Dare Me Once

by Shelly Alexander

  “It seems you have a lame duck on your hands.” Dr. Shaw smiled. “It’ll be fine with a little extra care.”

  Lily sagged against the exam table. Ben wouldn’t be heartsick, and her boss wouldn’t hate her for causing his son grief. She jumped when the door to the exam room opened, and Trace stepped inside.

  “Ah, there’s the proud father,” Dr. Shaw said. “Good to have both parents present when we discuss their baby.”

  A deafening silence filled the room.

  Trace stuffed his phone in the front pocket of his denim jacket. “We’re not together.”

  Lily cleared her throat. “I work at the Remington. Trace gave me a ride.”

  Dr. Shaw eyed them. “I see.” He retrieved a small bottle from the cabinet in the corner and handed it to Lily. “Ducks have fragile legs. Occasionally, they can strain a muscle, which makes it hard for them to move around.” He bundled Megan into the cap again. “You said there’s ten ducks in the brood?”

  Lily nodded.

  “The weakened leg is preventing it from fighting its way to the food trough,” the vet explained. “It’s likely getting pushed out by the stronger ducks. Keep feeding it separately.” He nodded to the small bottle in Lily’s hand. “Don’t feed them bread. Add the niacin to their drinking water. It’ll strengthen the muscles and help the strain heal quicker. A therapeutic swim in shallow water for exercise will do wonders. Toddler swimming pools work well if you have one.” He scooped up the duck in the cap and handed her over to Lily. “A bigger problem is the wing.” He pointed to one side of the duck. “It’s a little smaller than the other, which means it may never fly. Only time will tell.”

  “Thank you for seeing her after hours.” Lily cradled Megan.

  “You’re welcome.” Dr. Shaw took off his latex gloves with a snap. “The visit’s on the house. Least I can do for you trying to save them. And one more thing.”

  Both Lily and Trace waited for him to finish.

  Dr. Shaw nodded to the duckling. “Megan is a he.”

  Trace stared at the duck, then lifted his gaze to Lily. A slow smile formed on his lips, and creases of happiness appeared around his eyes. His hearty laugh echoed through the empty clinic and filled Lily’s chest with satisfaction. It was the first time she’d heard Trace laugh. Really laugh, like the seriousness that came from carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders had lifted and he could finally let himself experience real joy . . . and from such a simple thing.

  His laugh was contagious, and she belted out a chuckle too.

  The moment was comfortable. Easy. And Lily’s smile was no longer forced. Trace’s laughter made her feel at home for the first time since she stepped off the ferry.

  Sometimes it was the little things in life that made the biggest impact.

  Lily glanced at Dr. Shaw and did a double take, her laughter coming to a sputtering halt.

  The vet’s questioning sure-you’re-not-a-couple look reminded Lily that the warm, hearty laughter that had her feeling like maybe she belonged in Angel Fire Falls came from the one person who could bring her new job, her new home, and her new life crashing down around her if she wasn’t careful.

  Trace’s laughter died out too. They said their goodbyes to Dr. Shaw. Outside, a hint of purple lingered on the horizon. Trace opened the Jeep door for her, and Lily climbed into the passenger seat. He didn’t close it. Instead, he kept one hand on the doorframe and glanced off into the distance.

  Lily cradled the duckling at her chest. “Thank you.”

  His head swiveled back to her. “For what?”

  “For the ride.” Lily shrugged. “If it’d been serious, I might not have gotten here fast enough.”

  He studied her, finally stepping in close. “No. Thank you.” His voice went low and throaty.

  Her lips parted as his scent ebbed and flowed around her like an invisible mist. “For what?” She echoed his words, her voice soft and whispery.

  “For thinking of my son.” Trace’s dark eyes smoothed over her face like he was taking in every detail. “Ben has high-functioning autism.”

  Ah. That explained a lot. Ben’s mannerisms made sense. So did the serious way Trace seemed to take on the world. Raising a special-needs child would likely do that to a person.

  “Not many people have the consideration or the patience with him that you’ve had.” He drew in a breath so heavy with emotion, it was clear he’d spent many heart-wrenching years worrying over his son. “That’s why his mother, Megan, isn’t around much.”

