Twila's Tempest

by Natasza Waters

  “Sure.”

  The old boy resumed his comments about the nice weather, and Twila listened attentively.

  “Sir. Sir!”

  He blinked and put his attention on the girl with a sleeve of tattoos who gave him a half-hooded look. “Sorry?”

  “One hundred and ninety dollars,” she said, bagging his wine.

  He cracked his wallet and took a sideways glance to see they’d reached the doors while he retrieved two, one hundred dollar bills and held them out to the gal. She didn’t miss the opportunity to caress his fingers as she took the money. “Thanks.” He took his change and long steps to catch-up to Twila assisting Mr. Grenville into his car.

  “Thank you for your help, Twila.” Mr. Grenville’s wrinkled hand drew the seatbelt across his chest with a shaky, slow pull.

  She waved. “Take care, Mr. Grenville.”

  They watched him back out and slowly drive away. “You would have driven him home if he’d asked you, wouldn’t you?”

  Her eyes twinkled and the prettiest smile crowned her mouth. “Wouldn’t you?”

  For once she didn’t look away and a Navy destroyer lashed to his ass couldn’t have dragged his gaze from her. “If you asked me to, I would.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she broke the connection they shared. “The decoration store is just up the road.”

  She left him standing there a little mystified. Half of him wanted to flirt like hell with her to see those cheeks flush again, but he’d put a torpedo-sized hole in his honor. She knew he was seeing Heather which made him look like a player, exactly what he didn’t want.

  * * * *

  It didn’t take long to hunt down the black, red and silver decorations, they both thought his mother would like, and return to the car. She’d kept a good five feet of distance between them at all times and there was no doubt he’d burned a bridge he wasn’t certain he wanted torched.

  Tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to release the uneasy feeling her silence caused, his mind ran in circles. Twila had taken care of his folks when he couldn’t be around. An idea sprung up. He owed her.

  “Mom’s had us going all day. You hungry? Because I could use some lunch.”

  Twila glanced at her watch. “It’s not that long until the party. Your mom has a ton of food.”

  “Yeah, but she’ll freak if we go foraging before the guests can see the reveal. Let’s grab something quick.”

  She shrugged. “Sure.”

  He headed to a place he loved that looked out over Hutchinson Island. He liked it even more because Twila immediately beamed with a smile when she saw the old rickety place. Heather would have been breaking out in hives and making him do a U-turn.

  Some people would call it a hole-in-the-wall that extended over the water. Only a few tables with varnished wood tops lined the ocean view, and a few more were scattered haphazardly between there and the bar. It reminded him of a salty pirate’s bar. The knots in the thick old floorboards had fallen out long ago, revealing the tide rolling in below them, and a tattered straw roof protected the clientele from fickle downpours Floridians became used to.

  “I didn’t know this place was here,” she said as he let her lead the way.

  “Kind of my secret place,” he said, holding out a chair for her. The chairs were the newest addition, with leather seats and faux bullion rivets.

  “Drake, brother, how’s tings?” Moby, the owner asked, shuffling up to their table.

  “Hey, Mobe, been too long.”

  “No shit, mon,” he said. His Bahamian accent sneaking in. “And you have a new sweetheart.” Moby gave Twila a toothless smile from his deeply weathered face.

  She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Moby. I’m Twila.”

  “As beautiful as twilight,” Moby said, taking her hand, and shaking it like he was meeting the Queen of England. “This fella has himself a lovely woman at last.”

  Twilight, Drake liked that, but before Twila got the wrong idea, he said, “I’ve never brought any women here, Mobe. You trying to get me in trouble?”

  Moby produced a huge smile. “This is true, except for your mother and father. How are they?”

  “Good. It’s Mom’s seventieth birthday today.”

  “Aw, a spring chicken, eh? You bring her here for a lunch on me. I love your mother.”

  “I’ll do that, thanks, Moby.”

  “How’s those big beautiful ships you make coming along? You must be a rich man by now?”

