“This is fucked up.” The dash lights weren’t bright enough to show Spence’s expression, but his tone said he was pissed.
“What about Lily?” Elliott asked.
Trace tensed. “What about her?” He’d been wondering the same thing ever since the hipster kid, who was dressed like he probably skateboarded all the way from Los Angeles, had shoved the papers into Trace’s chest.
“You two weren’t in the storage room looking for pretzels,” Spence said.
“First time I’ve seen a woman turn your head since you became a single dad.” Elliott reached through the seats and bumped the edge of his fist against Trace’s shoulder. “It’d be a cryin’-ass shame to let Megan screw it up for you.”
Trace blew out his cheeks. “I don’t know.” He said it more to himself. Before he could figure out his relationship with Lily, he had to deal with Megan.
Spence slowed and turned into the resort.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” The Jeep had barely rolled to a stop in front of Trace’s cottage when his feet hit the ground. As the Jeep rumbled away and he had privacy, Trace pulled out his phone and dialed Megan’s number. He climbed the steps and got her voice mail without the phone ringing once.
He growled.
He unlocked the door and flicked on a light. Then he sent Megan a text telling her she might as well answer, or he would call her cell and her landline every ten minutes for the rest of the night. If that didn’t work, he’d fly to LA and do the same with her doorbell.
He knew how much she hated losing precious sleep. He’d certainly spent plenty of nights getting up with Ben because she wouldn’t.
He dialed up her number again, and she answered on the second ring.
“What, Trace?” she snapped.
“Are you seriously going to use Ben like a circus animal to help your career? Because that’s low, even for you,” he snapped back. He couldn’t help it; this was about their son.
“You gave me no choice!” Megan insisted. “If you’d at least considered letting Ben come stay with me over the summer, I wouldn’t have had to take such drastic measures. This one’s on you. Not me.”
“According to the articles I’ve read in the news about your busy career, you won’t be available over the summer,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’ll be on set. So how will you spend time with Ben?”
She went quiet.
“That’s the plan, isn’t it?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You won’t have any time to spend with him. That’s the whole reason you actually want custody after all these years.”
“I want my son with me,” she argued.
“Because of what he can do for your career.” He let his head hang forward as he paced. “Not because you care about him.”
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
That was rich, coming from a woman who penciled in visits with her son twice each year and managed to miss most of them. “He’s an eight-year-old boy. Don’t put him through this. Drop the custody suit.” No way in hell would he let her take their son only to dump him on someone else. A little reminder of how she didn’t actually like to be around their son was long overdue. “Come to the island next week. If all goes well, I’ll bring him to visit you a few times over the summer.”
She stayed silent like she was considering his proposal.
“If it goes really well, I’ll bring him to visit while you’re working.” He sweetened the offer, knowing his ex would focus on the on-set publicity opportunity instead of the needs of their child. He just needed to get Megan to the island, and she’d screw the rest up on her own.
She always did.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll be there. But I’m not dropping the custody suit yet. Not unless we can come up with an arrangement that’s acceptable for me.”
Megan ending that last sentence with the word me was typical since it was her favorite subject.
Still, he could be polite if it meant ending her custody nonsense without a fight and saving Ben any unnecessary emotional damage. “What day should I expect you?”
“I don’t know yet,” she clipped out.
Her no-show rate was pretty high, which was why he never told Ben when she planned to visit.
“I’ll be in touch,” she said, and the line went dead.
Why did that not surprise Trace in the least?
Lily said goodnight when Charley dropped her off in front of her cottage. Her lips still burned from Trace’s kiss. Her girl parts hadn’t cooled off either, but she couldn’t let Trace be the one to put out the flames.
Her job at the Remington was off and running. She couldn’t risk the promising new start she had by getting involved with Trace.
With the porch light on, she dug her keys from her purse.
Maybe she should walk down to his cottage and knock on the door. Obviously, they needed to have a heart-to-heart about boundaries. Boundaries would save them both a lot of trouble. So yes, she should go talk to him. As soon as she figured out how not to catapult right over those boundaries and shrink-wrap around him.
She let herself in and flung her purse and keys onto the counter.
Trace’s exquisite tongue, his clever hands, and the large-and-in-charge package he’d pressed between her legs in the Fallen Angel’s storage room would be difficult to walk away from now that she’d gotten a small sample.
Good Lord, if he could get her that worked up fully clothed, it would likely be mind-altering if they were naked.
A shudder of lust quaked through her, and she tried to shake off the thrill of anticipation.
When her entire body broke out in a sweat, she opened the fridge, letting the cold air work its magic.
Did no good.
She slammed the fridge and went to the front door. It was late, but she had to talk to Trace and set things straight for both of them. Maybe ask him to be the strong one even if she couldn’t be because fraternization between employers and employees wasn’t good for either of them.
With a hand on the knob, she drew in a deep breath and opened the door before she lost her nerve.
The butterflies in her stomach turned to hornets when she caught a glimpse of the gorgeous man sitting on her front porch, his back against a post and one leg slung over the side.
