So what if she’d left some key work experience off her résumé so she wouldn’t seem overqualified? So what if she’d written her own letter of reference and signed her old name to it? Everything in the letter was true, even if Andrew couldn’t admit to it after firing her.
Her old life had crumbled around her, leaving her with nothing but a few degrees and an in-box full of hate mail. Her new life was a blank canvas, and Lily was ready to paint a beautiful, fresh masterpiece onto it.
She could get on with her work-vacation as soon as Yin finished turning Lily’s muscles into limp noodles. As soon as she had time to slip into the ladies’ room to ditch the trendy clothes meant to pacify her mother, who still hadn’t accepted that the Devereaux family was broke.
Mom had dropped Lily at the airport thinking her baby girl, Scarlett Lily Devereaux, was going on an indefinite secluded retreat in Vermont to relax and escape the headlines. Little did her mother know, Scarlett had adopted her maternal grandmother’s name, Lily Barns, and her destination was a tiny little town named Angel Fire Falls where galoshes were likely more socially acceptable than designer shoes. Where no one would know who she was, where she came from, or what her father had done.
She’d have to tell her mother the truth sooner or later. Lily preferred later. Much, much later. After she had time to legally change her name, was settled into her new life, and there was no coaxing her back to New Orleans.
Her phone, still lying on the airport floor next to her purse, dinged with a text. Lily ignored it. Yin was sending her to a happy place, and Lily didn’t want to leave it.
Yin pressed both magical thumbs into Lily’s tense shoulders, and she moaned again. Loud.
“That feels better than-”
A pair of large leather work boots appeared on the floor directly under her headrest.
“I’ll pay double for whatever she’s getting,” a deep masculine voice said. The fluid tenor of that voice slid through her like a drink of her mother’s favorite fine scotch, warming her insides as it flowed to her fingertips, her toes. Her . . .
She crossed her feet at the ankles and clenched.
Because she was done with smooth-talking men who possessed voices that could make a woman believe anything. Done with relying on a man the way she’d relied on her father and then Andrew. Done with men who said the right words but couldn’t back them up with real heart.
Done, done, and done.
The work boots disappeared, and Lily uncrossed her ankles, letting her body relax again.
Until she heard the massage chair next to hers creak under the weight of a new customer, and that same low, velvety voice rumbled through her again.
“Make that triple,” the Voice said. “She looks pretty relaxed.”
She had been until now.
The other masseuse must’ve gone to work on the Voice, because he let out a deep, sexy groan that had heat spiraling through Lily in the most inappropriate way.
Good God.
“First time to the Cape?” the Voice asked.
Was he talking to her? Because she certainly didn’t want to talk to him.
She lifted her head just enough to get a peek at him. A masseuse was already working on his shoulders. Very, very broad shoulders. His face was planted in the headrest, but everything else Lily could see was as attractive as his voice. Dark-chestnut hair with a slight wave, broken-in jeans, an indigo-blue polo.
Big and built.
His arms . . . nice muscular arms . . . circled around the front of the chair and leaned on the armrests.
Meow.
She might be off the market where men were concerned, but she wasn’t dead.
A stylish yet masculine watch was strapped on his right wrist, which meant he must be left-handed.
Her father was left-handed.
Andrew had been left-handed.
A surge of anger hit her like a wave crashing against a rocky coastline, shocking her back to her senses.
She plunged her face back into the headrest and tried to find that happy place she’d been in before the Voice had interrupted.
Her phone dinged with another text. She knew without looking that it was her mother, because none of her “friends” contacted her anymore.
Still ignoring it.
She let out a sigh while Yin worked on her lower back.
Her cell vibrated and belted out the Cajun tune “Jambalaya (On the Bayou).” The music from Bourbon Street was one of the few things she’d miss from her hometown. That and beignets with extra powdered sugar. Nothing beat a French gourmet doughnut.
“Sounds like someone really wants to get ahold of you,” the Voice said.
“It can wait.” Lily didn’t lift her head. No need to give the guy any encouragement.
“Do you come to the Cape a lot?” he asked her for the second time.
She sighed. “No. First time.”
“You must be a tourist on vacation?”
“Um, something like that,” she mumbled through the opening in the headrest, hoping he’d go away.
He went quiet.
Thank God.
“I’m a pilot, and I do private aerial tours. Once you see Cape Celeste and Angel Fire Falls from the sky, I guarantee this won’t be the last time you vacation here. How about I get your phone number and call you after I check my availability?”
“Thanks, bu—”
“I’ll give you and whoever you want to bring with you a nice discount.”
This guy wasn’t taking a hint. He didn’t seem to be going away either. And he was using his slick, sexy voice to drum up business and make a sale.
Lily wasn’t buying. And she was done with slick businessmen.
“No.” Her tone was flat. Rudeness wasn’t built into her southern DNA, but he wasn’t giving her much choice.
Blessed silence stretched between them, and the tension in her shoulders slowly evaporated.
“Hey, would you mind if I used your phone?” asked the Voice. “I guess I left mine at home.”
Her shoulders knotted into granite.
“Relax,” Yin scolded her.
