Take a Chance on Me (Baymoor Book 3)

by D. A. Young

  ***

  Something was wrong.

  They were supposed to meet for lunch here at the inn, but Annabelle wasn’t answering Graham’s phone calls. It didn’t matter what she was doing, Annabelle always took his call and vice versa. Graham’s instincts were telling him to drop what he was doing and go find her, despite knowing she had a detail that hadn’t alerted him to any red flags.

  “I got the dough for the pancetta-gruyere puff pastry melts ready, Chef,” Mario informed him. “Are we still doing the roasted tomato-basil soup with it?”

  “Yes, along with the cannoli layer cake. Why don’t you start on the cake?” Graham pocketed his keys, removed his apron, and pulled his beanie from his back pocket. “I’m headed to town, but I’ll be back in time to start the soup.”

  “Got it, Chef.”

  On the way, Graham called Wade and wasted no time with a greeting. “Where is Annabelle?! I’m trying to call her, but she’s not answering! Talk to me, Wade.”

  “Calm down, brother. Annabelle is fine. I’ve got Baker trailing her, and he reported that she’s just sitting in the park overlooking the elementary school,” Wade said soothingly. “He can see her, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll head over myself.”

  Sighing with relief, Graham replied, “Yeah, if you could. Don’t let her outta your sight; I’m on my way.”

  “Damn, you’ve got it bad.”

  “Bye, fool.”

  Laughing, Wade said, “Hang on a second. She did stop by the Gas ‘N’ Go before heading to the park.”

  A sense of foreboding filled Graham, and he stepped on the gas. “Call me when you get there, Wade.”

  Graham recalled his last conversation with her parent’s months ago. They’d been vague and distant at best, unwilling to speak on their daughter’s behalf. After what Annabelle revealed in their late-night Skype sessions, Graham knew it was best if they just stay as far as fucking possible from him. But she’d gone to see them? No good had come of it, of that Graham was certain.

  ***

  The drive took Annabelle to Haven Park, named after Baymoor’s founders, former slaves, and brothers, James and Tyson Haven. She got out of the car and blindly walked to the nearest unoccupied park bench. Below the hill of the park, she could see the elementary children playing while at recess. For a moment, Annabelle wished she were one of them, innocent without a care in the world. But then she’d also still be in the dark about her parent’s true mercenary nature.

  Annabelle pulled her wallet out and removed the picture that she carried with her of Rory as a newborn. Lovingly, her fingers traced her baby girl’s features. “I’ll never do that to you, sweet girl.”

  The betrayal felt brand new all over again, but this time even more devastating if that were possible. Her vision swam from the tears gathering, and Annabelle could no longer hold it in. She cried because the force it took to keep the tears at bay was exhausting her. They fell like sheeted rain all over Rory’s picture, and Annabelle was so immersed in her anguish that she didn’t even notice anyone approaching her.

  She was startled when a wad of napkins was thrust into her face. “Storms are meant to show how resilient you are, not break you, girl. Whatever you’re going through will pass. Just keep your head up. At least that’s what my sponsor says.”

  Accepting the napkins from the stranger warily, Annabelle wiped her face, grimacing at the makeup she’d wiped off before noisily blowing her nose. “Thanks. I think.”

  Annabelle got her first look at her uninvited therapist. She was an older black woman with a slender build. Her eyes were brown and spoke of a hard life; her cinnamon brown skin had faded scarring. A rainbow striped beanie covered her head, and she wore a red pea coat over a baggy gray sweat suit. A sense of déjà vu overcame Annabelle. Had they met before? Or was she just new to Baymoor?

  “I don’t know what you were boohooing about, but unless you were thinking about ending your life, then it wasn’t shit.” The woman pointed at the tear-stained pic of Rory. “That your baby? She’s a pretty little thang. You don’t mind if I sit, do you?”

  She was already making herself comfortable before Annabelle answered, so she snatched the photo up and put it away as the woman pulled a to-go bag out of her patchwork tote. She opened her takeout carton to reveal a patty melt and onion rings. “Want some?”

