Something to Believe In

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “Lilah is in a fragile state. She doesn’t need to start a fling with someone who isn’t going to stick around. Besides, dating shouldn’t be her primary concern. Getting well should be,” she added unnecessarily, and Lindy couldn’t help but bristle for Lilah’s sake.

  “She’s doing very well and you’re overreacting. Justin seems like a cool guy and they’re just enjoying a little fun together. It’s not like they’re going to run off and get married.”

  “Well, it’s kinda what you did,” Lora reminded Lindy, and she couldn’t argue that fact.

  “Yeah, well, Lilah isn’t going to get married to this guy. She’s just having some fun. And for the record, I’m not married yet,” Lindy said, annoyed that Lora was going there. “I honestly don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to, you’re all about living in the moment but that’s a dangerous place for Lilah. Surely you realize that if she gets her heart broken, it could send her into a tailspin? Maybe even a regression back into her depression.”

  Lindy lost some of her irritation and bit her lip. She hadn’t thought of that. “We can’t put her in a box to protect her from everything, though,” Lindy said. “And frankly, she would hate that anyway. She already feels that everyone is walking on eggshells around her and it’s driving her a little batty. I think we should follow her lead and support whatever she chooses.”

  “I just don’t want to see her hurt,” Lora said.

  “I don’t, either.”

  At least in that they agreed but Lindy hadn’t considered the potential damage that could happen with Justin. “What do we know about this guy?” Lindy asked.

  “Nothing. I mean, he seems like a decent guy but how do we know?”

  Lindy toyed with her bottom lip. “We don’t. Okay, I’ll do some digging and see what I can find. You know, here’s something to consider... Lilah is a smart woman and she’s changed a lot. Dr. Veronica has worked wonders with her. She doesn’t suffer from insomnia any longer and she’s happy again. I can see it in her smile and hear it in her voice. Things have changed. Maybe we need to put a little faith in our sister instead of jumping to the worst conclusion.”

  “I’d love to. I’m just worried and with the luck we’ve had, I don’t want to take any chances. Not with our sister.”

  Lindy nodded. “Okay. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  Lora sighed in relief. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I don’t like being the bad guy all the time when I’m just trying to do what’s best for everyone.”

  “I know,” Lindy said. “Sometimes it’s easy to fall into patterns...and that goes for me, too.”

  Lora smiled with gratitude and Lindy felt a pinch of guilt for immediately becoming snarly. She watched as Lora walked from the room, her stride quick and purposeful as always, and smiled with an inborn sigh. Sometimes it didn’t matter how much a person changed, at their core lived a bratty teen who believed the world was against her and saw the world in naive shades of black and white.

  Had it been only a few short months ago that she’d been that way?

  She thought of Carys and how volatile and moody she was at times and chuckled. Yeah...growing up was hard.

  Especially when you put it off for so long like Lindy.

  Now was the time to be there for her sisters in any way possible.

  And that included making sure that cute men with a sweet spot for baby sisters weren’t up to no good.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “SO WHERE ARE WE GOING?” Justin asked. “Go easy on me, I’m a beginner.”

  She flashed a grin. “I don’t remember that being part of the deal. You wanted to paint something. So I will take you someplace that if you have an artistic bone in your body, will inspire you.”

  “Intriguing,” he said. “Should I be scared or excited?”

  “Depends on your sense of adventure,” she answered with a shrug that immediately made him laugh.

  “Well, I’ll have you know I have an overinflated sense of adventure according to my friends. All the best—or worst—escapades we’d ever done were courtesy of yours truly.”

  “Such as?”

  He paused, realizing that he’d have to share some of his real life to answer her question. He wasn’t ashamed of who he was, but he’d begun to enjoy the anonymity of being no one. He never needed to worry if Lilah’s feelings and opinions were her own or simply what she thought he wanted to hear because of who he was. “What do you want me to say? I was a bad boy,” he said, softening his deflection with a smile he knew she’d like. “But I’m a reformed bad boy, I assure you.”

  “Is such a thing possible?” she teased.

  “Put me to the test and I’ll prove it.”

  “And how would I do that?”

  “Let me take you to dinner.”

  She did a double take. “Dinner?”

  “Yeah, on a real date.”

  Lilah’s easy smile faltered and he wondered if he’d pushed too hard too soon. The pink tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she paused to consider his offer. Damn it, he swore in his mind, mentally berating himself for jumping the gun. He opened his mouth to joke his way out of his blunder when she sent him a sweetly coy, but entirely sexy look, and answered with a cryptic, “We’ll see how well the painting goes and play it by ear.”

  He wanted to crow. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. He’d take it.

  Justin let out a shaky breath and smiled into the sunlight, eager to spend the day with his mysterious island girl.

  * * *

  LILAH WAS PLAYING a dangerous game but the heady rush was becoming addictive.