Self Defense 101 had taught Lily never to let a stranger use her phone. She weighed that wisdom against her desire for this stranger to leave her alone. Without looking up, she slid her phone across the floor to the Voice.
In a few seconds, he slid it back. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She didn’t respond. Quietly, she lifted her head so the paper on the headrest wouldn’t crinkle. The Voice was still facedown while the masseuse went to town on his shoulders. Silently, Lily motioned for Yin to stop. She eased out of her chair and picked up her purse and phone. On tiptoes so her heels wouldn’t click against the cement floor, she slipped away.
To go start her new life where her new all-weather hiking boots would be perfectly acceptable. Where ordering fruity drinks with umbrellas instead of fine scotch would go unnoticed. Where the Prius she planned to buy as soon as she’d satisfied her employer’s probationary period and saved up a down payment would be considered smart and environmentally conscious.
Where slick businessmen with ulterior motives would be part of her long-forgotten past.
Chapter Two
LILY’S LIFE LESSON #2
When the words how hard can it be cross your mind, it’s time for happy hour so the alcohol can restore your judgment.
Louis Vuitton luggage didn’t exactly reinforce Lily’s plan to stay incognito, especially since she was the sole passenger on a ferryboat the size of a canoe.
Her suitcases thumped down the narrow ramp toward the open-air terminal where her ride to the Remington Resort should be waiting. A sign over the entryway said WELCOME TO ANGEL FIRE FALLS.
Exactly the kind of place she needed to hide in plain sight from the media.
When she stepped inside, she stopped cold. Terminal was a generous description. There were a few benches covered by a roof with no walls except around the one-window ticket booth where a clerk shuffl
ed a deck of cards.
No one was there to welcome her. No one held a sign with her name on it. Best of all, no reporters crowded her—asking questions about her father—and no haters yelled insults, which usually included phrases like rot in hell. That kind of greeting she could live without, but no greeting at all on a vacation island she’d never been to might be a slight problem.
She pulled her phone out of her purse and double-checked her messages. Several more calls from her mother, which was why Lily had silenced the ringer, but no reply from her new employer. The text she’d sent Mr. Remington about her new arrival time had gone unanswered, and that didn’t make her feel warm and fuzzy.
Lily glanced around the deserted terminal. Her new boss wasn’t kidding when he said she’d have plenty of time to get the resort in shape before the summer tourist season started, because there wasn’t a single tourist in sight.
Her gaze slid along the rocky island shoreline to the south, the cliffs rising above the channel she’d just crossed. Just north of the terminal was a country road leading inland, and to the left of that, the shoreline was a gorgeous sandy beach with boulders dotting the water.
She drew in a breath and let the cool misty air fill her lungs, then rolled her conspicuous luggage over to the small ticket booth.
She should’ve ditched the French designer bags along with the Choos when she’d changed in the airport bathroom before leaving the mainland. She’d had no choice, though, but to use the expensive status symbol for traveling since her mother had brought her to the airport. Less than haute couture anything would’ve put her mother on alert, and the prying questions would’ve started to flow. Smelling less-than-the-best merchandise like a bloodhound on the trail of a hunted animal was her mother’s superpower.
Never mind that her mother would soon have to start donating blood just to pay her bills.
A wave of guilt rippled through Lily.
Leaving her mother behind hadn’t been easy, but Lily couldn’t take the drinking or the denial anymore. At least she’d cleaned out her modest savings and left the cash in a safe hiding place, so her mother would have something once she finally hit rock bottom.
Lily should feel ashamed that she wouldn’t be around to see it. Instead she felt relieved.
Just because her mother chose to cling to the past didn’t mean Lily had to. She desperately needed to get on with her life. Which was why she was stranded at a ferry crossing in the middle of nowhere, staring at a woman behind the ticket counter whose back-combed hairdo could house a flock of geese.
The ticket clerk’s name tag said Mabel McGill. Her coral lipstick that bled into the wrinkles around her mouth said she’d spent a lifetime working hard for the money. Her sparkling blue eyes said despite her lack of skills with coiffeur and cosmetics, she was as friendly as the cawing seagulls that hovered around the terminal looking for scraps of food.
Mabel lifted a calloused hand to slide open the scratched acrylic window. “Can I help you, hon?”
Lily wasn’t sure where to begin. Because that was exactly what this was—a new beginning. In every way. “I just arrived from Cape Celeste.”
They were on a small island with not even a causeway connecting them to the coast. Where else would she have come from? Lily fought off a self-deprecating eye roll.
Mabel leaned forward just enough to note Lily’s designer luggage over the counter. Her eyes gleamed with amusement when they skimmed across the purse slung over Lily’s shoulder. It was made from supple alligator and was also straight from the Parisian fashion scene. Thank you, Mom.
“Tourist?” Mable asked.
“Not exactly.” Lily stepped in front of her luggage and let her purse slide to the ground, out of sight. This was her chance to start over. Damned if she’d let the French take her down now. She might be from New Orleans with Cajun French running through her veins, but she was a scrappy red-blooded American girl, and Louis Vuitton could take a hike.
