“Oooooookay now …” Nicki said with a stab of her salad. “This appears to be an appropriate time to decide who will be paired up with whom.” She slid Matt a sideways glance, her voice lowering as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear. “I know you want Jack as your best man, but maybe he and Kelly are better suited—”
“Oh, I second that.” Kelly nibbled a fry while giving Jack a coy smile.
Matt shook his head. “No, Jack’s my best man no matter how much of a derp he’s being.” His blue eyes narrowed in threat. “He’ll shape up, I promise, even if I have to do it with a fist.”
Shooting Nicki an unspoken plea, Lacey laid her sandwich aside. “Look, Nick, I don’t have to be your maid of hon—”
“No!” Nicki’s tone stopped Lacey cold and everyone else at the table. She slanted in, eyes snapping like dry twigs in a hot fire. “You are the closest thing I have to a sister, Lace, and I am not going to let some Hatfield and McCoy feud ruin my wedding, so you’re my maid of honor, case closed.” Eyes hard as topaz, she turned on Jack, gaze glowing hotter than a welder’s torch. “The best man will behave, won’t you, Jack?”
Glaring Nicki down, Jack balked at her tone, lips as thin as his patience as he belted back a healthy swig of fresh beer delivered by Wanda.
Nicki slammed a fist on the table, rattling the dishes. “Won’t you, Jack?” she repeated, revealing a touch of that red-headed temper Matt had always warned him about.
He cast a sullen look Matt’s way before drilling both Nicki and Lacey with a pointed gaze. “As long as she doesn’t get any hare-brained ideas that she and I’ll be friends.”
Lacey shot to her feet. “Oh, puh-leez, give me a little credit, will you? I have no interest in banging my head against a brick wall, bucko—I’m not that stupid.” She hurled her napkin on the table, all prior softness in her eyes erupting into bronze fire. She jutted her chin to the level of intimidation he recognized from the fights they used to have. “Or at least I haven’t been for the last eight years.” She slapped the strap of her purse over her shoulder while her gaze darted to Nicki. “I’ll be back, Nick—right now I need some air bad.”
She stalked off, leaving an awkward silence that Matt finally broke with a low warning aimed right at Jack. “Hey, lay off, man. The poor kid just got dumped by some other guy, so cut her some slack, will ya?” Stress lines ridged his brow as he pushed his plate away, mouth leveled in a tight line. “She doesn’t deserve your crap, Jack, and neither do I.”
Jack mauled his face with his hands, feeling like a royal jerk for doing this to Matt and everyone else. “Sorry, man,” he whispered, kneading the bridge of his nose. “Too much brew, I guess.” He pushed the nearly full beer away and lumbered to his feet, offering Matt a look of regret. Taking his wallet out, he tossed a wad of twenties down, then scanned the table with an apology in his eyes. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it, I know, but at least I can cover the tab.” He nodded toward the door. “I’m gonna go, Matt, but I’ll be there next Saturday.”
The tension in his cousin’s face eased. “Thanks, man—appreciate it.”
Jack gave a short nod. “So long, everybody,” he muttered, barely hearing the goodbyes that followed him to the door.
“Jack, wait!”
He turned, not overly thrilled to see Kelly hurrying to catch up. “Why don’t you let me drive you home? I’d hate to see you get a DUI or put a dent in that pretty new car.”
“Thanks, Kelly, but three beers is well within my legal limit, so I’m good.” He gave her a half smile, the dizziness in his brain feeling anything but legal.
She moved in close, her arms slipping around his waist. “I know you’re good, silly, but you could be even better,” she whispered, lifting on tiptoe to nuzzle at his earlobe.
He closed his eyes, uncomfortable with the flash of heat her touch produced. Matt would skin him alive if he got physically involved with one of Nicki’s converts, no matter how luke-warm that convert may be. With a slow skim of his hands down her arms, he held her at bay, wishing he could just take advantage of the blatant invitation in her eyes. Anything to rid himself of the freakin’ fire Lacey had stirred in his gut. “Look, Kelly, you don’t want to get involved with a guy like me—you’ll just regret it. Then I’ll regret it, and Nicki will string me up for leading you astray.”