  The aroma was tempting, but Annabelle remembered she was meeting Graham for lunch. “No go ahead and enjoy it. I have to be going anyways.”

  Ingrid hated to see the young woman go. She had no friends here in her hometown where she’d once been extremely popular. “Without telling me, what you were upset about?”

  “Sorry, I’m not about to spill my guts to you because you caught me in a moment of weakness.” Annabelle held up the soiled napkins. “But thanks for these.”

  “Honey, if that was a moment of weakness for you, then be grateful. Put that miniscule bullshit behind you and keep it moving,” Ingrid bluntly told Annabelle. “I had a moment of weakness that lasted forty-three and a half years and cost me everything. Sit for a moment.”

  “You don’t pull any punches, do you?” Hesitation flitted over the pretty woman’s face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to disturb your lunch.”

  “Did you not just hear me say how much time I’ve already wasted with this one life we’re given? Don’t mind me; I’m here every day. You take your time.” Ingrid’s eyes moved to the playground, searching until she located her granddaughter. Camille was jump-roping with her twin cousins on her father’s side. Since coming here on her breaks, Ingrid had discovered Camille’s recess time and made it a point to also take her breaks then. It was the only time she had Camille to herself and could enjoy her with an unobstructed view. Any other time, she had family members flanking her at all times to deter Ingrid from approaching her. “You didn’t answer any of my questions.”

  “Nosy, much?” Annabelle muttered, but the woman didn’t respond. “If you must know, I was crying because I was disappointed again by my par-” She corrected herself. “Forget it. I guess I have only myself to blame for what happened today.”

  The woman looked toward the playground, clueless to Ingrid’s sudden mood change and the smashed patty melt in her fist. Of course, the one individual in town who wasn’t looking at her like she was pond scum and willing to talk to her had parental issues. There was no escaping her past. Ingrid was learning that lesson the hard way. As if she’d conjured them up, the urges for drugs that were never far away, beckoned to her. They played to the fact that she was a pathetic bitch whose immune system was a gradual work in progress. She would never be able to take any kinds of drugs or be in the same room with them or someone doing them, and Ingrid was slowly making peace with that.

  “I know what it’s like to be a disappointment,” she finally said. “To be such a sorry excuse of a human being that I tainted those around me.” Ingrid focused on Camille hanging upside down on the monkey bars. Honesty and ownership was part of her rehabilitation process, no matter how hard. “Now, this is the part where I admit that I didn’t give a fuck. Not about anyone hurt by my actions or those who cared about me. I was only fixated on making myself feel better by any means necessary. Anyone not on my agenda couldn’t do a damn thing for me and needed to stay the fuck outta my way.

  My actions and behavior destroyed my relationships around me and still, I couldn’t bring myself to care. I didn’t care that I had three beautiful kids and jeopardized their lives on a daily basis. I didn’t care that my parents and brother were begging me to come home and help me turn my life around. All I cared about were drugs and fucking men to get more drugs. I wasted my life away.” Ingrid stared down at the crushed sandwich in her hand, not even realizing that she’d been treating it like a stress ball.

  “But you seem like a good person, so find a way to get past whatever it was that they did. Don’t let that shit define you. My kids turned out nothing like me or their daddy. They are successful, kind-hearted, well-l
iked and respected people who can hold their heads up despite the constant ringers I put them through.”

  Appetite gone, Ingrid tossed her ruined sandwich back in the carton and pulled out some more napkins and wiped her hands clean. “They are everything I wish I was brave enough to be, except my demons hate the idea of growth.”

  Her speech held Annabelle captivated, and she could now understand the woman’s no holds barred attitude. This woman was admitting to being a world-class fuckup and made no apologies about it. She wasn’t laying the blame at anyone else’s feet, no matter how harsh her truth. Her face was filled with self-incrimination and loathing, and it made Annabelle wonder what her kids thought of her now.

  No way. It wasn’t possible.

  Could you be any slower, Gaines? Annabelle mocked herself. Stupid! Stupid! Stuuupid! Wouldn’t Graham have told me?