  She craved time with Justin unlike anything she’d ever experienced. This was normal, she told herself. And if she’d never fallen into a terrible bout of depression, she would have likely ignored her misgivings and enjoyed Justin’s company without reservation. The fact that she was operating under an enormous black cloud was becoming an irritant.

  “We’re going to Annaberg, the remnants of one of the sugar plantations I told you about the other day, in case you’re still wondering,” she supplied with a grin, pushing the hair from her eyes. “I could take you to the overlook of Trunk Bay, but that’s cliché. I mean, it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but I think there’s something melancholy about the ruins that plucks at the heartstrings. At least it does for me.”

  “Then the ruins it is. I’m eager to see them.”

  Lilah smiled and pulled off the main road to a smaller road that led to the ruins and before too long they were pulling into the parking lot.

  “A regular tourist attraction isn’t cliché?” Justin asked, climbing from the Jeep, noting the people milling about. “And here I thought we were going somewhere remote and forgotten.”

  “You and I can’t be trusted with remote and forgotten places,” she said. “Our clothes tend to fall off.”

  “And that’s a problem why?”

  She gave him a stern look. “Because you’re here to learn. Now grab your stuff and we’ll head out.”

  Justin shouldered his pack, grabbed his easel and fell into step behind Lilah. She knew without having to turn around that his attention was centered on her behind so when she heard him curse and stumble on a rock, she couldn’t help but giggle. She cast a short glance his way. “Everything okay?”

  “Just fine,” he answered. “Just gotta keep my eyes on where I’m going, not where I want to be.”


  Her cheeks flared but her heart skipped a beat. How did she ever hope to keep her distance from this man? At that moment, she was intensely grateful they were surrounded by other people because she had the urge to throw him down beneath the first available sugar apple tree and have her wicked way with him.

  “So, Annaberg was once a very prosperous sugar plantation back when slave labor was legal. The life of a sugar plantation slave was no picnic. They worked eighteen- to twenty-hour days, six days a week and even had to farm their own gardens because the plantation owners couldn’t afford to feed them.”

  “Bonus. Art and history lessons,” he quipped, and she laughed. “No, don’t get me wrong. I love it. If all my teachers had been as hot as you, I’d have been a better student.”

  Lilah ignored his sneaky compliment and continued, “Well, they also made rum from the sugarcane, so nothing went to waste. It was backbreaking work and the slaves were often starving, diseased and overworked.”

  “Sounds like they needed to unionize,” Justin said.

  “Well, they did, 1800s-style. If revolting and overrunning the plantation in a bloody coup can be considered a unionizing tactic.”

  “Awesome. My kind of history lesson—bloody and violent.”

  “Yes, I thought you’d find that interesting. Anyway, once slave labor was abolished, the plantations could no longer sustain themselves and sugarcane production in the Virgin Islands fell by the wayside.”

  “Pretty cool history,” he said, adding ruefully, “If not a bit bloody and horrifying on both sides of the coin. I mean, sucked to be a slave but then when the slaves revolted, sucked to be the plantation owner. Hard to believe so much bloodshed happened in a place so beautiful.”

  She chuckled and shrugged. “Sometimes beauty is a great shield,” she said.

  “If that’s true, you must be hiding all sorts of secrets, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

  If only he knew. She forced a light smile and said wryly, “That was the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard. Has it ever worked?”

  He laughed. “Not even remotely. But I actually mean it this time.”

  “I feel sorry for all those other girls who thought you meant it the times you said it to them.”

  Justin clutched at his heart as if she’d shot him clean through and she laughed at his theatrics. “You wound me,” he gasped in pretend pain. “You are a cruel woman, Lilah Bell.”

  “Not cruel, just not naive.” She gestured to the top of the hill. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

  They trudged the final distance to the outlook and Justin wiped away the sweat beading his brow as he gently dropped his pack to the ground. They’d pulled away from the throng of people clogging the main artery of the plantation and settled in a spot that had a great view of Tortola.

  “Man, you were right. There is a melancholy air to this place,” he said, shading his eyes as he scanned the area. “Maybe it’s all the souls of those poor slaves who had the misfortune to be brought here.”

  Lilah nodded and removed her water bottle from her pack. “Makes sense to me.”

  “You like it here?” he asked, taking in the skeleton of the crumbling plantation and the ruin of the formerly prosperous sugar mill. “It’s beautiful but kind of depressing,” he observed.

  Lilah paused, his casual observance striking a chord. Yes, she supposed it was. Maybe that was why it had always been one of her favorite places. It’d plucked at that dark core of her, singing a melody she could understand but others couldn’t quite hear. “Do you believe places can retain an imprint of the people who inhabited them?”

  “No.”

  His blunt answer surprised her. “But what about the stories about the ghost in your boarding school?”