“Trace.” She stepped outside and closed the door.
“I heard Charley drive past my place, so I knew you were home.”
Lily closed the front of her jacket and hugged herself against the night chill that hung in the air. “And you figured you’d sit on my porch instead of knocking?”
He chuckled. “Truth?”
She had to break eye contact on that one. “Sure.” She took a seat next to him but left enough room so they didn’t touch.
“I was trying to figure out a way not to have to say this.” He went quiet.
“I’m a big girl,” she said softy. “I can take it.”
He drew a long breath into his lungs. “I told you my situation with Ben is complicated.” Trace bent a knee and propped his arm over it. “He needs all my time and attention.”
She crossed her ankles and swung her legs back and forth. “I remember.”
“This is why.” He pulled a folded batch of papers from his jacket. He’d obviously smoothed them out after wadding them up at the bar. “Ben’s always been high maintenance because of his condition, but if his mother gets custody, it’ll crush him and any hope he has of a stable, productive life.” His voice rasped with the grief. “I can’t let that happen.”
Lily’s heart thudded.
“My ex-wife already has ammunition she can use against me.” Trace stuffed the papers back in his pocket, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
Once upon a time, Lily’s father had cared about her the way Trace cared about Ben. She missed it and could never fault Trace for loving his son enough to do whatever was necessary to protect him. Trace’s devotion to his son was one of the things Lily admired about him most.
&nbs
p; “You’re an incredible father. I doubt you’ve done anything bad enough for you to lose custody.”
Trace looked down and sighed heavily. Lily had to lace her fingers in her lap to keep from reaching out to comfort him.
“Before I moved back to the island, I flew private jets in Los Angeles. The job played hell with my schedule. I was always on call, never any rhyme or reason to my hours.” He stared into the darkness. “I was called out one night when my regular sitter was out of town. I called Ben’s mom.” His tone went hard. “She refused to come stay with him because she had an audition the next morning, or so she said. So I called a nanny service.”
Lily knew the story wasn’t going to end well for Ben, and a seed of anger sprouted in her chest.
“I was so worried about Ben waking up with a strange person in the house that I misread the weather report and flew right into turbulence that nearly caused us to crash.” His head thumped back against the post. “That’s the first time I’ve ever had passengers scream in terror on a flight.”
She couldn’t help but let the pain and regret behind his words seep into her chest. “I’m so sorry.”
He let out a sarcastic chuckle. “I wish that were the end of the story.” He closed his eyes for a beat. “Ben did wake up, had a complete meltdown when he didn’t know the nanny, and she . . .” The grinding of his teeth was audible. “To calm him down, she gave him a tranquilizer that was prescribed to her.”
Lily’s intake of air was sharp. She closed her hand over his. “That bitch.”
A husky laugh escaped through his lips. “I quit my job the next day and moved back to the island.”
Lily’s heart tumbled end over end.
She squeezed his hand again. “Ben’s such a good kid. He deserves the life you’re building for him here.” She tried to pull her hand from Trace’s, but he didn’t let go. “It’s for the best we keep it professional . . . and friendly.” She was so full of it. She wanted him now more than ever. “I made the mistake of getting involved with my boss once.” She breathed deep. “It didn’t end well for me. He used it against me. I worked my heart out for that company and threw it all away because I trusted a person who had power over my career. I would be foolish to go down that road again.” She caressed her thumb across his calloused hand. “Even if you’re nothing like him.”
“Give me a name, and you can consider his ass kicked,” Trace said.
She laughed. “Thank you, but it’s not necessary.”
“He was a fool.” Trace reached out and gently molded his fingers to her neck. “You’re everything I want in a woman.” He let his gaze roam over her face, the moonlight glinting off his eyes. “You’re wonderful with Ben.” Trace let the calloused pad of his thumb sweep over her bottom lip, sending a delicious shiver racing through her. “I’m the problem, not you. I have to keep all my attention on my son, and that’s not fair to you, Lily.” His thumb traveled across her lips again. “You deserve better than playing second string.” He took her hand and placed a sweet kiss on the inside of her wrist. “If circumstances were different . . .” The next kiss to her wrist was a nip.
Every cell in her body went up in flames.
“But they’re not,” she whispered. “And this can’t be. No matter how much we might want it.” Gently, she pulled her hand away.
He stared at her mouth for a long, long time. The regret, the sorrow, the turmoil in his expression said he alone was responsible for the wall that kept them apart.
Lily couldn’t let him believe that . . . because it wasn’t true. So she took a deep breath and went for honest. “I’ve made mistakes.” Like trying to start over with a new name. “I’m not great girlfriend material.” Even though she wanted to be. “You don’t know me very well . . . but, um, you see, before I moved here . . . I . . .”
Her phone blared to life from inside the cottage, belting out the song that reminded her of her Cajun roots and the painful mess in her past that had brought her to the island in the first place. She swallowed, blinking back to the present.
“You should get that.” He stood. “It might be important if someone’s calling you this late.” He backed away, his eyes never leaving hers. “Goodbye, Lily.”