  Her mind was racing through all of her conversations with him, Eliza, and Georgie. Not one of them had mentioned Ingrid living here in Baymoor. The reason why was swift in its forthcoming.

  Because Ingrid was irrelevant to them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Annabelle was torn between introducing herself and beating the shit out of her for what she’d done to her new family.

  “Judging by your facial expression, I’ll assume you’ve figured out my identity,” Ingrid said nervously as her eyes drifted over Annabelle’s shoulder. “You’ve got perfect timing too… uh...”

  “My name is Annabelle Gaines, and I’m in love with your son,” she responded firmly.

  Annabelle turned to see what Ingrid was staring at and found Graham and Wade headed their way, eyes filled with thinly veiled hostility as they focused on Ingrid. She gave a small wave. “Hi, Guys. What are you doing here, babe?”

  “Annabelle.” The deep rumble of Graham’s voice let Annabelle know her man was displeased at this turn of events. There was a storm brewing in his eyes that suggested she take shelter before it was unleashed. “I was concerned when you didn’t answer your phone.”

  “Awww, and you came looking for me! That’s so sweet of you.” She stood up and tossed the napkins into the trashcan, then rose on tiptoe to kiss his mouth that was set in a hard uncompromising line. Into his ear, she whispered, “Please don’t be like this. Everything is fine.”

  But he chose to ignore her plea. “Would you excuse us, Doc?”

  She looked from his and Wade’s grim faces to Ingrid’s subdued stance. “No, I don’t think I will, Mr. Carlton.” Annabelle slipped her arm through his and tried to draw him away with a beguiling smile. “You owe me lunch and I’m looking forward to it. Let’s get out of here. I need to tell you about my day so far.”

  “And we’ll get to that just as soon as I’m done here,” Graham explained through gnashed teeth, knowing damn well what she was trying to do.

  “Are you spying on Camille?” Wade inquired of Ingrid coolly. His blue eyes were frosted over, but there was an underlying savagery that as a parent, was his God-given right to unleash if there was a threat. He glanced at his watch. “Her last recess ended less than ten minutes ago, and this bench overlooks the playground.”

  “What I was doing was minding my own business, Sheriff,” Ingrid retorted. “There’s no law that says I can’t be here, is there?”

  “No, ma’am there isn’t.” Wade’s smile was razor sharp, warning Ingrid to tread lightly. “But you’re not talking to a lawman right now. You’re dealing with a concerned parent, who’s reiterating a warning. Keep your distance from my daughter. This distance isn’t enough for me.” He noticed her food. “This does seem like an ideal spot to have lunch every day. I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, ma’am.”

  Wade tipped his hat at Ingrid then Annabelle in goodbye. “Can I have a moment of your time, Doc? I wanted to discuss the pros and cons of getting a pet skunk for Camille.”

  Annabelle stomped her foot in vexation. “Cut it out! Your ass isn’t crazy enough to pull a stunt like that!”

  “Maybe I am. Can you guess who the town will blame if I’m not properly cautioned on the perils of owning one?”

  “You should go,” Ingrid recommended to Annabelle. “Graham has something to say to me, and I’d actually prefer not having an audience.” She smiled genuinely at Annabelle, who’d earned a lifetime of gratitude from her for attempting to spare her the verbal assault Ingrid knew Graham would be handing her. She could feel his anger like a fist around her neck, strangling her. “Just remember what I said; you’ll be okay in the end.”

  Uneasily, Annabelle glanced at Graham, who’d yet to make eye contact with her. She squeezed his hand but was unable to garner a response. Annabelle smiled at Ingrid. “Thank you for the advice. Take care of yourself.”

  Graham shoved his hands in the pockets of his black leather bomber jacket and remained silently evaluating Ingrid as he listened to the sound of leaves crunching as Annabelle and Wade retreated. He prolonged the quiet to get his unstable emotions in check. The sight of Annabelle’s and Ingrid’s tête-à-tête didn’t sit well with him at all, and both women knew it. Not only that, but the bitch was giving his woman advice too?

  Ingrid was drowning in waves of shame at ever confusing Graham with Russell. He was a good man who knew how to respect and treat the opposite sex well.