  He shrugged. He didn’t flaunt what he had, especially not in front of Twila. He didn’t know for sure, but he bet she came from simple roots. “Making enough to put food on the table, Mobe. Speaking of which, we’re hungry.”

  “You want my jerk ribs? I just finished a batch.”

  “I’ll try them,” Twila said.

  “Done. What would you like to drink?”

  Twila ordered an Arnold Palmer and he ordered a beer. Moby shuffled off and he finally had Twila all to himself without any distractions. The wind coming off the ocean played with her curls. She watched a pelican preening itself on a pillar, and Drake watched Twila. He wouldn’t put it past his mom to have already known what was in those boxes she’d sent them to gather. His phone vibrated with a text.

  Have a nice lunch darlings. No hurry.

  Man that old girl was sharp. At the same time he wondered if his dad had squealed on him.

  Twila didn’t look at him when she said, “Was that Becka?”

  “It was.”

  “We were set up, weren’t we?”

  “Yup.” He laughed and a slow smile spread across her beautiful lips.

  “Don’t worry, she’ll warm up to Heather.”

  That surprised him. “I doubt that. Mom can be a little stubborn. Once she’s decided she doesn’t like you, you’re about done. I’m sure she’s mentioned she’s not one of Heather’s number one fans.”

  Twila shrugged and unraveled the cutlery from the napkin, placing it on her lap. Interesting, they’d talked all right, but Twila protected his mom’s confidence.

  “So what made you want to design yachts?”

  Quick change of subject matter noted. “I’m a naval architect. Learned it thanks to the Navy.”

  “I thought you were a Marine.”

  “I was. Long story though. What makes you work your ass off running around for the old timers?” he shot back.

  “I like the elderly. A helping hand goes a long way when you’re getting on in years. Routine makes them feel safe. If they lose that, they lose confidence. That’s what they need at this time in their lives.”

  “You don’t charge anyone at the park a dime.”

  “They’re my friends. You don’t charge friends when you help them out do you?” she asked.

  “You can’t live on air, Twila. At some point you’ll have to—” She squirmed in her seat and he knew he’d hit on a sore spot.

  She eyed him. “I’m just taking some time to figure out what I’ll do. If I’m frugal, I can survive another three months from the proceeds from my business.”

  He leaned his forearms on the scarred tabletop. “You had a business?”

  She nodded.

  “Geriatrics?”

  She nodded. “I lived in northern Florida. The business had just found its feet when Mom had her stroke. I had to sell it.”

  A soft spot opened up in his chest and Twila’s selflessness filled it in. “So you gave it up to take care of your parents?”

  “Pretty much, yes. Once my dad passed I didn’t want Mom to have to live out her days in a hospice. My nursing degree specializes in geriatrics, but I altered my business plan to include helping with more routine tasks. A lot of children need help getting their aging parents to doctor’s appointments or picking up prescriptions. It grew from there.”

  “Maybe you should consider starting a new business…” A small smile tempered her lips, but it was her eyes he kept getting lost in. Beautiful, warm, whiskey colored eyes. He was close eno
ugh to see she wore a little mascara and a very pale shade of shadow, but that was it. “If you need any help—I’ve…” He didn’t finish with the look she gave him.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  Besides down to earth and beautiful, he could now add prideful, and to prove it she snapped up the bill when Moby brought it, paying for their meal. He let her, but he would be getting even.

  He waited for the heavy afternoon traffic on Beach Drive to offer a hole, but luck decided to turn tail and run. He almost groaned aloud when Heather’s cherry red convertible corvette drove by. She saw him and nearly caused an accident darting in front of the oncoming traffic, and killing a jogger who was running past the exit of the restaurant parking lot. She jerked her car to a stop parallel to his, and he knew hell was about to break loose.

  Chapter Six

  “Hey, baby, what’s up?” The hiss in Heather’s voice could have poisoned the air.

  “Heading back. Just picked up a few decorations.” He’d bet his next ten sales Twila wished she could vanish right about now. He did too because his she-wolf could be pretty possessive.