“I’m a big girl, Jack—I think I can handle it.”
He sucked in a deep inhale of air, grazing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Yeah, but I can’t. I’m not looking for anything but a good time right now, Kelly, and that’s not what you’re looking for.”
“Says who?” She moved in close, her body flush against his, spiking his pulse.
He nodded behind her, one side of his mouth tipping up. “Says them.”
She spun around and groaned as Nicki and Sarah approached, causing his lips to quirk when he spied the mama-bear glint in Nicki’s eyes.
Nicki latched on to Kelly’s wrist, tugging her toward the ladies room with a stiff arch of her brow. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” Kelly said, heels all but skidding across the slatted floor as Nicki and Sarah dragged her to the restroom.
Jack couldn’t help but grin as Sarah waggled her fingers in a goodbye before the trio disappeared into the hall, admiring their loyalty and common sense, if not their religion. Shaking his head, he waved to a number of his teammates before stepping out the door, a clean wash of sea air helping to cool the heat of both the bar and Kelly’s tease. He unlocked his car and opened the door, sliding in to grab one of the Tootsie Roll miniatures he kept in his cup holder, the need for his sweet obsession all the stronger after such a sour evening. With a toss of the paper into the ashtray, he popped the candy in his mouth and started to close the door. His fingers froze on the handle when he spotted a female shadow on Butterbean Beach. Moonlight shimmered behind her on the Skidaway Narrows, and he instantly frowned, wondering what female was stupid enough to walk at night by herself outside of a bar on the Redneck Riviera.
A breeze fluttered the woman’s dress, and the moment Jack saw a ponytail sway in the wind, he didn’t have to wonder anymore. He swore under his breath and got out of his car, slamming his door hard. Eyelids flickering, he lurched to a stop for several dizzy seconds to clear the haze of booze from his brain. Despite his bravado with Kelly, he was as close to hammered as a traditionally one-beer guy could be, which only fed his fury toward his ex all the more.
Muscles bunched in his jaw, he wove his way through the parking lot toward the Intracoastal, determined to give her a piece of his mind—or what was left of it—about strolling a beach by herself at night.
Because Lacey Carmichael may have played him, tempted him, and left him for dead, but she didn’t deserve some half-drunk cowboy or ballplayer giving her trouble.
He gritted his teeth, looking both ways before he strode toward the beach.
Not unless it was him.
Chapter Eight
Releasing a weary sigh, Lacey plopped down on the sandy shore of Butterbean Beach and tented her legs, hands clasped around them as she peered up at the blue-black sky. Her anger at Jack suddenly seemed as scattered and far away as the stars winking overhead.
Okay, God, I blew it. Her eyelids weighted closed. Again.
Chin on her knees, she breathed in the earthy scent of the marsh and seawater, her guilt mingling with melancholy over the once-familiar sights, sounds, and smells of one of Jack’s and her favorite haunts.
A man-made beach just off the boat ramp at Skidaway Narrows, Butterbean was where locals went to launch their boats, swim and sail on rope swings, or have a private picnic far from the crowds on Hilton Head or Tybee. She could hear the gentle lapping of the water against both the shore and the towering wooden tide pillars that jutted out of the Intracoastal, where seagulls perched during the day. The salty breeze shifted and she wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell of dead fish, reminding her of the rich life cycle of low-country marshes and tides. Death, giving way to new l
ife, making it richer, deeper, stronger than ever before. A rebirth that set the heart and soul free.
Just like You did for me …
Except for tonight. Tears stung at the thought and Lacey inhaled sharply, grateful that no matter how many times she screwed up, God had her back with His strength, His healing, His unfailing love. That no matter what, He would make good from her mistakes. For my power is made perfect in weakness … Her lip quirked. Heaven knows she could certainly keep the Almighty busy, that was for darn sure. She remembered just how weak and shallow her life had been without Him a few short months ago. Empty and haunting in spite of endless pursuits, plans, and pleasures that brought no peace, no hope, no real happiness at all.