She bit her lip. She was keeping the purse, though, because the purse-whore in her had to draw the line somewhere. “I’m the new hospitality manager at the Remington Resort. I guess I missed my ride because I had to take a later flight.” She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe I should call an Uber.”
Mabel’s penciled brow disappeared into her hairline. “This is Angel Fire Falls. We don’t Uber.” She said it like it was a dirty word.
A gust of misty spring air blew Lily’s long brown hair across her face, and she hooked a finger around it to push it out of the way. She rubbed the arms of her white cotton button-up shirt. “Is there a cab company on the island?”
Mabel snorted. “We have a shuttle.” She pointed to the exit behind Lily.
“Great.” Lily flashed a relieved smile. She was beginning to think she’d have to walk to the Remington.
“It only runs twice a day during the off-season, and it just left ten minutes ago.” Mabel shrugged. “Won’t be back for several hours, but you’re welcome to wait here. There’s hot coffee, if you’d like a cup.”
Lily looked down at her new hiking boots and turned one on its side. “How far is the Remington?”
Mabel pointed to the road that meandered over a bluff and disappeared behind a lush green landscape. “Up the road a piece. The road forks a few miles in. Left takes you into town. Stay right and you’ll run smack into the resort. I can try to call and see if one of those handsome Remington men will come get you.” Her eyes gleamed, and she licked her painted lips.
Lily had already been left stranded once today. This new job wasn’t off to the greatest start, but it was all she had at the moment. No way would she sit around waiting. Depending on someone else. Lily Barns could take care of herself.
Her gaze wandered to a sign pasted to the right side of the window that said BIKE, TRIKE, & SCOOTER RENTALS. She glanced over her shoulder at the beach, the waves crashing against the white sand. A long row of rentable bikes was lined up and chained to a bike rack, each with a tall yellow-and-blue flag attached to its back. The flags waved in the wind. Her stare snagged on the giant tricycles at the end of the row. There was a basket between the back wheels.
How hard could it be? Just like riding a bike, only with an extra wheel for balance.
Lily pulled out a wallet that matched her purse. “How much to rent one of your adult tricycles?” Not words she’d ever expected to say. Her new life was shaping up to be an adventure already.
“Hon, if you’re brave enough to ride that thing all the way to the Remington with your suitcases strapped to the back, you can use it for free.” Mabel reached under the counter and produced a bungee cord and a key. “This unlocks the trike on the end.” She pushed the key across the counter. “I’ll throw in the bungee cord for the luggage just because you’re my kind of gal.” Mabel winked. “Return both at your earliest convenience.”
Lily stared at the key and bungee, then swung her gaze back to the road. Her earliest convenience? None of this was convenient. But she’d come this far, and she wasn’t about to give up easily.
Her hand closed around the key and bungee. “Thanks, Mabel. I owe you one.”
Mabel shrugged again. “You may not think so after cycling all the way to the Remington.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, and Lily leaned to the side to peek around the booth toward the ferry ramp. An angry black cloud hung over the mainland and crept toward the island. “A storm’s rolling in, so you better hurry.”
It was late afternoon by the time Trace banked left by dipping the wing of his floatplane to the port side so he could circle behind the resort and land into the wind.
He’d flown to the Cape a few hours earlier with two assignments: show his annoying brothers he still had some skill with women and deliver the new employee—a Ms. Barns—to the resort.
The first was won and done thanks to the pretty tourist getting worked over by an airport masseuse. Sure, she hadn’t given out her number willingly, so he’d had to resort to asking to use her phone so he could call himself
from it. Still, he did get her number. Thing One and Thing Two could suck it.
Because the Remington brothers were so damn mature.
Unfortunately, Ms. Barns was a no-show, a fact Trace was about to discuss with his dad because that was a red flag.
He set the plane down in the inlet behind the Remington, the water a little choppy because of the storm brewing on the mainland. The plane skipped across the water before settling to a glide. He maneuvered it toward the dock, slid out of the cockpit onto one of the floaters, and then hopped onto the wooden dock.
He moored the plane, checked the cockpit one last time, and grabbed his jacket before starting up the trail that led to the family’s back entrance to the resort. It was still early spring, and the storm had caused the temperature to drop, so Trace pulled on his jacket.
As he walked up the path, he found himself whistling the catchy tune that had been Sexy Airport Girl’s ringtone. It must’ve been the best massage of her life by the way she’d moaned. That moan had stirred something inside Trace that had no business stirring because he wasn’t in the market for a relationship. Not even a temporary hookup with a babe who lived somewhere else.
She obviously wasn’t from Angel Fire Falls or Cape Celeste because her trendy clothes screamed tourist. But that body . . . even lying facedown couldn’t hide the fact that she was a knockout.
It had been a long time since a woman caused a chain reaction that started with a double take the moment he laid eyes on her, then tightened his chest into a knot, and ended somewhere south of the border—a sensation that would likely keep him awake most of the night.
The trail veered left around a grouping of giant pampas grass, then opened onto a playground for their family vacationers. Since it was still preseason and school wasn’t out for summer yet, the few guests staying at the Remington were older and kid-free. Only Ben and his cousin Charley’s six-year-old daughter, Sophie, were making use of the large jungle gym.
Dare Me Once Page 2