  “Doesn’t look like a decoration store to me, Drake,” Heather said.

  He hoped her sunglasses had UV protection from the inside. Now he’d have to deal with her temper tantrum. “We’re heading back.”

  “I was just on my way there. I’ll follow you.”

  “Could you drop me off at my trailer, please,” Twila asked quietly as they turned into the park.

  His mother would kill him if Twila didn’t show up. “Please come, tonight. I’ll deal with Heather.”

  “She has nothing to be concerned about. Just explain the truth.” The car was still rolling when Twila quickly jumped out and raced up her driveway.

  When he parked in his parent’s driveway, Heather’s attack came rolling in like thunder. “I thought she was your mother’s friend, Drake?”

  “She is, Heather.” He pulled the bags of decorations from the back seat.

  “Well,” she spit, “at least you didn’t lie about that.”

  Her sniping at him wasn’t helping. “I don’t need to lie.”

  “What were you doing at that dump then?”

  He shook his head. “Are you coming or going? If you’re coming this conversation is over. If you want to rip my head off, then going would be a better plan.”

  “Baby, I trust you. I know you love me. I just don’t trust her.”

  He rounded on Heather, and she stopped short. “Listen, the woman takes care of the elderly in this park. She takes care of my parents, too. Twila lends an ear and a hand when the folks need it. I’m thankful for that. I can’t be here, and neither can my brother. I took her out to lunch because I’m grateful. You good with that?”

  Fuck, he should just tell Heather to hit the road. Why didn’t he? Maybe there was something wrong with him, and he deserved the vein woman who based everything on the almighty dollar and a good hair stylist.

  Heather wrapped her long arms around his neck and kissed him. “Of course I am. I’m still running on empty without you. Your business. Now the party. There’s no time for me. I know I’m acting like a spoiled brat, but when that bit—woman looks at you, I know what she’s thinking, but it’s you and me. I know we’re solid. Forgive me?” she crooned.

  “Yeah, Heather, we’re good.” When this party was over they needed to talk. Love was not in the mix. He wasn’t gonna string her along thinking there was a big shiny ring in the future. That’s not where he was in his life, and he doubted any woman would distract him more than a few minutes. Heather filled a need. She wanted to be fucked every which way from Sunday, and that was all he wanted. If she wanted more, he wanted out.

  * * * *

  Twila paced her tiny kitchen. If she went to Becka’s party she knew sooner or later the harpy Drake dated would corner her. She hated confrontation. It was a mistake going for lunch with him, but how often does a girl get asked to lunch by a man like him? Broad, bold shoulders and a ripped body that she’d seen when he’d been working on Becka’s new patio the other day kept circling like a buzzard in her brain. Girls fantasized over men like Drake with his sandy blond hair and cocky bangs resting over his forehead. She liked the way the slow grin appeared on his lips, and the way his green eyes sparked when he smiled.

  She’d done her part for Becka. Drake belonged to a beautiful model. That was that. She gulped a deep breath and headed for the front door. Once the party ended, Twila’d be free of her obligation and Drake.

  Twila kept moving all night, but she didn’t miss how Heather draped herself over Drake during the evening and cast warning glances her way. Heather didn’t lift one finger to help. When Twila collected the dishes, Heather gave her a slow, burning gaze then said ‘Yes, you can take it’ as if she truly was a servant, but what deserved an ass kickin’ was the way Heather looked down her perky nose at Twila.

  Twila gathered the plates and a few empty glasses, then turned to head inside.

  “Twila?” Heather’s sultry voice demanded she stop. “My mother mentioned one of her housekeepers quit. You’re doing such a good job tonight, would you be interested in the position?”

  Becka placed her glass on the table a little too loudly, and her expression squeezed into an angry mass of agitated woman. As she opened her mouth to speak, Drake intervened. “Heather, Twila is a geriatrics specialist not domestic help. She’s doing this as a favor.” His gaze shot to hers and he mouthed, “Sorry.”