  Megan. That explained even more. “I’m sorry,” Lily said. “For you. For Ben.” She put a hand on Trace’s arm. “And for Ben’s mom . . . because she’s missing out on a great kid.”

  The breeze kicked up and blew a rogue lock of hair across her parted lips. She reached up to flick it away, but he stopped her hand, pushed it aside, and used his fingers to tuck the silky strands behind her ear. His fingers lingered, brushing against her ear.

  She shivered, looking up at him with uncertainty. His quick, shallow breaths washed over her face, warming her from the inside out.

  His hand dropped to her cheek and cupped it, his thumb caressing her chin. Like he was torn and contemplating his next move. That beautifully chiseled jaw tensed and released. The pad of his thumb found her bottom lip and brushed across it.

  She couldn’t help it. She drew in a sharp breath as a tremble started somewhere deep inside her and spiraled in every direction.

  This was so not a good idea.

  He leaned into the Jeep, his eyes hungry. Moving a hand to the back of her head, he gently drew her toward him.

  “Cheep,” Megan the duck protested before Trace could cover Lily’s mouth with his.

  He stopped, his nose almost brushing hers. He lingered there, their breaths mingling. “We should probably go.”

  Only he didn’t look like he wanted to go anywhere. He looked like he wanted to stay right where he was, with his fingers stroking her cheek and his lips hovering a fraction of an inch from hers.

  “Cheep, cheep. Cheep, cheep.”

  “Yes.” Lily swallowed. “Definitely. We should go.” She pulled away from his touch and adjusted herself in the seat to stare straight ahead.

  He hesitated, then closed the door.

  Leaving her to wonder if his kiss really could’ve made her moan louder than her masseuse had. Leaving her disappointed that she would never know for sure.

  Chapter Ten

  LILY’S LIFE LESSON #10

  It never hurts to plan ahead.

  The next morning, Lily made sure to get up early enough to meet the elusive Mrs. Ferguson in the kitchen. It wasn’t hard for Lily to pull herself out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn because she’d lost another night’s sleep thinking about Trace and that almost-kiss in the parking lot of the vet’s office.

  Bundled up in an oversize wool sweater, leggings, and lined rubber boots, Lily used a flashlight she’d found in her kitchen drawer to follow the path to the back entrance of the resort. The smell of grease and burned toast nearly bowled her over the second she opened the door. With the back of one hand against her mouth, she waited until her stomach settled, then put on a brave face and entered the kitchen.

  It could’ve been declared a national disaster area. Lily looked around at the piles of dirty pots and pans, and her admiration for Charley grew exponentially. The National Guard probably couldn’t get a mess that size cleaned up in the amount of time Charley managed to do it every morning.

  An old woman—with a hitch in her walk from what looked like a bad hip—limped into the kitchen from the pantry. She didn’t notice Lily, probably because her eyesight had gone long ago if the thickness of her glasses was any indication. She stirred a pan of scrambled eggs.

  Lily didn’t want to startle Mrs. Ferguson, so she coughed.

  Did no good. Mrs. Ferguson picked up a clean frying pan and put it on a burner.

  Lily guessed the cook’s hearing was as long gone as her eyesight, so
she inched forward, hoping Mrs. Ferguson would catch the movement in her peripheral vision.

  No such luck.

  Lily eased up to the counter. “Mrs. Ferguson?”

  The cook whirled around and raised the empty frying pan high above her head in attack mode.

  Lily stumbled back against the wall.

  “Who are you?” Mrs. Ferguson fiddled with her hearing aid.

  “I’m Lily Barns!” She stayed beyond swinging distance. “I work here,” she hollered.

  Mrs. Ferguson had obviously turned up her hearing aid at the same time Lily shouted because the old woman covered her ear with one hand. “No need to shout.” She lowered the pan. “You almost got yourself clobbered. That’ll teach you not to sneak up on folks.”

  Um. Lily couldn’t have announced her presence any louder if she’d had a bullhorn. But she needed to win over Mrs. Ferguson for the good of the resort. And for the good of the guests’ gastrointestinal systems. Lily glanced at the overcooked food, still sizzling over burners set too high.