Those words stopped time. Lily couldn’t move as she watched him turn and recede into the darkness.
She went inside and answered the phone. For once, her mother’s slurred self-pity rant seemed like a blessing. It was the only thing keeping Lily from marching over to Trace’s cottage and kissing him silly. Then telling him everything.
Chapter Fourteen
LILY’S LIFE LESSON #14
Spandex should come with a warning label: Can cause blindness if not used with caution.
In the hotel business, there wasn’t much difference between the workweek and the weekend. Except weekends were usually much busier. Despite the lack of sleep after the previous night’s near miss in the Fallen Angel’s storage room, Lily got an early start to take care of her responsibilities.
She made the rounds, following up with the guests who were leaving. Everyone but Ronald Parker. Him she’d rather avoid, so she texted Elliott and Spence to see if one of them could check on the guest who’d become a thorn in her side. With her phone app, she scheduled departure times for everyone else so Trace would know when they needed to fly to the Cape to catch their connecting flights. Then she popped into the kitchen to find Charley.
“Good morning.” Lily put her phone and iPad on the counter. She helped herself to a cup of Charley’s famous coffee.
Charley bustled around the kitchen. “Morning.”
Lily leaned against the stainless-steel island and sipped her brew. “If I ride with you to school tomorrow, will you make introductions to Ben’s teacher? I need to get the children’s summer activities calendar firmed up.”
“Sure thing.” Charley stopped to wipe her hands and really looked at Lily for the first time. “You look as fresh as a spring flower.”
Lily looked down at her choice of clothing. She’d pulled on a pair of black capris, a breezy off-the-shoulder top, and a pair of stylish sandals. The ensemble was more like what she would’ve worn on her day off in New Orleans. Not at all like the microfiber hiking pants and all-weather boots she’d been sporting since she moved to Angel Fire Falls.
Her subconscious probably had something to do with her outfit; deep down, Lily knew there was meaning behind it. The truth about her roots, her identity, her life had to come out eventually. She might as well start preparing for it. Might as well give the Remingtons a glimpse of who she really was. When the time was right, she wanted the Remington family to hear the truth from her. They deserved as much after the way they’d welcomed her. Trusted her.
Until then, she’d work her tail off, for them as much as for herself, to make this the Remington Resort’s most successful tourist season on record.
She lifted a bare shoulder. “The weather’s nice, and it’s getting warmer. I’m enjoying it.”
Charley pulled a tray of pastries from the oven and put in another. “Well, you look nice.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’m sure Trace agrees.” She leaned to the right to look around Lily. “Don’t you, Cuz?”
“I absolutely do.” Trace’s velvety voice came from behind her and slid right through her.
She tensed and tingled all over.
Slowly, she angled her body so she could speak to both of them, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “Thank you.” She transferred her weight from one sandal to the other. “Can we meet later about a few more ideas I have?” Lily shifted the conversation into a more professional gear.
He glanced at the watch on his right wrist. “I’ve got time now.” He tapped the phone in his pocket. “Thanks to your handy-dandy app, I already know my first scheduled trip to the Cape isn’t for a few hours.” He scratched his temple. “First, can I ask what’s going on in the great room?”
She had no idea.
“I think Lily’s created a m
onster,” Charley said.
“Um . . .” Lily lifted both brows in a question.
“Oh, you haven’t seen it for yourself?” Charley laughed, drizzling the pastries with white chocolate.
Lily shook her head, the coffee mug hovering at her lips. “I came in through the back entrance.”
“Oh, this is gonna be good.” Charley chuckled and wiped her hands again. “I’ve got to see your reaction for myself.”
Lily didn’t wait for them to explain. She set her coffee mug down, picked up her phone, and went to the great room as fast as her sparkly sandals could carry her. When she rounded the corner of the great room, she came to an abrupt stop.
Charley and Trace caught up and flanked her.
The furniture had been pushed back against the walls, and folding chairs were scattered around the center of the room. Mrs. Ferguson sat facing the guests as gentle ocean music played. She wore bright-orange yoga pants, a neon-turquoise spandex shirt, and a sweatband around her head.
Oh dear. Lily had suggested Mrs. Ferguson start bingo and a basket-weaving class for their senior guests. This was . . .
Actually, Lily couldn’t put this into words.
Mrs. Ferguson touched her forefingers to her thumbs so they formed a circle and rested them on her thighs. “Deep breath in,” she said, and the participants complied with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Exhale.” Her tone was soothing. She called out a pose that required the participants to bend forward in their chairs. An older gentleman’s toupee fell forward.
“Oh my,” Charley whispered.
Lily covered a gasp with one hand.
Mrs. Ferguson could barely cook without starting a five-alarm fire. Now she was teaching yoga?
She led the seniors through a series of yoga moves, their butts never leaving the seats of their chairs. When she got to the warrior pose, Lily’s mouth fell open.
Charley stifled a laugh by clearing her throat.
Trace rubbed his jaw.
When the class finished, Charley squeezed Lily’s arm and headed to the kitchen, still trying to hold back laughter.
Dare Me Once Page 16