  If she opened her mouth, something very rude would pour out, so Twila did what any self-respecting woman who wanted to rip the prima donna’s head off would do. She walked away.

  The clock on the microwave glowed with nine o’clock, but it seemed much later. With the dishwasher loaded, Twila washed a sink full of extra dishes. The low drum of the guest’s conversations enjoying themselves on the back deck filtered in, calming her anger. Most guests left after the food had been consumed, leaving Becka’s best friends to enjoy the perfect night.

  “So you had lunch with my fiancé.”

  Twila didn’t turn around, but pondered how a plate wedged in Heather’s bottom lip like a Zulu warrior would go over with photographers.

  “I can see your attraction. Drake is a wealthy man and will become wealthier. Trailer trash always wants a shot at that,” Heather taunted.

  Twila bit her tongue. “Your insecurities are unfounded, Heather, and I’m not trailer trash.”

  “I beg to differ.” Heather’s high heeled boots clicked across the tile, and she leaned against the counter. “Playing the poor me, I just lost my mother card, isn’t going to work. Drake and I are getting married.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “So stop poisoning his mother against me.”

  “Becka’s thoughts are her own, Heather.” She finally turned to look at the tall beauty whose dark blue eyes stabbed her with dislike.

  “My father is a wealthy man, and he can take what little you have. So I’d make sure you think before getting in the car and having lunch with Drake ever again.”

  Twila wiped her hands and closed the dishwasher, tapping the button to start the cycle. Most women would punch her in the throat and end this nonsense, but at heart, she was a pacifist. There was a difference between being peaceful and being gutless. Pacifists could still plot a sticky demise, but they controlled their emotions. And imagining Heather’s heavily made up face dripping off her chin and landing with a splat like a cow patty on the floor, made Twila grin. “No worries there, he’s all yours. Excuse me, I have work to do.”

  Twila escaped around the corner and into the laundry room with an armful of dish towels. Dumping them into the hamper, she breathed out a sigh and took a second to unrattle her nerves. As she stepped into the hallway, she heard voices, both she recognized.

  “You’ve been a naughty girl grabbing my crotch all night when no one was looking,” Drake said.

  They were both in the kitchen while Becka’s best frie
nds remained outside on the deck. How the heck was she going to get past the kitchen without them noticing her? She peeked around the corner and Drake had Heather’s body pinned against the counter from behind.

  “Hmm,” Heather purred. “Just reminding you I’m here.”

  Drake’s hands swept up her body, and she arched her ass into his groin. With a flick of his finger, he slipped inside her low cut top and circled her nipple. “I bet you’re not even wearing any panties are you?” he growled into her neck.

  “Touch me and find out,” she challenged.

  Twila’s feet were glued to the floor. She didn’t want to watch but...

  “Oh, yeah,” he growled as his hand slipped under her short skirt. “Going to come for me?” he asked, fingering her with slow plunges.

  Heather’s head fell back onto his shoulder, her gaze reflecting in the glass of the window, and staring straight at Twila. She wanted her to see this. Sick bitch. Heather’s mouth opened with a sigh.

  “That feels so good, babe. Let’s say good bye and go home.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.

  “Oh, God, I need your cock in me. Like right now.”

  Okay, that was enough! In a panic Twila opened the front door, pretending she’d been outside, and then closed it loudly. She kept her head down and walked through the living room toward the patio. Heather’s sultry giggles followed her the whole way like a cat scratching at her neck.

  She threw herself into gathering up glasses and leftover dishes with the intent of getting the hell out of there. Becka watched her flit at warp speed, and when she bid her happy birthday and good night, Becka’s expression drew into worry.

  “Is something wrong, Twila?”

  “No.”

  “Hey, folks, we’re gonna head out. Mom, love ya, happy birthday,” Drake said, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek.

  Twila could feel the heat of Drake’s stare, but she bulleted for the front door and ran all the way home. She only felt her heartbeat recede once she’d slammed the door on her trailer and leaned against it.