  “I’m the new hospitality manager.” Lily peeled herself off the wall now that Mrs. Ferguson had discarded her cast-iron weapon. “I came to see if I could help with breakfast.”

  Mrs. Ferguson gave her a territorial look.

  Lily veered toward the sink. “How about I get started on the dishes?”

  Mrs. Ferguson nodded. “Suit yourself.”

  Lily stepped up to the industrial sink and filled it with soapy water. Thirty minutes later, she’d barely made a dent in the mountain of pots and pans. How someone could dirty so many dishes cooking eggs, bacon, and toast was beyond reason. Still, she whistled a tune her grandmother used to love, and she worked, keeping one eye on Mrs. Ferguson.

  By the time she had the buffet set up and ready in the dining hall, Mrs. Ferguson was whistling the same tune.

  Lily smiled. She took a break from dishwashing and dried her hands. “Mrs. Ferguson, would you be interested in helping Lawrence out with something really important?” Lily waved a hand across the kitchen. “I mean, cooking breakfast is important too.” She tilted her head to one side. “Everyone agrees that no one makes breakfast quite like you.” She plowed on. “But the resort is suffering in some areas, and something tells me you’re the only employee here who can fix one particular problem.”

  “What problem?” Mrs. Ferguson retrieved her purse from a cabinet and hooked it in the notch of her elbow.

  “Well, Lawrence wants to bring in a younger crowd of people. You know, couples with kids, families. But he doesn’t want the empty nesters to feel left out.” Lily propped a hip against the counter. “The guests would miss your . . . unique brand of breakfast, but I think you could help Lawrence fill a serious void at the resort in a different way.”

  “Who would cook breakfast? Lawrence depends on me.” Mrs. Ferguson’s concerned expression made Lily fall in love with her just like she loved her own grandmother.

  “I promise I’ll find someone to take over the cooking. No one could fill your shoes, of course, but I’ll make sure the guests are happy.” Lily kept her tone reassuring.

  Mrs. Ferguson gave her a skeptical look. “What would I be doing?”

  “Well, you’d be in charge of leading activities here at the resort for people your age. Bingo-” When Mrs. Ferguson’s hand fluttered to her throat, Lily knew she’d scored a victory for the resort. “Maybe a basket-weaving class.”

  Mrs. Ferguson’s other hand covered the first. “I adore bingo and basket weaving.”

  “Perfect!” Lily gave her a dazzling smile. “So you’ll do it?”

  “If it’ll help the resort, then of course I’ll do it.” Her expression turned crestfallen. “But I feel like I’m abandoning Lawrence if I stop cooking. He’s been like a son to me, you know.”

  Lily walked over and put an arm around Mrs. Ferguson’s shoulders. “It’ll be difficult, but we’ll make do. Every time you start worrying, remember how important your new responsibilities are to the resort. And you have free rein to implement any activities you think the guests over fifty will enjoy. Lawrence is going to be so excited.”

  She saw Mrs. Ferguson out and tackled the rest of the dishes. Leaving them for Charley would be just plain heartless. As she finished up, Charley walked in with Sophie in tow, a tiara perched on her cute little head.

  “Heeeeey.” Charley looked around the kitchen. “You’re good. I take it you met Mrs. Ferguson.”

  “Yep.” Lily dried her hands and waved at Sophie. “Hello, Your Highness.”

  Sophie scrunched her shoulders and climbed onto a stool at the opposite side of the counter.

  Charley pulled a frying pan from the cabinet, spooned in butter, and turned on the burner. “I’m making breakfast here before I take the kids to school. My stove isn’t working.” She disappeared inside the walk-in fridge, then reappeared with a carton of eggs and several other ingredients. “Want an omelet?”

  Lily’s stomach rumbled, her appetite finally returning now that the smell of Mrs. Ferguson’s burned food had receded. “Sure. You don’t mind?”

  “I owe you my paycheck for cleaning up after Mrs. Ferguson.” Charley cracked eggs into the skillet and sliced mushrooms. “Obviously, you didn’t eat her food since you aren’t on your way to the dentist with a broken tooth.” She raised both brows. “No joke, one guest really did break a tooth. On scrambled eggs.”

  Lily chuckled. “That’s scary.”