Her thoughts drifted to Jack, and a heaviness settled on her shoulders like the cloying press of humid air when the sea breezes refused to blow. He and her father were the main reasons God had sent her back, to show them His unconditional love just like God had shown her. Not only to bring healing to them and herself, but a renewal of hope and faith to the people she loved. Through grace, patience, and hard-earned humility.
Not temper.
A low groan ground from her lips as she buried her head in her arms, voice raised in frustration. “Ooooooh … I screwed up, and I’m so sorry.” With a harsh grunt, she gouged up two fistfuls of sand and pelted them toward the water, emitting a growl. “Talk about epic fail.”
“A talent of yours, apparently.”
Lacey’s head jerked up and spun around, heart thumping like a flat-bottom gigging boat on the water at full speed. “Jack,” she rasped, body flashing cold and then hot at the shock of seeing him standing not five feet away, hands slung low on his grass-stained pants. “W-what are you doing h-here?”
He slacked a hip, moonlight revealing a scowl on his handsome face. “No, a better question is why a girl who’s supposed to have a brain in her head is walking the Redneck Riviera at night by herself?” The scowl thinned into a smirk as his gaze trailed from her sandy feet up her bare legs to the short hem of her sundress, now bunched to her thighs. “Unless, of course,” he said with a nasty smile, “you’re looking for that kind of trouble.”
She bristled. Nope, but apparently I found it. Hopping up, she yanked her dress in place and brushed off the sand, fully aware that sniping back at a bitter ex-boyfriend was no way to make amends. With a silent prayer, she tamped down the old temper by counting to ten. Taking her time to pick up her purse, she finally looked up with as much humility as she could scrape together. “I appreciate your concern, Jack,” she said in a careful voice, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I suppose it was stupid to wander off like that.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Yeah, well, I guess it can’t be helped.”
She blinked, brows bunched in confusion. “Pardon me?”
Those wide lips that once had devoured hers pinched flat, as narrow as his cobalt blue eyes, which now morphed to black. “It’s in the DNA, apparently—both ‘wandering’ and ‘stupid.’”
Her mouth fell open … right before she slammed it shut again, afraid of what might come out. One. Two. Three. Four …
He shifted with a casual fold of arms, muscles corded as hard and tight as the flex of his jaw. “Both clearly talents of yours …”
A snappy comeback all but rammed against her teeth. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
His eyes raked her head to toe. “Along with teasing and tempting the locals, I guess,” he drawled, his mouth hooking into a cold smile that told her he was baiting her, pure and simple.
It worked.
She slanted in. “Okay, I’ve had about enough of your snide remarks, Jack O’Bryen,” she said with a step forward, all but spraining her finger when she poked him hard in the chest. “I came back to make amends, not butt heads with some hotshot Romeo who’s not man enough to let bygones be bygones.”
He grabbed her wrist, fusing her to the spot. “Real easy when they’re not your bygones, Mike,” he hissed, all but spitting the words in her face.
She stared at him in the moonlight, his grip as stiff and smarting as her neck, now painfully craned to confront his towering six-foot-three. Anger throbbed in his eyes as wildly as her heart throbbed in her chest, and the smell of beer on his breath was a painful reminder of just how much she and her family had altered his life.
And then in one fractured beat of her pulse, the years suddenly washed away like the tide from the shore, revealing the godly boy she’d once pledged to marry. A kind and good man meant for far better things before tragedy had befallen them all. Fingers quivering, she slowly placed her palm over the hand that shackled her wrist, her tears blurring the features of this man who still claimed a piece of her heart. “Oh, Jack, I still grieve over the pain my family and I caused, and I hope someday you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me because I so desperately want to be your friend.”
“My friend,” he said in a slow, menacing drawl, hand dropping listlessly to his side while his gaze bore into hers. “The last time I saw you, Mike, you wanted way more than that, as I recall.”
Her heart stuttered when he slowly skimmed the side of her face with his thumb, sending once-familiar shivers through her body while he caressed the shape of her mouth. Warm, dangerous shivers that collided with pinpricks of warning when his gaze drifted to her lips.