  He shrugged. “I never saw her and honestly, I never really knew if my buddy was just messing with me. Keenan is a bit of a prankster so you never know if half of the stories he tells are eighty-percent bullshit.” He realized he must’ve disappointed her with his answer and tried to amend his view. “Listen, I’m open to be amazed, scared or shaken to my core...it just hasn’t happened yet so I’ve had no reason to change my viewpoint.”

  “Do you believe in God?”

  “Whoa. This conversation just got deep. I thought we were going to paint?” he said, half joking. He hated conversations about religion or politics and since he couldn’t escape the politics he sure as hell made sure he avoided all topics of religion. He bent to rummage through his pack, drawing out his supplies. “So, Miss Bell, where should we start? Watercolors? Seems less messy than the oils.”

  She didn’t answer, but cocked her head slightly to the side as if listening to an internal voice that bared all his secrets. Of course, that made him nervous. “Why are you really here in St. John?” she asked. “It’s not to paint and it certainly must not be all about chasing pretty bikini-clad girls, because you’ve pretty much focused your attention on me and while that’s really flattering, I don’t think it’s very good game, if you know what I mean.”

  He laughed and surprised her with a kiss on her cheek. She startled but a slow smile warmed her lips. “What was that for?”

  “Because when I’m around you that’s all I want to do.”

  She laughed, thrilling at his words. His eyes danced with light and the desire that surely mirrored her own. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around his neck. “What a coincidence. That’s exactly what I want to do, too,” she murmured before descending on his mouth.

  Their tongues tangled in a slow, sensual exploration that set her nerve endings on fire and she completely lost sight of the fact that they weren’t alone. Frankly, she didn’t care. In Justin’s embrace she found solace, happiness and the simple pleasure of being with someone who felt the same way and she was greedy for more.

  The voice of reason, harping to the point of bitterness, faded to a whimper under the sensual onslaught of Justin’s kiss. If there was a better kisser in all of the world, Lilah wouldn’t believe it. Her mind emptied and her body cleaved to his, molding to his every curve and solid strength in his sinewy frame. Her hands itched to roam and touch; her core began to heat. “I don’t want to teach you to paint,” she said, breaking away breathlessly. “I don’t want to do anything but feel your naked body against mine.”

  “Then what the hell are we doing sightseeing?” he asked, equally out of breath, his eyes hot and bright. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

  She didn’t want to go to Larimar—her sisters wouldn’t leave them alone long enough to get their clothes off—but she did know of a place that was private and most certainly, vacant.

  “Grab your stuff,” she said, and walked hurriedly to the Jeep. “I know where we can go.”

  “Hot damn, I’m right behind you,” he said, a grin in his voice. “I probably would’ve sucked at painting anyway.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  LINDY HATED CONFLICT, which was surprising seeing as she used to cause so much of it back in her wilder days.

  But now that she was all responsible and mature she suddenly understood the appeal of stability and calm situations.

  And she knew without a doubt that when Lindy told Lora what she’d found out about Justin Cales, there’d be no hope for any calm and peaceful conflict resolution.

  She groaned just as Gabe and Carys entered the bungalow.

  “What’s wrong?” Gabe asked, taking time to playfully rustle Carys’s wet head before she bounded fr
om the room to shower the salt water from her skin. “Hey, don’t use all the water, either, Carys. Five minutes, tops!” he called out, both of them knowing the little imp would ignore him.

  Lindy exhaled loudly. “I hate being the bearer of bad news and that’s exactly the position I’m going to be put in when I tell Lora what I found out about Justin Cales.”

  “Who is Justin Cales?” Gabe asked, perplexed. “Is he that kid Lilah is hanging out with?”

  “He’s no kid, he’s a grown man,” Lindy answered, pushing Gabe away playfully when he leaned in for a kiss. “And he’s the son of New York Senator Vernon Cales.”

  “And this is...bad?” Gabe guessed but remained confused.

  “Yeah, because Justin Cales has a bit of a reputation if you know what I mean. I did a Google search and look what I found.” She slid the laptop over to Gabe so he could get a good look. It was an online gossip rag with Justin’s face nestled squarely between a woman’s very large breasts and it didn’t look as if he’d been pushed. In fact, it looked as if he was quite content to remain squashed between the woman’s ta-tas for the rest of his life. “And that’s not all,” she said. “This picture prompted me to make a few calls to my east coast friends and they confirmed that Justin Cales is a notorious rich kid bad boy with an endless trust fund and a shortage of morals. He is the last kind of person Lilah needs to be hanging out with when she’s in such a fragile state. Damn it,” she ended with a mutter, mostly to herself. “Now we have to be the wet blankets and point this out to Lilah and trust me, that’s going to go over like a proverbial turd in a punchbowl.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Carys yelled from the bathroom.

  “Thin walls,” Lindy said, sighing. “Sorry!” she called out. “But you shouldn’t be eavesdropping.”