  Charley tossed in the rest of the ingredients. “Mrs. Ferguson is a good person, but she has no business in the kitchen anymore.”

  Lily slid onto the stool next to Sophie. “Well, that won’t be a problem. She won’t be cooking anymore.”

  Charley’s jaw fell open. “No way.”

  “Yes way,” Lily said.

  “How’d you manage it?” Charley’s voice was all awe and hero worship.

  Lily winked. “I have my ways.” Really, she was just good at her job. Hospitality managers were problem solvers.

  “Guest complaints just went down.” Charley flipped the omelet and slid it onto a plate for Sophie. “So did the resort’s liability insurance. How do you want your omelet cooked, Lily? The sky’s the limit.” Charley spooned more butter into the pan.

  Lily tapped her chin. “Spicy.” Sure, she was southern, but more specifically, she was Cajun, and she had to be true to those roots. “I like it really hot and spicy-”

  Trace blew in at that exact moment, stopped cold, and gave her a cloudy stare.

  “I like jalapeños and cayenne pepper,” Lily hurried to explain.

  Charley’s assessing gaze lingered on Lily, then on Trace, who, in turn, hadn’t taken his eyes off Lily.

  “Okaaaay. Coming right up.” Charley disappeared into the pantry.

  Maybe it was his alpha-male swagger. Maybe it was his self-confidence. Maybe it was his devotion to his son. Or maybe it was the whole package, along with a face as good-looking as his body and a square jaw that sported a hint of stubble. Whatever the reason, just his presence made everyone else seem invisible.

  From what Lily could tell, he was firm all over except for the softness that lingered in his chocolaty eyes as he looked at her.

  That softness made Lily’s heart do a flippity-flop.

  “Morning,” he finally said.

  “Sleep well?” It was the first thing to pop into Lily’s stuttering brain.

  “Hell no.” He didn’t try to cover his bluntness. And the look in his eyes said he’d lain awake for the same reason Lily had—that almost-kiss. “You?”

  “Like a baby,” she said.

  “Liar,” he deadpanned.

  Truer words.

  Heat crept up her neck, slid down her torso, and settled in parts unknown. At least unknown to him. She, on the other hand, was well aware which parts heated every time she heard his voice. She shifted on her stool but didn’t argue his point. No sense trying to deny the effect he had on her, especially after last night, when her uterus cried out Give it t
o me, baby. Probably loud enough for Trace to hear. It was one of the things she could be honest about without jeopardizing her safety.

  It would, however, jeopardize her job. So even if her attraction was obvious, she couldn’t let it go beyond a really good fantasy.

  “Here we go.” Charley emerged from the pantry with a jar of jalapeños. “Want an omelet, Trace?”

  “No, thanks. I made breakfast at my place.” He finally tore his gaze from Lily and focused on his cousin. “Ben’s on his way. He’s looking for his belt in that black hole he calls a room.” Trace rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, today was my day to pick the kids up from school, but would you mind getting them? I have to make several trips to the Cape for supplies again and then pick up a new guest.” He shook his head in disgust. “The delivery company decided not to deliver this week’s supplies until next week.”

  “Again?” Charley sounded as disgusted as Trace.

  “Can’t we use a different company?” Lily had dealt with similar issues at her previous job, and the delivery companies in NOLA had lined up with competitive bids to win the business.

  Trace’s gaze flitted to Lily again, and his brow knitted. “It’s the only delivery company on the Cape with a cargo floatplane. Every other company I’ve found is a fair distance away and wants to gouge us simply because they can.”

  Ah. Those companies had the island by the cajones, and they knew it.

  “We need a delivery company based here on the island. A reliable company that will actually deliver on time.” Charley raised both brows at Trace. They’d obviously had the same discussion before today. “Know anyone who can fly a delivery plane from the mainland?” She waved a spatula around. “Anybody?”

  Trace shook his head. “Not gonna happen anytime soon.” He glanced at Lily, then looked at the ground. “The resort can’t afford a cargo plane right now.”

  Her stomach quivered. Instinct told her the resort not being able to afford a new plane had something to do with her. Lawrence had said the budget was tight, and paying a new full-time employee had to chew up a lot of the resort’s funds.