No, Jack, please—not now, not like this. Not while beer and bitterness poison your mind …
“I wasn’t willing then,” he whispered, slowly tugging her close with a slide of his hand to her waist. He tightened his hold, and alarm rolled in her belly as paralysis struck. “But trust me, sweetheart, I’m more than willing now …”
All protest seized in her throat when his mouth took hers with a vengeance, as if he were paying her back for every kiss he’d denied himself so many years ago when virtue trumped attraction. She shivered at the taste of beer and bitterness in his mouth, tinged with a touch of Tootsie Roll, his trademark candy that instantly swept her years back to his kisses on the dock. Only this wasn’t that kind and tender boy anymore who’d once treasured and taken care of her. No, this one jerked her close, hands wandering at will, and she suddenly knew he was punishing her, not only for breaking his heart, but for all the times she’d punished him with temptation, testing him to the max.
Just like he was testing her right now.
“Jack, stop!” She shoved him away, stumbling back when she broke his grip.
His eyes glinted with anger. “What’s the matter, Lace? You begged for it once, remember?” His mouth curved in a hard smile. “I’ll just bet you give out more samples than the little old ladies at Sam’s.”
Needles of shock stabbed over the cruel intent of his taunt. To make her feel small and cheap like her dad always had, his painful barbs sending her sobbing into Jack’s arms, the one person who’d always understood just how much Daddy had hurt her.
“Don’t think you’re anything special. Any whore can get ’em excited.”
Against her will, the hot sting of water welled in her eyes, familiar tears over a father she could never please no matter how hard she tried. And, apparently, an ex-boyfriend with no qualms about turning the knife. Fingers quivering, she adjusted the purse on her shoulder and turned away, salty wetness slicking her face as she stalked across the beach.
“Lacey!”
She heard the regret in his voice, but she dare not stop, not with sobs rising in her chest over the wound he obviously meant to inflict. A sharp and slicing stab straight to the heart, meant to make her bleed. She broke into a run. Well, good for you, Jack—you met your mark.
“Lacey, wait!”
But she couldn’t because distance was the only thing she wanted from Jack O’Bryen right now. A hurt, little girl bolting away from rejection like she had so many years ago. Vision bleary, she stumbled on until a buried piece of driftwood hooked the strap of her sandal. It flung her headlong into the sand, breaking both her pride and her spirit as she lay there and wept.
&n
bsp; The moment he touched her, she flailed and bucked like a catfish on the shore, wanting no part of Jack O’Bryen ever again. “Leave me alone,” she hissed, eyes swollen and body gritty with sand. “I don’t want you to touch me.”
Ignoring her, he knelt on the beach and bundled her in his arms, immobilizing her completely from any further thrashing about. “Lacey, I’m sorry,” he whispered against her head, tucking her body to his as he knelt beside her, his steel hold gentle but firm. Her heart drummed like that of a baby bird with a broken wing while his thumb slowly caressed her arm, his voice husky and low. “I didn’t mean it, I swear. I’m just …” She felt the hard shift of his Adam’s apple against her hair, the ache in his tone revealing the caring and tender boy who long ago had stolen her heart. “Angry inside, you know? And … still pretty hurt, I guess … over what might have been.”
Her body stilled in his arms. “I know,” she whispered, “me too.” Pulling away, she swiped at her eyes. “I never meant to hurt you, Jack, I swear.” She looked away, gaze fixed on the black waters rippling in the moonlight, remembering with painful clarity the awful row she and her father had the night he kicked her out of the house.
“Well, well—a whore for a pastor’s wife. That ought to put a pretty good dent in his career.”
“Why did you do it, Lace?” he said quietly. “Why did you leave without a word?”
She pulled back to look at him then, wishing with all of her heart that things could have been different. That her parents’ marriage had been better than it was. That her mother hadn’t cheated on her father, and that her family hadn’t destroyed Jack’s. Her eyes shuttered closed. And that I hadn’t been so hell-bent on living life my way. She drew in a deep breath. “I … wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment, Jack,” she whispered, “and I didn’t know … didn’t know how else to say goodbye.”
“So you took the coward’s way out.” The words came out sharp and clipped, making her wince.
She swallowed hard, desperate to make him understand. “We weren’t right for each other—”
Isle of Hope Page 9