  “I didn’t know she was associated with you,” Ingrid began. “You have excellent taste. Annabelle is a sweet young lady.”

  “Are you supposed to be some kind of life coach now?” Graham asked sardonically. “You’re the last person qualified to give anyone advice, Ingrid.”

  “I’m also the first person to be used as a bad example, Graham. Annabelle was upset, and I urged her to confide in me—”

  Graham brusquely interrupted her. “Stay away from her. She knows our history, but I’ll be sure to remind her again about why having you in anyone’s life is just a setup for trouble.”

  “I’m not that person anymore! I’ve changed, Graham. I swear it!” Ingrid protested.

  “I hope so because you’re all you got, so you better get yourself straight.”

  “I’m so sorry for what I did to the three of you,” she whispered, fiddling with the tortoiseshell buttons of her pea coat. Ingrid tried to look him in the eyes, but it was hard to when his were filled with such scathing condemnation. “I wish that I could take it all back—”

  His hand made a sharp, precise, slashing motion, that had it been a knife would have sliced Ingrid’s head off cleanly. “DON’T.” Enraged at his slipping composure, Graham slid his hand back into his pocket, furious that she’d made him lose control. “I don’t want or care about your apologies and neither do my sisters. We just want you to stay out of our lives. If you choose to stay here in Baymoor, that’s fine. We won’t bother you, and you need to do the same and keep your distance from us and our families.”

  “And if I want more than that? If I want the chance to prove myself worthy?” Ingrid rubbed at her temple, trying to drive back the familiar urges that were conjured up by Graham’s rejection. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and Ingrid swiped it clean with her arm as she challenged him. “What will you do then, Graham? Will you block me at every turn?”

  “No, I’d simply kill you,” Graham answered nonchalantly. He smiled at her astonished look. “Why do you look so surprised? I’d do anything to protect our peace. You gave us enough hell to last ten lifetimes. Now, we’re supposed to just let you in? Why? Because you finally completed a full stint in rehab after being a junkie for over four decades?”

  “You’re bluffing.” Ingrid took a step back then another but stilled as Graham tracked her movement like a predator toying with its prey, ready to pounce. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Shall we put it to the test?” he probed silkily, eyes glowing with the expectation of her defiance. Although his stance was casual and relaxed, his energy had channeled into something distinctly more sinister. “Do you know how easily you could disappear? Who in this town would blink twice at your if th
at happened?” Graham let her marinate on his words for a minute. “You have no relevance in our lives, Ingrid. Accept it, move on, and start fresh.”

  Graham turned to walk away but stopped to say, “Oh, and consider yourself lucky. I normally don’t give warnings, but you’ve gotten two out of me.”

  ***

  Annabelle was waiting for him by Max’s truck, concern and aggravation stamped all over her face. Not trusting himself to speak just yet, Graham could only nod his thanks at Wade, who immediately took off. “Are you okay, Mr. Carlton?”

  Instead of answering her, Graham flattened her against the truck by pressing into her with his body as he slammed his lips down on hers in a kiss meant to dominate and assert his will over her. Annabelle moaned into his mouth as his tongue plundered hers in bold sweeping gestures that demanded her complete surrender. She acquiesced, wrapping her arms around his neck and molding herself to him because Annabelle loved this man like no other, and her body had a mind of its own when it came to him. As for her heart, Graham already owned it, so resistance was pointless.

  Feeling his wrath, Annabelle broke contact to pepper loving kisses all over his face as she repeatedly whispered, “I love you, Graham.”

  She didn’t stop until his body relaxed. Only then did Annabelle kiss him fully, easing her tongue between his lips, teasing and driving Graham delirious with her sweet taste and silky-soft lips. His hands wrapped around her, and he lifted her onto the hood, sliding between her thighs as the kisses continued. Annabelle’s curls fell around them, shrouding them in coconut-scented softness. “I love you, Doc. So fucking much! You and Rory are my world.” Annabelle whimpered as he worried her bottom lip between his teeth then sucked on it slowly. “I’d fucking die if anything bad happened to either one of you, baby. You gotta know that, right, Doc?”