?”

  “Oh, I know.”

  “And she doesn’t take any shit from you, which I love.”

  “So do I, Gramps.”

  “Then I expect that kid to spend a lot of nights at my house so you two can be alone to make many more babies for me to feed and teach.”

  Gabe put his hand on Nino’s shoulder, but his gaze was on Lila as she laughed at something Rafe had said, and she’d never looked more beautiful or happier. “You have my word.”

  “And one more thing.”

  “Uncle Ninoooooooo!” Rafe shouted as he broke into a run.

  “What’s that?” Gabe asked him.

  “I don’t want him to call me Uncle Nino.”

  Gabe’s jaw loosened. “But that’s what we call you.”

  “Uncle Ninooooooo!” He was only about thirty feet away now, tear-assing across the sand.

  “What do you want him to call you?”

  “What do you want him to call you?” Nino shot back.

  He didn’t have to think about it. “Dad?”

  “And I want to be Great-Grandpa.”

  Rafe ran right to Nino, who picked up the tiny frame in his massive hands, lifting him easily. “You hear that, child? I’m your great-grandpa.”

  Lila finally caught up, her eyes widening in surprise. “You told him already?” she whispered.

  Gabe shook his head and reached for her, pulling her close to his side.

  “Great-Grandpa?” Rafe hollered at his usual ear-shattering decibel level. “You are my great-grandpa?”

  “He is,” Gabe said, easily taking the child from Nino’s grip and flipping him over his shoulder. “And I…” He looked at Lila, who gave a slight shrug of permission. “I am…”

  “You are Gabe Man!” He bounced on both feet until Gabe snagged one hand and Lila took the other.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Gabe said. “We want to tell you a story.”

  “I like storieeeeeeees.”

  As they walked, they lifted him and let him swing in the air.

  “Does it start with once upon a time?” Rafe asked.

  Gabe looked over his shoulder and caught Nino watching, and wiping a tear from his soft, old Italian heart.

  “Yes,” Gabe said. “Once upon a time, there was…a beautiful princess.”

  “Ewww. I hate princess stories.”

  “Yeah, me, too. But this princess was different. She was really a warrior trapped in the body of a…a…”

  “Translator,” Lila said.

  “Yay, warrior!” Rafe jumped on the sand. “Then what happened?”

  “Then…” He looked at Lila for help, but she just smiled at him, waiting. “Then…” Gabe finally stopped walking, realizing they were right on the very place where he’d read that letter and met the woman who changed the game.

  He crouched down to come face-to-face with his son. “The warrior princess met the most…the most…”

  Lila got next to him. “She met the most handsome, funny, smart, lovable, wisecracking, talented super spy.”

  Gabe threw her a look. “Super spy?”

  “You’re the super guy?” Rafe asked.

  “Yes, and your mum is the warrior princess.”

  His eyes grew as he turned blissfully quiet and looked from one to the other. “Then what am I?”

  “You, Gabriel Rafael Wickham Rossi, are our son. My son,” Gabe whispered, putting his hands on Rafe’s narrow shoulders. “My son.”

  “I know that,” he said.

  “You do?”

  “You look like me. But what am I? A flying hero dinosaur killer?”

  Gabe laughed. “If that’s what you want to be. You can be whatever you want.”

  “I know!” He broke away and started running, his arms wide as he zoomed and careened circles around them. “Dino killerrrrrrrr!”

  He took off, kicking sand, leaving Gabe and Lila standing with the sun pressing down on their anticlimactic moment.

  “So,” Gabe said, putting an arm around her. “That went well.”

  She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. “You can tell me the story, Gabe. Start with the part where they meet.”

  He pressed a kiss on her head. “I’m not much for telling stories.”

  “Make it short and easy.”

  “Okay.” He kissed her again, loving the feel of her head where it belonged. “They meet, they fall in love, take a detour, have a kid, hook up again, knock off some baddies, say their vows, have a bunch more kids, grow their business to international greatness, and live happily ever after.”

  She sighed contendedly. “The end.”

  “The end? Not a chance, blondie. It’s just the beginning.”

  *

  Want to go back to Barefoot Bay again and again? You can!

  The Barefoot Bay Series is really several mini-series all set on one gorgeous island. Every single book in the series can be picked up and enjoyed whether you’ve read none, some, or all of the others. This way, readers can either enjoy a long 15 book series, or just sink into one of the trilogies for a shorter time commitment. There are a few boxed sets and free “first in trilogy” options so it won’t cost too
much to spend many days (and nights!) in Barefoot Bay. And there will be more next year!

  Want to know the day the next Barefoot Bay book is released?

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  Books Set in Barefoot Bay

  The Barefoot Bay Billionaires

  Secrets on the Sand (always Free!)

  Seduction on the Sand

  Scandal on the Sand

  The Barefoot Bay Brides

  Barefoot in White

  Barefoot in Lace

  Barefoot in Pearls

  Barefoot Bay Undercover

  Barefoot Bound (prequel)

  Barefoot with a Bodyguard

  Barefoot with a Stranger

  Barefoot with a Bad Boy

  The Original Barefoot Bay Quartet

  Barefoot in the Sand

  Barefoot in the Rain

  Barefoot in the Sun

  Barefoot by the Sea

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to some dear individuals who help me along the way. Tatiana Lammers helped with the Russian, Rossella Re assisted on the Italian, and Mia Frisiello chimed in with some very cool linguistic information that helped to write about a translator. Writer friends Leigh Duncan, Kristen Painter, and Fiona Roarke not only helped untie plot knots, they were never far when I needed tissues, wine, and chocolate salted caramel.

  As always, there’s a team of professionals who make my job easy and joyous. Most especially, huge love to Kristi Yanta, the Picky Editor who has an eye for the big picture and a heart for a good story. In addition, many thanks to keen-eyed copyeditor Joyce Lamb, super-sharp proofreader Marlene Engel, brilliant cover artist Kim Killion, and über-patient formatter Amy Atwell. Behind the scenes, amazing assistant Maria Connor leads the charge, backed up by our fantastic street team. (Join the Roxanne St. Claire Street Team, AKA the Rocki Roadies, on Facebook if you enjoy my books! We have a blast and they get secret scenes and book info!)